The Secret Attachment

Prologue

"Since that night I have come to understand that sometimes the best families of all are those we create ourselves, the people we choose to be with." Silas House, Eli the Good

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Prologue

March 1796

Mrs Louisa Banes frowned fearfully out of the upstairs window in her husband's study. Down below in the courtyard of their modest, but charming country Devonshire cottage, was a small girl of about nine.

"Her name?" Mrs Banes asked, not turning to look at the solicitor who had brought the girl to her house.

"Katy Jane Fairchild," replied Mr Spencer, his voice quiet and reserved, as though he knew the position that he was putting Mr and Mrs Banes in.

"Katy," repeated Mrs Banes. It was common. Perhaps her name was Catherine. Catherine would be a more suitable name for a young lady.

Mrs Banes' eyes had not deviated from the girl, who, curiously, had not moved from her position in the twenty minutes that she had been standing there. She wore a sturdy, plain brown cloak, which concealed a no doubt sturdy, plain travelling dress. Her boots were tired, and her stockings in dire need of darning. She could see the holes in them from where she stood at the window. Her bonnet looked newer, though, with a pretty blue embroidery, and her raven black hair was left to hang loose down her back. Mrs Banes had never before seen such charcoal coloured hair. She was yet to see her face, but she was quite certain in her assumption that the girl would not be remarkable.

As to her possessions, she carried only a tired looking carpet bag in her right hand.

"Tell me, how is she a relation again?" Mrs Banes asked, this time turning to Mr Spencer. At this moment, Mr Spencer was not the husband of her friend, Mrs Spencer, but the man who was asking something very big indeed of the Baneses.

Mr Spencer was a tall, lean man, with greying black hair, and cautious blue eyes. He was dressed finely, though, and was adorned with quite a few expensive trinkets to alert any onlookers to his success.

"Miss Katy's mother is a cousin of your second cousin's husband," replied Mr Spencer carefully, as though he had been studying their family tree.

"So, in reality, she is nothing to us," she said bluntly.

"You are her nearest relation in the world, Mrs Banes," urged Mr Spencer, detailing their duty. "There is no one else. After the fever took her parents, Miss Katy is now all alone."

"Louisa," implored Mr George Banes, who had been entirely silent during this meeting until now.

Mrs Banes knew that tone. Her husband was convinced. Her husband, and his all too big heart, was ready to take in that little girl no matter the consequences. Mrs Banes knew that without her, there would be no economy in this house.

She didn't like to be the bearer of bad news. She didn't like to be the one to turn away an orphan, who really did have no one else in the world.

"I am sorry, Mr Spencer," Mrs Banes said firmly, "but we cannot afford to take the girl."

"Louisa, surely," implored Mr Banes.

Mrs Banes shot her husband a warning look. She had always been good at numbers in the school room, and she was already adding the sums. The expense of dressing her, feeding her, educating her, finishing her, and God help her if she needed a dowry in order to be married.

A child needed all those things, and a family who could provide them. Mr Banes' modest income would certainly not allow for Katy to be brought up as a daughter in this house.