On the eve of my ninth birthday, Madeline came to live with us.

I remember the day clearly.

My Uncle, the good Rector Morgan, struggled to conceal his horror when a letter arrived two weeks ago. He never expected another orphan child would be placed into his care.

I felt pity for her, my poor cousin, Madeline, who’d recently lost both her parents in a tragic sea journey. I was in a similar situation--a penniless orphan, fortunate to have my Uncle, the good Rector Morgan, accept me into his home at the Rectory.

I will never forget the day I first met Uncle Clive and Aunt Mary. I was only five, but some things from childhood are never forgotten. I was very frightened when I saw a great, dark shadow looming over me from the doorway.

Yes, the illustrious Rector Morgan, a large-girthed man with a permanently grim face. I often watched him practicing his sermons and the power evident in his physical voice caused me to liken him to God himself, for Uncle Clive was indeed a god in those early years.

For Madeline, things would be different. Things would always be different for Madeline.

I never knew I had a cousin until Aunt Mary took me into her confidence, sitting me down in the small drawing room devoid of color. She always summoned me to the drawing room when something important was to be discussed. Uncle Clive had no time for children and the poor kitten, me, who’d been thrown at his door, rather annoyed him. I tried to keep out of his sight as often as possible.

Aunt Mary, unquestionably kind towards all, appeared somewhat of an angel compared to her autocratic husband. Although in awe of him, she carried out her duties in love and compliance. I never once heard her complain.

Small and fine-boned, she sat down, her delicate hand resting on the lace at her neck. "‘Dear Mary,’" she read out the letter in her soft, angelic voice. "‘I’m afraid I have tragic news to impart. Our dear brother, Charles, and his wife, Miriam, never reached their destination. The office has confirmed their ship went down off the coast of Africa. As you know, they left behind their only daughter, Madeline, in their missionary pursuits. Dear Mary, Lord Vere refuses to accept the child into our house, however, will set up the necessary funds if you agree to do so. I am sure the good Rector will find this arrangement agreeable... yours etc, B."’

I knew who ‘B’ was. One could never forget a prominent character, particularly in this household. ‘B’ or Beatrice was Aunt Mary’s younger sister and having secured Lord Vere as her husband, held the title of Lady Vere. I’d never seen the elusive Lady Beatrice, but I knew Aunt Mary often wrote letters to her.

"So I have a cousin..." I murmured.

"Yes, my dear, you do," Aunt Mary smiled. "I have spoken with your Uncle and he has agreed. Madeline will arrive the day after tomorrow."

"How old is she?" I asked, for that was more important to me than any other details at the time.

Aunt Mary glanced at me sympathetically. "Madeline is fifteen years of age. She will share your room, Laura. I want you to make it ready for her... ask Ruby to help you. Jake will move in the spare bed later today."

I nodded and although was very excited about my new cousin’s arrival, did not show it. One did not display emotions in this household.

~ * ~

Two days later, Madeline arrived.

I will never forget my first sight of her. She stood outside with Uncle Clive and Aunt Mary. The relative who brought Madeline from London promptly departed with the hired coach, leaving the girl clutching an old, worn carpetbag. The sun came out at that moment and touched the lights in her tawny hair.

I gasped, for she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I peeked through the lace curtains in the drawing room, watching her smile, a lovely smile, which made me warm to her instantly. I could not see what color her eyes were but it didn’t matter. I decided I liked her immediately and would not mind sharing my room with her.

Uncle Clive caught me staring and beckoned me in his stoical manner. I crept out in an obedient, silent manner as Uncle Clive insisted I learn. ‘Women must learn in silence with all submission... ’ was one of his favorite sayings and I knew better than to encourage his disfavor.

"Laura," he introduced with all pomp and severity, "this is your cousin, Madeline."

I could not help feeling a little jealousy over the beauty of this newcomer, who brought such a smile to Aunt Mary’s face. I knew I was plain in comparison, although, Ruby, our maid, assured me I would be handsome one day. I found it difficult to believe, examining Madeline’s porcelain skin, emerald green eyes and striking tawny hair. But as soon as she smiled and held out her hands, I accepted her.

I always wanted a sister.