I knew nothing of boys, except that one day one would choose me, and I would be loved. I wish I could go back to my younger self – but what would I say? Would I tell her of what is to come? Could I offer anything of reassurance? As even now in adulthood I am as torn and as fragile as my childhood self. Born into privilege yet made to suffer for it. I know I am blessed in many ways, but to be left alone in this world so young seems too cruel. My parents were the constant in my life. While John went off to school and adventures, the family home always contained Elizabeth and me, my mother and father. They were happy days of trying to play the piano and paint and learn languages, none of which I was any good at but none of which mattered. I was loved. I was safe. I would one day be chosen, which I rather feared and hoped would not happen.

My world was dashed apart when my parents died within months of each other, leaving myself and Elizabeth to mourn and fear for our futures. But we had John to protect us. John, who strode about with swords and purpose and who could play a tune on the piano with great gusto. He would manage the estate and, in turn, us. He would make sure that if someone did choose us, they would be the right person, a good sort of man who would treasure us and not take us too far from our home.

John and I both warned Elizabeth not to accept that bastard of a man, but she ignored us, despite John’s protestations that he could look after us. She no doubt feared that having two dependent spinster sisters would put off any potential wife for John and jeopardise his chances at happiness. Captain Sutherland took her away from us, all the way up to Scotland, and never loves her as she deserves.

John did find a loving wife not long after, but God decided to take John from us all. It was just two years past, on his honeymoon of all times. He died and left his new wife alone with child, which she lost too, and the Walkers did nothing to provide for her, but cast her aside as if she and John had never existed.