England, 1743
A young girl played in the large garden that surrounded an elegant house in the midst of the English countryside. She was without a nurse or chaperone but seemed to enjoy the freedom her solitude offered. At the moment, she was busy going to a fountain and back to a small alcove in one of the hedges that divided up the garden into a maze. The branches had been cut away after the last frost of winter leaving a cozy nook, which the child had claimed as her own.
Her doll Eliza sat nestled among the low branches and before it was a petite-sized china tea set complete with dainty dishes, cups, and silverware. The girl was busy pretending to prepare tea for her guest when suddenly she heard footsteps on the other side of her hiding place. Fearing chastisement for being found outside and playing in the dirt, she crawled further into the hedge and peered through the tight-knit branches.
"Where has that girl got to now?"
"Let her be, Beatrice," answered a man, in the low, rolling tones proper of the Scottish Highlanders.
"Eugenie has never given me so much trouble she does, George. Why even Alice is better behaved and she is naught but three!"
The girl's eyes widened, recognizing in the speakers her father and her mother's sister.
"Alice takes after her mother," George Munro replied mournfully.
The girl felt a twinge of sadness for she too shared his misfortune. Her mother had passed away a month before due to a long and difficult illness. The situation had been kept from her and her sister as much as possible, and it had been only when there was nothing left to do that they'd been informed of her imminent loss.
She recalled being roughly awoken at the earliest hours of a winter morning and being taken to her mother's sickbed so she could receive her last kiss and blessing.
"Be good, Cora," her mother had whispered feverishly, pressing her warm hand against the girl's cheek. "Take care of Alice for me, will you, dearest?"
The funeral was carried out not two days after and nothing made sense to the young girl. Many people came and went from their home: men of her father's acquaintance, ladies in drab, black gowns and some relatives, few of which she recognized. Baby Alice did not seem to notice the somber atmosphere and spent most of the time by her nurse's side. But Cora had felt the lack of her mother's sweet presence and, though she would have liked to cling to her father for comfort, she understood he was too busy taking care of things. Thus, she became invisible and forgotten to all, keeping to the nursery or the gardens with no one but her dolls as company.
The two adults walked a bit farther out on the green before speaking once more, unwitting of their hidden eavesdropper.
"What shall you do now, George?"
"I've put in a request for an England post. I want to stay as close to my girls as I can."
"Just when you were about to receive your commission? It's scandalous!"
"It has to be done. I won't risk Cora and Alice losing their parents one right after the other," he replied dryly.
"Yes, of course", her aunt muttered apologetically. "I can understand, though you know you needn't hinder your career because of the girls. They would do quite well living with Eugenie and me."
Panic rose within Cora. She had a difficult relationship with her aunt who was a hard, severe woman and she could not imagine having to live with her, especially when her father was halfway across the world.
"I thank you, Beatrice," George Munro said. "But there is still plenty for me to do here. American can wait."
America! Lately, Cora had heard people speak with excitement and wonder about the new continent. From what she had gathered it was a large place, much larger than England, and it was inhabited by a different kind of people: Indians, someone had called them. They were said to have red skins and no manners, walking around half naked, eating raw meat from woodland animals and living in strange houses made of mud and sticks. Cora's youthful imagination was naturally caught and she often found herself wishing she could visit the place.
The sun had already set and the last of its rays were barely visible over the low, rolling hills of the horizon. Her aunt and father had already walked the entire length of the garden several times and were returning to the steps.
"I shall call for the girls to have their bath," Aunt Beatrice said. "Hopefully Cora will have already come in, though I cannot guess at the state of her hair or clothes."
Her father muttered some sort of agreement and waited until her aunt's clicking heels faded away into the house. He then turned with his hands crossed behind his back and strode to the place where Cora had sat throughout their entire conversation.
"You can come out now, Miss Cora."
Cora padded out holding on tightly to her doll and bearing a solemn look on her face.
"Have you sat there eavesdropping all this while, you naughty girl?"
"Yes, Papa," she confessed, lowering her tiny black lashes.
George Munro gazed at his eldest daughter with warmth. He had been so busy since the death of his wife that he had not had enough time to spend with either one of his children. Alice was easier to care for, but he knew Cora had been thoroughly neglected.
He knelt down and beckoned her closer. "What do you make of your aunt? Would you like to go and live with her and Eugenie?" Despite her young age, George had always treated Cora as though she were an adult. He nurtured and encouraged her to be open with him, making their relationship a close one.
The girl lifted her eyes to her father and he saw they were wet from withheld tears. "No, Papa. I don't want you to go." She threw her arms around him and clung on with every ounce of strength her seven-year old body had.
"I won't," George Munro whispered, embracing her and lifting her up in his arms. "But things are going to change a little, yes? You will try and be good to your aunt like your mother asked you to." The girl nodded, mollified now that she knew her father would not leave them.
George turned around and walked back to the entrance of the house. The lamps had long since been lit and their light shone cozy and inviting.
"Papa?" Cora asked, resting her small head on her father's shoulder.
"Yes, my girl?"
"If you go to America one day, can I come with you?"
George Munro smiled inwardly. "Of course you can. When you and Alice are a bit older, we shall climb onto one of our great British ships and cross the ocean to the New World."