Martha's body was mourned at her home, and buried later that afternoon in the family mausoleum. Meg stood inconsolable beside James to pay their last respects. While she broke down in tears, he remained as steadfast as a rock.
Her legs failed her, and she had to be supported by James when she heard the final sentence 'rest in peace'. She thought about how cruel life could be, the previous afternoon she had played the piano to brighten the weekly meeting between Martha and her friends, and now she was burying it. She felt useless and fragile, inside those black funeral clothes. She also felt James' eyes on her all the time, and that was strange.
"Miss Margaret, my condolences."
Her catatonic gaze stopped on the handsome, hazel-haired, aristocratic-looking boy who was standing next to his white-haired father. Although he had returned to London almost two months ago, they had not spoken, but Martha had an unshakable conviction that they were meant for each other.
"Thank you, William," she replied mechanically, looking away, only to find James watching her once more, and remaining stuck in him for a few moments.
"It is unfortunate that our reunion happens in such a painful circumstance for everyone."
"We don't have much control over events," she said, after a long pause.
"Are you in need of anything?" asked William.
"I'm fine," she replied promptly, trying to pull away subtly, only to cry again.
"If you're in need of anything, just let me know."
Meg pressed her lips together and answered nothing. Wiliam was extremely wealthy, yet what she wanted was not for sale.
"I'm concerned for your safety," he insisted.
Her tired gaze turned to him, wishing William would go away.
"Why do you think my safety is threatened?"
"Lady Martha, you just died, the estate is automatically inherited by James. I don't know if he will allow you to continue living there," he argued.
"I have no relatives. What do you suggest I do?" she asked impatiently.
"We can hasten the wedding. Then you wouldn't be helpless."
A restlessness was growing inside her, and she was about to explode at such male insensitivity.
"Is your single life so bad that you would want to rush into marriage with someone you haven't seen in years?"
He smiled.
"We have known each other since we were children, and our families have known each other for ages. And that was Martha's wish."
The last sentence fell on her overwhelmingly. She clutched nervously at the handkerchief James had lent her.
James appeared beside her as if by magic, one moment Meg and William were there, and the next second James was between them. And she was grateful for that. He had always saved her in her childhood, when the other children were hostile to her, and they always were. To miss that time was inevitable, for James was kind and Martha was alive. She had suffered in silence over the past few years to get used to his sudden coldness.
"I have come to pay my respects to Meg and offer our hospitality," William justified.
Mr. Abraham Barton, who was watching from afar, approached them.
"Dear James, my wife Judith has agreed to welcome Meg home until the wedding ceremony. Obviously the mourning period will be respected," said Mr. Abraham, who was terribly shaken by Martha's sudden death.
At the moment this is out of the question," James declared with conviction.
Mr. Abraham looked upset.
"We will bear all her expenses, so you won't have to worry."
"Mr. Barton, I appreciate your concern, but Meg will stay home with me and my wife Angelina."
Meg watched as a mere spectator as three men decided her future, and none of them bothered to ask her what she really wanted.
"My mother asked me to take care of her in her last minute of life. I will grant her request," he said, putting an end to the discussion.
At night, when everyone had left, the silence in the residence was somber and suffocating. Meg felt completely alone, staring at the piano that Martha loved so much. She tried to ignore the indigestible presence of Angelina, who was already behaving like the new owner of the house.
"You must marry Mr. William as soon as possible, he is a rich man," Angelina scolded her harshly. "If you don't marry him soon, you will be a burden to my husband."
The emphasis Angelina used, when pronouncing the word burden, hurt Meg. It was an explicit message, that she was not welcome. And Meg wondered if James thought the same.
"He's rich! Is that all that matters?"
Meg felt the blood boiling through her veins, and at the same time, homicidal desires surged in her thoughts. She never had any sympathy for Angelina, she never understood why James married her. The contact between them was limited to simple everyday courtesy, and now she wanted to decide Meg's entire future.
"Someone like you won't find another opportunity like this," she replied impatiently.
Meg was so exhausted that she felt nauseous.
She remembered when her biological parents died and she bounced from home to home, lived temporarily in the house of some relatives, until she finally ended up in the orphanage. The sadism of fate tortured her again, like a hot potato, being tossed from hand to hand, until she was finally discarded.
"Someone like me?" she asked, pausing , looking at her own feet. She understood what Angelina was implying, but didn't have enough courage to say it.
"That's enough, Angelina," ordered James.
Her heart raced as she heard James's voice, stronger than usual. He suddenly appeared in the room, looking very unfriendly. She couldn't understand why he was so angry about this marriage, maybe he didn't consider her up to the standard of the Barton surname.
"James dear , "Angelina tried to explain herself, but was interrupted.
"I want to believe that your words are a reflection of the great loss we have had today. And I also believe that it will never happen again.
"I'm sorry, my husband. I just wanted to help."
His stern look fell on his wife.
"Go and rest. We've had a hard day."
"Good night."
Meg was bent over her own body, her heart in tatters. She felt the weight of the world on her back. She tried to be as strong and rational as the moment required, but she was about to collapse, right in front of him.
She watched James from across the room, sitting by the fireplace and smoking a cigarette. He seemed calm as he took a generous sip of whiskey, but Meg knew him well, knew he was grieving the death of his mother, and would not dare show weakness.
"Will I be forced to marry soon, Mr. William Barton?" she asked in a trembling voice, watching the flames crackling at the bottom of the fireplace.
"Only if you want to," he replied after a long sigh.
Looking at him was like looking at an old, faded photograph, the person in the picture was the same, but he looked completely different. The man who stood there, smoking and drinking, did not remind him at all of the boy he had once known.
I know I'm a burden, and you'll have to get rid of me," her voice came out more flawed than she wished, and she hated herself for it.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he declared, staring at her deeply.
Meg saw him leave his cigarette and drink on the table, and walk quickly towards her.
"James, what happened to us? In the past you were my best friend. Now I look at you today and I see a stranger."
He contracted his jaw and held her hands for a long time without saying anything.
"We were children," he justified after a long pause.
He lost himself in her infinity-colored sky eyes, and she lost herself in the memories of a distant childhood.
"I miss that time, back then our last names didn't separate us."
"You miss it because you used to beat me."
"I miss it because I was happy," she confessed with tear-filled eyes. "I never understood what happened. We grew up and everything changed, Willian went to America and came back different. You became cold, distant, you didn't even seem the same. And, I was left alone."
Meg couldn't disguise the sweat and trembling in her hands.
His fingers were cold when they touched her cheek, but she felt her skin burn like hot coals.
"James, when you look at me, do you see a sister?"
"No."
Her heart beat faster and without realizing it, she began to tremble. She hadn't been very controlled during the conversation, but now she had lost total control over her trembling. Embarrassed, she looked away.
He touched her again, forcing her to face him.
"Does my touch bother you?"
She felt his warm breath on her face, and gasped louder than she should have. Suddenly she felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were moving in her direction, preventing her from breathing.
"James?"
Before Meg could answer the question, they were surprised by William, who was standing in the middle of the room with an astonished look on his face.
In trying to correct one mistake, James made another, but recent events absolved him, he was an innocent culprit. William asked with a suspicious look if they were all right. Meg quickly hid her face, feeling embarrassed. She didn't want her visitor to notice her red cheeks, trembling hands, and guilty look. "What are you doing here?" replied James, irritated. She pulled herself together quickly, noticing William approaching. He greeted them with a discreet nod. Then he explained, with an annoyed expression, that his father had forgotten his hat and had forced him to come and get it. "That, couldn't it wait until tomorrow?" James asked, drinking the rest of the whiskey in his glass. "He's been pacing the room and cursing for over an hour," William turned to Meg."I thought that Miss Margaret might be able to help me look for him," the visitor argued. "Sure," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "In the garden?" questioned James, irritated. “Yes," W
While Meg was carefully examined by Doctor Radcliff, the family doctor, James remained in the room with a worried expression, vehemently refusing to leave. The atmosphere was tense and the silence was interrupted only by the sound of medical instruments. The doctor's serious face further increased the tension of the situation, making James more and more apprehensive. Finally, James got up the courage to ask, "How is she?" "It was a great shock to her to lose Martha. You know how fragile women are." The doctor said handing him some medicinal vials. "Will she be okay?" asked James. "I believe so. She will need to take these medicines and rest for a few days, but if she doesn't get better with these medicines, call me." James sighed, feeling a wave of relief mixed with a tightness in his chest. "Thank you," he spoke, walking him to the door. As he made his way to the door, the doctor appeared to be absorbed in important thoughts. "James, when you have a free moment, stop by my
The days passed slowly and lonely for Meg, inside that room. James avoided her, and this made her even more distressed, and she remained under the care of the maids, until she recovered. Every now and then she heard Angelina's irritated voice echoing through the corridors, complaining about something. And Angelina always complained. While looking at the walls, Meg thought about her uncertain future in that house, and in that family. She knew that her days there were numbered, for Angelina would not allow her to stay for long. And Meg didn't want to marry William, because she didn't love him. So she had to find a solution. She thought that maybe she could work as a piano teacher, a maid, or as a worker in a textile factory. And all of these options looked bad. Her reflection in the mirror told her that she was still down. She left her room for the first time since she had been ill. She sat down on the stool to play the piano in an empty room. Meg played Martha's favorite tune, s
Meg walked through the Garden, lost in her own thoughts, mulling over the guilt she felt for loving who she shouldn't. When James simply ignored her, Meg didn't have to deal with the complexity of her feelings and the lack of ethics involved, but now he began to be kind and considerate, and Meg didn't know what to do. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the presence of James who was watching her intently from behind the bushes.Suddenly he interrupted her reveries, "I am relieved to see that you have recovered completely." Surprised to find him so early in the morning, Meg smiled nervously, feeling exposed, as if James could read her thoughts. He sat on one of the benches in the garden, looking nostalgic as he watched Meg. "It's been so long since I've been here," he said. Meg climbed up on the old swing that they used to play on when they were kids and started swinging, feeling the cool breeze on her face. "I always come. It was our secret place, remember? We used to s
William and Angelina were sitting at a table in a teahouse, enjoying the discreet and refined atmosphere. Angelina's blonde hair was pinned up with several bobby pins around her head, giving her a sophisticated look. William looked at her. "It is always a pleasure to be in your company, my dear friend," he said. "But I feel there is a reason behind our meeting." Angelina smiled and took a sip of tea before speaking. She was an elegant and underhanded woman, shaped by the standards of the society she was in. "In my new residence, there are many servants, so I wanted to avoid unwanted gossip," she said. "Enjoying your new residence?" She smiled satisfied as if she had just won a prize. "The mansion is magnificent, indeed, however, managing it all requires a lot of work." He looked at her puzzled. "Tell me, what is the reason for this sudden meeting? I am curious." She leaned toward him. "I won't be evasive, we don't have time for that. You and I share a common goal: I also
On his way downstairs, James found Angelina and Meg, who were sitting on the living room couch, embroidering new sheets. His wife was keeping her haughty posture, hair pinned up and a well-made dress, Meg was still wearing black clothes because of her grief over Martha's death. He contemplated the two women with sadness, James knew that they were both part of his life, but held the wrong positions in his heart. Angelina, his childhood friend, had become his wife, while Meg, his true love, seemed a stranger. He married Angelina for fear of facing his feelings for Meg, he believed that this youthful passion would fade with time. He was wrong. If he had been brave enough to declare his feelings and face his mother's surprise, perhaps today he would be happy at Meg's side. However, his cowardice had doomed him and the two women to a lonely life. "How are you two?" he asked looking directly at Meg, who looked away quickly. "We're great," Angelina replied. There was a tension in the
"Why did you ask me to come here?" asked William, puzzled by the choice of place. Angelina smiled enigmatically, seemingly unconcerned about the people around her. "My dear friend, your father is a major funder of the charity ball, and I am one of the organizers. We can't risk being seen together in suspicious places, like the tea house. We need to keep up appearances, after all, I am a married woman." she explained, in a soft, persuasive voice, as they walked through the large hall in which the ball would be held in a few weeks. "You are very perceptive," William complimented, admiring Angelina's cunning. She smiled as she arranged the small hat on her head. "The next step in our plan is to act as if you have lost all interest in marrying Meg," Angelina said, with a determined look. William smiled back. "That's easy. I never had much interest in Meg anyway." "Good," Angelina said, satisfied. "We can set everything up for the day of the ball." "You're a Machiavellian woman," he
"By the way, Meg, have you picked out the dress you're going to wear yet?" asked Angelina, trying on a red dress in front of the mirror. Angelina had spent the whole afternoon trying on dresses for the ball and had not been able to choose any. The store attendants and seamstresses tried their best to fulfill all the requests of the demanding customer, but they were exhausted by so much demand. They couldn't complain, the Campbell family had always been one of their best customers. Meg, accompanying her, looked bored, although she tried to disguise it with a forced smile. "I already have something in mind," she replied. Meg was distracted by looking at some hats that were on display. They were old and classic models, but she liked them. She remembered how Lady Martha used to wear similar hats, creating an elegant and refined look. "You mean those old rags?" asked Angelina, making a grimace of disgust. Meg ignored the snide comment and calmly replied, "They are comfortable and