CHAPTER 2 

  

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.