CHAPTER 1

London 1,923

"I will not marry her to my best friend."   

"What's the matter? The Barton family is wealthy, they have numerous estates all over England," Her happiness was stamped on her face. "And my dear James, every single rich man needs a wife."   

It took him a few moments to process the information. He didn't understand his mother's sudden obsession with marrying his adopted sister to his best friend. Nor why she insisted on including him in this plan.  

Martha sat down on the sofa and pointed to the other armchair for him.   

"I need you to help me get your sister married. Meg will be eighteen soon. It's about time she got married."   

"She is not my sister. And she is still a child."  

"Angelina married you at the same age."    

A long sigh escaped his lips.    

"But, Mama, she keeps you company. Will you be alone in this huge house? That worries me.”   

Martha ignored his question, leaning her body toward him as if to confide a great secret.   

"Mr. Barton confided in me that he needs to marry William, who is aimless in life. And I need to marry Meg, I need to give her to a good family who will take care of her."   

His brown eyes seemed to pop out of his face.  

"My ears have never heard so much nonsense in a single sentence."   

"Mr. Barton and I, we've already planned everything. I'll invite them to dinner and then I'll arrange to leave Meg and William alone, and fate will take care of the rest."  

James felt her victorious gaze fall on him, like a trap falling on its prey. Martha and Mr. Abraham Barton have behaved like pimps.    

"They are incompatible," James retorted.   

"A woman learns the tastes of her husband. I lied all my life to her father, saying that I liked backgammon, and we were very happy. And she was educated by me, she knows how to behave on any occasion."   

"He's a libertine," he insisted.   

"He is a young man who likes to have fun. After the wedding all that will change."  

As he drummed his fingers on the wood, he could hear the sweet melody coming from a piano.   

"Who will play the piano every afternoon, to entertain you when you receive your friends?"    

"Honey, James, if that is your concern, I will use the gramophone."    

His mouth turned into a hard line. He exhausted in vain all possible arguments to dissuade his mother. 

"I refuse to participate in this. That is the most insane thing that has come out of his mouth. Marrying the orphan to my best friend who also happens to be the son of my boss. If Papa were alive, he would never agree to such nonsense."  

Such a situation was inconceivable. It would be humiliating for a proud man like him.   

"Watch your mouth, young man. You are the man of the house, you have to help me with the preparations, with the ceremony, and you have to lead Meg to the altar. "

 James stood upset beside the window, watching the heavy clouds multiplying in the sky, announcing that a beautiful storm was on its way.  

"And you, ma'am, my mother needs some sense. This matter is out of the question.  Meg is not my sister, you found her in a filthy orphanage and no matter how many expensive dresses you buy, she will always be a miserable orphan."  

 "James!"   

"I can't bear to look at her."   

By the time they realized it was late, Meg was standing in the doorway in her olive green dress with her eyes watering.    

"Hearing behind the doors?" he questioned aggressively.   

"Only deafness would prevent me from hearing the screams."   

Meg's haughty look shot him in a single bound, like a shot from close range. James hated the petulance of someone who didn't know his true place.    

"This house belongs to my family, which you are not a member of. I don't need to worry about good manners here," he said.  

"I know I don't have your blood. You don't let me forget that, not even for a minute. And yes, I am an orphan, my parents are dead, and yes, your mother mercifully removed me from a horrible place. That's my story, and I didn't choose it, nor can I change it."   

"Despicable girl." 

"Does agreeing with your line make me despicable?"  

 Martha stepped into the discussion, trying to calm things down.   

"James, apologize to her immediately," her mother ordered.   

They were surprised by a strong thunderstorm, something unusual for this time of year. The three of them fought a war in the middle of the room, while the employees rushed to close the windows.   

"I don't need to apologize for telling the truth," he roared.    

"It's all right! I don't need him to apologize to me," Meg replied, trying to end the fight.   

They looked at each other for some time, saying nothing. He felt himself being drawn into the blue immensity of her gaze. All their interactions always ended the same way, with James roaring and then running away.    

"Son!" Martha insisted.  

"That's enough!" he said.   

James made no apologies, and hurriedly left the house and got into his car in the pouring rain, ignoring his mother's frantic pleas to wait for the storm to cease.      

"James, honey, wait!" his mother called as he walked down the stairs and lost his breath halfway down the steps.

Precisely on this day Martha dismissed her private driver, unfortunately she wasn't very good at driving a car, but she didn't think twice before going after her son.   

"Mom, what are you doing? Please don't go," Megan pleaded worriedly, watching her mother get into the car alone.   

Marta ignored her daughter's plea, pushing her away.  

Even with trembling hands and blurred vision, she managed to get the vehicle moving, then headed in the direction of James' residence, a road she knew well.    

James was surprised to realize that it was his mother in the car behind him. She, who hated cars, preferred to use horse-drawn carriages and a coachman.  Before he could formulate a simple thought about the situation, a loud and terrifying bang caught his attention. When he looked back again the car his mother was in was turned into metallic wreckage. Marta lost direction and crashed into a tree.   

"Mom," he cried out in distress.  

James acted instinctively and ran towards the pile of twisted iron.   

Marta was trapped between the ironworks. The image of her body covered in blood will remain etched on his retina forever. He tried to clean the blood dripping from a head wound, but the liquid was squirting out in abundance, making it impossible to stop. He needed to calm her down.

 "Mom, stay calm, I'm going to get you out of here. Let's go back home. "

He tried to comfort his mother, giving her false hope, but her eyes showed the dread he felt. Yes, his mother was dying right in front of him, and there was nothing he could do except lie and say that everything would be fine.    

 "James, promise you'll take care of her for me.... Promise," his mother pleaded in a thread of voice.   

"Mom... Don't talk," pleaded the desperate son.  

 James no longer felt the icy drops of rain falling on him.   

 "Promise, just promise that you will marry her to William," he asked one last time before closing his eyes forever.

"I promise," he replied, holding Martha's hand.   

Her gaze glazed into emptiness, he passed his hand over them, closing them eternally.    

His heartbeat was out of rhythm, and a knot formed in his throat.  The rain intensified around him, and he saw the water turning red with his mother's blood. With trembling hands he held the inert body in his arms, and the promise he had just made echoed in his mind.     

"I cannot see her married to my best friend.... Not when she holds, like a hostage, my heart," he whispered into the thick, dark night.   

He could never break his promise.