Pietro stood in the middle of the room, the table surrounding him of a circular shape with enough room for him to walk and see every pair of eyes that was on him as he spoke. They seemed intrigued by his invention, by his passion for this device that he had created to mine from the iron ores on his family's land.
Anna Marie, curious, had entered the room quietly and stood against the wall.
"I have absolutely no doubt that this machine will revolutionize iron mining as we know it." Pietro spoke confidently as the machine whirred.
"Turn it off, please." James Darkholme spoke.
Pietro turned off the machine, and James stepped forward.
"Have you tested it? Full scale?"
"Not yet sir, we're very close, but we hope that with funding-" Pietro began.
"So what you have is a toy." James declared. "And some fancy words."
There was murmuring among the men at the table.
"Mister Darkholme…" Pietro protested.
"You have tried, and failed, to raise capital in London, Edinburgh…" James was reading off a list in front of him, and Pietro caught Anna Marie's eye, a nervousness in his expression.
Oh, she felt pity for him. She cast her eyes away.
"...Milan." James continued.
Pietro, straightening his spine, replied. "That is correct, sir."
"And now you're here." James concluded softly.
"Correct again, sir."
James gestured to the rest of the room. "The men at this table, all of us, came up through honest, hard work. Well, maybe not all of us." He pointed to a blonde man with a mustache. "Mister Creed here is a lawyer, and even he can't help that." There was chuckling around the room.
"I started out as a steelworker, raising buildings before I could own them." James continued, walking closer to Pietro. "My hands…feel them." He took Pietro's hands. "Rough. The reflection of who I am." He held Pietro's hands in his, running his rough fingers over Pietro's skin, the difference noticeable between the texture of each man's hand. "Now, you sir, when I shook your hand, you've got the softest hands I've ever felt."
Pietro was silent, no words came to him at that moment.
"In America, we bank on effort, not on privilege." James continued. "That is how we built this country." He went to move away, and Pietro blocked his way.
"I am here with all that I possess, sir." He spoke, and James, to his credit, could not turn away at such conviction in his voice. "A name, a patch of land, and a will to make it yield. The least that you can grant me is the courtesy of your time, and the chance to prove to you and these fine gentlemen that my will, dear sir, is at the very least as strong as yours." His tone, though calm and level, spoke of fire and passion, and Anna Marie, who had been watching this entire exchange, felt a sense of pride in this Freiherr who had stood up for himself against all the evidence that her father had presented.
All of town was buzzing by that evening of this mysterious Freiherr who had come to America. The rumors flew of his business here, that he was an inventor, seeking funding for his latest invention.

The women were quite fascinated by him, by his dashing good looks, the seriousness of his features, and the rather bright blue of his eyes.

Anna Marie had completed her task of transcribing her work of fiction, a feat that had taken her most of the day, and she was satisfied with the work. She made a secondary copy, for her own records, and had gone home, just in time for the dark clouds above to release a downpour.
Mrs Wagner, a prominent woman in high society, had put together a grand evening to celebrate Sir Eisenhardt's arrival, an event that Anna Marie was not planning to attend. Her 'peculiar way of thinking' had earned her a status as an outcast among high society, and she knew she would be absolutely miserable. Not to mention the stares and whispers. She had been dubbed 'our very own Jane Austen' by Mrs Wagner, no doubt implying she would be a spinster, to which Anna Marie had replied: 'I would rather be Mary Shelley. She died a widow.'
"I need a corset." James Darkholme announced, mostly to himself, as he adjusted his waistcoat, preparing for the night's festivities as Anna Marie came downstairs in her dressing gown.
"No, you don't. You look very handsome." She descended the stairs and walked towards her father.
"Do I?" He glanced at her in the mirror, his tone almost questioning.
"Yes." She answered simply. "You do, young man." She placed her hands on his shoulders, turning him around so she could adjust his bowtie.
"I do wish you would change your mind and come along tonight." He remarked as her fingers undid his tie. "Mrs Wagner has gone to a lot of trouble for this Sir Pietro Eisenhardt, Freiherr of Prussia. Apparently, he's taken an interest in young Justine." Anna Marie finished with his tie, and moved to adjust his suit jacket. "I saw you spying on us, child." He commented, having spotted her in the room during the meeting.
"Was his proposal so outrageous as to merit such a harsh answer from you?" She asked as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"It wasn't his proposal, my love." James replied to his daughter. "It was him." He turned and faced the mirror. "There's something about him that I don't like. What, I don't know, and I don't like not knowing." Once he was satisfied with how he looked, he kissed Anna Marie on the cheek, a show of fatherly affection.
"What I saw was a dreamer facing defeat." She could hear his groan as he listened to her. "Did you see his suit? Beautifully tailored, but at least a decade old."
"I can see that you observed far more than I did." James remarked, almost sarcastically.
The bell rang, indicating someone at the door.
"His shoes were handmade, but clearly worn…." Anna Marie continued.
"That will be young Doctor Wagner. He's brought his new motor car to collect me." He made his way down the main staircase. "Come and see it and say hello to him. He's just opened his new practice, and he's always been awfully fond of you."
"Hush, I know that, father. Kurt is a dear friend, always has been." She commented.
The maid greeted Doctor Kurt Wagner at the door, a handsome man with a cheerful disposition.
James greeted him with a handshake.
"Good evening, Mister Darkholme." Kurt shook his hand.
"Kurt, good to see you."
Kurt turned his attention past James to his daughter. "Hello Anna Marie."
She smiled. "My, don't we look smart, Kurt."
He smiled and looked down at his suit. "Oh, you know, just something I threw together."
"It's Anna Marie who should be the belle of the ball this evening, don't you agree, Kurt?" James commented, clearly prejudiced in favor of his daughter.
She blushed slightly at her father's praise.
"As I recall, Anna Marie takes a dim view of social frivolity." Kurt remarked with a slight smirk.
She shot him a look before shooing them both out the door. "You lads enjoy the party." She whispered to Kurt. "Don't let him drink too much."
"Hey!" James protested playfully, earning him a smile from his daughter as she shut the door behind them.
"So she's not coming." Kurt commented as they walked under their umbrellas out to the motor car.
"Stubborn to the bone." James remarked about his daughter.
"Where did she get that from, I wonder?" Kurt grinned as they climbed into the motor car and took down the umbrellas.
"I'm not complaining! I like it." James remarked, both of them chuckling lightly as they drove away.
Anna Marie returned to her room, where a book was laid open, and her papers were nearby, the pages open to a section talking about the Province of Saxony, and a picture of a beautiful castle.
"Wernigerode Castle…"
She was reading and heard a door either being opened or closed.
"Father? Did you forget something?" She asked as she kept reading.
The noise continued, and she looked up to see the handle of her door being turned quickly in each direction, like someone was trying to get in, even though the door was unlocked.
The door opened, and the handle kept turning, like it had a mind of its own. Finally, it stopped, and the door creaked as it opened all the way.
Anna Marie, curious and a little skeptical, climbed off the bed and slowly walked to her now open bedroom door, inspecting the handle that was turned in such a way that it appeared stuck. As she reached out to fix it, it righted itself, causing her to jump slightly. As she went to shut the door, she saw a figure that she had not seen in ten years.
The skeletal ghost of her mother.
Raven.