Author's Notes: Oh wow, oh geeze. I'm sorry! I really should stop putting up ideas of when I'm going to be updating, because I never seem to be able to follow through with them. That's real life for you, right? So pretty much, my apologies on the delay. I'll try to get chapter 11 out to you a little faster, promise.

Okay, on the subject of the reviews, I want to say THANK YOU! To the four people who reviewed chapter 9. Any or every thought you care to contribute is really, really, really appreciated and helps me to grow as an writer. I not only want your thoughts, but I honestly NEED them, so please KEEP EM COMING! As much as I did genuinely appreciate the reviews I did receive, it was a little disappointing to see that there were only four of them, when I know there are many more people out there reading the story. If you have any kind of reaction to this chapter at all, I'd love to hear it!

EXTRA IMPORTANT NOTE: There is quite a bit of genealogoy in this chapter that may seem a little confusing to some of you. I've tried to explain how the families work in my author's notes at the bottom of the chapter, so if at any point you get confused by the timeline or the families, just scroll down and hopefully that will help you. If you still don't get it, please leave a review saying so, and I'll try to clear everything up as best as I possibly can!

Thanks so much, and enjoy!

CHAPTER 10

Gazing at his wife over his daughter's shoulder, Admiral John Alcott felt his breath hitch in his throat. "By God," he thought, his deep eyes sweeping over her frame, "she is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld." The time they had been parted only improved his wife's looks as she began to swell with his child.

Wordlessly, John handed his daughter to a nearby servant with a nod to bring her to the nursery. When Anna protested, he gave the child a mischievous wink that made her giggle, and she said no more as she was taken upstairs. The servants that followed in his wake, fussing over him, removing his cloak, bringing in his luggage were all ignored as he stared at his bride, eagerly drinking in the sight of her. When he saw that all his bags had been attended to, he glanced at the staff and said with a sharpness that only the commander of a fleet could muster, "Thank you. Leave us!"

With his biting tone, the servants scattered. The master of the house was a good tempered man and a fair employer, but they knew better than to cross one of the Admiral's direct orders. They scurried out of the hall, sending each other curious looks as they returned to their normal duties. For the first time in some weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott were together again, and utterly alone, no servant would be fool enough to make his way into the foyer again so long as his master and mistress occupied it.

The pair glanced at each other warily, suppressing their yearning as best they could. For a lingering moment neither spoke, unsure of how they would be received by the other. Finally, Eleanor released a long held sigh and said, "Admiral, welcome home."

Dark eyes full of emotion, John stepped toward his wife, his crutch thumping heavily on the marble floor. "I am not home." He said tenderly, moving toward her, "No, not yet."

Eleanor could not breathe, could not move, as her husband made his advance. There were many things she wanted to say to him, many angry tears that needed to be shed, but she could not voice her thoughts as he looked at her with his intense gaze. With sudden power, she was brought back to her wedding night; the weak knees, the clammy palms, the feeling of being entirely out of her depth and completely at her husband's mercy, it was all there. Almost before she had time to realize what had occurred he stood in front of her, the distance between them so small that Mrs. Alcott could feel her husband's heat caressing her in gentle waves.

And then his lips were on hers, crashing against her and demanding her to give in to him. Fleetingly, the thought entered Eleanor's mind to resist her husband, to push him from her with angry words, to continue the fight that he had been too much of a coward to finish, but she could not. Her husband had abandoned her, had stolen her child, and yet as his one free arm wrapped around her, crushing her body against his, his lips passionately and reverently making a map on her face, her hair, and her neck, she could not feel anything but an overwhelming sensation of love. It filled her, coursing through her blood in intoxicating measure, making her forget everything except how desperately she had missed him in his absence.

Finally cooling his ardor enough to pull away from his wife for the briefest of moments, the Admiral whispered gently, "Yes, now. Now I am home."

Eleanor could not help the tears that welled in her eyes and threatened to spill, the emotional nature of a woman, especially one with child, and the sorrow of the past weeks unhinged her. Sniffling like a child, she attempted to keep her composure, but the Admiral only kissed each eyelid, and tenderly wiped away each tear with a calloused finger. Cradling her golden head against his chest, he murmured, "From the very moment I left you, I longed for nothing more than to be by your side once more."

"Then whatever possessed you to leave?" she responded, her tone petulant and accusatory, yet tender.

John laughed bitterly, a self-mocking chuckle. "You have always accused me of being a man of a stubborn, prideful nature, Ellie. You need to guess at my reasoning?"

Despite herself, Eleanor's lips grew into a small smile which the Admiral felt against his shoulder as she burrowed her face against him. "How wrong you are so often, Admiral, and how you hate to be so!"

"You have sketched my character most adeptly, madam." He ruefully replied, "I must own it to be true. My better nature willed me to stay and behave as the gentleman I was brought up to be, but baser instincts prevailed."

With his words, Eleanor pulled from her husband's embrace, her temper flaring. "How convenient it must be for you! A husband has all the luxury in the world while a wife has none. You may give into your instincts and take flight with the slightest provocation, yet I must remained shackled to my duty, holding myself erect among the wreckage and weather the storm, no matter how strongly it may wage!"

John blanched, wobbling slightly with the sudden shift of weight. His normally swarthy complexion was pale and haggard with the weight of the weeks that had passed. His mischievous eyes held no hint of humor as he looked at her, only a sobering seriousness. Running a hand through coarse salt and pepper hair in confusion, he looked at his wife and said with all the feeling in the world, "Eleanor, I am sorry."

The tears that had threatened now fell freely, the current of withheld emotion as fierce and powerful as a river breaking through a dam, flooding the valley below. Shaking with the violence of all that she felt, Eleanor attempted to compose herself to little avail. For weeks she had remained strong and in control for her family, her brother and her children, and finally she freed herself of the burden of silent pain. Her husband approached her hesitantly, attempting to console her, but she shook him off, cringing from his touch.

"Where is my son!" She finally gasped, her lovely face red and blotchy, her chest heaving up and down heavily in order to grasp enough air to push the words out. "Where is my little boy, you thief?"

The Admiral winced with her accusation, but his tone was calm and soothing as he addressed his wife. "Our son remains at Halston, with my brother and sister."

"Halston!" Eleanor cried with a barking, humorless laugh, "And where were you while Uncle Andrew filled my son's head with nonsense about inheritance? With one of your mistresses!"

"Enough!" The Admiral thundered, his voice reverberating throughout the foyer, "I will not be spoken to in such a manner!"

"And I," Eleanor cried, matching his volume, "will not be treated in such a fashion as I have endured this past month!"

"Am I not here before you?" John asked, his tone softening, "Have I not owned my faults in this case, and begged your pardon? What more can you ask of me, what else can I do to relay to you the depth of my apology?"

"You have told me your reasoning behind abandoning me, at least in part, and you have told me that you are sorry for doing so. But I have not heard an apology from you, you have not asked for my forgiveness and I will certainly not bestow it on so reluctant a recipient." His wife hissed, her blue eyes flashing in anger. With a an exasperated shake of her head she added, "You are holding back from me, every part of me knows it. What is it Admiral? What are you not telling me, John?"

With her inquiry, a dark solemnity seemed to fill the hall. Eleanor sensed the change in atmosphere almost immediately, and felt the sensation of dread creep up her spine. Staring at her husband, her eyes pouring over him in silent question, it suddenly occurred to her how very tired John looked. At thirty-eight the Admiral was considered to be in his prime, very far from being an old man, but in that moment, every single year seemed to weigh upon him like an oppressing burden. His weather-beaten face looked gaunt, his proud, broad shoulders slumped wearily, and his twinkling eyes had gone from solemn to lifeless through the course of the conversation.

"Please, Mrs. Alcott," he finally said, his tone betraying the depth of exhaustion, "I will confide in you, I swear it. In just a few moments you will know all there is to know of my family, everything I have kept from you these past eight years…but please, I beg of you, allow a man a drink first, to rally himself."

Wordlessly, Eleanor took her husband's hand and lead him to the study, their pace slow as his crutch thundered against the marble floor.

O0o0o0o0o

Caroline Bingley was at her wit's end. Although happy to finally be in Town, she found herself dissatisfied and restless. The last Miss Bingley always prided herself on being a careful planner, but of late her best laid plans had not come to fruition. It baffled her that Darcy had yet to make her an offer! Surely he had to see her as more than the sister of his friend, for there was no need to extend the courtesy and invitations to her that he did to Charles. Before coming to Hertfordshire, all proceeded according to plan, and Caroline had eagerly accompanied her brother to that little piece of wilderness knowing that she would have Darcy mostly to herself in the country. At the time it had seemed fairly apparent that that was Darcy's wish as well, for there was no need for him to stay at Netherfield for the duration of the fall just to be the particular companion of one friend, was there?

They had been successful in pulling Charles away from Jane Bennet, and that was a relief, at the very least. Caroline watched her younger brother with a surreptitious eye, warily observing him. Initially, she and Louisa had thought that merely pointing out the flaws of the Bennet family would be enough, but that line of persuasion had failed them. They had all witnessed the only Bingley son falling in love before, becoming enamored with the first pretty face and sweet temper he encountered, but never before had he been so thickly entrenched in his feelings. Only Darcy's suggestion that Miss Bennet was not equally involved in the affair prevented Charles from racing back to Netherfield in order to claim her hand. It was clear to her that her brother was desperately unhappy, and Caroline felt an uneasy sensation as she watched her normally animated sibling sit listlessly about the house.

With a sturdy resolution, Caroline locked away any guilt she felt at separating her brother from the object of his affections. While she had many objections to the match due to the Bennet family's financial situation, lack of propriety, and meager connections, the reason she most opposed it was Darcy. Caroline had seen the look of disgust that crossed Darcy's handsome features when he viewed the Bennet family too many times to be mistaken in them. He may have been taken in for a brief time by a pair of fine eyes and a set of impertinent opinions in a Miss country-nothing, but he would never lower himself to connect with such a family, Caroline was positive of it.

For a brief while, it had concerned her that the Bingley wealth came from trade, for Darcy was a member of the most upper tiers of society. Although he had no title, Pemberly was a vast estate with an enormous legacy. His connections and relations made him the nephew of an Earl and of a Lady. Louisa had been insistent however, that with the right encouragement and inducements, the family history of being involved in trade would mean nothing to him. Darcy chose his friends with little regard to social status or wealth, and surely if he found a woman that met all the qualities he desired in a wife her background would be of little concern to him.

Caroline knew for a fact that she was a handsome woman by anyone's standards. The Bingley family had been very fortunate in their looks, and each of the six children was well favored, although some would claim that one sibling outshone the other. She had also been blessed with a quick and resourceful mind, and she had used this mind to hone every skill and talent that she knew Mr. Darcy to find attractive in a woman. She had quite literally sculpted herself into everything Darcy had ever claimed to want in a wife, and yet the closer she came to his idea of perfection, the more she felt him slipping through her fingers.

Louisa was becoming especially demanding when it came to seeing results from her seduction of the gentleman. Mrs. Hurst had many reasons for wanting an alliance between the Bingleys and Darcys, and Caroline sensed she knew only the tip of the iceberg. That Mr. Hurst was as far in debt as Louisa claimed Caroline did not doubt, for she had never met a duller, more foolish man in her life. It was not a far stretch of the mind to imagine him losing his fortune to gaming tables and drink, as far as Caroline was concerned. To her, the mystery of it was why Darcy? There were many young men in Caroline's acquaintance whom she could have just as easily set her cap at, but Louisa was determined that she should be Darcy's wife and no others.

He was rich to be sure, and her pin money alone would presumably be enough to pay off Mr. Hurst's debts, should she become mistress of Pemberly, but there were many wealthy young men who could do the same. And the fact that Louisa refused to confide in her brother and ask for a loan of the needed funds, or to appeal to any of her other sisters for assistance irritated Miss Bingley to no end. If the Hurst family's situation was so decidedly bad, surely Charles would be happy to assist his sister in any way that he could. Any of the other Bingley sisters would do the same, though Caroline knew that word would be difficult to reach the Baroness with the trouble on the continent.

It was exasperating to be indebted to her sister, and yet there was nothing for it. Frequently, Caroline cursed the ties of sisterly affection, wishing she had never been foolish enough to believe in them. Louisa knew the secrets of her sister's heart, and they were such secrets that Caroline was determined to keep hidden forever. When she was sixteen, she had not expected her older sister and dearest friend would ever grow so cold and hard as to use those secrets against her, but that was what had happened.

No, Caroline knew that she would rather go to her grave than have anyone know the awful truth about her youth, and so she bided her time, plotting to secure a husband she did not particularly want, all at her sister's bidding.

It was nothing short of blackmail, but Caroline could not make out the motives.

o0o0o0o0o0o

It was with some reluctance that Edward Bennet bid his daughters farewell one very fine December morning. For the most part, he was well pleased to see them go, knowing that they were valued and appreciated enough by an intelligent woman of good society to be invited as her guests in London, but selfishly, he did not wish to be parted with them, especially the second eldest. He often teased his family that his three youngest girls were some of the silliest in all of England, but he loved all of his girls dearly. However with the two eldest gone for some time, he knew that the winter would be a trying one on his patience. Longbourne without Jane's gentle influence and Lizzy's sharp, satirical, eye would be devoid of talk of anything but bonnets, lace, and officers until spring. He would simply have to endure.

Mr. Bennet imagined that the carriage had only taken Jane and Lizzy as far as Meryton when the chatter in the house began. Lydia was positively wild at times, and Kitty followed her lead in her ridiculous behavior. He often wrote off his youngest daughters to the high spirits of youth, hoping that with some time, the pair would outgrow their overly frivolous nature. With a frown, Edward closed the door to his library, baring the room from Lydia's loud, infectious, laughter that had tried to filter from the drawing room to his private retreat. With a pang, he thought of Elizabeth's parting entreaty to him, only spoken an hour or so earlier in the morning.

He had asked both Lizzy and Jane to attend him in the library for a private tête-à-tête before the pair headed to Town. With some lingering sorrow, but a great deal of good humor, he had teased his eldest daughters and wished them a safe journey and a pleasant trip. As the pair had quit the room to attend their mother, he had made one last parting joke, "Just remember me, and come home when you are expected. Without you both I fear I will not hear two words of sense spoken together in this house hold for these three months at least!"

Jane had laughed in her gentle way and reassured her father that all would be well, but Lizzy's brow furrowed, and her upper teeth pulled against her lower lip in thought. She lingered in the doorway as Jane left, hearing her mother's summons.

"Papa…" Lizzy said, he voice as unsure as he had ever heard it.

Frowning, Mr. Bennet took in the sight of his vivacious daughter and felt himself growing alarmed. "Lizzy, my love," he asked gently, "what troubles you?"

Lizzy stepped back into the study and closed the door behind her. "Papa, I do not mean to speak out of my place…" she began hesitantly.

Edward was quick to reassure his favorite daughter. "Ah Lizzy, surely you can have nothing so very terrible to say. You know that I have always valued and appreciated your opinion in all matters. Please speak freely, my dear."

Elizabeth paused, trying to find the proper words. "No indeed," she finally said, as somber as her natural good-humor would allow her to be, "nothing so very terrible to say. It is only that I worry for my sisters in my absence."

Edward merely gestured, indicting that she continue. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth said, "You know that Lydia is spoiled by my mother, she does nothing to check her wild behavior. Kitty follows wherever Lydia goes. I fear that her behavior calls into question our very respectability as a family!"

Whatever Edward had anticipated his daughter might say, that had certainly not been it. "Oh Lizzy," he said with an small chuckle, "has she frightened away some of your lovers then?"

"Father!" Lizzy exclaimed, her face flushing in embarrassment. Steeling her resolve she continued, "I speak of general, not particular, injuries against us. With Jane and I to London, if you do not check her Father…I worry that her character will become set as the most determined flirt to ever make herself and her family ridiculous!"

"Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet said, growing very serious, "your sister is determined to make a spectacle of herself. There can be nothing for it at this age, she is as headstrong as you are, with less than half your good sense. It is my belief that when all her flirtations come to nothing, for they surely will, with barely any dowry to speak of, Lydia will learn the hard way just what her place is in this world."

Lizzy let out a heavy sigh which seemed to age her before his eyes with the depth of her weariness. "Perhaps you are right, Papa, and I worry too much. I worry about the influence of the militia in Meryton though. They have sent her past her normally wild spirits and transcended her into something beyond it. Ever since the militia came she has had nothing but love, flirtation, and officers in her head!"

"I appreciate your concern, my dear girl. However, I would not have you worry so. Wherever you and Jane go, you will be respected and admired; no one will think less of you for having, dare I say it?…Three, very silly sisters." He replied, giving her hand a reassuring pat.

Looking at his daughter, Edward Bennet could tell that the worry she felt was very real and very urgent, but when she said nothing else, he chose to let the conversation drop. Listening to Lydia's shrill laughter echo down the corridors only fifteen minutes after his second daughter had quit the country, Edward could not help but wonder if she was right. Lydia was a ridiculous, senseless child, that he was positive of. Whether or not she was as empty-headed as she acted, or simply young and full of high spirits he had not yet determined. It was unusual, he mused, for the youngest girl to be out in society when the eldest was not yet married, and perhaps she should have been given so more time to mature before being unleashed on society.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Edward shook off his unease. Lizzy found Lydia's behavior to be vexing, just as he did. But Lydia was fully out in society, and there was little he could do to restrain her personality. Pulling a volume off of his shelf, he promised himself that he would keep a closer watch on his youngest girl to appease his favorite, and then promptly sat down with his book, casting all other thoughts aside save the words on the page.

O0o0o0o

Eleanor watched with wide eyes as her husband took back one glass of brandy after another. She had certainly seen the Admiral intoxicated before, she knew he was keen on party spirits and often partook in them, but never in her life had she witnessed a man intentionally make himself drunk. This was no party, here there would be no bawdy humor, no clever remarks, no mischievously twinkling eyes. Before her she saw a man who drank with desperation, who with every mouthful seemed to be longing for both courage and escape simultaneously. Pity, fear, and disgust filled her and so perfectly intertwined with one another that she could no longer differentiate the emotions she felt from one another.

"Please, John…" she said softly, laying a small, soft hand on his arm as he reached for the decanter once more, "Talk to me. I love you."

John closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy breath. Opening his eyes to look at his young wife, he lifted her hand from his arm and pressed his lips against her palm, causing a shiver of pleasure to travel down Eleanor's spine. "I hardly know where to begin." he said quietly, his voice sounding older than Eleanor had ever heard it. "Perhaps it would be better if you asked me what you wish to know."

"Perhaps." Eleanor agreed, lightly wrapping her fingers around his glass and pulling it from his hand to place on the side table next to her seat. Thinking for a moment she asked, "Where you really at Halston with my son?"

"Yes." John said, his tired eyes meeting hers, "I traveled with Johnny to Halston. It was a very unexpected visit, and Emily was not terribly pleased with my sudden arrival in the middle of the night."

"That was certainly in bad taste, John. You could have at least sent an express ahead to warn them that you were on the way." Eleanor said, her tone slightly teasing.

"As usual, you are correct in all things, my dear. I stayed in Halston but a few days, but left Johnny there to spend some time with his Aunt and Uncle. I traveled to Manchester then." He answered, his speech slurring slightly as the alcohol began to course through his blood.

Eleanor felt herself tense, anger flashing through her. "To see your mistress?" She asked, her tone becoming as sharp as the Admiral's saber.

"No." John replied firmly, running his hands through his coarse, salt and pepper hair. "I did see her, yes, but we did not have relations. I told you that I would never touch her again when we married. You told me that you believed me, and yet whenever there is some discord between us, you always think that is where I am and what I am doing! I went to see my son. He was injured and was granted a few months of recovery, and he stays with his mother."

"I am sorry John." Eleanor said, casting her eyes to the floor. "You have always spoken of Edmund with only the highest praise. How does he fare?"

"He gets along admirably, but then, he is hardly a boy anymore. Seventeen years old, and doing quite well for himself. I only wish that I could do more for him then what I have already, but I can not, unless I wish to cause a scandal. I was a fool when I was young." The Admiral replied ruefully.

"It is very strange for me," Eleanor spoke, "you must understand. I am closer in age to my husband's bastard than to my husband. I was still a small child when you were first a father."

"I am not the same man that I was at three and twenty, Eleanor. You must know that as well. I was the penniless second son of a tyrannical knight. I survived only because my Uncle de Bourgh provided for me and saw my advancement through the ranks. I thought I loved Maria, truly, I did, but I could not marry her. To marry her meant disinheritance, and though my father was leaving me with nothing, losing the support of my uncle meant that I would hardly be able to provide for myself, let alone a wife and a child. And so we remained unmarried, and my uncle continued to buy my way through the commissions, and I was able to send her what money I had to spare when I could. The rest of my career you know yourself. How I served under Lord Nelson. How I became famous. How I became an Admiral. How I lost my leg." He paused, and Eleanor squeezed his hand for reassurance.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, the Admiral continued. "At thirty years old, I found myself suddenly transformed from a penniless second son and third rate sailor to one of the most eligible catches in the country. As fond as I was of my uncle, his passing was a great weight lifted off my shoulders. Though once in the position of admiralty I no longer needed his financial support, I knew how much he would disapprove of the match and how badly it would pain him. I felt I owed him so much and I did not want to disappoint him. With him resting in his grave, with my naval career completely over with my having become a cripple and with the prizes I had earned at sea, I could finally do right by Maria and marry her, and be a real father to my seven year old son. I knew then that I no longer loved her," he paused once more, and looking over Eleanor with an even gaze, he added, "after loving you, I now think that what I felt for her was never love to begin with, but that is far from the material point. I wanted to do right by her, so you can only imagine my surprise when I was finally recuperated enough from my amputation to discover that she had married another! It was shocking yes, that someone would take her, an unwed mother. But a sad, widowed, gentle-farmer of little consequence found a kindred spirit in the mother of my son, and tired of waiting for me, she agreed to the match. I could not blame her for doing so. Indeed, I think I only felt relief at the outcome."

Looking at him intently Eleanor asked, "Is it very wrong of me to be glad that she did? I become so spitefully jealous of a woman who has lead such a hard, unforgiving life. It is very unchristian of me to think so ill of her in my envy. I am glad at least, that she became someone's wife and is respected and cherished."

"It is not so very wrong, my love." John answered, "Indeed, if another man had ever been your husband, or had ever kissed you, touched you, or loved you, my jealousy would be uncontainable. I imagine that you feel the same possessiveness toward me that I do toward you. You have often seen me jealous of your close friendship with other men, men I know you have never had any sort of relation with. I can not blame your envy when it's foundation was rooted in my own actions, even if they were actions of the past. Not when my own jealousy has been construed from my own imagination." He smiled tenderly at his wife. "Unfortunately, Maria's husband passed some four years ago. Her time as a bride was very short-lived indeed. She was very lucky to have found anyone though, considering the majority of society would claim that I had ruined her."

Eleanor suddenly found herself feeling very ashamed of her actions. From the age of sixteen she had an adoring husband and as much pin-money and jewels as a girl could ever long for, meanwhile her husband's mistress had spent seven long years waiting for her love. She had waited, hope against hope, praying for the day that she would become Mrs. Alcott, only to give up and become the wife of someone else, out of sheer desperation. Then she had only five short years of being a wife, and she found herself a widow, alone once more. Eleanor wanted to slap herself for her selfishness.

"You did your best to do what was right by her, Admiral." Eleanor said, grasping her husband's hands in her own and refusing to let him sink into melancholy. "No man in such a position could have done better than yourself."

Despondently, the Admiral brought himself to carry on. "I strive every day to do more. I have many regrets Eleanor. I love my son, he is a son any man would be glad to call his own. Every part of me longs to acknowledge him, but I know that I can not without causing a scandal that will do more to hurt than to help all those I care for, and so I remain silent."

"One wonders at your honor, Admiral." Eleanor said with some small mischief, trying to bring her husband to smile. "Are you not the man who society warned me would never make me an offer, as you were the most notorious rake of the century?"

Her attempt had the desired affect, though the grin was not nearly as wide as she would have liked to see it. Indeed, though the corners of her husband's mouth turned upwards, she could tell it took all of his energy to lift his lips heavenward. "My reputation is certainly deserved, as you well know Ellie." He teased back lightly. "Those two years before we wed were a very strange time for me. I had spent the better part of ten years thinking that I would be married to one woman, only to find that she had bound herself to another before I could reach her. I realized that the great love I thought I had with her was merely the stuff of circumstance, more my imagination than anything else. I was still quite a young man, but my career was forever behind me. My mentor had passed. Idle and depressed, I threw myself into society to hide my feelings not only from the world, but from myself as well. I created scandals everywhere I went, yet I was so well-known and so wealthy at this point that I found it mattered not, I could still enter into the very best houses in society. I did as I liked for a long while, and might have continued to do so forever…but then one balmy summer evening I attended an exclusive concert in Bath, and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes upon."

Here Eleanor blushed, knowing that the beautiful woman the Admiral spoke of was herself. They had met through mutual acquaintances at a private concert in Bath, and two months later the Admiral had led his young bride to the alter. "You know not how you saved me, Eleanor." The Admiral continued, taking her hands and pulling her to him. "You darling, wonderful girl. I am utterly besotted with you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you have nothing to fear. No other woman, no matter our past, holds sway over me anymore. You are my wife, my queen, my mistress, all in one. I owe you every happiness, every joy I have felt since the day I met you. It is all your doing."

"No indeed." Eleanor whispered, her crystalline eyes becoming cloudy with tears. "I am not your maker. You have made your own joy, every day you choose to be the best man you know how to be, you are making it. I am only grateful and blessed that you have chosen to share this part of yourself with me."

Though there was still much to be discussed, more secrets to uncover, Eleanor decided that this revelation had been enough for one afternoon. Through tears on both sides, the couple soon found themselves in one another's arms, their kisses as hungry, as passionate, and as tentative as the first time their lips had met. Quickly, the pair became lost in one another, forgetting everything except how quickly their heart beat and how desperately they had missed the other. The door to the study remained shut for a long while, no servant distrustful enough to even enter the corridor that lead to where the master and mistress remained.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: First of all, PLEASE review. As deeply appreciative of the four reviews for chapter nine as I was, I was still a little bit sad to only see four people were inspired enough to comment. I love your thoughts and I want to hear them, so please, drop me a line!

Secondly, onto the Genealogoy

Bingley Family

Beatrice - 32, married to a Baron, lives in Austria, One child, age seven.

Louisa Hurst - 29, married to Mr. Hurst, a member of the landed gentry. No children

Caroline - 25, single

Charles - 24, single (though hopefully, not for long!)

Eleanor - 24, married to Admiral John Alcott. 3 children.

Julia Robinson - 20, married to John Robinson, a member of the landed gentry. No children.

*Julia and Beatrice are HIGHLY unlikely to make any appearance in this story, but have been mentioned in passing several times, so I thought I would clear that up in case anyone is wondering.

Alcott Family

- 53, married (second marriage, first wife died) to Emily Alcott (36), no children

Admiral John Alcott - 40, married to Eleanor Alcott (24), 3 legitimate children. 1 legitimate child expected. 1 illegitimate child, Edmund Blake, age 17.

Uncle Robert de Bourgh - deceased (age 67). Younger brother of Lewis de Bourgh (also deceased), husband to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is sister to Darcy's mother. Married to Clarissa Alcott, the older sister of Andrew and John's father.

I'm not terribly sure what degree of cousin-ship that puts Mr. Darcy and the Admiral, but not too terribly close, I'm assuming. Basically, John and Andrew's Aunt married the younger brother of Mr. Darcy's uncle, uniting those families, however distantly.