A/N: Let's wait for the long AN filled to the brim with excuses for my usual lateness until the end, shall we? All that needs to be said here is that this, as you may see, is a flashback chapter of sorts. To help with the timing, I have thus given a time line. I think it goes without saying that the "timeline" I have given you contains spoilers for previous chapters:

1873-Temptation I

April 1874-Temptation II

May 1875-Baby is conceived

Late June 1875-Lilly and William marry

Early February 1876-Daughter is born

Late February/early March 1866-William and Lilly see parents; Lizzie meets Peter

I hope this gives some clarity to the timing of the story. Please, read, enjoy, review.

Emily

Disclaimer: A few of the characters belong to me. Several do not. If they sound familiar, they are probably not mine.

April 1874

In the cool morning air, as the sun ascended the warming sky, two figures walked in stride through the hills of the country side. They moved effortlessly, despite the baskets they each carried, their feet silent as they skirted the fields and the muddy paths, heading resolutely towards the small town, which lay like a hidden city below them, shrouded by the morning mist. The emerald forests were silent, save for the occasional cry of a bird, or the rustle of some creature, crawling through the freshly fallen leaves. The chill of the morning would be gone soon enough, for the streaks of sun were already falling across the country side, bringing with it a promise of a warmer day.

The hills rose and fell in gentle waves, the soft green of the countryside masking the rocks that lay beneath the soft moss. Over the valley, there was but one disturbance; that is, the

Over the rolling hills, through the soft fog, stood the giants of the land. They were erect, cold, towering objects, keeping sentinel over all those who lived in the surrounding country. Their smoky breath rose over the clouds, mixing with the fog, muting the horizontal rays of the sun. One of the giants bellowed it's time; they kept a strict time table, those creatures.

The two women, for such were the figures, carried on a conversation in hushed tones, their voices rising and falling with the sloping path. Their hands, gripped tightly around the baskets, stood evidence of their station, for the hands were of callused quality. The hand of the older one, who looked to be in her thirtieth years, were knotted with time; those of her younger companion, a dark skinned girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen, were still lithe and lean, though they would, in time, become like those of the older woman.

The two women, it appeared, were gossiping. "Well, it's no secret in our household that young Miss Clara has been seein' yer Mr. Venturi," said the older of the two, her voice lowered to a hushed whisper.

"Young Mr. Venturi walks about with many the young lady," the younger said in response. "'Tis nothing to him."

"Ye wouldn't think it, what wi' th' way th' young lady speaks. Why, she says he's going to marry her! Now, my lady may not be as smart as that young Miss MacDonald, but she's no common girl…"

"If your lady truly believes that Mr. Venturi means to marry her, then yer lady is a fool," interjected the young woman. "He's as likely to marry Miss Clara as he is to marry Miss MacDonald."

"Don't be zany, Miss Emily. Many a time I have seen a young man change for love."

"Ah, but for how long has he changed," questioned the girl, Emily.

"He's always around Miss Clara, praising her beauty, her smarts, everything he can think of. Just yesterday, 'ee brought her the most lovely flowers," the older woman said.

"Ah, so that's where those flowers went off too," muttered Emily. "I picked 'em myself, for Mrs. Venturi-she likes to have fresh flowers around her parlor. I picked 'em and then they were gone!"

"Surely you don't think the boy is insincere in his promises!"

"Why, I don't think, I am certain! Oh, don't look so down, Maria; he's a charming chappie, that Mr. Venturi. Who can blame the girl for fancying the boy?"

"Tell me, Emily, what is it that the girl ought to watch for? I've seen nothing wrong with their courtship."

"Perhaps you are right. I don't believe it to be true, but, I do so hope it is; Miss Clara is a lovely girl. Oh, well now, 'ere's my first stop," she said, for, during their discussion, the two women had traced the path leading to the town.

"Goodbye," called out Maria, continuing along her path. She smiled to herself; certainly, the Venturi boy would not be messing about with her mistress, for he was, undoubtedly, aware that the girls older brother had just arrived home after being abroad for some time. And everyone knew that Max Newborn would protect his family's honor to the death.

o0o0o0o

In the drowsy afternoon, as the forest fell into a deep slumber, waking only to rustle about, their came, arising seemingly from the thicket of trees, laughter was heard. Two figures, that of a boy and that of a girl, emerged from the depths of the forest, clothing mussed, the girls bonnet having slipped so as to give a glimpse of her light hair.

"Oh, Miss Clara, why must you run from me so?" the boy asked, pausing by a tree as he watched the girl move away from him.

"Why sir, certainly you haven't decided to give up," she replied with a smile. Her lover grinned back, moving towards her, and grabbing her arms.

"You are a wild one, Miss Clara," he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him, tilting her head away with a practiced charm that so many ladies are accustomed to.

"You oughtn't say such things to a young lady, Mr. Venturi, not unless you've promised yourself to her," the girl, Clara, replied. Her face was shaded by the row of trees, her face round, her features pretty, marking her as a child of the country. She turned, now, to embrace the boy. At sixteen, she was a charming girl, her lineage not as prestige as many others, perhaps, but still, her name bore a faint trace of the esteemed families that had once reined before her.

They had little time for their flirtations, on this day, however, for it happened that, coming from a path leading out to the town, came the figure of a tall brunette, Casey MacDonald. As she approached, Derek observed her dreamy expression as she gazed aimlessly at the surrounding country. She had soon reached the path upon which Derek and the girl stood. Face to face, the difference between the two females was startling. It was Casey's curse not to belong to the country. Her face, her features, her personage, they all seemed far better suited for the enlightened drawing rooms of days long since passed, rather than for the harsh strain of the country life. Such was her incongruity, for she had been born and raised in the country, and indeed, would, in all likely events, die in the place that had rejected her from birth. Perhaps, had she been born as Clara Newborn had been, she would have carried about her a more content air, a less disgusted character.

"Mr. Venturi, Miss Clara, Pardon my interruption." The words were not apologetic; rather, they seemed, as words so often did when voiced by the girl, an admonition. The latter looked down, her face reddened, but the former, he looked gleeful the discomfort of the two females.

"Oh, Casey, why the formalities? Miss Clara and I were just walking about."

"It didn't look as though you were walking from where I stood." It was this haughty attitude that Casey carried that made her the object of ridicule in the town. She well knew that she did not belong there, and looked upon this fact as a virtue, rather than the vice that it was considered by many. Certainly, she could be kind; she was a gentle girl when dealing with the younger children. It was towards her peers that she behaved so oddly. She would scarcely speak to those of the lower classes, and, to her own class, behaved as though she were a sort of queen.

Perceiving, suddenly, and new noise, Clara did not reply; rather, she turned her head towards it origin. A small gig, drawn by a familiar chestnut horse, came down the path. It slowed to a stop upon reaching the three young people. The driver was alone, a young man, perhaps in his twenties, handsome, with the classic look that one would be tempted to associate with a student of some sort.

"My dear sister, why, there you are. Mother sent me to find you. But, ah, I see you have not been alone." His smile faded as he observed Derek. Turning, again, to Clara, his sister, he said, "I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with Mr. Venturi. How is your family, Mr. Venturi?"

"Fine, Max, my dear old friend," replied Derek with a smirk. The man grimaced at his tone, as did Casey.

"But, oh, yes, you aren't alone with him," the man, Max Newborn, said with some relief, as he perceived Casey. "How do you do, miss…"

"Casey MacDonald," Casey said. She smiled at the man, taking him to be a different breed than the other young men that she had been in contact with as of late.

"Well, 'tis rather nice to make your acquaintance. I wish I could stay, but, Clara, really, we must be getting home. Miss MacDonald, Mr. Venturi."

"Goodbye," echoed Clara as Derek helped her up into the gig. She smiled at him gratefully, before turning forward as the cart moved.

As the horse trotted away, Max turned to his sister. "Clara, Mr. Venturi…"

"Oh, Max, don't be silly; he's a different man than he was."

"I find that difficult to believe; I've found that men of that character do not so easily change."

"Max, my dear brother, you've been gone some time; he was but a child last you saw him. He is a kind man, you know." She paused for a moment, and a slow grin crept across her face. "Besides, you ought to learn to like him, for in a few years, I expect that he will become your brother-in-law."

At this, Max turned to his sister, his mouth agape. "He has made an offer?"

"No, not quite yet. But soon, I believe that he will be doing so," she answered.

"He's far too young! He has no livelihood, no money. How could he support you?"

"Well, we would wait a few years, while he took up his trade. He's been apprenticing with an architect, you know. Why, in a few years, he shall be the best architect around!"

With a sigh, Max turned his attention back to the road. They were silent, for a time, before he spoke again. "Who was that young woman, Miss MacDonald?"

Clara laughed. "Oh, you have been gone a long time. That girl is Casey MacDonald, Mr. Venturi's stepsister. Their parents married last year. She's a rather haughty girl, from some town or another. They say she's rather smart, and she certainly seems to believe she is. A rude, rude girl-you would like her, I think."

"Perhaps…" muttered the boy. He shook his head; the day was drawing to an end, and he had to get back home. With the apparent courtship of his sister and Derek Venturi, Max knew, somewhat prematurely, that something terrible was bound to occur.

o0o0o0o

"Derek, who was that man?" Having berated her stepbrother, Casey's thought had turned to the handsome brother of Clara. From her observations, Derek and the man appeared to have once known one another; that the man seemed to dislike Derek only served to make him more appealing to Casey.

"Max Newborn. He's been away for several years, learning a trade of some sort. He's a rather senseless boy, always was. He always had a certain degree of superiority about him; he never liked me, as I ensured that he didn't think too highly of himself."

"Well, I am quite sure he's a good deal more sensible than yourself. What are you playing at with Miss Clara? Have you no shame? You are walking shamelessly about with her, giving reason for the whole town to gossip," Casey admonished. Derek shrugged; his character was such that he didn't care much for his reputation. He was of the sort that based his life upon his sudden impulses, giving little thought to any consequences that would inevitably follow. He was not stupid, and, perhaps, could have become a student of some sort, had he cared to try.

"Oh, that affair," he said flippantly, referring to Casey's comment about Clara Newborn and himself. "It is nothing; simple fun, that is all. She understands as well as I do that nothing serious is to come of it." In truth, Derek did believe what he said. In his pursuit of pleasure, he had taken up the absurd notion that everyone thought as he did when involved. He did not stop to think that, perhaps, the girls with whom he flirted with were more susceptible to childish fancies of marriage and such as he.

"You are really the most horrible person," Casey replied, somewhat halfheartedly, for, in truth, she had not been listening much to what Derek had said; rather, her thoughts remained on the handsome Max Newborn, for, in the town, she had seldom seen another that carried that sophisticated air as he did. She tried to shake this thought from her head, for her plans, until now, had never left room for a man; not yet, at any rate. "But perhaps," she thought, remembering his stylish city clothes, his well-bred voice.

Perceiving that his companion had lapsed into her own musings, Derek too fell silent, and together, they traveled the familiar path home, each lost in his or her own

o0o0o0o

It was to be almost a fortnight before Casey spoke to Max again. It happened, at last, that, walking through the town, having left the school building, Casey was walking along a path that Max had been traveling in his gig.

"Miss MacDonald," he called, upon seeing her. "Your load looks heavy-would you care for a ride?"

"Oh, I couldn't," she weakly protested, for, it is true, a woman can take advantage of nothing unless she had put up that façade of modesty and independence.

Max, following the prescribed script, insisted upon taking her home, and, at last, she allowed herself to be helped into the gig.

"You don't seem to be from around here," observed Max as the cart lurched to a start.

"Well, we arrived almost two years ago," she replied.

"No, I mean, you don't seem as though you belong from the country."

"Oh, yes, well, I suppose not. I hope to leave in a couple of years, after I've finished my schooling here. My stepfather knows people, and he says he can get me into a good training college in some city," explained she.

"Mr. Venturi, he still teaches, then? I remember him well-'tis a good man, quite different from his son," Max commented. As he said his words, he colored a bit. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend your family."

"No, you are quite right. My stepfather is nothing like his son. A good thing, too."

"My sister says he has changed greatly. Do you know anything of this?" Curiosity had led Max to ask the question that had invaded his mind since learning of his sisters affair with Derek Venturi. From the answering silence, and the indirectness of Casey's gaze, he perceived that the answer was not at all favorable.

"I do not have any knowledge of how he acted before," said Casey, after hesitation.

"He was a dandy, a boy who cared nothing for anyone else. My sister believes he has promised himself to her. The boy I knew would do no such thing." He felt no shame in divulging these things to the pretty girl beside him; she had shown no propensity for gossip, and, from what he understood, she did not care enough for her stepbrother to lie to protect his honor.

"Sir, I think that your sister may be mistaken, for I assure you, his goals are not such."

They had, at this point, reached the Venturi residence. All the former warmth that Max had held had gone, due, in part, to the conversation. Casey was not foolish enough to believe that he would have any interest in her after this meeting, although she nevertheless lamented the hope that she had held of being in his favor. His countenance was now one of anger and betrayal for his sister. He clutched the reins firmly in his hands.

"Have you any idea where I might find Mr. Venturi?" he asked, barely civil. Unable to lie, Casey averted her glance.

"I don't know. Perhaps at the tavern," she said at length. With a nod, Max flicked the reins, and the horse moved into a trot. Wordlessly, Casey entered into the home, hoping that, for some reason or another, Derek would be in the home. As per usual, she found, however, that he was not. With this finding, and finding that the younger children too were out of the home, paying visits, no doubt, with her mother, Casey headed towards the door, and headed towards the familiar tavern that Derek frequented.

o0o0o0o

"Emily, quick, fetch me some bandages, and some water, if you will. I will attend to his injuries," Casey instructed. With a quick nod, the girl quickly moved towards the kitchen, and Casey took it upon herself to follow, moving Derek towards the kitchen as well.

Having come to the tavern, Casey had heard shouts from indoors, and had recognized the voice of Derek. She had burst into the wooden building, grimacing at the foul stench that seemed inherently at home in such places, and had found Max Newborn and Derek fighting as though they were schoolboys. She finally managed to find help separating the two, only to find her stepbrother significantly weakened and injured from the blows Max had dealt out. As she dragged Derek home, she vaguely discerned another female voice crying; it was Clara. Casey would later learn that earlier in the day, Derek, having grown tired of Clara's company, had cruelly dismissed the girl. She had encountered Max on his way to the tavern, and her shameful tears had only served to increase his anger.

Now, having managed to get the Derek home, Casey's only thought was attending to his injuries.

Emily arrived with the materials, allowing Casey to dab Derek's forehead. "You silly, vapid man," she muttered. "I don't see why you had to settle it like this. Oh, you men!"

"So, you did worry for me, Miss Casey."

"I did not say that. Mr. Newborn oughtn't have taken it up with you like this, although he had every right to defend that girls honor. You ruined his sister, after all."

"Emily, we need more water. Go, you stupid girl; don't stand there like a mute!"

"Such a tongue, abusing the maid like that. Why, Miss MacDonald, I didn't believe you were capable of such talk to her. I must admit, you seem quite at home ordering around the help. 'Tis really quite becoming of you," he commented, having observed, with some amusement, the panic and shock on the serving girls face, for she was not accustomed to her mistress speaking in such tones to anyone, save, of course, the elder Venturi son.

"I shan't dignify that with an answer."

"So, why help me now. You wouldn't want to ruin your relationship with your suitor, after all."

"You're family. I can't allow our reputation to be ruined. Mr. Newborn should have spoken civilly to you, not try to defend Miss Clara's honor. She certainly was no lady to begin with, at any rate."

"Of course."

"Then again," she added, "I suppose he was well within his rights, to attempt to reestablish his own reputation. Why, perhaps you did deserve it after all. I ought to tell Emily to put away the dressings; you shouldn't be needing them. And Mr. Newborn was not a suitor."

"What did I do to wrong that man so?" questioned Derek, more to himself than to Casey. Casey, however, upon hearing this utterance, readily answered.

"She thought that you meant to marry her!"

"I never said anything of the kind."

"You made her believe that you loved her, she says."

"I never indicated that my feelings were as such. I merely let the silly girl believe what she wished. Oh, do not look so disgusted, Casey. It would have made little difference had I tried to tell her that I cared nothing of her; the girl was too busy with her incessant chatter, on the most trivial matters, I may add, to allow me to do much else but listen."

Casey looked at him. "You are a heartless man! Have you no pity?"

"She deserved none. She would make a very disagreeable wife, I should think. With her, one may never engage in a rational conversation. She is pleasing to look at, I should admit, but that beauty shall fade, and all one will be left with is her gabber." He looked at Casey, his mouth twitching upward. "I should think you would be proud of me," he added.

"And how, pray tell, is that?"

"She is one of the girl who you find inferior to yourself. No, do not try to deny the truth of my words. You know quite as well as I do that you look down upon the girls of her sort. No, she is not quite as learned as you, it is true. Really, I do believe that you would make a more agreeable wife."

"I've not yet made up my mind to marry."

"And it is likely that you never will. 'Tis a shame. You have a sharp and ready tongue; you would afford any young man good conversation. And, you are not displeasing to look at. Not as lovely as she, nor as lovely as some of the others, it is true, but you still afford one a lovely picture. No, but you shant go into marriage. Rather, I suppose you want, what is it?"

"I shall attend a training college. The prestigious schools, they have begun opening schools for women, you know."

"Ah yes. And you should, no doubt, go into the profession of a governess, as it is the inevitable for a girl such as yourself. A pity, really, that you may find yourself in such a degrading position. Still, I suppose it is the inevitable." He sighed, and Casey continued her tender ministrations to his injuries.

"Well," she said after a pause, "I do know that if I should marry, it certainly will not be to one who is anything like yourself."

Perhaps, with those words, she somehow predicted her destiny, or changed it, if, indeed, such was changeable. If fate is, as one might suppose, immutable, however, it is not, as was clearly seen, without its own sort of warnings. She had unwittingly tempted her future, her words a morose irony when looked upon in hindsight. As it was, she thought nothing of this, nor did Derek, for at that moment, Mrs. MacDonald arrived home, effectively curtailing all further discourse on the matter.

o0o0o0o

A/N (or, ridiculously long note in which I try to explain myself, and which, as it has no bearing on the story, can be easily ignored): Let's not attempt to think about how long it's been since the last update. I can say that since the last update, I have been to the country in which the story is set (that is, England, for those who may be a bit slow at the moment). Granted, I was there for only three days, and the only time I saw the countryside was on the train going from Paris to London, and going to Windsor Castle, but it's better than nothing, I suppose.

To more important matters, expect many updates in the weeks to come, for this story has an official deadline: it must be done by August 20th for reasons that are really mine alone. Thus said, I shall attempt the impossible: that is, I shall be updating every week, which is an entirely new concept to me.

I believe that I have now blabbered on enough. Please, review: it truly makes me feel better.

Oh, yes, and I mean not to be rude when it comes to Emily's character. The fact is, she is a serving girl, and she is of the peasant class. Having read a good many Victorian novels, I have attempted to treat her in a way similar to that which I have read. Because, you know, if Hardy does it, it must be right.

Seriously.

Emily

Postnote: I apologize for the sudden appearance and dissappearance of Chapter 11. I was editing another story, and yes, accidentally managed to upload it here. Give me a break: I'm tired. I've been moving jumps all day.

REVIEW :)