Sorry for the wait, but it was exam week at school. Anyways, I just want to say thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review my story and add it to your favorites list! When I started writing this story, I wasn't sure if anyone was going to read it, so it feels wonderful to know that people are not only reading it, but also really enjoying it. You guys are my inspiration. This chapter is for you.

The next day, Henri put on his finest waistcoat and jacket, consulted his hastily scribbled directions, and set out to see Prentice Hawthorne. Hawthorne was one of the richest men in the city, since he had not only inherited the massive Hawthorne banking fortune, but had also doubled it in size since then. Henri hoped he could be the man to loan him the money he so desperately needed.

He set off along the sidewalk, thinking about Liberty as he walked along. It was a beautiful day for entertaining such thoughts. The sky was a bright, brilliant blue, with just the finest wisps of cloud, it was warm but not overly hot, and the whole city seemed to open before him, his for the taking. If only Liberty was as well. He thought of her, of her lovely voice, of her exquisite beauty, of the soft blush that had spread across her cheeks when he had said her name last night. She was the reason why getting this loan had suddenly become so critical. He had to get that money so that maybe, in a few years time, he could have some way to prove that he was worthy of her. With all these thoughts swirling in his mind, he somehow found himself at Hawthorne's front door, heart pounding with nervousness. He put up a hand and knocked before he could change his mind.

The door was opened by a thin redhead in a black maid's dress. "May I help you, sir?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Hawthorne," he said, hoping that James had actually made the appointment like he'd promised.

"Name please?" she asked cautiously as he stepped into the foyer.

"Henri LeFevre."

"Ah yes, Mr. LeFevre. Right this way, if you please, master's been expecting you."

Henri followed her down a long, lushly carpeted hall, stopping in front of an ominous looking paneled door. She knocked, and a voice from within answered, "Yes?"

"It's Sophie, sir. A Mr. LeFevre's here to see you, sir."

"Well, don't just stand out there, show him in."

Sophie gave the doorknob a sharp twist and showed Henri into Hawthorne's study. It was one of the most decadant rooms Henri had ever been in. Three of the walls had floor to ceiling bookshelves, the fourth had floor to ceiling windows hung with burgundy drapes. A large oak desk sat before this wall, and behind the desk sat Hawthorne. He was a large, meaty, middle aged man, with graying black hair and piercing black eyes, one of which glared at Henri through a monocle. "That's fine, Sophie, you can leave us now," he said to his nervous looking maid, as he motioned for Henri to sit down. The maid closed the door as she left, and for a frightened second, Henri wondered whether or not he had made the right decision in coming here.

"So," began Hawthorne after close to a minute had passed, "What brings you here?"

"I hear you're in the business of giving loans..." began Henri, desperately hoping that his face wasn't betraying his anxiety.

"On occasion." Hawthorne's voice was brusque, no nonsense, all business.

"And I'm here to inquire after one."

"For what purpose?"

"Well, I'm looking to open a store, a general store of sorts, but to do so, I need a, I need a..." He let his voice trail off, unable to actually make himself say the word.

Hawthorne flipped open the large black leather covered ledger that sat on his desk. "Let's just see what we can do for you," he said, as he began to thumb through its well worn pages.

Several hours later, Henri was in secure possession of the needed finances. There was just one small matter left to discuss: how long he had to pay back the loan. "So," he began tentatively, "How long do I have to, uh, pay you back?"

A knowing, sly look passed across Hawthorne's face. "Well, actually, you see, I have a special deal for you. A one of a kind deal. I thought it up just now while we were sitting here."

"And what would that be?" asked Henri, beginning to wish he had never come. He didn't like where this was going.

"Are you single, Mr. LeFevre?"

Henri nodded, thoroughly confused. "Let's put it this way, Mr. LeFevre. I'm willing to forgive the loan. That means you won't have to pay it back, not ever." He paused to let this sink in. "Of course, there is one condition to this offer, and that is this: I will forgive the loan, but only if you marry my daughter Anne."

Henri nearly fell out of his chair in shock. "If I do what?" he choked out.

"If you marry my daughter Anne. She's fifteen now, so we'll wait a few years, of course. She's a good girl, Mr. LeFevre, and I wouldn't give her away to just anyone. But you, you're not just anyone. You strike me, Mr. LeFevre, as an honest, hardworking, dependable young man. And that is why I'm making you such an extraordinary offer. So how about it? You won't find such a deal just anywhere."

Henri felt his spirits sinking down to his toes, along with his heart. How could he agree to this? Just when he had realized after all these years that Liberty was the one for him, and just when he finally had this chance to provide for her, there had to be this condition on it. He just couldn't do it. But he suddenly realized that he didn't have much of a choice. Looking at Hawthorne's face, he knew that if he refused, he would be blacklisted at every banker in town. Feeling as if he was going to be sick, he slowly nodded his consent, uncertain of what he had just gotten himself into.

Hawthorne's face lit up. "Well then, Mr. LeFevre, I believe we understand each other. Just a few final details, of course. One, Anne is to be told nothing of this. Over the next few months, you'll start coming over to dinner as a business associate of mine. Eventually, let's say two years from now, you'll realize that you love her. And at that point, it will become only natural for you to propose. She'll of of course accept, and the two of you can be married. Two, under no circumstances are you to be involved with another woman in any way, at any time. If you break this promise, Mr. LeFevre, things will not go well for you." He gave Henri a dangerous smile as he leaned across the desk to shake his hand.

Henri returned the shake, hoping that he succeeded as well at returning Hawthorne's insincere smile. After he left the house a few minutes later, he had to walk to the street corner and sit down for a minute. What had he just done? The answer to that question suddenly hit him with mind-numbing force. He had willingly promised himself to another, when the woman he really wanted was finally right in front of him. A wave of nausea rose up within him, and he silently willed himself not to throw up all over the street. He didn't really want to marry Anne Hawthorne. Any girl who couldn't find a husband on her own had to be bad news. And even if she was okay, he was certain that she couldn't compare to Liberty. Liberty. How would he ever be able to face her again? He slowly stood up and continued walking sullenly down the street, willing himself not to collapse until he was safe in his own room.

Plot twist! What did you think? Please let me know! Just take a minute to click the little purple button and write me a quick review. Even if it's only one line, it'll still mean a lot to me. Thanks! And the updates will be a lot more frequent now that I'm out of school. I promise.