Hey, everybody! Sorry for not getting this posted sooner. The hard thing about this story is that it's already all written, and it's not as much fun to edit a story as it is to write it. But rest assured that I will get the job done. Um, sorry if you didn't like the last chapter, but it had to happen for this story to go where I wanted it to. Maybe this one will be better...

August 1791: Henri strolled down the street, hands jammed firmly in his pockets, scowling. He was not a happy man. He should have been, having just gotten engaged, but he wasn't. It was a hot, steamy evening in August, and he was going to the Hillers' for supper, for the first time in almost two months. It had been too long, he reflected, much too long. Before, he had eaten with them as often as he could, because doing so meant seeing Liberty. But then the dinner invitations to eat with the Hawthornes had become more and more frequent, and he hadn't exactly been in any position to refuse them. Soon, he was booked for practically every night of the week. And instead of seeing Liberty's sparkling blue eyes when he looked across the table, he now saw only the dull brown eyes of Anne Hawthorne.

Anne Hawthorne. How he despised her. He thought back to the day two years earlier when he had gone to eat dinner at the Hawthorne home for the first time. He remembered the disappointment he had felt on first seeing her, short and dumpy with eyes set too far apart and limp brown hair. He had tried to find something there to like, really he had. But fate had stymied him. Before the evening was out, he had been filled from top to bottom with deep despair. Anne was dull, spoiled, selfish, vain, thought much too highly of herself, and seemed altogether given over to living a life of idleness and indifference. Time had only strengthened these impressions. And to make matters worse, Anne had fallen immediately in love with him.

About a week ago, Hawthorne had told him that time was up, and that he had a week and a half to propose to his daughter before things started getting ugly. Sick at heart, Henri had parted with a considerable chunk of his hard earned money, spent to buy Anne a gold ring set with a small but perfect diamond. Last night, he had dined with the Hawthornes, always a miserable affair, but made even worse by what followed. After dinner, as Mr. Hawthorne retreated to his study to smoke his pipe and Mrs. Hawthorne nursed her third glass of wine, Henri took Anne to the garden out back, sat her down, and proposed. Clinging to him and bursting into happy tears, she had accepted instantly. A party, to be held at the Hawthorne mansion, was scheduled to take place in exactly one week's time. And that was Henri's main purpose in coming to eat with the Hillers tonight. He had managed to convince the Hawthornes to allow him to invite one family to the party, and he wanted to see Liberty there, to be able to dance with her for the first and probably the last time.

Liberty. Just saying her name was heaven to him. His attraction to her had not subsided over the past two years. In fact, he had only fallen more in love with her as she grew from a pretty girl to a strikingly beautiful woman. And not only was she gorgeous, she was smart and spirited as well. He could feel the chemistry between them whenever they spoke with one another, and it killed him to know that he had promised himself to another woman just as Liberty was reaching the age when he could finally make her his. And this other woman wasn't even Liberty's equal. Not even close. And so it was with these dark and brooding thoughts that Henri knocked at the door of the Hiller home at 125 Pritchard Street and waited for someone to answer.

Liberty sat curled up in her father's easy chair, lost in another book. She knew she should be helping with dinner, but she was far too busy reading. That, and waiting for a knock at the door. Because that knock meant Henri, whom she had not seen in far too long.

Over the past few years, she had fallen in love with Henri, and she had fallen hard. He was just so handsome, so tall, so muscular. And besides that, he was witty and smart. They laughed at all the same jokes, and their opinions were the same on almost everything. But even when they thought differently, they never really argued. Instead, they had the most lively and spirited conversations the Hiller home had ever seen. Even her father admitted that it was so. They never did manage to win one another over, but they had fun.

But then the invitations to eat with the Hawthornes had started, and he came to dine with the Hillers less and less. Liberty was reduced to seeing him for a few minutes on Sunday after church, and then it was only to exchange greetings and a few trivial comments about the weather. She missed their dinner discussions, but she missed just seeing him even more, which was why she was very glad he was coming over tonight. Maybe they could have a good talk again.

There was a knock at the door, and she stood up quickly, nearly dropping her book. Recollecting herself, she smoothed her skirts, went to the door, gave the knob a sharp twist, and found herself looking up into the deep brown eyes of Henri.

"Hello," she breathed, smiling, "Would you like to come in?" They paused for a moment, just looking at one another. He looked good tonight, she thought, very dashing and sophisticated. What was it about those eyes of his? They seemed to look right into her very soul. She ushered him into the foyer, waiting for him to say something.

Henri let her take his jacket and hat, looking at her all the while. He let his eyes travel up and down her slender figure, taking in every detail. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He wanted to hold her, wanted to kiss her. But he was engaged now, and not to her. He had no idea what on earth he had been thinking when he had agreed to marry Anne. He didn't want to marry her, and he didn't want to face the thought of Liberty having to marry another, not when the two of them were so perfect for one another and he loved her so much.

She turned around, and he quickly averted his eyes from her body. They just stood there staring at each other, and each second seemed like a minute, but in a good way. Then the little blonde head of six year old Bethany Hiller popped around the corner. "It's time for dinner," she shouted, then ran giggling to the dining room.

"I suppose we should go eat," Liberty whispered.

Henri extended his arm to her. "I suppose we should," he whispered in reply.

She took the proffered arm, smiling. He smiled back, and as they walked off into the dining room, he took her hand and pressed it to his heart in a gesture of love and affection. Liberty flushed, but she plainly enjoyed it, and they entered the dining room smiling. It was the last bit of smiling either of them would do that evening.

Yeah, I know there wasn't a whole lot of action in this chapter, but it was really more of a transition from 1789 to 1791. A lot more will happen in chapters five and six, if you can bring yourselves to wait for them. Don't you just feel horrible for Henri? He loves Liberty so much, but he has to marry Anne instead. Or does he? You'll just have to wait and see. Keep those reviews coming, and be sure to check out my new Jane Austen story, Five Darcy Daughters!