I know I said updates would be more frequent once I got out of school, but I sort of underestimated how busy I would be this summer. One of my best friends was just visiting from California, I have volunteer stuff I have to do at the historical society, and I'm trying to read Catch-22 (my summer reading assignment for AP Lit). Anyways, I guess I'm just trying to make some excuses, so I'll just cut to the chase and give you the next chapter. This one took a lot of effort to get right, so I hope you like it.

Towards the end of supper, Henri decided it was time to bring up the subject of his engagement and the party to be held next week. He paused, pushed back his plate, took a deep breath, and began. "There's...something I need to tell you all," he said hesitantly.

Instantly, twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on him. It was a little unnerving. Taking a small sip from his wine glass, he began again. "This is a little awkward, but it has to be said. I'm engaged. There. I said it. I'm engaged." He took another, longer, drink of wine.

There was a choking sound from across the table, and everyone turned to look. It was Liberty. She coughed harder, and her sister Mercy, who was sitting beside her, leaned over to clap her on the back.

"Are you alright?" asked her father.

She fluttered her hand in response, indicating that she would be fine. After another second or two, she stopped coughing, took a drink, and smiled, but Henri could see the tears in the corners of her eyes and knew it was all forced. "I'm fine," she whispered in a small voice, "I'm just not feeling well. In fact, I think I'll go lay down right now." And without another word, she stood up and fled the room, leaving everyone to stare after her and wonder what was wrong.

Henri didn't wonder, though. He knew in an instant what was the matter with her. His confession had hurt her, and there could be only one reason for that. She loved him. That simply had to be the reason. Why else would she be acting like this? And that knowledge was like a knife to his heart. Disgusted with himself for hurting her, he was right on the verge of jumping up and running after her when he felt a hand on his arm.

"So," said Mrs. Hiller, trying to lighten the mood, "Who is she?"

Liberty waited only until she was out of the dining room before bursting into a run, which carried her all the way upstairs and down the hall to her room. Once inside, she slammed the door after her and flopped down across her bed. Then and only then did she begin to cry in earnest. She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed and sobbed. And while she did, she began to think.

The sounds of dinner floated up to her from downstairs, and she could hear Henri's voice. "Her name's Anne Hawthorne," he was saying. Oh, that stupid Hawthorne girl! She should have known what all those dinners were for. But it was too late now. She had lost him, and she knew it. But perhaps, she realized, she hadn't lost him at all, for you cannot lose what you never had in the first place. That made her cry harder. She had been certain that there had been something between them; she had thought that all the chemistry between them surely had not been imagined. But maybe it had been; maybe she was only imagining things, and he had never really cared for her at all. And it was that thought that hurt the most.

She rolled over onto her side and looked out the window at the city. The sun was setting behind the buildings in a brilliant blaze of orange and red and pink light. It was beautiful, but it was all lost on her. What was the point of such splendor when her heart was broken? She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow once more. The sounds of voices and laughter floated up to her from below, but she wanted no part in it. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was ever going to be alright again. She had lost him, and that was truly worth crying over.

"Who is she, Henri?" Mrs. Hiller asked again, seeing that Henri was plainly not listening.

"What?" he said, her voice jarring him back to earth, "Oh yes, of course."

"But who is she?" This time it was ten year old Patience Hiller who asked the question.

"Her name's Anne Hawthorne," he said morosely, draining the rest of his wine glass. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. He was engaged to a woman he didn't love or even respect, while the woman he really loved had been right in front of him all along. And she loved him, he was sure of it. Or, at least she had loved him. She probably hated him now, and with good reason. He was disgusted with the whole situation, but most of all with himself. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming desire to get out of there, go home, and sleep for a very long time. But there was still the matter of that party. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, he began. "There is one more thing we need to talk about..."

Fifteen minutes later, a positive response to his invitation secured, Henri collected his jacket and hat, said his goodbyes, and walked out into the muggy evening. He had gotten what he was after, in a way. He had come tonight to secure the presence of the Hillers, mostly Liberty, at his engagement party, and he had gotten it. But what good did that really do him? Even if Liberty would agree to dance with him, she would be his for only as long as that one dance lasted. He had lost her, and he had gained Anne instead. And that was enough to fill him with deep, dark despair.

By this time he was opening the door to his room at the boardinghouse. He walked inside, slammed the door behind him, and flopped down across the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, and not wake up for a very long time.

Late that night, after spending close to an hour brushing her hair, lost in thought, Liberty finally crawled into bed. It had been a very trying evening. After Henri left, her sister had come upstairs to sit with her and tell her about Henri's engagement party. She didn't really want to go to any party, especially not this one. But, as Mercy gently explained, she didn't have a choice. The invitation had already been accepted on her behalf.

She frowned, looking over at her sister, who was asleep in the next bed. Mercy was only thirteen, but sometimes it seemed as if she was the older sister, for she had always been the more level headed of the two. "What would you do if you were me, Mercy?" Liberty whispered, but she was speaking only to the shadows cast on the wall, for her sister was sound asleep.

"Good answer," Liberty murmured. She blew out the candle on her bedside table, rolled over, and tried to fall asleep. But instead, she found herself staring out at the dark and vacant city. Henri was out there somewhere, and he had her heart with him. A few hot tears dripped onto her pillow, but she made no effort to wipe them away. How could she have been so completely and utterly wrong about what had been going on between herself and Henri? The tears flowed faster as she turned the question over and over in her mind. There would be no sleep tonight.

Well, there you go. I promised a little more action, and there it is. Don't you just feel so terrible for both of them? Chapter six will be even more exciting. You might call it the high point of the story, in that respect. It might take a little while for me to get it posted though, as it will require a major editing job. So stay tuned and keep the reviews coming!