I am such an idiot. Please don't hurt me. Ack. (holds out chapters with shaking hand)
molly: Thanks for your review - actually, when I read it, this chapter had already been written. Now I'm posting, finally. As for your other question...my friend, you have very good insight...
Christine Writer: Thanks to you as well, though you are probably ready to kill me. Hope you find these next two interesting as well!
Call Me Mimzy: Hope your chocolatey cereal was yummy. Have as much as you want! And while you do that, I'll climb out of the abyss that seems to keep sucking me in. XD
Mrs.Scott323: Yeah, Ch. 41 was a little confusing lol, wish I'd written it better. I don't blame you for thinking M&D were twins - it really had all the signs, come to think of it. I did consider that idea, but...I couldn't make Libby that much of a liar. But you will like what is coming, trust me. :)
When Clarissa dragged herself out of bed at 6am Monday morning, she found that her mood was most certainly not great. Not that it ever really was great, but today its not greatness was especially noticeable.
There had been an invasion. And no one around her had resisted that invasion. In fact, they had quite welcomed it.
Meghan Reynolds was scum. Trash. Rubbish. And yet she'd been allowed into this house, and had drunken tea with Grandmumsie.
Not to mention she was in the arms of the man that...oh! The nerve of her!
Now, Clarissa had decided, it was time to release the hounds. Fire the canons. Blast her to smithereens - but how? That was what had yet to be figured out. But Clarissa had full confidence in her evil abilities - as did everyone else.
"You're not to do a thing against Meghan." Grandmumsie had said.
"I would suggest that you not bother her." Henry had said, simply.
And when she'd told her grandfather of the incident, he'd briefly replied:
"Now you just leave things up to me, my angel."
And then he'd patted her head and sauntered off, leaving Clarissa with her mother, whose only response was, "Now tell me what you think, dear. Should we use peach organza for the tables, or mauve?" as she flipped through her thousandth wedding catalog.
But today, she would form her plot. And she would make sure, this time, that it was foolproof.
She sat down with her cup of tea, to read her newest issue of What Is Hot This Very Week magazine.
And she was horrified to discover that the face of the blasted American heathen herself was plastered across the cover - along with that of her beloved Lucas, and some stunned-looking busboy. Wild Couple Spotted at Restaurant was the headline.
Angered even more, Clarissa flipped to the article.
"Late last Saturday afternoon, one of our photographers snapped a few shots of London's hottest new couple, dining at a little-known garden bistro called 'The Crystal Spoon'. Lucas Brenshire, heir to the Brenshire fortunate and next in line to his father's seat in Parliament, was said to be having steak, while his American export girlfriend, Meghan Reynolds, dined on a sandwich. (It was not disclosed exactly what type of sandwich the girl was eating, nor whether Lucas's steak was rare or well-done.)
When asked to comment, those who were there at the time had this to say:
"I think they look very lovely together. I was that girl, before my divorce. That ---- left me without a pence..." Kitty Jenkins, 56
"What do I thinka who? Hey, gimme somore scotch..." Billy, age unknown
"Can't you just let the girl alone?!" Laurence Winthrop, 43, restaurant owner
"What I don't understand, sir, is why anyone would want to eat at this lard factory anyhow. I'm only eating here because my wife spent most all of my money on frilly hats with feathers all over 'em. I despise this food. If you even want to call it that. Food, I mean. Hrumph." Edward Johnson, 74, regular customer
The unidentified busboy, also seen in the pictures, had nothing to say on the matter.
The eating establishment, said to be anticipating an inspection this coming Thursday, has kept up with business as usual, seemingly oblivious to its newfound publicity.
As for the couple, who quickly ran off in haste after being photographed - they have not been seen since. One photographer was quick to claim that he'd seen them conversing in a park shortly after. However, the man was beaten in appearance and seemed to be out of his right mind, and his camera was destroyed - the claim was dismissed.
Oh, the nerve! The audacity! Oh, how Clarissa hated her!
But then, a wry smile began to creep across her face. Her plot. It was forming. She daintily picked up the phone.
"Yes, Mirabelle, dear? This is Clarissa. Does your wretched brother still have those pets of his? Um-hm. Good. Then I would like to ask a favor of him..."
As Clarissa spoke, she smiled devilishly, twirling a shiny silver heart in her hands. This time, she would win.
Certainly, Meghan didn't feel like going to school on Monday. But she did, anyhow.
She looked the same. Same white polo shirt and plaid skirt. Same navy blazer with the stars and stripes patch. Same white knee-highs with clompy shoes. Same brown wavy hair that was hard to tame.
But nothing else seemed the same. Meghan's precious locket did not hang from her neck - rather, a blue crystalline butterfly hung in its place. It was comforting, but still different.
Also, no one around her was the same. For the most part, Faye's friends seemed to loathe her, and Faye seemed to be suffering from some kind of strange depression. But to most everyone else in that school and to a great many outside of it, Meghan was some kind of star, or hero. Everywhere she went, she'd hear shouts and whistles here and there. She'd receive grins of admiration and surprise from people who before never knew she'd existed.
And above all, she definitely did not feel the same. Meghan felt an uneasiness that she believed would never wear off, due to all that had been revealed to her. Her mother and father seemed like different people. Even Meghan herself felt as if her own identity had been changed.
It wasn't supposed to be her. She was supposed to be the normal one. Daphne was the one whose birth had come straight from a fairy tale - why was Meghan the one freeing lost souls from the dungeon? And why was her mother's soul lost in there with them?
Maybe it was just better to except it now - nothing would ever be normal for this family anymore. If things ever really were...
"Meghan."
She snapped up from her gourmet lunch to face her inquisitor, Emily, who had long since overtaken Faye as the major talker and leader of the group.
"Yeah?"
"Meghan, there is a serious matter that needs discussing." Emily said, in a very businesslike tone.
"Okay."
"It seems to us that things have changed dramatically ever since you came along - and unfortunately, a great deal of that change hasn't been for the better."
Samantha and Bridget nodded their heads solemnly, in support of Emily's claim.
"For one, you've attracted a great deal of unwanted attention to this table, from some very unsavory people."
Do NOT say her name. It sickens me so...
"Secondly, after much observation by myself and my friends here, it seems that you actually seem to be in support of these unsavory people, due to the fact that you are unwilling to do anything against them. We've observed that you may even have deeper motives, such as trying to charm the rich in order to get your, as you might say, 'piece of the pie'."
Meghan opened her mouth to protest, but Emily quickly held up her hand.
"Lastly, our friend Faye's behavior has changed dramatically over the past few weeks. She indeed has become very distempered, and we believe that it is highly likely that you play a part in this...change."
She paused for a moment, before moving on.
"All of this, Meghan, has been causing us a great deal of discouragement, discomfort, disagreement, and disappointment. Not to mention a fair amount of disgust. Therefore, after much consideration, we have decided that it may be best for you to...become separate. From us."
Meghan stared for a minute, speechless.
"...What?"
"We would, from this moment forward, like you avoid being in our presence as much as possible. We would like you to ignore us as we pass in the hallway. We would like you to refrain from speaking to us whenever we shall meet. And...we would like for you to leave this table."
Meghan was awestruck. How on earth did they get this impression of her? How had things gotten so ruined?
"But...I..."
"We hope that by making these changes, we will be preventing a huge amount of torment and aggravation, both of which we have constantly been receiving from certain people. By cutting off what seems to be the source of our troubles, we hope that these troubles may lessen, if not disappear altogether. With admittedly deep regret, I must inform you that this decision is unanimous."
A huge lump was gathering in Meghan's throat as she tried to process what was happening.
"Even you, Faye?" she murmured, looking to the blonde next to her. Faye only looked away.
With that, Meghan stood up, lifting her tray up with her.
"Alright, then." she said softly to the three associates. She then turned, walked to an empty table, and sat.
Looking to her right, Meghan saw the pretty courtyard fountain, which was nearer to her than it had been before. She watched the water trickle down as she ate, wishing all the while that her REAL best friend was here with her.
Daphne, why did I ever leave you?
Alastair was very disgruntled. He had just been informed that the Winthrop girl had been spared from expulsion.
Oh, why can't that horrid old woman just hurry up and die?!
He knew, just knew, that this "Meghan Reynolds" had to be of some relation to the woman he'd shooed away so many years ago. It was simply too coincidental, with the girl's age and persona, for it to be otherwise.
He'd asked the girl of her mother's name. This...Catherine? Ha! To be sure! Alastair could smell a lie from a kilometer away.
Which is why his newest ploy came very easily to him.
Not a lot of trouble had to be taken to obtain the girl's telephone number. Especially when you are close, personal friends with Jasperstone Academy's headmaster. The only hard part, actually, was trying to make an actual phone call to the US. He loathed the US, among other countries, and therefore usually left foreign phone calls up to Henry, or to one of his associates. Eventually, however...
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Hello?"
"Yes, hello indeed."
A pause.
"...Okay. Who is this?"
"I think you know very well who this is, my dear woman."
Another pause.
"I'm afraid I...don't follow."
"Now, there's really no need to play games, is there?"
"What are you talking about? You sound British. Are you calling about Meghan?"
"I've met the girl. She's very dull. Truthfully, woman, I'm much more interested in talking about you."
"Okay, I don't know what kind of joke you're trying to play here, you b- "
"Oh, there is no trickery here, I assure you. Just an innocent phone call from an old, dear friend. You do remember me, don't you, Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth? Oh, no, I'm not -"
"I'm sure you must remember me. I'm Alastair Payne, Henry's advisor."
"Who? Listen, buddy, I suggest you - "
"Who's on the phone?" Libby asked, walking into the kitchen.
Catherine put her hand over the receiver.
"Some British idiot calling for 'Elizabeth'." she said, uttering the last word in a snotty, butlerish tone. "Shh. I'm about to tell him off."
Libby's heartbeat sped up a bit. "Catherine, maybe you should let me - "
"Shh!" Catherine repeated. "No, I do NOT know you, you sicko, nobody here knows anybody named Alastair."
Libby drew in a sharp breath.
"Your act is useless, Elizabeth. You may as well drop it."
"Sir, my name is CATHERINE, there is no ELIZABETH here, I can name you off all of the people in this household, and not one person here goes by ELIZABETH, and I swear, if you even go NEAR my daughter - "
"Oh, so your daughter's name is Elizabeth."
"NO, my daughter's name is Meghan, my niece's name is Daphne, and my sister-in-law's name is not Elizabeth, it's -"
Catherine heard a noise, before hearing the line go completely silent. She saw the cord move. She looked in its direction.
There stood Libby, who had just disconnected the phone. Her face was pale, and she was breathing heavily.
Catherine stared for a moment. Then she spoke.
"Libby." she said. "What's going on?"