SURPRISE!! I'm back! Ha, yeah, I saw you walking by this really big pine tree! Bet you didn't expect me to jump out from behind it! BLAAHHHHH!! :D
And I jump out wielding two new chapters! trust me, you'll get over your anger for my startling you pretty quick. Cuz this here's some juicy stuff. Ooh, I'm excited for these reactions...
Thanks again to all who reviewed! I replied to everybody! Hope my replies were entertaining. :)
Christine Writer, have that net ready! And has your friend got the goods? We're taking Alistair down!
No one could see in, through the deeply tinted windows - but Meghan could see out. Out at the bright lights of London, as they sped by. And with deep remorse, she was taking those lights in - it could very well be the last time she'd ever see them.
Meghan's eyes were, therefore, fixated on looking out the window, her head turned determinedly away from the individual sitting next to her. It was hard to believe that instead of enjoying the dance with Luke by her side, she was on her way to a small airport, where a plane was waiting to take her back to New York.
And who had arranged this, and was not to mention seated right near her, giving her the evil eye at that very moment? Why, it was none other than Alistair, who'd sent an American away once before and whom obviously wasn't afraid to do it again.
It was extremely hard to keep the tears from running down her face, to keep from giving Alistair that satisfaction. Meghan was close to just throwing pride to the wind, and giving in - after all, she'd lost everything else. But still, she held back.
The pain of leaving London was immense, as was the pain of Luke's betrayal. But worst of all was that now, she'd have to look Daphne in the eyes and tell her that she'd failed. That she'd broken her promise. And Meghan would be blaming herself for Daphne's pain for the rest of her life.
However...there was one other person who could share the blame. And as Meghan slowly felt the pull of anger joining her sadness, growing ever intense and gripping her thoughts, she realized something. This was her chance. She had nothing to lose. Alistair was sitting right next to her, and he had nowhere to go until she was strapped inside that plane.
And if she left with nothing else, she would leave with the satisfaction of having spoken, having taken a stand against this monster. For whatever it was worth, she was going to let him know the pain he'd caused. Right now.
"Why?" she said simply, using all of her resolve to turn and face him. She gritted her teeth inside her mouth.
Alistair seemed confused.
"Why what?"
"Why are you so evil?"
He seemed to ponder this.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow."
"No. Don't give me that crap. You very well know what I'm talking about."
He stared, indifferent.
"Then pray tell, Miss Reynolds - what exactly have I done that is so...evil, as you put it?"
"That's how I put it because that's what it is!" she snarled. "YOU are the one who tortured my aunt. YOU are the one who made her heart break, and caused her to break someone else's. And YOU are the one who is forcing an innocent girl to live in misery!"
"Hmph." Alistair huffed. "I hardly call you innocent."
"I'm not talking about me." Meghan replied, her voice low and furious. "I'm talking about Daphne."
A pause.
"Who the devil is - oh, yes. Quite right."
"THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"
Alistair glared.
"You will not speak to me in that tone."
"The hell I won't. I don't care what you do to me. If it concerns my cousin, I'll sass however I feel like, however much I feel like, to whosoever I feel like sassing to!"
"Your sassing is digging yourself a very deep grave."
"Throw me in the grave. Bury me in manure. At this point, I really don't care. But who will be mourning when your reign of terror comes crashing down?"
"I warn you, Miss Reynolds - just as I warned you in the park. Tread further, and you'll be filled with deep regret, as you watch your entire family go down in the flames of shameful exploitation. It would be very responsible of you not to say even one more word."
A chord was struck in Meghan's mind, at the word "responsible".
"So I need you to promise something. Promise us you'll be responsible, in everything you do."
"I promise, Aunt Libby."
And Meghan faltered. She'd been more than ready to spit out another smoldering insult, but maybe...maybe it just wasn't worth it. At least there'd be one promise she hadn't broken.
Meghan's eyes went back to the window, as tears pooled up inside them. Alistair, among so many other things, had her in bondage...it just couldn't be. She couldn't be leaving now. It couldn't be. No!
But it was. And the pain of it was killing her. Only once before...only once before had she ever felt this unbearably low.
The car pulled to a stop, further cementing the grim reality. A longer distance, a few more miles - was that too much to ask for?
Apparently so. The driver killed the engine and stepped out of the car, shuffling to Meghan's door. But he didn't open it yet.
"Someone will be sent to your host family to tell them the news, and to retrieve your possessions. Those residing there will be told that unfortunately, a family emergency has arisen and that, with deep regret, you were forced to fly back to New York to be in their presence. The school will be informed of the same circumstance. And be assured, Miss Reynolds, that any threats made earlier will still remain valid, should any word somehow reach England of the events that took place this night."
With this, Alistair reached into the pocket of his coat.
"I believe this is yours." he stated, plunking the locket, still open, in Meghan's hand. "And in closing, I can only say, good luck to you. It was lovely to make your acquaintance. Farewell."
He signaled to the driver who stood outside, and Meghan's door opened. She stepped out to be greeted with the sight of a small jet plane, ready and waiting for her to board. Bright lights on the runway and the side of the plane shone in the dark, cold night. The wind kicked up her hair, as it had before, but conveyed a different feeling as it did so. Before, it had meant adventure. Now, it meant that the country was rejecting her, trying to blow her away.
But it wouldn't have to do so. Slowly, Meghan made her way over to the plane, gripping the locket tightly and hugging her cold shoulders. This was it, it was happening, and here was the proof. She had been so close, but now, it was over.
Mounting the small rollaway steps that would take her up into the aircraft, Meghan took one last look. Her last look at London - and it was just a barren runway. But it would have to do. She said a silent goodbye, and turned away. And after a few deliberate steps upward, she was inside, and out of the horrid man's sight. There was no longer a reason to hold back. Meghan took her release, falling backwards into a heavily cushioned seat.
And down came her tears.
Faye hadn't felt this much energy blaze through her in quite a long time.
And where was she now? At the family home, having just burst in the door. She rushed into the sitting room, where her mother sat reading a book. Emma looked up, slightly alarmed at Faye's manner of approach.
"Faye...dearie, what's wrong?"
"I need you to drive me to Everston Mansion."
A confused look swept over Emma's face.
"To the ball? Now?"
"Yes, but I'm not going there to dance."
"Faye, I'm afraid that is out of the question."
The girl was frozen for a moment.
"Mother, I'm sorry, but it is imperative that I be at that mansion within the next fifteen minutes. It's an emergency -"
"Well, then, tell me what your emergency is, and I just might consider it."
Again, Faye was struck unsure.
"Something's happened to Meghan. I can't tell you anything else. Please, Mum, take me before it's too late!"
Mrs. Winthrop was very befuddled as to how Faye's going to the mansion had anything to do with helping Meghan. But she decided to submit to trusting her daughter this time, without more information, just this once. After all, some good must come out of it - she hadn't seen Faye this animated in over a month.
"Aye, Faye, get in the car."
They sped as fast as legally possible, blazing down the London streets that led to the dance of the year. It took longer than Faye would've liked for them to finally pull up in front of the huge, ornate building, parking behind a dormant news van.
Faye had her seatbelt off and was opening the door before the car had even completely stopped. She stepped outside immediately, not without protest from her mother, and dashed around the van and through the huge gates.
Now, if Faye had been back to her normal, cheery, fashion-conscious self, she would've been a little more concerned about the prospect of running past a bunch of cameramen, and then into a fancy ball, dressed in only a t-shirt and pants with a brown coat and messy braided hair. But for now, she'd leave her embarrassment on the back burner.
Much to the bewilderment of everyone who saw her, she rushed inside the palace with determination. She wasn't ABOUT to let Meghan down again.
Henry's face was glued to the palms of his hands, still jilted profusely at having just witnessed Meghan's heart breaking. He was amazed at how much it bothered him - it was quite clear to him now: he'd truly cared about her.
The thing was, however - he'd also cared about Luke, to an extent. And Luke had been the last person he'd ever expected would succumb to such betrayal and cruelty. And with Clarissa, nonetheless! (And she was to be his stepdaughter?!)
Officially and in the eyes of the public, Henry's "close friend" bearing the surname Brenshire was Lucas' father, Lord Matthew. But actually, that couldn't have been farther from the truth. The man was a drunkard! And Henry had felt more of a closeness to Luke than to anyone in the Brenshire family - he'd felt rather like an uncle to him. This being despite the fact that for generations, Dashwood fathers had been friends with Brenshire fathers, and the same arrangement was made for their sons.
But then, Henry didn't have a son. And he'd never been that close to Matthew anyway - the chap had always been sort of snobbish. Therefore, he'd later been better acquainted with Luke, who'd seemed a bit like a younger version of himself. Open-minded...gentle but angsty...a bit rebellious of his way of life...the similarities were undeniable.
But this! For the boy to just turn on Meghan, after pining after her for so much and to such a high degree, then later showing what had in every way looked to be genuine affection?! Henry could hardly bear the thought. She was such a lovely girl! And to receive this kind of treatment...why, he could think of no one less deserving of such wretched foolishness on the part of someone who supposedly loved her.
The girl had been stabbed in the back, quite truthfully. And all because she dared to break the social boundaries and fall in love with an individual who would traditionally be out of her reach due to his status. She'd dared to love someone who'd traditionally be expected to ignore her. Such an offense was this! Oh, the sheer indecency!
And it had been Meghan who'd had reservations in the first place. But she'd eventually let her guard down and trusted the lad - for THIS?! Oh, how it angered and disappointed Henry. It seemed that because she was of a lower class, and heaven forbid, American, she was considered vermin and had no emotion. No feelings that could be hurt so tremendously by the rejection of her aristocratic love.
Oh no. Sod it. No. He'd gone there again. His throat tightened as he looked up, trying to clear his head -
Only to see a strange blonde girl rushing toward him.
But it was a distraction, at least. Or so he thought.
The girl, who was by no means dressed for a ball, stopped when she reached him, trying to catch her breath. He watched her for a few seconds as she bent over, huffing, before she finally stood up straight as a rod and started to speak.
"I hope that you'll pardon me, Your Lordship." she began. "My name is Faye Winthrop, and I'm afraid I have some very urgent news that bears your concern."
Though perplexed, Henry gave her his full attention.
"Pleasure to meet you...Miss Winthrop." he said politely, holding out his hand in greeting. She took it briefly and seemed to blush a little before going on.
"And you as well. However, I feel it is extremely necessary to bring this matter to your attention. It concerns someone to whom I am a host sister. An American exchange student named Meghan Reynolds."
At this, Henry nodded, trying to conceal emotion in the businesslike manner he'd grown used to taking on.
"Yes, I've met the girl and am familiar with her. Is she faring well?"
The grave look on the stranger's face grew worse.
"Actually, I'm afraid not. I only just witnessed her being dragged off, by a man who has the intention of putting her on one of your planes, setting it for New York."
Henry was dumbfounded at this, and half of him felt inclined to take this as some sort of joke.
"Erm...Miss, I don't think I understood you correctly."
The girl's face remained serious.
"Sir, I realize this may seem hard to believe, but what I am saying is quite true. And the man
who ambushed her was quite adamant that you, specifically, were to remain uninformed of the situation. Furthermore, the man I speak of was none other than Alistair Payne."
The disbelief that Henry had possessed before only grew now.
"I'm sorry, Miss Winthrop, but what you are saying is absurd."
"But you must believe me!" the flustered teenager cried, stealing a glance at Jocelyn, who sat behind her son watching the entire thing. The woman seemed to be studying her. Faye turned back to Henry, and made a decision.
"Your advisor kidnapped Meghan because he didn't want you to know the truth about her." she stated.
Henry's interest began to wander back, though only slightly.
"What?"
"Your Lordship, what I am saying is true. There is something about Meghan that Mr. Payne is doing everything in his power to conceal from you."
The Englishman looked at her, incredulously.
"Alistair Wellington Payne is a trusted employee of mine, and has been for years. I'm afraid you must be very mistaken, and should therefore take your case elsewhere, for I myself am not having the best of nights."
"Please, sir. You must listen. Meghan is at this very moment being put on your private jet, and it will take her out of England."
"There is no one in this country that would have any reason to take Miss Reynolds, nor to send her away, nor to conceal the entire matter from myself. I am not in any way a part of her personal life. Now, I think the wisest thing for you to do would be to - "
"Are you familiar with a woman named Elizabeth Anne Reynolds?"
Henry stopped dead midsentence. He was now frozen in his gaze upon Faye, who herself was already faltering.
"I - I'm sorry, I hope you will pardon my asking so."
She still received no response. Silence hung in the air as Faye grew ever more anxious. Once more, she pressed forward.
"I did not mean to be rude. But you might like to know - the woman I just mentioned...she is Meghan's aunt."
For a good thirty seconds more, the blonde girl and the brown-haired aristocrat stared at each other, neither one able to say a word. Henry's eyes were frozen and dumbstruck, while Faye's were pleading and slightly fearful.
And then, decisively, Henry gave Faye a quick, stiff nod of comprehension. He seemed a bit sheepish as he took out his cellular phone.
"Yes...George? C-Can you...give me the current status of...the jets, please?"