Well, I was supposed to be back a few weeks ago...I guess what I'm hoping is that the title of this story holds true in real life, as a personal slogan. Either way, I'm now finally able to take something more from my strange imagination and put it on this screen.

Thanks tremendously to my two awesome reviewers; you'll be getting overdue replies presently. But thanks also to anyone who's decided to read this story at any time.

Evening was now upon England, and supper time was now upon the Dashwood household.

Now, of course, Meghan was partaking in this supper time, and to say that it was awkward would be the very definition of an understatement.

Jocelyn, not surprisingly, seemed to be the most chipper one at the table, even attempting to make some small conversation. She vigorously complimented Cook on the meal, which she daintily ate.

Jocelyn had been the first.

Meaning, the first to enter Henry's office, for his first excruciating revelation of the evening. After rising from his nap (most reluctantly), Lord Dashwood had beckoned his dearest mother in from where she was reading by the fire. He'd had the funniest look on his face that Jocelyn had ever observed, except possibly for that incident about five years ago, when he'd been hit in the stomach by a flying croquet ball.

Within a minute, Henry was staring almost pleadingly into the eyes of someone else who shared Daphne's blood; the last of three currently in the house. He almost said something along the order of: "Mother, there's something I must tell you.", but thought again when he noticed Jocelyn's demeanor. He knew that there was not much need for elaboration, and decided instead to simply hand over the birth certificate.

The glowing expression that was already on Jocelyn's face did not change. She only read the document placidly, as if its information were redundant. Which it was.

"You already knew."

"Ah, you're receptive."

"And no one had to tell you."

"Not a soul."

Henry shifted in his seat.

"I have never felt so bloody weird in all my life."

He commenced to rubbing his forehead with both hands again, his elbows set on the messy desk in front of him. A few seconds of silence passed, until Henry briefly glanced up at his mother.

"You seem pleased." he grumbled.

Jocelyn leaned in a bit closer.

"Well, I am, dear! Elated, really. After all these years, thinking this was it, nothing else, only to discover that my own son -"

"Oh, for God's sake, Mother!"

"Why, there's nothing to be ashamed of -"

"No, no, stop there please."

Henry got up to stare out the window again.

Jocelyn waited, glancing lovingly at the birth certificate once more.

"You can't tell me that you don't feel the least bit strange." Henry said.

"No, I cannot." Jocelyn replied. "This is strange indeed. But we should accept it as something good."

Henry turned sharply.

"Well, excuse me if I'm a bit farther behind you in the acceptance process!"

"I understand." the woman said, as she rose from her seat and approached her son, who was facing away again. She handed him that precious school picture, which made his eyes widen. He swallowed, his gaze locked on the image.

Jocelyn did understand. It was just hard to contain the incredible love she already felt for this young girl she'd never met. And she knew that in good time, Henry would share that love.

This wonderful prospect was central in Jocelyn's thoughts this night, as she kept with her task of warming the atmosphere with lovely observations.

Not so with the thoughts of Glynnis, which in themselves were few and far between, for Glynnis was not much of a thinker. But dark clouds were swirling around her tiny brain as she nibbled on gourmet food, and a hideous scowl refused to leave her face. Then again, if it were to leave her face, the hideousness would not much improve.

And who had been second in line?

Most unfortunately for many involved, Glynnis had the title of "fiancée" graced upon her shoulders. That meant the she was next on the priority list of those to be informed of the new developments. And, being all too aware that her future mother-in-law had come in before her, Glynnis had a bone to pick.

"Why the devil are you favoring your mother over me yet again? You're nothing but a dim little boy, Henry."

"...Never mind. I need you to listen."

"Why? You never listen to me. It's always the same. I'm never important."

"Glynnis, please..."

"Do you know what it is like to be constantly ignored? Like I'm just a gigantic doll you place beside you in public to help your own appearance?"

For a tiny second, Henry pondered what level of accuracy that statement actually carried. The thought was then thrown from his mind.

"Glynnis."

"And I am to stand there and look so very pretty and plastic-like..."

"Glynnis! You can let me inform you of these circumstances myself, or I can speak with your father, and you can hear it from him. Which of these strikes your fancy?!"

This silenced Glynnis. It was a beautiful silence, but Henry had not the condition to enjoy it. In any case, it didn't last long.

"Circumstances?"

Henry shut his eyes, sighing deeply, one hand propping his head.

"I've discovered there was more to my family than previously

known."

This sentence struck him as being strange, as soon as he'd said it. He felt unable to word anything correctly.

Glynnis looked thoughtful, swirling the strange sentence around in her mouth, then proceeding to spit out:

"Have you been researching your ancestry?"

Henry felt yet more ridiculous.

"No. Glynnis, the facts are these. I've just been informed that a woman I was close to many, many years ago had a child, and that the child is mine."

You could have electrocuted the woman, and she would not have looked more aghast.

"What?"

And Henry forced himself to elaborate, forced himself to relate to Glynnis his adventures in Morocco, the marriage that had never been legalized, the turmoil that had taken place, and painfully, the relation it all carried to Meghan, the informant.

At the word "mine", the bulky woman had felt shock and the beginnings of anger. At the word "Meghan", she'd become absolutely livid. She'd stood up like a vulture staring down on Henry who, knowing what was coming, rolled backwards in his desk chair to avoid contact with Glynnis' stiff palm on the side of his face.

"Filthy! I'll throw that girl out by the collar, I promise you!"

"You'll do nothing of the kind."

Much more followed, of course, with numerous other words such as "liar" and "sham" and "You're this close to losing me as your bride, THIS CLOSE!". Finally the future Lady Dashwood stomped from the room, heading to her bedchamber to heave miserable tears.

Which she planned to do again after supper, to show Henry just how much he'd wronged her and get him to open his heart wide (and his checkbook wider) to Glynnis and only Glynnis. At the present moment, she was contemplating the sulky look she'd be giving him when he'd finally come to bed that night.

Meanwhile, Alistair was contemplating other things. He had been summoned after his daughter - this had come as an interruption to his thoughts of sabotage and fiendish plans. Which to Henry had looked like examining Parliamentary records, as the man's job entailed.

The actual discussion was peculiar, with Henry's being perplexed as to disclosing something so personal in a businesslike manner. On Alistair's end, he at first had to act more surprised than he actually was (as he'd done the night before), trying to contain and hide the fury that boiled inside him. He'd immediately deemed the entire thing preposterous, already suggesting they take action against these criminals called the Reynolds. Oh, yes, he remembered "that woman", he said, he had not really been fond of her, he said.

But then, Alistair was hit with true surprise, as he was handed an authentic, official document from the state of New York - one that was copy-proof and forgery-proof. And then there was undeniable proof - a picture of the girl herself, with the name of a school photo company lightly printed over and over on the back. The name of a high school was printed as well, directly below Daphne's smiling face.

Now, he might've said something on the order of, "She could've named anyone as the girl's father." True. But the dates held. And regardless of that, no one could have manipulated that photo enough to achieve the realistic perfection it had. It was enough to win this "Daphne Reynolds" a chance, at least. Alistair was trapped.

And so, his body had gone stiff, as he'd quickly gone into "let's take appropriate action as to what shall be done next" mode - only to have Henry tell him that such action had already been taken. And it included Meghan's residing with the family, at least for the time being.

Alistair had never dreamed of hating someone more than he hated Libby Reynolds. But as of now, he did in fact hate Meghan Reynolds even more.

Adding to his overwhelming frustration Wednesday night was the fact that he couldn't even so much as scowl at the girl; a luxury which his daughter Glynnis enjoyed. He was expected to be businesslike, and that meant he had to sit and politely eat in his usual stiff manner.

He'd simply have to make a new plan. She would go down. It was only a question of how.

On another note, there was the matter of the one remaining family member: the intolerable Clarissa, who was not even seated at the table that night. And she had been most intolerable, when her turn had finally come.

Alistair had remained in the office with Henry, to give Clarissa "emotional support", feeling inclined to add that things might've gone better with Glynnis had the same been done for her.

But Alistair's "emotional support" had done nothing to subdue Clarissa.

Upon being told the momentous news, Clarissa had risen from her chair, silent, her face stony and blank. She'd left the office then, crossing the hall to a nearby bathroom and shutting the door. After which, she'd promptly begun crashing and bashing whatever she could find inside, screaming numerous expletives as she did so.

Alistair and Ganes had been forced to break into the bathroom by means of removing the doorknob, grabbing the thrashing girl by the arms and legs and carrying her to her bed.

Her grandfather only pretended to reprimand her, later suggesting that she call a friend and request a place to stay for a few nights. Not long after this, a car took Clarissa away.

Meghan had watched out of her bedroom window as the car was leaving. She was glad that Faye had gotten out long beforehand, and she considered whether staying here rather than going with her was exactly the brightest idea.

She'd heard the chaos that had taken place, followed by Glynnis briefly yelling at - she guessed - Henry:

"You see?! You see what this has already done to our family?!"

Thus, as grateful as Meghan was not to have Clarissa dining with her quite yet, she still felt uncomfortable beyond measure. She tried to focus on Jocelyn's happiness, as she often did, rather than paying mind to glaring Glynnis and the madman that was Alistair. As for Henry, whom Meghan observed to seem even more uncomfortable than she was and exhausted besides - he simply cut his meat and ate it vigorously, in a hurry to escape to his office again. Maybe he'd sleep there tonight.

Everything seemed difficult in Meghan's world at that moment. What wasn't difficult was tragic instead; on top of all the stress of what people were going to think of Daphne, she also had the constant, throbbing pain left by a boy named Lucas. Her love for him was still there and beyond her control, despite what he had done.

At least he'd never told her secret. Clarissa had made that clear a few hours ago, with her crashing and bashing. Obviously, Clarissa had not known about Daphne before tonight. But as much as Meghan wished this could redeem Luke, it could not. It would be like believing that Alistair had redeemed himself by returning her locket. The fact was, Luke did not care for her. He was against her, as others were.

There were good things, though. Faye was her friend again and was feeling better, and Faye's father was in the process of assembling a case for the restaurant's reopening. And Meghan had kept her promise to Daphne. She hoped she'd kept the one made to Aunt Libby as well, though Meghan herself couldn't judge her own level of responsibility. Meghan didn't tend to think much about Meghan.

But down the street, someone else was thinking about her constantly. And he would be tossing and turning in his bed that night, telling the wall how much he loved that girl and always would.