Well, it's late, but Sunday (where I am), and here I present you with two more chapters as promised. To everyone who reviewed: It's beyond a thank you. I must tell you that you've made me incredibly happy. I'll be starting my replies to you after this. But to ANYONE who's reading, I am most grateful.

Hope you enjoy.

Fortunately, though the kitchen was left considerably charred, the fire was eventually put out. Nonetheless, the general consensus among faculty was that it would be best to let everyone go home.

"I'm not about to go back in there. The halls reek of smoke." said Mr. Harlison, who really just wanted to get home early to catch a TV cricket game he would've otherwise missed. Also, his socks needed reorganizing and the neighbor's dog was probably digging holes in his yard again.

Meghan was left crying on Faye's shoulder in a far corner of the schoolyard while the crowds thinned out. One thoughtful schoolmate - Ayaka from Hong Kong - was nice enough to bring out their book bags. Faye handed Meghan hers as she murmured words of encouragement.

"There, there, I know it hurts, but it will get better. I promise."

"How could he...how..." Meghan sobbed.

"Shh, it's alright."

They heard someone call Clarissa's name. Apparently, her ride was here.

"I'm not riding with her. If a car comes to take her to the Dashwoods, I'm not getting in."

"Mum and me will take you. It'll be alright." Faye reassured her, before seeing Miss Payne herself sashay over to an unknown luxury vehicle with one of her friends. "She's going with Ruth Morton, anyway."

Faye held Meghan for about a minute more, before Meghan pulled away, trying to gather herself. Sniveling, she slung her book bag over her shoulder, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"Thank you." she told her friend.

"I'll hear nothing of that. This is what I'm here for." said Faye. "Now, how to get home. Mum's at work and Dad's negotiating with his attorney. We'll walk home. Then when Mum's off we'll drive you to the manor."

"And Clarissa won't be there?" Meghan asked, though Faye couldn't possibly have answered that with certainty.

"Not as far as you're concerned." was the reply. Meghan smiled the tiniest bit, and they started for the gate.

The headmaster, who was "keeping things in order" just outside (really he just wanted to look good for the press, representing the school and how much it "cared for the students' safety"), stopped them as they began to leave.

"Miss Reynolds, I want you to consider this." he said, taking the Oxford envelope out his jacket. "You have plenty of time to turn it down."

And there was plenty of potential sponsorship money to be had, he thought.

Not caring anymore, Meghan sighed and took what Mr. Raspron held out to her, shoving it in her book bag. Maybe that way, she could forget about it easily.

The two began walking in the direction of Faye's cottage, and were about 100 feet away from the school before they heard someone say "Miss Reynolds." again.

It was the driver of the Dashwood limousine. He'd brought the car to a crawl behind them, and was now parking it along the sidewalk.

Meghan looked to Faye.

"Come with me?" she asked, as the driver got out and walked back to hold the door open for her.

"Of course."

At the same time, at about 8:24am in the Eastern Time zone of the United States, three women stood shivering in Times Square, gawking at a giant Bugs Bunny Balloon.

It was Thanksgiving morning, and Daphne was trying to enjoy the parade - but all she could think about was the one who should be eating turkey with them, who wouldn't be, this year.

It had been Catherine's idea to go. They hadn't seen it in person in five years; the last time, her husband had accompanied them. But she'd thought it as a way of getting some fresh, exciting November air for a fresh, exciting new start to their lives. With all the changes that had taken place and all that were still to come, this was a chance for them to take advantage of what life brought them. Who knew where they'd be next year, she'd said.

Until yesterday, Daphne had been manic with her studies (even more manic than usual), forcing herself as much as she could to think only of what was concrete, what was in her control. A week ago she had broken down, and called Meghan. But since hanging up the phone that time, she had resolved to keep her eyes dry, her focus sharp, and her face to the wind. She smothered her feelings in front of the world. On Saturday, the normal calling night, she'd tried her best to make Meghan believe she had gotten over everything and was standing strong.

But it was only an outward portrayal of what Daphne wanted to be. It wasn't what she was, not in her mind. She'd always had this problem somewhat, off and on, for most of her life. But for the last few weeks, the battle between inner and outer character had been an especially difficult one, slowly escalating as time went by.

There was a weird, restless impatience that nagged ever-so-subtle in Daphne's head. And now, what with it being Thanksgiving break for the next ten days, there'd be no homework to distract her from it.

"Daphne, why is your nose glued to the ground?" Libby asked her daughter. "You're missing the giant Elmer Fudd."

"Uh, I'm just looking at that guy's shoes." Daphne stammered, referring to a man standing in front of them whose shoes looked to be made of snakeskin. He was also wearing a Panama hat, which contrasted strangely with his thick leather jacket. Daphne was glad that the man was standing there with his interesting shoes conveniently located where her eyes were focused.

Libby stole a glance.

"Hmm, I see, those are pretty cool."

At that exact moment, the Panama hat blew off its owner's head. And Catherine, who'd been the only one facing upwards at the time, was able to make the save.

"Here you go." she said, handing the hat to someone in a leather jacket whom had gone a bit frantic all of a sudden.

"Thank you, ma'am." he'd said, relief in his expression as he took the hat and held it under his arm, opting not to place it back on his head.

Daphne couldn't help but smile a bit at that.

Not one smile could be seen in the Brenshire household, however, and facial expressions there grew even darker as the day wore on. Both Morris and Jasperstone had phoned to inform Luke's family of what had taken place and how he had been involved in it. News reports continued his sad story on television, and unflattering photographs were sure to appear in tomorrow's periodicals.

Lillith Brenshire was not at all pleased with her son's actions.

Her ladyship liked to think of herself as a respectable woman, and she wanted her family to behave in a respectable way. In general, her husband gave her the most worry in that regard. Though it was a problem kept hidden or overlooked in the realm, Lord Brenshire's drinking sometimes led him to do strange things, which required his wife to keep careful watch of him.

Her daughter was an educated young woman who carried herself with poise and was delightful company to those who knew her. Her son had strange views of things, to be sure, but still had always possessed a fair amount of dignity and had never truly given his mother a reason to fear embarrassment.

Until Miss Meghan, that was.

Now, at the root of things, Lillith had never really cared for Clarissa Payne, whom everyone else seemed to think was the most suitable match for Lucas. Clarissa seemed a bit devious in Lillith's opinion, a bit unruly, seemed to have a strange agenda. Lady Brenshire would have much preferred a different girl for Luke when he did decide to openly date.

Meghan Reynolds was not quite the kind of girl she had in mind, to be sure. The press had been having an absolute field day ever since she had been revealed as her son's "girlfriend", and Luke had become a bit more loose with the way he acted in public. He'd seemed to relax to the point of being headed for carelessness. This had given Lillith some anxiety, but nothing could have prepared her for the incident at the ball and what followed.

Regardless of whatever could be said against Miss Reynolds, Lucas had blatantly wronged her in front of the worst audience possible, before acting like a complete loon from that point forward. And now this, the disregarding of academic authority, the trespassing on Jasperstone grounds, the kitchen fire that was rumored to have actually been caused by him...it had taken the last of Lillith's patience.

Which was why she now sat across from the boy, in the parlor, giving him the sternest reprimandation.

She'd summoned her husband, who was a bit more sober than usual for a day away from Parliament, asking that he sit beside her to help them present themselves as a "unified front". Admittedly, she didn't hold much faith in that prospect, but it was worth a try. Then, she'd gone to fetch Luke, who'd been about to start another onslaught of calls to Dashwood manor.

"Put it down. Now." she'd commanded, referring to the phone in his hand. Confused, he had done so. "Come with me." she'd said next.

Luke had known by his mother's tone that she was about to add to his misery. But the respectful thing to do was to rise and follow her out of the room. And so, he had.

Within a minute he had been seated in front of his parents. His father, whose hand Lillith had pinned down with her own, attempted to look strict, but only looked exhausted. His wife, however, was a force to be reckoned with.

"You've not a shade of an idea of the grief you are causing this family." Lillith stated. "Your relationship with the girl was preposterous enough, but you have managed to disgrace even that. And you thought of her so highly? You humiliated her. And you are humiliating all of us."

Luke could only look on, hating every inch of the figurative prison of shame he'd landed in.

"Do you know what you've done? Are you aware of the absolute fool you're making of yourself? Incessantly phoning the Dashwoods for reasons beyond me. Clowning around for the press. Traipsing on private grounds. Flaunting a status you never earned..."

Lillith paused for a moment, looking away and taking a breath.

"Those things in mind, let me enlighten you on your current situation. Lord Dashwood has phoned us personally, asking that you cease your constant phone calls and informing me that you are banned from Dashwood Manor indefinitely."

For Luke, this was a dagger to the stomach. The man he looked to for guidance, the man he most respected and admired, considered him dead.

"You have also, apparently, been forbidden to set foot on the Jasperstone Academy premises, also indefinitely. And the money we will donate to restore the burnt kitchen shall come directly from your account."

Take it all. Please. It won't affect me in the least. Luke thought.

"And lastly, our personal mandates. For the next month you will not leave this house but to attend school. For the month following that you will appear in public with the family only. You shall have no "palm pilot" until February 2004."

Not one of these mattered. Only that he was banned from the Dashwoods, and was being prevented from seeing the girl he longed to be with.

"Finally, under no circumstances are you to bother that Reynolds girl, ever again. You ruined her life by forcing her into a world she didn't belong to, only to toss her out like rubbish. And then, what, you stalk her? No. It ends here."

Luke tried one pitiful plea.

"Mother, I have to at least make my case. I have to tell her what happened. I lost my sanity somehow. I was ill. I didn't know up from down. I felt poisoned. I don't know how, but it's the truth. Please."

His mother examined him for a few moments, stock still, completely silent.

"I'll never know the truth, Lucas. But if you must, you may use your free time this month to write her a final letter, to attempt to apologize for your actions. Someone else is to deliver it."

Luke said nothing.

"These are our restrictions, but for one more. You are to stay away from Clarissa Payne."

That was the most beautiful thing he'd heard in days.