Author's Notes 3/16/2011

Hi everyone, reader's both new and old! Chapter 1 will be starting with some unusually long notes, because there are several things that need to be addressed.

Firstly, I want to think everyone who read the original version of Another Sister. When I first published the story online, it was originally entitled An Elder Sister, and that was back in January of 2004. At that point in time, I was 13 years old, an avid fan-fiction reader and a huge Jane Austen dork.

When I began writing this story, I was still a child, although I was trying very hard to become a woman. I had a lot to learn, but I wasn't willing to admit that to myself to anyone else. This effected my story in several ways. Besides the obvious spelling and grammar errors a middle-school age girl is likely to make, there were plenty of times I tried to write about adult situations with a child's understanding. Although in this day and age we are gaining knowledge of human sexuality through a variety of means at a much younger age, that does not mean a 13 year old girl is ready to write about it. Looking back, a lot of those passages embarrass and annoy me. They also are situations that are not fitting with Jane Austen's world, where the only talk of sexuality is so dry and full of metaphor that it is hard to grasp for most people that sex is what is being discussed.

Also due to my age, I had a completely lack of understanding of politics or history for the Regency period. My entire knowledge base was off of Jane Austen, and since she ignores the political and focuses on the people, the amount you learn about the Regency era in her books is surprisingly limited. However, at 13, I chose to ignore what I didn't know in order to write my story. Now that I am older and more informed, as well as more patient, I can take the time to keep my story true to the time in which it takes place.

I also went into this story with only the idea of how I wanted it to end, and in writing it, let the plot get away from me. I created characters that were superfluous, situations that were overly dramatic, to the point of belonging in a soap opera, and in my opinion, my characterizations of some of literature's most well beloved people were very two-dimensional.

As I got older, I continued to sporadically work on this story, because I became fixated on the concept that I needed to finish it. Although my writing generally comes in bursts, and through the excitement and stress of high school, my writing became less regular, finishing Another Sister was always on the back of my mind.

Well folks, I do have good news for you. Another Sister is completely finished.

I also have news that may seem bad to some. I have completely rewritten the story.

I did this for a number of reasons, but primarily to address the issues with the story that I mentioned above. I hope in this newest addition of Another Sister you will find a mature, well informed story, with fully fleshed characters, and a fully realized plot. I hope that you enjoy reading this new version of the story, as much, or even more, than you enjoyed the first tale. I hope that you remain patient with me as I post chapters up, because they will be slow in coming, as I am taking as meticulous an eye to the editing as I possibly can.

For those of you who are new readers, I hope you enjoy this story, and if you don't, I hope you leave a review saying what you would like to see differently.

The reviews for this story are what have kept me going more so than anything else. You took a little girl and made her feel like she had what it takes to become a real, full-fledged author. Even though in my day to day life I am pursuing other dreams, fan fiction was the first place that ever made me believe in myself.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and please, enjoy.

CHAPTER 1:

It was a gray October day when the Alcott family first entered Hertfordshire. The roads were in good condition, especially for autumn, but the coachmen observed the overcast skies with some apprehension. Once a steady rain started, they would be slowed down considerably, and although he was dressed as warmly as the season called for, he did not anticipate being soaked to the bone in a mid-autumn storm. He slapped the reigns and hastened their step; he wanted to reach Netherfield before the rain and preferably, before dark as well.

As the coach passed through the quiet village of Meryton, a murmur went up through the busy townspeople. Very rarely did they see a carriage pass through town that was so large, so fine, and so very clearly new. A murmur soon grew into wild speculation, as they saw the carriage pass through the town and head in the direction of Netherfield. The current owner there, Mr. Bingley, was newly come to the neighborhood, and very well liked by the people. His sisters who stayed with him, Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Bingley, were thought to be very fine, very elegant ladies, though they were less gracious than their brother. The friend that kept him company there, Mr. Darcy, was not so well received by Hertfordshire. He very rarely brought himself to speak to the people of Meryton, even the gentility that resided in the countryside, and the general consensus was that he was a proud, disagreeable man. Many wondered how he and Mr. Bingley had ever come to call themselves friends at all. Most of Hertfordshire hoped that this carriage carried another young man of ten-thousand a year, more inclined to dance with their daughters and shoot with their husbands.

Sadly, the hopes of the villagers came to naught. Inside the much talked of coach was a happy family of five, coming to call on their favorite brother and uncle. Eleanor Alcott, nee Bingley, was one of six Bingley children, and the first sister to have made her fortune through marriage. It was a well known fact that the Bingley money came through a very profitable line of trade, and with one son and five daughters to disperse the inheritance between, it was each of their jobs to marry very, very, well. Eleanor, Charles Bingley's twin, and very near identical to him in both disposition and good looks, had the very good fortune at the tender age of sixteen to snatch up an Admiral John Alcott, thirty-two.

While it had been the hope of the Bingley patriarch before his death that his daughters marry into landed gentry, and that Charles purchase and run his own estate, he could not help but bless the marriage between his second-youngest child and this well known rake. The Admiral's reputation and fortune preceded him to such an extent that he knew there was nothing to be done except bless the match, resistance to it would be futile indeed. The second son of an old, and very wealthy family, he had been situated in the royal navy, very young, with a good deal of money to back him up. John Alcott was an overly ambitious man by nature, and had used both the pull of his family, and his own hard work to advance through the ranks at an alarming rate. When he lost a leg to Napoleon, he had been decorated for his services by the Prince Regent himself, and formally retired from his duty. He found himself at thirty years old a decorated, war-hardened veteran, who had made more than his fair share of fortune, and was suddenly an all too eligible bachelor.

Admiral Alcott and Miss Eleanor Bingley were introduced by a mutual acquaintance while in Bath. Newly out in society, Eleanor was already becoming the season's favorite, both for her sweet voice and striking face, but also for her enormous dowry. In the beginning, the Admiral and Miss Bingley treated each other with mutual indifference. Eleanor was equally cordial and polite to any young man who paid her attention, showing none of them any preference whatsoever. Alcott, who was swiftly gaining his reputation as a notorious rake, threw her an impish smile whenever he had a mind to, a devilish twinkle lurking in his eye. He was known for his gruff manners and flirtatious, nearly scandalous, attentions to ladies, and Eleanor paid him no mind whatsoever.

It was not her beauty, or her dowry that made Alcott first pay serious attention to Eleanor Bingley, but rather her very sincere lack of interest in him that first aroused his notice. There were plenty of pretty young things glad to engage him, and it was common gossip from day to day that he was betrothed to a different Miss So and So. First set upon a course to win her affections merely to know that he was indeed, irresistible, even to the most cold and unfeeling of young ladies, he instead became besotted with his attempted conquest, and determined to have her as his wife. After six refused proposals, and two months of a whirlwind courtship, Admiral John Alcott and Miss Eleanor Bingley were finally married.

Eight years following the happy day, the couple in question had three young children, and a fourth on the way. The eldest, John Alcott junior, was seven, almost eight, and took after his namesake in more ways than one. He was an uncommonly bright child, and already had a tongue sharper than a guillotine and the same twinkle in his dark eyes that his father had wooed so many ladies with. Their second was a little girl named Anna, who possessed more of the Bingley looks than the Alcott. Her sweet golden curls and pink bowed lips promised to one day make her a great beauty, and the sweetness of her nature made anyone who met the child dote upon her in almost ravenous fashions. The youngest was a boy named Charles, and the name suited him all too well, for he seemed every day more and more like his much loved Uncle Charles. They differed only in one aspect of their temperament. The elder was known to depend very much on the guidance and opinions of the those he loved and trusted the most, while the younger was perhaps the most stubborn child ever to be born.

For several years the Alcott family was content going between Bath and London in rented homes. As the children and the Admiral grew older, he soon became fixated on the idea of finding a comfortable situation in the countryside full of good society, in which he could raise his children and spend time enjoying life with his young wife. When word came to them that Charles was settling in Hertfordshire for a time, he was determined to go hence, despite his wife being with-child once again. Charles Bingley was an agreeable and obliging fellow in Alcott's opinion, and now in the possession of such an estate, would have more than enough room to put up his family for some months. Eleanor missed her brother more than anyone else she had left behind, and it had been almost two years since they had actually met. He wrote a hasty letter to his brother in-law, inviting his family for a visit, and set off before receiving a reply.

Charles Bingley was not a man lacking in sense, but would not call himself a clever man, which was exactly how he would describe both his brother-in-law and his good friend Darcy. He chose to take the impertinent demand as a polite request and hastily scrolled a quick reply back to his sister's husband saying that he would be glad to see his sister and his dear niece and nephews as well as his brother-in-law any time convenient. The letter had been sent out only two days, when playing in the billiard room with Darcy, a carriage was heard on the stone drive, and the distance sound of whining horses filled the space.

"Are you expecting someone Charles?" Mr. Darcy asked without the slightest curiosity.

"I confess I am not. The only guests I shall receive anytime soon are Eleanor, John and the children but they should not arrive for some weeks at least." His friend replied, his brow furrowing as he lined up his shot on the table.

"The Alcotts are coming?" Darcy asked, his tone taking on a lighter quality. "I shall be glad to see some company with whom I can converse easily."

"It seems Bath grows tiresome for my sister. I sent my reply some three days ago, telling them I would be delighted to host my family here. I am always glad for more company, especially in the dreary months ahead!" Charles said merrily.

Darcy hesitated before making his comment, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Charles, you do realize that Eleanor and Caroline do not get along well at all, do you not? I believe the circumstances of Eleanor's marriage to the Admiral is something of a vexation for Caroline, and of course, Louisa follows wherever Caroline leads."

Mr. Bingley's complexion went somewhat ashen, but he turned toward Darcy with an impassioned cry, "Oh hang Caroline!" he exclaimed, "I have had nothing but a foul mood from her since I took Netherfield. If she does not want to be here, she can very well leave. It is my home, and I may host who I like. She is not my only sister, after all!"

His friend laughed, a rich, merry sound that filled the room. "Do not trouble yourself Charles," he said, clapping him on the back, "All will be well. Caroline will not make a fuss. Now let us into the drawing room and greet your visitors. Let us pray that it is not Mrs. Bennet come to claim your hand for her daughter."

The gentlemen stepped into the hall and made their way toward the foyer, Charles's face a bright red. However, the mystery of the caller was revealed before they had even entered the hall, due to the sound of Admiral John Alcott's greetings.

"Oh my dear Caroline!" he cried the sarcasm unhidden in his voice, "How have you been? Married to Darcy yet? No, I did not expect an engagement to that gentleman, without a dozen letters sent express telling us tales of your joy."

Caroline growled in fierce recoil but John paid her not the slightest heed as he continued on with his excessive and exuberant declarations, "In the name of the devil where is Darcy and Charles? I haven't talked to Darcy in a good six months at least! Oh Mrs. Hurst!" he exclaimed upon seeing Mrs. Hurst enter the room, "How does Mr. Hurst do? Still drinking more than a fish? Have you any children yet? I daresay Eleanor and I are going to quite overdue it, and exceed our income, but you would know nothing of that, would you?"

The whole of these past two speeches where said in such a quick succession that the parties being offended could scarcely make them out, yet after having been in such an intimate acquaintance with the admiral for eight years that they knew that anything he said would disregarding and were properly offended by his indecorous speeches.

Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived in the foyer and the normal pleasantries were exchanged until a screech interrupted their reverie.

"John Benjamin Alcott! What in heaven's name do you think your doing? Come back here and help me!"

With this cry, the two gentlemen in the foyer quickly rushed out to the carriage just outside. The lady's husband hobbled after them, slowed by the peg-leg he wore and the cane he used to aid his balance.

Eleanor stood next to the coach, her pregnancy carefully concealed beneath many layers of fabric and stays. In her arms she carried a young boy with golden hair, who was nestled comfortably and sound asleep, despite her yelling. Her governess, a young woman by the name of O'Reilly, with quick, intelligent eyes, helped the elder two children out of the carriage, with the footman's assistance.

"My dear sister!" Charles exclaimed upon seeing her, "How do you do? Are you well? Come, I will take little Charles and bring him inside." He strode across the drive to where his sister stood, planted a brotherly kiss on her cheek and stole his nephew and namesake from his sister's arms.

Darcy followed quickly in his wake, giving the Admiral's wife a low and almost sardonic bow. Looking up at the woman he come to think of a sister and a very old friend he said, "Eleanor, how are you? It's been far too long."

Grasping her friend's hand and smiling warmly she replied, "It has Fitzwilliam, it truly has."

Darcy glanced at the governess, who held Anna Alcott in her arms. "Come now, you must let me hold my own god child." He approached Miss O'Reilly, and took the child from her with a very gentle grip. Turning towards Eleanor he continued, "I was going to go out and by them all presents tomorrow, for Charles did not tell me of you're coming until today, so I am afraid the presents will be late." He smiled softly, looking down at his god-child's golden curls.

Thunder suddenly cracked overhead, and the horses whined. They all glanced up, and Darcy's smile turned into a thin line. "Charles," he called, "We need to send word to the Colonel Foster that we will not be able to dine with the officers today, with your sister's unexpected arrival, there is much to be done."

"Indeed you are right," Charles replied, "I will send word with my footman directly!" He hastened his steps inside, his nephew sleeping contently in his arms.

Little John stood patiently by his mother's side, waiting to be told what to do next. When no answer seemed forthcoming he finally turned to her with the most withering glance a seven year old child could possibly give. "Mama," he said, his voice very sour. "Mama, it will rain soon."

Eleanor let out a small laugh and ruffled her son's black hair affectionately, "I daresay it will. Quick run inside, I will be right behind you, my darling."

Not wasting a moment, the child ran off, running up the many stairs that lead to Netherfield's entrance, ensuring he would be safely shielded from the gather storm clouds. A lady's shriek was heard from inside the foyer. The child must have given Caroline a fright as he ran past her.

Glancing across the drive, Eleanor's eyes met those of her husband's. She waited patiently for him to approach and offer his arm, refusing to give him any kind of concession since he was crippled, knowing well how such concessions mortified his pride. He lead her across the drive and up the stairs as quickly as he could, for fat raindrops began to fall, in quicker and quicker succession. Eleanor refused to race inside, but instead held onto her husband's arm tighter as he escorted her to safety. Charles reappeared in the foyer, his arms now empty, and attempted to help his brother-in-law and sister in.

She almost chuckled at Caroline's expression when she entered the foyer with her husband. Releasing her hold on John's arm, she gave each of her sisters the obligatory kiss and how-do-you-do. She could almost hear John's silent laughter in her head as her sisters sniffed indignantly.

"Eleanor," Caroline said, taking her sister's arm and pulling her from her husband, her voice cordial for the moment, "I do say this is the most dreadful timing that you could have possibly had. I have invited a local girl, Jane Bennet, to dine with Louisa and me, as the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. I do not mind breaking our kind condescension, but really, the poor girl is probably on her way hence."

Eleanor smiled sweetly at her sister, "Oh Caroline, how very thoughtful of you to break your engagement for my first night here. I do say, it will not be necessary though. I am most tired after my journey, as is Admiral Alcott. We will rest during your visit and take a light supper in our rooms, later in the evening. I know how very unexpected our arrival was today, despite our having written weeks ago. There is no need to break an engagement on our part. In fact, the sooner we meet the Hertfordshire society, the better!"

"Very well," Caroline replied stiffly, "It is rather late at this point, to call the engagement off…" Caroline trailed off, heading toward the kitchen to inform the cook of the extra meals that would be needed for the evening. A dark scowl spread across her lips as she quit the room.

Charles smiled at his twin and her husband. "Shall I show you to your rooms?" He said congenially, making his way up the grand staircase to the first floor.

Once his back was turned, John Alcott caught Eleanor's eye and grinned wickedly. She smiled back unabashedly.

"So," she thought, as she headed up the stairs, holding her husband's arm once more, "I was not the only one to notice Charles blush at the mention of the name Jane Bennet!"

o0o0o0o

After seeing that the children were taken care of and their luggage brought in, it occurred to John Alcott that he was getting too old for traveling. He was only forty, to be sure, but a hard life at sea had aged him well beyond his years. His feet ached, his stomach was unsettled, his neck ached, his back ached, and his knee, where the peg met his skin, felt as if it were on fire. He lay on the bed given to him and stared up at the ceiling for a long while. Although he knew that the proper thing to do was to give a husband and wife separate bedrooms, he could not help but wish that the Bingleys would hang propriety and shack him up with Eleanor. After eight years and three, (soon to be four) children, John was not used to sleeping alone and most certainly not inclined to. He was supposed to be asleep now, so that later in the evening when the company came he could be full of energy and show himself to best advantage, but since his marriage, he had not been able to sleep without Eleanor lying with her head on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around his lady's waist.

Both sides of the bed seemed empty and very cold; the feeling of loneliness was only amplified by the gray light that cast a bleary gloom throughout the unfamiliar room. Throwing his arms over his face to block the light, he tried to make himself comfortable on the alien bed to little avail. Tossing and turning he wished Eleanor was there now, so that she could take off his wooden leg, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he slowly caressed her soft hair or the small of her back. He had not asked his wife to take the peg off for him as he normally did, knowing her to be exhausted from the journey, and wanting her to get as much rest as possible in her state. He knew that he would get no rest with it on.

His assumptions were far from correct. Eleanor was laying listlessly, staring out the window at the rainy October day. She listened to the rhythmic sound of the raindrops pattering against the glass, and knew that sleep was not going to reach her soon. Aching, lonely, and tired, she stood and paced the small guestroom, silently counting the minutes that drifted by. She could hear her husband tossing and turning in the neighboring room, but she knew not whether he slept and did not wish to disturb him if he did.

Though the servants had been diligent in unpacking all the necessary articles, the volumes she had brought with her remained in her trunks. Opening her trunk and searching for a few moments, she finally found a collection of Shakespeare's plays and searched for her favorite poem. She read for several minutes, but a small headache that had been forming, was slowly becoming a larger one. She sat down and on the only armchair in the room, gently patting her well-disguised midsection, and opened the volume to an anonymous page, and by chance found one of her favorite poems from the Tempest.

She softly read aloud, "Full fathom five thy father lies."

She heard a shuffling in the neighboring room, and paused for a moment. The click of the wooden leg onto the floor was unmistakable, John was indeed awake. On the other side of the wall she heard her husband gently say, "Of his bones are coral made."

She stood, approaching the wall that separated them, "Did I wake you my love?" she asked, smiling against the wallpaper.

"You did not; I can not seem to sleep without you." He replied, his voice in a characteristic drawl.

She smirked, her blue eyes laughing, "We have been separated less than half the hour. You miss me already?"

In the adjacent room the Admiral laughed aloud, and stepped closer to the barrier between himself and the object of his affections. "I miss you very much indeed madam. Come to me now and I shall take care to prove it."

With the same winsome giggle she had at sixteen, Eleanor replied, "Why I am an old married woman, you can not tempt me with your charms. I need you not."

There was a pause, and when her husband replied, his voice dropped an octave into a rich, velvety, caress of a sound. "Well, my darling," He almost purred, "I need you now, and I am a very selfish and impatient creature, so I will come to you."

Eleanor's breath caught short as she heard the unmistakable clunk of wooden leg meeting wooden floor. At sixteen, she had been an unknowing child, but the Admiral had opened doors for her she had never known existed. The passion of their marriage was something that too few people had, and as the door to her bedroom opened slowly revealing her handsome husband, his thick dark hair sprinkled with streaks of silver, his rich brown eyes twinkling with both humor and desire, she could not help but to thank God for her good fortune.

Despite her declaration that she needed him not, she crossed the expanse of the room and met her husband halfway. He wrapped his arms around her, and when their lips met, she knew the same spark of delight she had felt on her wedding night. As she sighed happily against his lips, she heard the door click behind him. They were alone at last.

o0o0o0o

Mr. Darcy was having a decidedly better day than he had anticipated. The arrival of his two friends was very welcome, indeed. The society in Hertfordshire made him uneasy. Anywhere he and Bingley went, some eager Mama appraised them hungrily. He was used to this sort of behavior when in town, but there it seemed different. The mothers lacked the air of desperation that these same mothers possessed, they themselves had more wealth, and there was also many targets to chose from. To them Darcy was indeed a fine catch, but nothing to the son of an Earl or a Duke. It was easier to escape them there as well. London was full of gentleman's clubs of all sorts where he could retreat from the game they called courtship.

The arrival of the Alcotts was also welcome for a reason Darcy was embarrassed to admit, even to himself. With five guests to accommodate unexpectedly, and five more dinners to be prepared, Caroline Bingley was very busy that day, keeping house for her brother. The attentions she paid Darcy were growing more and more alarming every day. When they had been in Town together, they crossed paths much less frequently. Caroline had rounds upon rounds of social calls to make, and any amount of gaieties to amuse her. Similarly, Darcy himself had business to conduct, calls to make, and clubs he could attend to spend less time cooped up at home. In Hertfordshire, they were almost always together, and suddenly, he felt decidedly marked.

In town he had found her flirtatious nature toward him at times amusing, at others flattering, and occasionally he felt rather sorry for her. Excluding Charles, Caroline was the only Bingley yet unmarried. Her elder sisters, Beatrice and Louisa, had been married longer than Darcy cared to recollect. While it was an uncharitable thought, he could not bring himself to imagine any woman being envious of Louisa Hurst. Eleanor, three years Caroline's junior had been a bride for eight long years and had given birth to three children. Julia, the youngest Bingley in the family, was married just the previous spring. Although wealthy and reasonably attractive, Caroline had gotten desperate. She was six-and-twenty this summer, and felt her window on marriage prospects closing. It was a sad state for her to be sure, but Darcy could not stand the sensation that he was the mouse, and she was the hungry cat.

In Netherfield, Darcy could scarcely find a moment alone. Even his most intimate moments were interrupted by Miss Bingley. When his thoughts meditated toward the pleasantness with which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty women can bestow, he suddenly heard her calling his name, or felt her standing behind him, ready to whisper some asinine comment in his ear. When he began to frequent one room more than another, he suddenly found that she was always there as well, a saucy smile on her lips. If he chose a volume from the library to read on a quiet evening, she chose its sequel. When there was no sequel to be had, he found her reading, or pretending to read, at any rate, a volume by the same author. It was maddening.

As the rain began to pour in earnest, Darcy could not help but wish that they were, in fact, still set to dine with the soldiers. A respite from Caroline's attentions had been divine, but once she had squared everything away, there would be no escaping her notice for the rest of the evening. He thought briefly of going for a ride, of the exhilarating rush he would get racing across the country side during such a storm, but knew that it would be fool's errand indeed. He could imagine how idle mouths would flap to see such a spectacle, and instead attempted contend himself with a book until it was time to dress for dinner.

After several minutes, Darcy scowled darkly, looking out at the storm, the volume not engaging him as he had hoped. "No," he thought to himself, "I can not retreat from battle tonight. I must do what I can to win this war, before I see Caroline Bingley as the mistress of Pemberly."