Hello dear readers. This is my new fanfiction based on Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal, yet with a very different twist. This story takes place in an alternate universe, a simple town in the mid 19th century. Both Clarice and Hannibal are residents of this town, but Hannibal is not a cannibal, but something as sinister. Warning, this is a mature story, with sexual and passionate scenes to come. Please read and review; I appreciate all feedback. The more reviews, the faster I write.

Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter are property of Thomas Harris. All other characters and story line are mine.

Enjoy. :)

"I am almost done, Ma'am," the young woman stated, cleaning the last remaining silver pots in the kitchen. Her simple dress waved as she cleaned the silver thoroughly, sweat accumulating on her fine brow. Her long auburn hair shined in the morning sun, her face a beautiful testament of youth.

Nineteen year old Clarice was almost done with her duties at Lady Anne's cottage. She was thankful she didn't have anything else done for the rest of the day. She needed a long rest.

"Oh, Clarice. Spotless as always!", Lady Anne proclaimed, handing her a small coin bag. "I will make sure to write to you again. You are definitely the best maid I have ever met."

Clarice smiled kindly, tossing her long braid behind her. She always did her duties with pride and happiness. Although she was trying to save up to become a school teacher, the young woman knew she had to sacrifice some things to achieve her dreams. If she had to scrub the floors of every house in town, then so be it.

Soon, Clarice was out the door and into the streets of her hometown. Passerby's and carriages walked by; a busy morning indeed.

Orphaned at ten, the beautiful child took care of herself with the simple act of cleaning. Now she owned a small cottage at the end of the town, near the marketplace. It was quaint, but it was home.

Clarice was passing by the meat stand, where her ears picked up something peculiar.

"Oh yes, very rich indeed. He moved in last night in the mansion outside town!", the butcher stated, talking to the group accumulating in front of his stand.

"I hear he's rich AND charming. Count Hannibal Lecter is soon to make news, I hear", the seamstress proclaimed, blushing at the counts name.

"I hear he's a sort of vampire!" the newspaper boy said, pretending the use his fingers as fangs.

Clarice wasn't much for gossip, but she couldn't help stop near them and hear. A new resident in town? This would certainly be the new subject of conversation for weeks.

When Clarice arrived at her cottage, she melted into her bath, feeling her muscles relax at the cold water. Every day she wished for hotter water, but like every day, she would have to be satisfied with what she had been given. She was thankful for what she had.

It was daybreak. Clarice was already up, combing her hair and dressing herself in her simple maid's dress yet again. Her wondrous curves shown through the cotton, as her blue-green eyes shined. Clarice was ready for her duties at farmer John's house. He was an older man, but very kind and always tried to help Clarice. She was happy to clean his stables.

A knock at the door echoed in the small house. Clarice opened the door to a messenger boy.

"I have a message from farmer John. He won't be needing your services, Miss. He's busy with his goat's labor. He's very sorry and will write to you later."

With that, the young boy turned around and left.

Seems like today would be a slow day, Clarice thought.

...

On days like these, the young woman would take a stroll around town. Perhaps she would get some new supplies, or perhaps some new food for tonight. She spent the day looking for anything she needed, admiring the town's architecture and the beauty of the people in it.

It was almost dark when Clarice was finally done with her errands. She looked up to the darkening sky; the stars were coming out, shining like gems against the dark background. It was distracting, as Clarice hadn't noticed the dark figure before her. His alluring scent filled her nostrils as her small frame bumped into the tall man.

"Oh, forgive me, sir!", Clarice stated, bowing her head and looking up into the strangers face. He was older, around forty years of age, while his eyes were a strange, maroon color. The man, although older, was as alluring as he was handsome. He wore a dark coat, accentuating his slim but muscular frame. When he looked upon the young beauty, his lips curved into a sensual smile.

"Not all, my dear. I beg you to forgive me," the man stated, taking her petite hand into his. The leather glove was warm against her skin. His thin lips touched her hand, sending a strange warmness into Clarice's body. She felt naked before him.

"Count Hannibal Lecter, at your service. Your name, my dear?" he asked, his eyes gleaming in the light of the lantern above the pair.

"Oh…um- Clarice. Clarice Starling."

"Beautiful name, Miss Starling. But that is not surprising. A beautiful woman with a beautiful name…." he stated, smiling again. Clarice was finding it hard to breathe.

"I must be off. But I do hope I will see you again, dear. Perhaps, sooner than you'd think."

The man bowed lowly and tipped his hat, turning around and walking toward the mansion outside town. The dark building looked ominous in the horizon.

Her arm was still warm as she walked back to her house, enjoying the briskness of the night. She couldn't help think of those maroon eyes; so that was the count, and he truly was the new wealthy resident in town.

As she found herself in her house again, Clarice realized it was rather difficult to forget those enigmatic eyes.

Days passed since that night under the lantern. Clarice had found new jobs in town to earn a few coins; she could not have been happier as she knew she would have enough to eat for a few weeks.

It was a Sunday afternoon; Clarice had returned from a busy morning. As she unlocked her wooden door, she noticed an elegant letter lying on her stone pathway.

She picked up the letter gently and read on:

Dear Miss Starling,

I might be new to this quaint little town, but news travels as fast as lightning. I have heard that if I would like my house cleaned, that you, my dear, is the woman to trust. And trust, I already do.

I would like to hire you to become my housekeeper. I assure you, the payment is beyond compare.

Tonight, around sunset; this is an invitation to better become acquainted over tea. However, I do know that becoming friends will not be too difficult.

Until then, Miss Clarice.

Count Hannibal Lecter