Chapter I

Beauty stopped for a moment to steady her-self outside of Mr Gold's shop. The sign on the door read closed and she couldn't see any light slipping between the metallic venetians that lined the windows. Gold didn't appear to be in – but then again, if he was inside he probably wouldn't have the lights turned on. From what she knew of him, Gold was the kind of man who prized himself on skulking around in darkness.

Virtually everyone in Storybrooke hated Gold – including Beauty. At least, she assumed that was the reason her thoughts boiled and her flesh became plucked with goose pimples when ever her and Mr Gold's paths tangled. Beauty was not an intolerant girl, she didn't like to judge, always making up her own mind about things. It was unsettling therefore that Mr Gold, a man she barely knew and did so primarily through gossip, was the only person she could profess to actually hating.

Swallowing her nerves, Beauty gave three sharp knocks on the shop door. She drew back from it immediately and waited to see if Gold would come out to greet her, or if he had headed home to the prism of a mansion where he resided when he wasn't 'negotiating.' The irony that a man who threw so many stones lived in a house full of stained glass would have made Beauty snigger, if she hadn't been so raw with worry.

She heard movements inside and Beauty braced herself for Gold's appearance. The man was intimidating in the least and Beauty tried hard to control the treble of fear draining her face of its colour. She had to keep a clear head if this was going to work.

'We're closed.' Gold said automatically through the half opened door.

'I know it's after hours, but I need to talk to you urgently.'

'It seems that we have different ideas of what constitutes urgent, dear. Come back on Monday morning.' He made to close the door but Beauty stuck her foot in the way.

'I have a deal that you'll want to hear.' Her tone was meant to be authoritative but the squeak in Beauty's voice betrayed how uncomfortable she felt.

'Ah, it's you, Miss French.' Gold replied. He slid the door fully open and stepped out on to the twilit pavement. Beauty was sure that he had known who it was the minute she had knocked at his door, but Gold feigned an expression of cold surprise regardless. 'And would this deal involve me absolving your father of his debts?'

'You'll get your money. We just need a little more time.'

'Tick tock.' he chimed, wagging his index finger at her. 'But what can you do for me in return?'

His smugness rankled Beauty and for a crazed moment she contemplated slapping him. However, she knew that if she gave in to her impulses, not only would Gold refuse to help her, she would likely end up buried somewhere in the forest.

'Could we talk about this inside?' Beauty suggested, subduing her itching hand. She didn't want to be alone with Gold and his collection of sinister knickknacks, but they couldn't talk seriously on the street.

'How rude of me, do come in.' Gold sneered and held open the door for Beauty with an imperial flourish.

Once she was indoors Beauty immediately regretted the decision. A crepuscular glow soaked the room making Gold's objects appear even more threatening than they were in daylight. An ox's skull, tucked high on top of a shelf, followed her across the room with its hollowed eyes as an army of ticking clocks swabbed each second, adding to her restlessness.

'Go on through to the back.' Gold commanded, as he shut the door behind him. Beauty's steps faltered for a moment as she heard him bolt the lock. 'We don't want to be disturbed, do we?' he said by way of explanation.

The back room was slightly less disconcerting than the front, but was nevertheless clogged with discouraging miscellanea. Beauty sat down on one of two deck chairs that were set out, while Gold remained standing as he addressed her.

'So, what exactly are you proposing, Miss French?'

Beauty cleared her throat and tried to keep from shifting her weight around. She had a suspicion that the chair she sat in was as much an antique as everything else in the shop.

'Well... I would like to work for you, until my father has repaid his debt.'

'Work for me?' Gold replied incredulously.

'Yes, here in the shop. I don't know much about antiques but I'm a fast learner and—' She broke off as gold raised his hand for silence.

'I don't need an assistant and I'm not sure that you comprehend the amount of money that your father owes me.'

'Please!' she begged, in spite of her pride and earlier promises she had made not to appear desperate. 'There must be something that I can do. The business is everything to my father.'

'Well...' Gold crooned, his face becoming darker, 'I'm looking to acquire a housekeeper.'

'A housekeeper?' Beauty puzzled, 'For the shop?'

'For my home.' he corrected dryly. 'People dislike me, Miss French, as I'm sure you are aware and I've had a lot of trouble finding someone... suitable.'

'I see.' Beauty replied, bewildered.

'But I'm not quite sure you do,' he continued with a sly smile. 'I don't just need a maid. I need someone who can take charge of my estate twenty-four hours a day. You must clean, cook, take care of the few guests I permit to visit me and most importantly keep your mouth closed.'

'I would have to leave home?' Beauty stammered.

'Yes, you would live with me.'

'And in return you'll let us keep the business; my father will be given time to pay you what's owed?'

'Yes, yes.' Gold agreed. He sounded bored, as if he had hoped that his request might have been met with more deterrence. 'There will be no formal contract, but as long as you continue to do your job to my satisfaction then I will keep my word and extend the length of your father's loan, indefinitely.' He toyed over the final word as if it was the punch line in a private joke.

'Then, it seems we have a deal.'

'Do we now... Are you sure that you understand what you're agreeing to? I'm not an easy man to live with, Miss French, and once our bargain is struck, if you try to leave my service prematurely then the consequences will be... dire.'

'When do I start?' Beauty gulped. Her hands trembled at her sides but it was mostly from shock interwoven with the overwhelming relief that her father was not ruined, rather than dread of working for Mr Gold.

'You can bring your things round tomorrow morning and take the rest of the day off until I return at eight o'clock. I presume that you'll need to discuss your decision with your father and tell the library that you're giving up your position?'

'You're right.' Beauty murmured. It surprised her that their arrangement would begin so soon and even more so that Mr Gold had remembered where she worked, but she supposed that he made it his business to know these sorts of things about people. Hopefully the owner of the library would understand the situation. After all nobody in their right mind would leave a job they loved to go and work for Mr Gold, unless they were next to forced into it.

'I think that I should leave now.' Beauty announced all at once. She was beginning to comprehend the toll of the choice she had made and didn't want to start regretting it while Gold still hovered a few feet in front of her. 'I have a lot of planning to do and I need to talk to my father.'

'Indeed, it is getting rather late.' Gold sighed, peering down at his watch as Beauty got up. 'We can discuss everything else you need to know tomorrow evening.'

Beauty nodded her head and tightly clutched the shabby shopping bag that she had taken to carrying around with her belongings in.

'Thank you, Mr Gold.' she said and momentarily forgetting the trepidation she felt towards him, Beauty placed a grateful hand on Gold's forearm. His breath clamped and his eyes widened larger than she had ever seen them – she recoiled instantly, unsure whether he was simply shocked at her boldness or repulsed by her touch. It wasn't a far stretch to conclude that Mr Gold was not an admirer of physical contact.

'Goodnight then.' she blurted and hastily turned towards the door before he had the chance to reply.

She stumbled through the shop front and exited on to the street. As the cold night air hit her, Beauty filled her lungs with eager breaths which became ragged as she came to a halt after no more than two dozen paces. The excess oxygen was making her head swim, but worse than that it had assured Beauty of her naivety in the promise she had just made. Gold may be a man of his word, but his motives were penned in double talk. Gold had some ulterior reason for making her his housekeeper. Beauty was not sure what it was yet, but she knew that she had to find out.