Chapter 1
Mystic Falls, 1875
"You treat me as though I am infantile," Damon Salvatore groaned, his slender fingers tightening around his untouched tumbler of whiskey. "I need no one tending to me."
"The last time I left you unattended for weeks at a time, I returned home to no staff and a partially charred kitchen," his brother, Stefan replied, rounding the chaise where Damon was lounging. "And there were rumblings of an attack in town."
Shifting the drink to his right hand, he held his left up and wiggled his bare fingers. "It was not me."
"Do you think I'm an idiot? You sleep during the day and roam the night, Damon. We all do."
"Yes, but the attack you referred to happened in the daylight," he reminded him, his lips puckering as he brought the tumbler to them. Swallowing, he swirled the golden liquid around in the glass before taking another drink. "I don't have the desire to take something that should be given."
Stefan's brow creased as he dragged his gaze along the floor, unable to look his brother in the face when he sounded this way. "I'm afraid you haven't much of a desire to do anything these days."
That hadn't always been the case with Damon.
For years, he had disappeared from the town of Mystic Falls without any notice or a letter left to say where he was going. And when he returned, he'd offer no information as to where he had been or what he'd been doing. The whereabouts didn't matter; Stefan knew his brother had roamed the country, perhaps even the world, and returned home only because he had no where else to go. Every heart ran empty at some point.
"Am I bothering you by being here?" Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at his whiskey as his hand tensed around it yet again. "I've let you make every decision about my life. I've submitted to you, little brother. Believe me when I say that is something I only do with a woman in the privacy of my bedroom." The corner of his mouth hitched. "And sometimes out of it."
Stefan hadn't wanted to make decisions for his brother. There had been no other choice. Something inside Damon had snapped and almost left him unwilling to live. What kept him alive was having no idea what waited in complete death. His affections for whiskey and women were not worth giving up yet. Eventually their novelty would wear and Stefan feared Damon would take his own life.
"Did you not find my joke amusing?" Damon murmured, his lips curving as he dropped his head back on the chaise and looked up at him. "Because if I must say so myself, I am quite funny."
"You're drunk," Stefan sighed. The alcohol was loosening his brother's lips and causing him to talk more than normal.
Not that he minded. After going years without hearing Damon's voice, it was nice to have him here and alive. He just wished things could be the way they used to be– or at least close.
The Damon that left Mystic Falls had been bitter, resentful, and downright disgusted by life's events. Instead of thinking through his emotions, he barreled past his feelings and became a danger to the entire town. Leaving had been best for the town's wellbeing, but Stefan wondered how many Damon had left slaughtered in his path.
Something had changed him though. Something had caused his brother to return to Mystic Falls calmer, drunker, and less alive than he had been when he'd left. Stefan had his assumptions, but knew better than to voice them. The last thing he wanted to do was rile up what fury was still buried inside Damon.
Taking his brother's ring and his ability to walk in the daylight had been a preventative measure, one meant to protect the innocence of the town, and so far it seemed unnecessary. Damon didn't desire anything bad enough to chase it, but that would change someday and Mystic Falls would be in trouble when it did.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Damon asked snidely, easing himself off the chaise to refill his tumbler. His discarded waistcoat slid from his lap, pooling against the hardwood floors. Instead of picking it up, he kicked it aside and continued toward the side table that was littered with empty bottles of whiskey.
"I leave in the morning," Stefan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, "unless you run off the next woman I wish to hire. You need someone to cook for you, to clean…"
"One fire and I'm banned from the kitchen… You know, women should only be paid to do one thing," he muttered, chuckling to himself as he filled his glass and then a second one. "Perhaps that is what I need."
"I have no doubt you get plenty of that when you leave roam the town at night," he replied, arching an eyebrow when his brother held the second glass out to him. "That is what you're doing at night, isn't it?"
Damon's lip twitched. "Sometimes."
"She isn't here, Damon. She's gone."
The mere mention of that she caused the air in the room to shift. The lighthearted banter that had existed so far this morning would now change. The grin that formed on Damon's lips would be replaced by a constant scowl. And the ease that worked its way between the brothers would disappear.
"Tramping her way across the country, I'm sure," was all Damon said, his shoulders tensing as he turned away. He maneuvered his way through the library, avoiding the patches of sunlight not contained by the curtains. "I'll be in my room. Hire whomever you please. She'll still be gone before you return."
Letting out a deep breath, Stefan crossed the room to the window, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt the heat of the sun on his face. He didn't like leaving Damon, but he had no choice. Their survival depended on this.
"Katherine," he whispered, his chest aching as he said her name aloud like he always did when he was alone. "Why did you do this to us?"
The Salvatore estate was the largest in Mystic Falls; the lavish home hidden behind the thick tress and rows of gardens that were locked behind its iron gates. It was an enigma to those in town who didn't have the pleasure of knowing the Salvatores – and few did. Everyone was aware that most of the businesses in town had been owned or funded by the family for several generations, but few had the pleasure of meeting any member of the family face to face.
Elena Gilbert would soon belong to that exclusive circle of people.
She pressed her face against the window of her carriage as it rolled through the gate, her breath hitching at the rows of tall trees and perfectly pruned rose bushes. The path to the house was paved, not dirt like the roads in town, the trees taller and the grass greener. It was magical; the kind of land that surrounded castles in the fairy tales her mother had told her as a child.
The carriage began to turn as the trees cleared, revealing a path that circled around to the front of the biggest house Elena had ever seen. It was painted a delicate shade of white that seemed even brighter beneath the afternoon sun. The windows were wide and long, covered by thick drapes as if to keep anyone from seeing inside. And the roof was held up by tall, decorated columns, making it seem even larger than it already was.
"Miss Gilbert?" Her eyes snapped to the driver's. "Breathtaking, isn't it?"
"It's…amazing," she breathed, slipping her gloved hand into his as she stepped down out of the carriage. She couldn't resist allowing herself a brief fantasy where she was coming here for something other than work, something like love. "You must enjoy coming here every day."
"Ask me that in a few weeks," the driver replied, closing the carriage door behind her. "This is my first week, and I'll be accompanying the younger Salvatore brother out of town."
"Is the brother kind?" she asked, smoothing one hand over the front of her dress as the other checked her bun. A few pieces strayed and she tucked them behind her ear as her stomach turned. To a family like the Salvatores, appearance was everything.
While the family was generous to local businesses and the town as a whole, the rumblings about their demeanor were less than favorable. No one worked for them for very long, and no one talked about their time spent here once they were fired.
"The pay is kind," he answered, adding to the nerves that were building inside her.
The pay was why Elena had come here. Her family was by no means poor, but her father had taken ill early last year and had been unable to work. The pressure to support the family had fallen on the shoulders of her younger brother, Jeremy, who didn't seem to understand the importance of taking care of them. Their aunt, Jenna, had married last summer, but her husband couldn't afford to keep the family afloat forever.
Thinking of her mother's strength, Elena decided she would take on the burden of supporting her family. Jenna advised against it and suggested she marry instead, but she refused to be on display for a wealthy man she could hardly stand. It was easy for her aunt who had fallen in love with someone who loved her in return. Few men could handle Elena's independence or quick tongue, and she wouldn't settle for someone who saw her as less than his equal.
"Thank you," Elena managed, curling her fingers into the skirt of her dress and following the path to the front door.
She lifted a hand to the doorknocker, but hesitation overcame her. What if the Salvatores were as awful as people hinted? Was any amount of money worth whatever abuse they may direct her way?
Tears filled her eyes as she thought of her father, coughing and moaning for hours on end at night. There was enough medication to last him a few more days, but they didn't have the money to buy more and keep everyone fed. And Elena's father needed the medication.
With a deep breath, she swallowed her nerves, gripped the doorknocker, and prepared herself for whatever waited on the other side.
Katherine was still on Stefan's mind when he heard the gentle rapping of the brass knocker slip through the foyer and into the library. Habit caused him to wait for the butler to answer and announce the visitor, but then he remembered that Damon had managed to run him off a few days ago. His brother didn't take kindly to company.
He took a moment to draw the curtains open before starting out of the room, his chest tightening as he walked through the foyer. Many women had come to the house for this job and Damon had managed to scare each one into running; several so badly that Stefan had to follow after them to make sure they didn't tell a soul. He disliked having to do that, but it kept their lives and secrets safe.
Clearing his throat, he adjusted his jacket and reached for the doorknob, catching the woman on the other side of it by surprise. She stumbled back, but quickly regained her composure, her lips forming the gentlest smile. The shape of her face, the slope of her cheeks, the curve of her lips – it was all so familiar.
"I'm here to see Stefan Salvatore."
"Excuse me," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. His eyes rose over his fingers as his stomach turned, causing him to turn away and stalk down the hallway. Everything about her was too familiar, especially the sound of her voice.
"Sir?" she called after him, her slippers echoing off the floor as she followed after him. "Are you alright? Should I call for someone?"
Stefan stepped into the library as he covered his mouth, her voice causing his skin to crawl. He leaned back against the wall as she followed him inside, reaching a tentative hand out to touch him. "Are you – are you alright?"
Turning his head slightly, he skimmed over her features from the corner of his eye. Everything was there – the blush of her cheeks, the chocolate shade of her eyes, the sweetness of her voice - but everything was different as well. Softer. Sweeter. Innocent. Attributes that Katherine could never have. Still, it didn't matter. Just looking at her was too much.
"I'm – I'm afraid the – the position has been filled, miss," he stammered, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "And I've fallen ill, so you should – you should leave."
"But I received a letter from Mr. Salvatore just yesterday that said he was looking forward to meeting with me. A carriage was sent for me this morning as well."
"Mr. Salvatore was wrong."
"Are you saying he's a liar?" she questioned, dropping her hand back to her side. "That's quite a terrible accusation to make."
"Seeing as I am Mr. Salvatore," Stefan corrected her, his chest heaving as he sucked in several gulps of air. Standing this close to her was unnerving. "I would have an idea as to what kind of man he is. I made a mistake. The position was filled this morning. I'll gladly pay you for your-"
"Mr. Salvatore is a liar."
The sound of Damon's voice caused Stefan to groan and the woman whirled around, peering up the stairs where he hid between rows of bookshelves. "Who is there?" she asked, taking several steps toward the staircase. For a moment, Stefan thought she might run up them, which would have been a very bad idea.
"Your master," Damon replied, his voice slipping between the shadowy shelves. He didn't make his presence anymore known than that. "And you're hired."
"Damon!" Stefan cried, finding his voice as he pushed himself away from the wall. "You cannot be serious! If you think I will leave you alone with this-"
"You should get to know me before you insult me," Miss Gilbert interrupted, spinning back around to face Stefan. Her eyes were wide, heavy with confusion, the kind a person couldn't fake. "Are you toying with me, sir? Is this some game? I came here because you need a maid and a cook, positions I am perfectly capable of fulfilling, but if you wish to play with me-"
"I'll be the one playing with you," Damon chimed in, still refusing to show his face. He had seen her. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen him – yet. "You're hired. Pack your things. You move in tomorrow." She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his voice. "And since you're hesitating, I'll be paying you double, Miss…"
"Gilbert," she filled in, looking back at Stefan as she tried to figure out what was going on here. "Elena Gilbert."
There was a soft groan from Damon before he repeated her name. If she heard, she didn't let either of them know it.
"You should think before accepting," Stefan replied, peering closer and looking for some sign that she was the one full of trickery here. "I beg you to think it over before saying yes."
Miss Gilbert frowned as she gripped her skirts and took a step away from him. "I am not sure what is going on here, but I assure you if the position hasn't been filled I plan on taking it."
This wasn't a job taken out of delight or to pass the time or because she planned on being a spinster. This was desperation. Stefan felt guilty, like he should pay her to leave instead of stay.
"But if either of you think I will take it without meeting Mr. Salvatore, you've gone mad," she snapped, sweeping her skirts up as she started for the doorway. "I'll be here tomorrow morning with my things, but I will not move in until I meet him."
Her slippers clicked softly against the floor as she let herself out, slamming the door hard behind her. Damon cackled from among the bookshelves. "I like her," he called down, poking his head out from behind one of them. "I really like her."
"She's not Katherine."
"I know," Damon grinned, drumming his fingers along the bookcase. "Aren't you curious?"
It was an uncanny resemblance. She could have been a twin, perhaps separated at birth. There must be some logical explanation.
"You can't hurt her," Stefan warned, overwhelmed by a sudden need to protect her. Just being near her for those few moments had made him unravel. What would it do to Damon? He had yet to recover from Katherine.
"I won't, but I'm curious," Damon replied, eying the sunlight as he stepped out of the shadows, careful not to get too close. "She stays here or I hunt her." He shrugged as he gripped the railing that wound the upper level of the library. "And if I hunt her…" His eyes brightened. "Well, there's no telling how it'll end. Your choice, little brother."