Chapter 14

Disclaimer: TVD characters belong to L.J. Smith and the CW

AN: Thank you to everyone is following, has favorited and reviewed this story! I love getting the notifications and knowing people are enjoying this fic. And thank you to honestgrins for beta-ing

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It had been five years since Gwen had left Mystic Falls, yet nothing appeared to have changed.

From the carriage she could see the same shops, the same people milling around the street, going about their same routine. It was an odd feeling to be back, like she no longer belonged. She had changed so much, but she didn't have anywhere else to go. Her aunt was dead, as was the majority of her coven.

The vampire hunting her, Klaus, had attacked them at a weekly meeting. The only survivors were those not present, and they quickly fled New York. Afraid to have anything to do with Gwen, they cut off all contact. Elijah had offered her his help, but Gwen no longer trusted him. He had not been able to save her aunt from his brother — a fact he had neglected to mention over five years — and she doubted he could protect her, if he even wanted to. In spite of her father's protests and fear, she returned to Mystic Falls.

The carriage came to a stop, and she waited impatiently for the driver to get down and let her out of the carriage. The driver was an old man, his eyesight was poor and the long drive had clearly taken a toll on him. She was thankful he did not try to help out of the carriage; he might have pulled her into the mud.

Gwen picked up her lone bag. Needing to leave quickly, she had only packed the essentials. She hoped she had not left any clues behind in her haste. She did not want to make it easier for Klaus to find her, though he probably knew more about her than she liked. It wouldn't matter if he found Mystic Falls, however, as her father was already making plans for them to leave.

A man rushed toward her. He was flustered and slightly out of breath. She recognized him as a member of a founding family, but she couldn't remember his name. "Hello, Miss Ashwood, my apologies for being late," he said when he reached her.

"Hello?" she responded hesitantly. Her confusion must have been obvious because he began explaining quickly, so quickly she was surprised to understand anything he said.

"Matthew Fell. Doctor Fell, actually. I'm your father's physician. He asked me to escort you home, as he was unable. I had another appointment and it ran a little late, I'm sorry for making you wait."

"There's no need to apologize. I've only just arrived," she reassured him. "Is my father ill?"

"It's just a minor case of the flu. He should recover in a few days," he said dismissively. Taking her bag, he offered his arm. She accepted out of propriety's sake. "How was your journey? I imagine travelling alone was rather…stressful."

She did not miss the disapproval in his tone, but chose to ignore it. Gwen was more than capable of defending herself if necessary. "It was fine, uneventful. It's hard to believe how unchanged this place is."

Gwen hated mindless, polite conversation. Yet it was expected of her, especially if they were walking all the way to her father's estate.

"Change isn't always a good thing," Dr. Fell said. "I realize big cities like New York are all about change and the future, but reliability and tradition are just as important. Don't you agree?"

Gwen gave a noncommittal hum; she knew her opinion mattered little to him. What he failed to realize that things changed whether you wanted them to or not.

"You packed light for a woman," he commented after a few minutes of them walking in silence. She fought the urge to roll her eyes from him. She wished George had been sent to get her or that she could have just walked home alone. Was George ill too? Was he no longer working for her father?

"I don't own much," she replied, using her most sickly-sweet voice. "Material items don't bring happiness."

He chuckled. "Were you living with the Quakers?"

"No, my aunt just believed in a simple existence." It was half-true; witches believed in a simple life. They thought it helped with to be closer to nature, which they used in their magic. However, they would never part with their wealth, not when it allowed them to live comfortable and lavish lifestyles. It also helped them to pay off anyone who grew too suspicious of the coven.

"That's a refreshing point of view coming from a woman."

Forcing a smile, Gwen picked up her pace. She wanted nothing more than to get away from this man and see her father. She had a difficult time believing Dr. Fell's opinion of her father's health. Thankfully, her family's estate was closer to town than most, and they arrived quickly. Once inside the house, she thanked him and made an excuse about needing to rest. He easily believed her lie and left without checking in on her father.

Mrs. Brookes took her bag and lead her upstairs. "Do you need anything, Miss Gwen?" the housekeeper asked as they climbed the chairs. Gwen wanted to offer to carry her own bag — she could see the woman was struggling — but knew doing so would only offend Mrs. Brookes.

Witches had to be self-reliant in their magic: growing herbs, brewing potions, and cleaning the tools. As a result of her training, Gwen had grown used to helping out with the household chores. Her aunt had a couple of maids, but her duties had natural extensions for the good of the house. It was no trouble to care for the main garden when tending to her herbs, or to wash her utensils right after the dishes. The maids never said anything of it, probably because they were used to her aunt acting the same way. Gwen supposed they also appreciated the help.

But things were different here. Everyone had their place and expected behavior according to their rank. To deviate from norms meant risking gossip and ostracism, which was a large part of why things never seemed to change in Mystic Falls. Those with the power refused to let anything threaten the status quo.

"Would you bring some tea to my father's room?" she asked. "I'm going to check in on him first."

"Very well. Shall I unpack your things?"

"No, I'll get to it later. Thank you." Walking to her father's bedroom door, she missed the surprised look on Mrs. Brookes' face.

She was nervous, unsure of how ill her father really was. Taking a deep breath, Gwen knocked.

A gruff voice called, "Enter."

"Hello, Father," she greeted, opening the door. "How are you?"

Thomas' face broke into a smile upon seeing his daughter. It had been two years since his last visit to New York, and he was surprised by how much older Gwen seemed. Gwen was relieved. He looked tired and a little pale, but seemed fine otherwise.

"It's so good to see you, sweetheart," he said, giving her a one-armed hug. "How are you?"

Sitting next to him on the bed, she gave a sad smile. "I'm all right. I wasn't there when…when he attacked them. I never thought I would miss her so much."

"You've been through a lot," Thomas said gently.

"Hmm. How are you feeling?" shed asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "It's just a cold. A day or two, and then I'll resume finding us a new home. I was thinking somewhere out west."

"I'm sorry about all of this."

He took her hand to give a comforting squeeze. "This is not your fault. There's no need to apologize, it's my job to protect you. My reasons for staying in Mystic Falls are not more important than taking care of you."

"Thank you," Gwen said, squeezing his hand back. "But I think we should call another doctor to come check on you."

He chuckled. "Doctor Fell's bedside manner may be lacking, but he knows how to do his job. I know you must be tired, but there is a small dinner party at the Lockwood Manor tonight. Go in my place, it will be a good distraction for you."

"I should stay here and look after you," she countered.

"Mrs. Brookes and the other maids are perfectly capable," he said dismissively. "And before you say it, you do have a dress. Mrs. Brookes had a few dresses made for you. They're in your wardrobe. The Gilberts will pick you up at seven, so I suggest you go rest for awhile."

"I never had a choice, did I?" Gwen asked, pretending to glare at her father as he lauged.

Gwen was nervous. She had expected a few days at home with her father and the household staff, yet she was to face the rest of Mystic Falls right away. The Gilberts were kind to her, at least. They welcomed her back, though uninterested in the details of her return past the fact that her aunt died suddenly. After all, the Gilbert family did not pry into other people's private matters.

Well, the surviving ones didn't. Elizabeth Gilbert had been a notorious gossip, but she fell to consumption two years past. Her husband, Nicholas, was well-matched as a quiet man who kept to himself unless he felt strongly about something. His eldest child, Jonathan, took after him. From what Gwen remembered of Jonathan, he had gone to a university up north to study science and philosophy.

Sarah was a bityounger than Gwen. She was more talkative than her father or brother, probably feeling the need to ease the awkward silence. On the carriage ride over, she told Gwen all about the finishing school in Pennsylvania where she had met her fiancé. Richard Sterling had a plantation down in Georgia. He was well-read, handsome, and very rich, altogether a perfect match for any young woman.

Both Gilbert siblings had dark brown hair and eyes and a fair complexion, conventionally attractive for the times. Gwen would even say that Sarah was beautiful, like the girls she saw in the newspapers advertising beauty products. Her natural beauty was uncommon for Mystic Falls, and Gwen was not surprised she had managed to attract such an accomplished suitor. Still, she hoped their marriage would be more than superficial pride and convenience.

Deciding that she and Gwen were going to be best friends, Sarah dragged her away from the men as soon as they entered the party. She prattled on the whole time they were at the refresthment table, all about the ongoings in Mystic Falls. Gwen was only half-listening, but had to admist the dramatics of it all was interesting. More importantly, it was a good distraction.

"What about you?" Sarah asked, pausing to take a sip of her wine. "Were there any gentlemen callers in New York?"

"Oh, um." Gwen was caught off guard by the question, and she took a sip of her own drink before answering. "There were a couple of callers, but no engagements. I'm not as lucky as you."

Sarah shrugged, unconcerned. Gwen was surprised; she had been expecting Sarah to pity her. "There are plenty of eligible men here. My brother, for example, though I don't think you two would be a good match. You're too spirited for him. He'd bore you." Noticing Gwen's surprise and confusion, Sarah quickly said, "I remember you from before. You were always causing trouble with Damon Salvatore. You were a bit of hero to some of us. Our mothers were terrified we would follow in your footsteps."

Gwen laughed. She had forgotten about her reputation. It had been so long, and she was hardly that same girl anymore. "I fear I'm going to disappoint you. I'm not the rebel I once was."

"Pity," she said, pretending to be upset. "This is place is so boring. I was really hoping you'd stir up some trouble upon your return."

Sarah Gilbert's outward appearance of a pretty, polite, and quiet woman was misleading of her character. She was a woman who lived for excitement and whatever came with it. Gwen could see them being friends, even with her non-stop talking.

"He's still here, you know," Sarah continued, a contemplative look on her face. "And unattached."

"Who?"

"Damon Salvatore."

Gwen felt her nerves flutter for a minute. She had been trying not to think about him or what she would do if she saw him again. There was no ill will between them, but any interaction with him was bound to be uncomfortable. Once good friends, they were nothing to each other now. She did her best to act indifferent.

"I'm surprised," she said, perfectly composed. "He always talked about leaving."

"Who doesn't?" Sarah asked with a snort. "Even those who go to university or finishing school come back, look at us."

"You'll be moving to Atlanta once you're married," Gwen pointed out. "An there was a time I didn't want to leave."

"Really?"

"I know. It's hard to believe."

The dinner bell rang, effectively ending their private conversation. The guests filed toward the dinning hall, and Gwen noticed a few curious glances thrown her way. She was thankful to be sitting next to Sarah, who was whispering the names and occupations of those around them. It was a helpful refresher.

"Miss Ashwood, what brings you back to Mystic Falls after so many years away?" Mrs. Roberts asked from across the table. Her husband owned one of the shops on Main Street, but Gwen could not remember which one.

"My aunt passed away, and I missed home," she responded, deciding to keep her answer simple.

Mrs. Roberts pulled her face into one of feigned pity. "Oh, I'm so sorry dear."

"Thank you," Gwen said, trying to be as polite as possible. She was starting to understand why the Gilbert men were so quiet; pretending to be polite was difficult. Mrs. Roberts quickly turned her attention to the woman next to her.

Only Sarah spoke to Gwen for the rest of dinner, and she used the brief reprieve when Sarah as pulled into another conversation to observe the other guests. Mr. Gilbert and his son seemed to be in a deep discussion for most of dinner. As soon as the dinner finished, they were all dismissed for dancing.

"Well, that was only slightly painful," Sarah muttered to Gwen, who nodded in agreement.

"How long do these dances normally last?"

"All night, but Father almost always leaves around eleven. We only have a few more hours."

"Thank god."

"I know. Dinner parties were so much more fun in Pittsburgh," Sarah sighed. "What were they like in New York?"

"Pretty much like this," Gwen shrugged, though the magic often made them more fun. "I'm really not one for big parties."

Sarah nodded, but did not seem to really hear her. "Do you still ride?"

"Of course," Gwen said, slightly confused. "Why?"

"I took it up, but none of the girls here do. We should go on a ride together sometime, escape the constant chaperones."

"That sounds fun, and I'm still pretty good at outsmarting my chaperones."

Sarah's eyes glinted with excitement. She was asked to dance by one of the local boys, and excused herself. Shortly after she left, Jonathan joined Gwen.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, looking uncomfortable.

"That's very kind of you, but it's really not necessary," Gwen said, trying to give him an out.

"It really is," he insisted, offering his hand. She accepted and Jonathan led them to the dance floor.

"Your father?" she questioned.

"No, my father does not pay much attention to social customs. It was our hostess, Mrs. Lockwood."

"Well, I'm sorry to have pulled you away from your conversation. You seemed very invested in it," she said, trying to make small talk to cover the stilted encounter. He was a decent dancer, contradicting her assumption that he would be a bit clumsy.

"Oh that," he said, glancing away from her. "Just a scholarly debate. Nothing we can't resume after. Beside, I can't abandon such a pretty girl in such a hostile environment."

Gwen feigned bashfulness at his compliment. "You're very kind."

"Mind if I cut in?" a voice asked from behind Gwen.

Jonathan stopped dancing, looking unsure. Gwen turned a little so she could see who it was. It was a young man about her age. He was about half a foot taller than her and had dark hair and blue eyes; Gwen would have sworn her heart stopped when she realized who it was. This was hardly how she wanted to be reintroduced to Damon Salvatore.

"If it's acceptable to Miss Ashwood," Jonathan said, defaulting to her wishes. He probably hoped she would accept Damon's offer so he could return to his discussion. She nodded numbly and forced a smile. Jonathan handed her to Damon.

As they danced, Gwen noticed a group of girls staring at them and whispering. Some seemed to be glaring at her. Damon led as she struggled to figure out what to say to him.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he said in the place of a greeting. His stare was cold and his body stiff.

"My aunt didn't enjoy traveling, so my father would make the trip to New York. I didn't have the opportunity to come back before now," Gwen said, working to keep her tone light.

"Your aunt finally changed her mind on travelling?"

"No," Gwen said, refusing to look him in the eye. She kept her gaze fixed over his left shoulder. "She passed away."

She felt Damon staring at her, but refused to look at him. "No one knew you were coming back, you've caused quite the stir."

"I did not realize my presence would cause such a disturbance. I only wanted to come home and be with my father."

The song came to an end. Gwen stepped back from Damon and curtseyed. "Thank you for the dance, Mr. Salvatore."

Turning to leave, Gwen headed outside to get some air. She was suddenly having a difficult time breathing. Why did seeing him affect her so much? She walked along the veranda, calming herself.

"That was a little rude, don't you think?" a voice drawled from behind her. Whirling around, she found Damon leaning against one of the pillars.

"I wasn't feeling well," she lied. "Is there something you need, Mr. Salvatore?"

"I need to stop calling me that," he said, walking toward her. He sounded annoyed, and it was hard to make out his expression.

"What am I supposed to call you?" she asked, surprised at how innocently naïve she sounded. She nervously twisted her hands into the skirt of her dress.

"What happened to you, Gwen?"

"My mother died, I forced to leave my home, and I lost all my friends in the process," she said, dropping the act of propriety. Her voice was hard, and she was glaring at him, not that he could see. "And I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you seem to be angry."

"You just left," he practically hissed.

"Did you not hear what I just said? Or read any of the letters I wrote?" she snapped. "I did not have a choice. My father and aunt said I had to leave and refused to let me come back."

"Why?" Damon asked. He sounded confused, but she could hear a note of disbelief.

"It doesn't matter," she said, growing frustrated. "I need to go."

She went to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.

"What do you want?" she asked exasperated.

"To understand what the hell happened!"

"I've already told you what happened. There's nothing else I can say."

"So that's it? You're just going to pretend we were never friends?"

"I'm not pretending. We were friends, but we're not anymore. That was your choice. I don't know you anymore and you don't know me. All I can do is be a polite human being," she snapped. "Now please let me go, I need to rejoin my party."

Damon let her go, storming away from her. She sighed and smoothed out her dress. When she returned to the dance hall, Sarah had just finished dancing with her fourth partner. She was a little flushed from all the dancing, but looked like she was having a good time.

"There you are," she said, looping her arm with Gwen's. "Father is ready to leave. I was just coming to look for you. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm just a little tired," she lied quickly. "I'm ready to go."

Sarah accepted her excuse as they left to go find Mr. Gilbert and Jonathan. The carriage ride back was quiet. When they arrived at ther father's house, Gwen thanked them for the invitation and the company. Sarah promised to call on her the next day for tea. Gwen smiled, looking forward to it.

One of the younger maids was waiting for her when she let herself into her room. "What's your name?" Gwen asked as the girl immediately moved to help her remove her dress.

"Emily Middleton," girl responded quietly.

"Do you prefer to be addressed as Emily or Miss Middleton?"

Emily gave her a blank look and then shrugged. "Mrs. Brookes addresses me as Emily, so I suppose that's what I prefer. Is there anything else you need, Miss Ashwood? There's clean water in the basin for you to wash with and your night clothes are laid out on the bed."

"That'll be all. Thank you, Emily," Gwen said, giving the girl a small smile.

"Good night, Miss Ashwood."

"Good night."

Gwen sat at her dressing table to take down hair and washed her face. Too tired to do more than just the basics, she would have to do a more thorough cleaning the next day. Sliding into bed, she tried to not think about her interaction with Damon, but failed. What right did he have to be mad at her?

She had written to him several times without response before deciding he must not want anything to do with her. He had ended their friendship, through no fault of her own.

Gwen sighed and pulled the blankets up over her head. Too much had happened in too short of time. She rolled onto her stomach and focused on her breathing. Soon, she had quieted her mind enough that she was able to slip into a mostly restful sleep.