Immediately, a coach pulled up to us. “Where to?” a driver asked, tipping his hat.

“Where can we go to get a dress?” I asked boldly.

“I’d bring you over to Hyde Park. Harrods.”

“Really?” Violet clapped her hands in delight at the mention of the name. “That’s where everyone classy shops! I read about it. I’ve heard even Lillie Langtry goes there!”

“Let’s go,” I said grandly. I had no idea what Violet was saying, but all I cared about was that she seemed happy.

We took off through the streets of London. Compared to Whitechapel, this part of the city was lovely. The streets were wide, well-dressed men and women were walking arm in arm on the sidewalk, and even the pigeons seemed clean and well-behaved. Violet looked back and forth, as if unable to decide where to direct her focus.

Finally, the driver pulled up at an imposing marble building. “Here you are!”

I paused. Should I compel my way into not paying for the ride?

“Thank you!” Violet hooked her arm in mine as she hopped out of the coach. The opportunity to compel was lost and I felt through my pockets, pulling out a few shillings and handing them to the driver.

He drove away, and Violet and I stepped through the doorway into a vaulted hallway filled with the competing scents of perfume and foods. The marble floors were so polished I could see our reflection when we gazed down. Everyone spoke in a slightly raised whisper, as if we were in a church. And indeed, it seemed like a holy place.

Violet sighed in ecstasy. “It sounds like a sin, but when I was little, our priest asked us to imagine heaven. I always thought it would look like this. Everything shiny and new,” she said, echoing my thoughts as we walked through the winding aisles of the department store. A section selling stationery gave way to one selling toys, which opened into a massive food hall. It was as if anything anyone could imagine was under one roof.

Finally, we reached the back of the store. Dresses of all colors were hanging on racks, and women were milling around the displays as if they were at a cocktail party. Saleswomen were standing behind glass cases, ready to help customers.

“You can have anything you want,” I said, splaying my hands as if to show her the extent of the wares.

But Violet seemed sad. “I wish Cora were here. She would love it.”

“We’ll find Cora,” I said firmly.

“May I help you?” a woman in a dark black dress asked, gliding up to us.

“We need a gown,” I said, nodding toward Violet.

“Of course,” the woman said. She gave Violet a glance from head to toe, but refrained from saying anything about her shabby clothes. Instead, she smiled.

“We have some things that will do very well. Come with me,” she said, motioning for Violet to join her.

She turned toward me. “You stay here. When I’m through with her, you won’t even recognize her.”

For a second, I paused. I didn’t want to let Violet out of my sight. Then I laughed to myself. I was being paranoid. We were in the finest department store in the world. It wasn’t as if the saleswoman would hurt her.

“All right, then?” The saleswoman arched her black eyebrow as if sensing my discomfort.

“Of course,” I said. I settled onto a plush peach-colored settee and glanced around. I felt like Whitechapel was in a different country. Could it be possible just to stay on this side of the town and forget about the murderer? I wanted to, badly.

“Stefan?”

I glanced up and gasped. Violet was clad in an emerald-green dress that accentuated her small waist and red hair. Even though her face was still drawn and there were dark shadows under her large eyes, she looked beautiful.

“What do you think?” she asked shyly, twirling in the mirror.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” the saleswoman murmured. “We tried two others as well, and your wife looks equally exquisite in all of them.”

“She’s not . . . yes,” I said simply. It was so much easier to lie. “We’ll take this dress. We’ll take all of them,” I said, pulling her aside to compel her to give us the purchases for free. The expression in Violet’s eyes was worth it.

Instead of taking a coach back to the hotel, we walked. Every so often, I caught her stealing glances of herself in the windows, twisting the skirts of her new emerald-green dress. It was nice that I could make someone happy.

“I fear I won’t be able to repay you,” Violet said at one point.

“No need.” I shook my head. “Your friendship is repayment enough.”

“Thank you. But I feel like I’m not being a good friend. All I do is talk about myself. I only know your name, and that you’re from America. Are you a businessman?”

I laughed. “No, I work on a farm. I’m just like you. And I know what it’s like to lose a family member. My brother once went missing. I was worried sick about him.”

“Did he turn up?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Eventually. And I know you’ll see Cora soon.” My heart went out to Violet and her missing sister. “Tell me more about her,” I said.

“Well, we fought of course. But all siblings do, don’t they? She had to do everything first. And of course I wanted to be just like her. I don’t think that I would have moved to London without her. And now that she’s not here . . .”

“You have to figure out who you are,” I murmured.

“Yes,” Violet agreed. “But it’s hard to know who I am without Cora. We’re that close. Is that what it’s like with you and your brother?

“No.” I shook my head.

“Did you have a falling-out?”

“Yes, but that’s long in the past. Right now, I’m only focused on my future,” I said, offering the crook of my elbow for her to loop her arm through.

“Well, your brother’s making a mistake, to fight with you,” she said.

“And I’d never fight with you, if you were my sister,” I said. I was enjoying our comfortable back-and-forth.

We stopped by the hotel to drop off our bags with the bellhop and then continued on our way to the theater.

“I feel like this is a dream and I don’t want to wake up,” Violet said, her eyes shining as an usher led us to our seats. Being with Violet felt natural, and our easy banter reminded me of the way that Damon, I, and the rest of the boys would tease the Mystic Falls girls at barbecues and social functions during the year.

Suddenly, the theater went dark and the curtain rose on the stage.

“Oh, Stefan!” Violet said, clapping her hands together as she perched on the very edge of the velvet-covered chair and leaned her elbows on the railing of the box. Dozens of chorus girls came out, wearing flouncy skirts and large hats, and I tried to pay attention to the song they were singing. But I couldn’t. All I could think of was Damon. Why had he done this? It had taken years, but I’d found peace. Couldn’t he do the same? He could feed on women and have his fancy parties all he liked. I just wanted him to stop destroying other people’s lives. I was convinced that we could both live and let live. But I couldn’t live if my brother was killing.