Lucille was stiff and sore the next morning when she opened
her eyes to the gloomy surroundings of her mother’s bedroom. Her face ached,
the scratches raw and itchy. The fire had burned down, and she knew it would be
her responsibility to build it up again. At least she could light it from the
embers. It wasn’t long before the flames were crackling in the fireplace.
She was stirring the porridge on the stove in the kitchen when
she heard the furtive creak of the floorboards behind her. Dropping the spoon
on the tabletop, she turned around and gathered her brother up into her arms,
hugging him close. His hair was wild and uncombed, but he had pulled on a pair
of trousers and socks and partially tucked in his shirt before sneaking down
the winding staircase. For a long moment, the siblings simply held each other,
shaking in their combined misery. Abruptly Lucille drew back and took up the
spoon. She gave the porridge a few more
brisk stirs. “She mustn’t find you here,” Lucille muttered. She took up a bowl
and dolloped a generous amount into it, pouring honey from the new jar over it.
She took out a bit of sacking and bundled up an apple and a handful of walnuts
and shoved it toward him. “Take these upstairs and eat. Wait there for me.
There’s a great deal to do today, but I hope to be sent up sometime. Do wash up
and dress, Thomas.“ She paused, staring
at Thomas’ sad, somber face. “Did you sleep at all, my darling?”
Thomas shrugged, picking up the bowl and packet. “I was all
right. Your little fairies kept me company,” he replied quietly. He meant the
dark-winged moths that fluttered in the rafters of the nursery roof, and she knew
that he had slept in her bed rather than his, poor lonely lad. “I probably
slept better than you, at any rate. I love you, Lucille.” He leaned forward and
gently kissed the cut on her forehead, then her still-sore lip. “Come up when
you can, dearest sister, so I can comfort you.” He left the room as quietly as
he had arrived, balancing her gifts in his wide hands, vanishing like mist.
Lucille stared after Thomas, wanting nothing more than to
follow him up to their haven, to barricade them in and forget everything
outside of their little world. They loved each other; they needed nothing
else. She sighed. Despite the fact that
they weren’t infants, they were still considered children and thus dependent on
their mother, regardless of how she treated them. Lucille’s expression hardened
into a bitter mask. Well, she had cared for her mother before, in fact was
still required to, and she could be sure that didn’t change…for as long as
necessary. Patience, she told herself. She reached for the red tin of tea.
@8@ * @8@
Thomas was properly dressed, his hair brushed back and face
well-scrubbed, when Lucille came up bearing a tray with soup and bread for him.
She was exhausted and aching, but pleased. The larder was full, everything
meticulously inventoried and stored away. Mother’s other purchases had arrived,
carried by the porters into the foyer: bundles and packages, even a large flat
portrait of Lady Beatrice, extravagances the likes of which Lucille had not
seen for a long time. She had no expectation of there being gifts for them
among the many parcels; she could not recall ever having received gifts from
her parents. There were no celebrations at Allerdale Hall, not even for
Christmas. The children made do for each other, instead.
“I made you something,” Thomas greeted her shyly, holding
his offering out in his hand. It was a slender little stick figure on a string,
waxed paper wings and little dress fluttering as he stood it up. It had a tiny
carved face with wide glittering eyes, its arms and legs delicate twigs. With a
few tugs on the string, it twirled and danced in the air like a living thing.
“Oh, it’s a little fairy!” Lucille exclaimed, enchanted. It
looked similar to the bug-like creature in their mural, a disguised little
sprite about which they had made up stories. “You are so clever, little
brother.”
A warm smile brightened his face, his eyes gleaming. “You
like it, then?”
“Of course!” She took
up the puppet string from him. “Where shall we put her? By the window, perhaps,
so she can catch the breeze and the sunbeams and dance?” Thomas nodded
enthusiastically, and Lucille deftly placed the toy on a branch she had set in
a vase to brighten the little sitting room. She stared as it swung and rocked,
half-insect and all magic. “Eat your food, Thomas,” she commanded suddenly, as
if coming back from a reverie. “Mother wants us to attend her at tea. Mr.
McFarlane is coming to visit.”
Mr. McFarlane was Mother’s solicitor, and they couldn’t
imagine why he would come from Scotland to Cumberland to visit, nor could they
fathom why they both needed be present. Lucille went to dress as Thomas
hungrily consumed the welcome meal. Once finished, Thomas helped Lucille comb
out her thick, black hair as she dabbed powder over her cuts. “It will fester,
Lucille,” he cautioned.
“Better that than fail Mother’s demands, since I must be
presentable,” Lucille muttered. Her skin looked all the more pale, but that was
fashionable in a young lady of high birth. She plaited her hair into thick
braids, pinning it in place.
Thomas did up his collar and neck scarf, nervously smoothing
his waistcoat. He always felt clumsy and timid around Mother. Knowing he must
stand as still and impassive as a statue when he was in her presence, he
fidgeted now, as they went down to the great room.
Thomas played the part well when he was sent to open the
door and usher in Mr. McFarlane, taking his coat and hat graciously and leading
him into the parlor as Lucille, dressed in her somber best, swept in carrying
the tea set aloft and set it on the long table. Thomas took up position near
her, standing more like a page or footman than the heir to Allerdale Hall as
his sister offered tea to their guest and mother.
Mother was sitting straight and unbending in one of the two
high backed wingchairs and took the offered cup from Lucille, meeting her stare
with one of her own. She pointedly took a small sip of the tea before beginning
her conversation with their guest, apologizing for not rising to greet him, as
she had just concluded her visit to London and had been feeling poorly. Mr.
McFarlane replied with some sympathy, hoping she would be well soon, as he sat
and sipped his own tea. Wordlessly, the children sat on opposite sides of the
sofa facing them and looked down in their laps, the model of polite dignity.
Lady Beatrice could act charming when she so wished, but the
darkness never seemed to leave her prematurely aged face, nor the cruelty from
her piercing gaze. “I do appreciate your prompt attention in visiting Allerdale
Hall, Mr. McFarlane; I do hope we can conclude our own business as swiftly as I
was able to do so in London. “
“As you know, I have been occupied for some time in
discharging the various debts incurred by my late husband,” she continued, her
expression sour at the mention of Sir James Sharpe. “I am pleased to say that
those duties have now been fulfilled in their entirety and Allerdale Hall is no
longer beholden to any creditors; I have the documents for you to look over,
and took the liberty of having copies done for your records. Our holdings are
secure and in the clear, as depleted as they are. You’ll see that there is
scarcely enough for our continued care, but it is intact. At this time we
cannot reopen the mines, although I’m certain they could yield a great deal
more in income should we ever be able to do so. “
“Lady Beatrice, this is most welcome news!” the solicitor
exclaimed. “I’m most pleased to hear it.”
She gave a disdainful sniff. “I am merely glad to have the
business behind me. I was able to retain some of my own fortune and personal items,
at least. He was not able to lose everything.” She set down the cup and folded
her hands in her lap. “It does bring me to my next subject, however, and the
reason I wanted you present. We are
forbidden from selling any part of the estate by law, and the land is unable to
produce at this time, so it will have to remain as inheritance to Thomas when
he comes of age, to do as he may with it. He of course has the Sharpe title,
not that it will do him much good. To put it plainly, Mr. McFarlane, I find
myself in some difficulty in regards to the children’s education and society
under these circumstance.
“Allerdale Hall is remote and even inaccessible during part
of the year; this will only impede Thomas’ progress. He is of an age when such
matters must be considered, and I have given it a great deal of thought. There
is some allowance due to him for his maintenance, which should be sufficient
for his needs. Sir James wished for Thomas to have a military commission, but I
think his temperament is not suited for such a profession; we shall see as he
progresses. My conclusion is that his education as a gentleman and advancement
in society will best be served by attending school in Surrey. My sister,
Florence, has graciously accepted to have Thomas to her estate as ward in this
endeavor. There is some need for haste, Mr. McFarlane, since Thomas is to leave
for Surrey tomorrow. I’ve just had my sisters’ confirmation, you see, and why I
sent for you immediately. “
The siblings
stiffened in surprise at this news and risked a sideward glance at each other.
Lucille felt some relief that Thomas would not be given a commission. Thomas
really wasn’t likely to make a good soldier, and she couldn’t bear the idea of
him in such rough and violent surroundings. But to be sent away from Cumberland
to distant Surrey, to an aunt they hardly knew? The thought made her quake
inside. Allerdale Hall was their home and they had never before gone farther
than the town.
“Most generous of your sister, milady,” Mr. McFarlane
commented.
“Not at all,” Lady Beatrice countered. “As a childless
widow, Florence is in need of something to occupy herself. She places a great
deal of importance on the proper education of today’s youth, but never had the
fortune of having children. I imagine having the stewardship of her nephew will
allow her to reassert her position among her peers.”
“No doubt, no doubt,” the solicitor murmured soothingly.
“Lady Florence will also be instrumental in the instruction and presentation of
Miss Lucille, I presume?”
Lady Beatrice gave a tight, thin lipped smile. “On the
contrary, Lucille will not be going to Surrey. It does not suit her
temperament: she is far too studious and retiring for such society. I have been
corresponding with a convent in Switzerland that I find to be suitable to her
vocation: the sisters there are skilled in the healing arts, and I am certain
Lucille will find her calling among them.”
Thomas’ eyes widened in dismay at the revelation of
Lucille’s fate. He was well aware that Lucille would rather be hunting
butterflies in the surrounding meadows than pay a visit to other ladies of fine
breeding, or that she’d prefer reading about plants and herbs and such rather
than entertain their peers with her musical talents. Yet, the idea that Lucille
would be shut away in a nunnery was absurd. Even worse was the idea that they
would be separated, exiled from the only home they had ever known. None of the
Sharpes had ever been especially religious. Their parents had attended church,
of course, and had seen to their religious education, but their father in
particular couldn’t be bothered with such blatant expressions of the spiritual,
and only did the minimum in obligation. The children couldn’t remember any sort
of merriment or cheer even on holidays; observances were usually somber affairs
devoid of celebration. He turned his face toward hers, only to see her give a
small shake of her head, warning him to stay still and silent.
Mr. McFarlane set down his empty cup. “Ah, but of course you
know your daughter best, milady. She has been such a caring and devoted
daughter to you for some time, I know. What a considerate mother you have,
children. What say you to her?”
With their intense gaze locked on Lady Beatrice, sister and
brother rose and gave formal, stiff bows. “We thank you for your kind
consideration, Mother,” Lucille said, the coldness evident in her response.
“Your efforts on our behalf are most appreciated,” Thomas
added, his gentle voice hiding his inner upset.
A more loving mother would have embraced them; Lady Beatrice
merely nodded. “Both of you are dismissed. If Mr. McFarlane is done with his
tea, please clear it away, Lucille. Thomas, I suggest you begin your packing.”
Turning her attention back to her lawyer, she continued. “Is it possible to
expedite any remaining paperwork, then?”
“Certainly, milady. We should be able to resolve everything
before this evening.”
“Will you be joining us for supper?”
“I thank you for the invitation, but I regret I must
decline. At our conclusion I must away to the depot and wire my office. I’ve
arranged to stay there the night; I wouldn’t want to impose.” He was only being
polite; it was obvious that there wasn’t staff for a proper dinner, nor had
there been enough time for its preparation, even if they had. Lady Beatrice
accepted his refusal with a gracious nod as Lucille gathered the tea set and
Thomas returned the man’s coat and hat. The siblings filed out wordlessly
through the doorway to the kitchen before rushing to the nursery, scarcely able
to contain their turmoil.
Lucille fluttered around the sitting room of the nursery
like a butterfly caught in a net, picking up and straightening items out of
habit. Thomas slumped against the wall by the window, staring dully at the
little stick fairy puppet he had made. It twirled in the wind, a mockery of
Lucille’s frantic spinning.
“Lucille, stop,” Thomas begged as his sister began to stack
his linens. “Please, Lucille, stop! I won’t go. Not without you. “
“We have no choice, Thomas, don’t you see?” Lucille burst
out. “We are hers and we must obey her wishes.”
“Then I’ll go, but you must come with me,” replied Thomas.
“I know it will be hard for you, but we would be together in Surrey, away from
her.”
“That is why she will never allow it, my darling! She saw
us, little brother; she saw the love that she could never have, and all she
wants is to destroy it as she has destroyed all the rest of our happiness! Oh,
how I hate her! She will never allow us see each other again!” Lucille slid to
the floor, shaking with resentment and sorrow. No matter how steady and aloof
she might pretend to be, she was still a child just on the verge of womanhood,
and at that moment she looked like a lost and frightened bird in a storm. “I’ll die, Thomas, I’ll die without you!”
Thomas collapsed down beside her, drawing her into his embrace.
“No, you won’t, Lucille. There’s a whole world out there, a whole other life we
could live. And we won’t be parted from each other; I don’t care what she wishes!
I’ll find a way.” Lucille clung to him, and he held her. “We should leave here,
tonight.”
Lucille sighed. “We’ve talked about this; where would we go,
and how? At least you’ll finally escape this place as you’ve wanted to: you’ll
be given an opportunity to become true heir to Crimson Peak, a baronet. I have
nothing without you. A cloistered life, imprisoned in a nunnery to tend to the
sick and diseased, forced to kneel and beg and pray, to live without love? Even
now I must do my duty toward her, that spiteful witch, and she takes my effort
and twists it into chains to bind me in misery. No, Thomas, there’s no escaping
her wrath. We are damned, the both of us, for daring to love.” She kissed his forehead, and stood. “Finish
your packing; I need to see to supper. Mother will insist I remain with her
again tonight, no doubt, but I will try to come up to you later.”
“Lucille….” He sobbed, grasping her hand in his and bringing
it to his lips.
“No, no more of this now. Later, my sweetest, let us hope
for later.” And then she tore herself away from the only one she loved, and who
loved her in return.
Anywho, hi all! Some of you may know me, some of you may not. If you’re reading this through the TH tag, you probably don’t. However, like you guys I adore Tom.
Some of you may know that Tom’s birthday is coming up next month (February 9th to be exact, but most of you probably didn’t know that off the top of your head like my obsessed ass does). I wanted to do something special for him and so I got some inspiration from something that had been done last year for Cevans’ birthday.
I’ve made a blog, @happybirthdaytommyh, in which I will post things you guys have submitted for Tom’s birthday! A list of possible things you could submit are as follows:
Fanart (tasteful)
Short fanfic (also tasteful)
A letter (handwritten is fine, just submit a clear photo)
A fansign
Anything else you can think of, just clear it with me first, although I’m 99% sure I’ll approve it!
I don’t think anyone’s done anything like this for Tom so I thought it would be nice for him to get a collective gift from his fans.
Now here’s how we’re going to attempt to get him to see it. His birthday falls on a Tuesday this year so starting on Saturday, February 6th, I’m going to ask anyone who has a twitter to tweet Tom and/or any of his costars with a link to the blog. Not obnoxiously of course, I don’t want him or his costars being harassed with tweets, but just enough so hopefully he’ll notice. Obviously, I know there’s a good chance he may not ever see the blog and that’s fine! I think it’ll just be nice knowing that we made an effort for him and who knows? Maybe someday in the future he’ll get wind of it and take a look!
I ask that you guys start submitting your items as soon as you can, I know this is late notice but you don’t have to do anything super fancy. Just don’t wait until last minute to submit anything. I’ll be taking your submissions until Saturday, February 6th (maybe later, but definitely no later than the 8th). I hope you guys participate and I’m looking forward to this! If you have any questions please direct them to this blog 🙂
Reblogging to tag my peeps who could help get the word out
I’ve been studying the classic black tie dress code (mainly from here) so I thought I could share my notes. Maybe they can be helpful to someone else, too. If I made any mistakes or things are really confusing please tell me. I also have some notes on white tie which I could share as well…
Having discussed this with the lovely proprietor of the @slore-spa, i felt a European location was required to satisfy the appetites of us Euro ladies. Here, i present to you;
The Cougars Retreat
Set in the Surrey Hills in Southern England, our newly trained phone operator will be happy to take your reservation:
The delightful property offers a number of facilities, a bar:
Where our tall dark and handsome bartender will mix up a number of ‘Screaming Orgasms’ and make sure you get at least two ‘Slippery Nipples’:
A beautiful kitchen:
Were our trained chef’s will ‘whip’ up all sorts of treats:
Though some of our staff do still need some people skills training as they get a bit ‘huffy’ when you make a mess (they need to learn not to punish the guests… unless the guest requests that sort of thing):
You can rest assured that you will indeed have a good rest in our four poster beds:
And we also offer in-room beauty treatments:
And of course there is a pool:
Which our lifeguard is very happy about:
So from the rest of our staff, although they may be young they are all very eager to please:
We look forward to welcoming you to the Cougars Retreat:
I’m trying to make a reservation but the line is busy. Who’s hogging the reservation manager?!
Whoops, sorry that’d be me *wipes mouth and chin* he’s finally free now. You know how it is, some of these young staff need a good tongue lashing to get in line.
Wonderful! I’ve had to spend the night chain to the bar! Now if the bar tender would just let me go…
Yes i’ve seen the CCTV footage. I’m going to need to disinfect the bar counter surface after what you two got up to. (And kudos on being that flexible)
It’s very nice of your pool guy to offer swimming lessons and we found a whole new use for those floats. Who knew that stuff floats!
He also does Life Saving Mouth to Mouth lessons if you want me to sign you up? I said mouth to MOUTH… detatch yourself from that young man right now @ladyoftheteaandblood. Or at least use the pools changing hut. Jeeez… you lot are insatiable!
He is so young and has so much to learn, I maybe some time. MWHAHAHAHAHAHA😈
*emerges from the kitchen with full mouth*
“Mflfmfph?”
Oh come on now @peskipixi, from the moans i heard, you had your mouth full *in* the kitchen too. I do hope you’ve been nicely stuffed and our chef left you fully satisfied?
Ooh! I’d like to book a room please?✋✋✋ and I want the ‘whole package’!😉
All rooms come with a very generous package @mrshiddelston I’ll make sure room service is ready for your arrival.
ahem… *tapping her foot on the floor* where is MY pudding ? @angryschnauzer can you tell me if @peskipixi has set my chef free?
Our chef has A LOT of stamina, so I’ll get him to deliver it in person to your room @frenchfrostpudding. @peskipixi is now putting our barman through his paces so he’s available for the rest of the night.
*peeks over the bar counter with a Cheshire cat grin*
Instead of grinning , give us a bottle of something… Someone is thirsty over there @peskipixi
@frenchfrostpudding, I’m having to call in more staff. Our Lifeguard Oakley has offered to stand in and deliver a bottle of bubbly to your room, will that be ok? I think he’s just about recovered from his swimming lesson with @ladyoftheteaandblood
@mrshiddelston Everything going ok? I’ve heard a fair but of furniture thumping and bedsprings creaking coming from you room. Were they groans of pain? Its hard to tell in this place now with you lot staying.
Well the chains were his idea… Prehaps you should get better security @angryschnauzer?
Our head of security is flying in now @ourladybinxthings, please feel free to meet him down at the helipad.
@angryschnauzer
Would the head of security be able to stop by at my suite once he’s done with @ourladybinxthings I’m feeling a bit… Erm… Insecure…. And I would really need someone to take the charge.
I’d love to book a room, but the phones are busy again!
Well, I so much was looking forward to my birthday retreat! Perhaps we should contact the hotel manager….
Petition that when Crimsonites think they’ve met one another in public there’s a secret greeting of:
“How’s the tea?”
To which the response is:
“Utterly poisonous”
I fully support this idea. Anyone going to C2E2 this year?
Hi! No you’re right, they were all killed in different manners. In the art of darkness under the brides ghost design it says that they were all killed as they are seen. So the ghost with her face missing had her head smashed, the bride with rope was strangled and it was Enola who was poisoned but then there’s also a guess that she was killed by Lucille in some other method after the baby. Edith would have of course been finished by the poison and maybe some other way if she hadn’t figured things out 🙂 good question its an interesting topic to talk about 🙂
This question opens up my feelings on the scene with Thomas measuring out the poisoned tea leaves. If Lucille had wanted to, they would have simply killed the wives outright with a full dose; Instead, she uses the tea as a means of weakening the wives, to make them dependent on her and her brother. It looked less suspicious [Remember, their father died after an ‘unspecified illness’, Lucille’s first adventure into her choice of weapons.] Thomas took over this little task when it came time for Edith as an extra precaution, since he was trying to avoid inflicting too much damage. Remember his despair when Lucille mentions she had also poisoned the porridge, something that leads to his outburst of protest of going through with actually killing Edith.
Lucille kills each of the brides differently, but each time Thomas isn’t present for the actual murder. Pamela, who was confined to a wheelchair and likely blind, was strangled–you can see the rope around her ghost’s neck when she crawled through the hall. Margaret, the one we see in the bath, had the front of her head bashed in [rather like Carter Cushing did, although far more extreme.]; we know she was dumped in the clay pits beneath the house when we see her floating up from the muck. It’s not as clear how Enola died, although she was probably smothered or drugged. [All of the wives had their ring fingers severed and a lock of their hair clipped.] It also looked like Lucille was quite content to push Edith to her death from the banister.
Lucille comments that they were mercy killings, in a way, but I suspect she was worried that Thomas would actually develop some affection for them, or not be able to resist the temptation of consummating his marriages, and acted out of jealousy. Thomas sounds very uncomfortable on the recordings when Pamela insists he say he loves her, and we see how much regret he harbors when Edith mentions Milan, where he met Enola. As for Margaret, she may have caught on to what her husband was doing up in the attic at night and shown her outrage to Lucille [just my theory; Margaret is the wife we seem to know the least about.]–Lucille doesn’t like being confronted or condescended to, and reacts quite violently when someone insults her brother.
I’ve never seen full break look good. It makes your legs look short and will make a tailored suit look off the rack. You’re not Goku, that much fabric shouldn’t on top of your shoes.
Slutty Yorick 