Crimson Peak [COMPLETE]

Chapter Three

I was shocked to say the least. Kill me? Who was gonna kill me? And why? "What?"

The man in front of me shook his head, his hair flicking in front of his eyes. "You can't stay here. She's not going to let you stay. How did you get in here anyway?"

I frowned. "My husband, Christian, purchased it. How did you get in here?"

"I live here. This property has been in my family forever," he explained.

"Christian...bought a house that was already occupied?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I couldn't really wrap my head around the idea that Christian didn't know that there was someone living in this house.

"That doesn't really make any sense to me. Does it to you?" He raised an eyebrow and stared at me with his blue-green eyes that I could tell had seen too much.

I shook my head. "No, it doesn't." I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and folded my arms over my chest. "There must have been some kind of mix up."

"There must have been," the man agreed.

I used the momentary silence to look the man over. He was scrawny, as if he hadn't had a decent meal in ages, and his clothes were old and worn. He looked sad and lost, like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times.

"Rose?" Christian's voice echoed through the old house, calling over the loud creaks and groans of the house and making me jump.

"That's Christian..." I looked at the man in front of me. "Don't go anywhere?" It was a question because I wanted to talk to him more but he was free to go wherever he wanted. It was his house after all.

He nodded, agreeing to stay put, and stepped aside to allow me to pass.

I hurried down stairs to see Christian coming out of the parlor. He smiled when he saw me. "How was it? Being alone here for a day?"

I shrugged as Christian took both my hands in his own and pressed his lips against my knuckles. "It was fine. Lonely, but fine."

"Well, I'm glad it wasn't all bad."

"You're home early," I said. "You said you wouldn't be here until dinner time."

Now it was Christian who shrugged. "What can I say? I missed my bride."

Heat rushed to my cheeks at his words. "Well, you're just in time. I was about to put dinner on."

While we ate, Christian talked to me about work but my mind was on the man upstairs. I couldn't stop thinking about his sad eyes and his unkempt hair. His words kept running through my mind about how someone was going to kill me if I didn't leave the house. I kept thinking how strange it was that someone could by an already occupied house.

"Christian?" I spoke up, interrupting him in the middle of his story.

He looked up at me from over his bowl of stew and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Who owned the house before we did?" Surely Christian had to have some idea as to who the stranger upstairs was.

"Why do you want to know?"

I tried to keep my nonchalance as I replied, "Oh, I'm just curious."

Christian sighed. "It's a rather tragic story, really. Not really dinner conversation, Rose."

I looked down at my food and stabbed at a potato with my spoon. "Tell me anyway?"

When I looked up at Christian, his head was tilted to the side, his eyes unfocused as if he was listening to something far away. He shook his head and looked at me again, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge at his icy stare. "Sharpe. Their name was Sharpe; Thomas and Lucille.

"The house had been in their family for generations and they grew up here with an abusive father and an angry mother. Their mother, a hateful woman, kept her children up in the attic most of the time because she didn't want to deal with them. This made Lucille and Thomas grow close. So close, in fact, that they fell in love."

"The brother and sister?" I clarified.

Christian nodded. "They fell in love and when their mother found out, she was disgusted and determined to tear them apart. But Thomas was the only love that Lucille had ever known. So she killed her own mother to protect her brother and keep them together.

"Sadly, they were still torn apart." Christian ended here, looking down into his bowl.

"That's it?" I asked.

He nodded, taking another bite of stew. "That's it. Like I said: not really dinner conversation." He dove back into work talk.

Was the man in the attic...Thomas Sharpe? If he was, what happened after his sister killed their mother? And where was his sister now?

"Rose?" Christian's voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said dinner was delicious."

"Oh, thank you."

"Perhaps we should retire now?" Christian cleared our dishes and helped me to my feet. "Did you get the chance to put our room together?"

This reminded me of why I'd left the room earlier today. "There was a bag missing. One of mine, I think. I was looking for it before you got home."

"That's weird. We'll have to look for it some more tomorrow."

We carefully made our way up the stairs, not wanting to fall through the termite eaten wood, and headed to our bedroom. I had gotten the chance to make the bed before I'd left in search of my bag. It sat in the middle of the room with velvet sheets and silky pillows and all I could think was: This will be the first time since we were married that Christian and I would be sleeping together.

A/N: A little short, I know, but it's got some pretty good stuff in it, don't you think? Tell me what you think is going on in the comments below and don't forget to vote!

Stay lovely!

Abigail