Crimson Peak [COMPLETE]

Chapter Four

I couldn't sleep that night. Christian was snoring next to me in a matter of minutes and all I could do was stare up at the dark ceiling above me.

The house was dark and I waited for it to fall silent, but the groaning and creaking around me probably got worse now that the moon was out. I kept the blankets pulled up to my chin, hoping to keep the chill out.

Finally, I couldn't take it any more. I threw the velvety blankets off of my lap and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Grabbing the lamp from the bedside table, I waited until I left the room before lighting it. The light from the lamp only lit up a small area around me and I held it close as I made my way down the hall and to the stairs that led to the attic.

I hurried up the stairs as quickly as I could without increasing the amount of creaking and groaning in the house and alerting Christian that I was gone. When I reached the attic, the temperature dropped drastically and I shivered, the hair on the back of my neck raising.

I made my way to the room where I'd met the man. My lamp illuminated the silver door handle and, when I opened the door, it creaked loudly.

"Who's there?" A voice came from the dark.

"Rose," I whispered back. "The one from before." I made my way into the room, holding the light out in front of me as I made my way towards the bed. The man from before was sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, with his hands folded in his lap.

"I remember."

"What's your name?" I asked. There was an small idea blooming in my mind, something involving the story that Christian had told me during dinner.

"What does it matter?"

"You know mine," I shrugged.

The man chuckled and got to his feet. "Would you like me to turn on some lights? Sitting in the dark can be quite dangerous." Before I could say anything, he made his way around the room, lighting lamps on the walls and illuminating the dark room. I saw that there was a sunken chair in the corner, the cushion sagging sadly in the middle and the stuffing poking out of the top. I walked to it and sat on the very edge, putting my lamp on the floor beside me.

"Why did you come here tonight?" He asked.

I shrugged. I didn't really know why. "I couldn't sleep."

"And why not?"

"My husband--Christian--he told me a story, about a brother and sister that lived in this house previous to us. He told me they fell in love."

His face fell, his eyes looking down at the floor.

"Thomas," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper.

He looked up at me and I could see the tears in his eyes. I knew who he was now and my heart ached for him. I didn't know the whole story (obviously Christian hadn't told me everything) but I could tell that, whatever had happened to him was terrible.

* * * * * * * * * *

When I woke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty. There was a cool breeze coming in from the open window across the room from me and it moved the curtains back and forth just barely. I sighed, thinking about last night.

After I had figured out who the man upstairs was, I had excused myself to head back down to bed. Although it was late and I was exhausted, I didn't fall asleep easily and was restless all night long, dreaming of murder.

I pushed myself out of bed and got dressed before heading downstairs where I assumed Christian would be waiting. Instead I found a note:

Good morning darling,

I apologize that I had to leave so early but I trust that you will entertain yourself. I will be home around dinner time and cannot wait to see you again.

Yours truly,

Christian

I smiled as I read the words and then tucked the note into the pocket of my apron before putting a pot over the fire to make some porridge. I did have a few ideas of things to do today. I would need to finish unpacking and I definitely had to go shopping for food or we would starve to death out here.

When the porridge was ready, I lifted the pot and turned around to see Thomas standing in the doorway. I jumped, dropping the pot, and pressed a hand to my chest where I could feel my heart beating fast.

"Thomas," I breathed, "you scared me."

"I see that," he murmured. "I apologize for scaring you but I...well, whatever you were making, it smelled delicious."

I smiled softly and bent to get the pot that had clattered on the floor. Luckily, it hadn't spilled too much and there was plenty for the two of us. Thomas sat at the small table while I dished out some food and he immediately dug in when I placed a bowl in front of him.

I watched as he ate, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of the porridge into his mouth, only swallowing when his mouth was so full he couldn't fit anymore inside. He cleaned out his bowl in a matter of minutes and I smiled.

"Would you like some more?" He was starving and I wondered when he'd last had a decent meal.

"Can I please?" He asked, his eyebrows raised, pleading.

"Of course." I dished him another bowl and he ate that one just as quickly. It seemed as if just those two bowls of porridge added a little bit more color to his cheeks.

"Thank you, Rose," he said. "That was very kind of you."

"Well, I'm not about to let you starve," I replied, clearing the dishes from the table. I sat back down across from him and folded my hands in my lap. "Now, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," he responded, his mouth quirking up in a smile.

I rolled my eyes. "Another question."

He waved his hand. "Go ahead."

"What happened to you and Lucille?"