Crimson peak re-telling (Reader x Tomas Sharpe)

ℭℌą℘ţℯr XIV

Mother knows best

You stayed curled up in Thomas' lap for what seemed like your own little eternity. You could have stayed like that forever with Thomas' voice, low and sultry, the snow falling peacefully, albeit, generously outside. But it was not to be. Just as if she had sensed your growing happiness, she came to squash it. Lucille walked in and placed the abominable tea tray on the table next to the chair, smiling cruelly at you.

"Tea," she made it sound like an order. She then walked swiftly to the windows and stared out into them. Turning back to you with fake sadness she added, "Looks like no post office any time soon."

You pushed yourself up to see that the snow had accumulated a few feet already. Dispirited, you sunk back into the warmth of Thomas' lap. He stroked your hair tenderly.

"It will pass soon enough," he promised kindly. You hadn't realized what getting out of the house had meant to you until you lost the opportunity.

Lucille walked back across the room and took your hand, pulling you off of Thomas' lap. Awkwardly, you stumbled, having not expected the gesture, and got to your feet in time to see Lucille's satisfied expression. She then leaned down and practically forced a teacup into your hands.

"You'll need this now more than ever," she assured you with a strange glance at Thomas. "A lady is not fit for such cold conditions."

You rolled your eyes. "A lady can be fit for any condition," you countered, putting down the fowl tea. She scowled at you.

Thomas stood and wrapped his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck warmly. You could feel the waves of anger rolling off Lucille, but Thomas was clearly oblivious. After stewing for a few moments and apparently coming to a boiling point, she nearly screamed, "Just drink the tea!"

The shrill shriek startled both you and Thomas. Alarmed, you took the tea and faked a sip. She relaxed a little, but her eyes were still bulging with frustration.

"Maybe you should go lay down," Thomas offered, moving to console his sister. "Perhaps a nice bath?"

She sighed at his touch and smiled at him fondly. Not for the first time showing her tempestuous nature was both easily provoked and soothed.

"You're right," she said happily. "Will you help me? I feel ever so weak all of the sudden."

You felt your fists clench and you held back what you wanted to say. Whatever their relationship had been, it did not now entail this measure of closeness.

"I will certainly help you upstairs," Thomas said softly with the inferred unspoken addition of but you can make the bath yourself.

Lucille seemed at first dissatisfied, but then acquiesced and took the arm Thomas offered her. With a sympathetic smile to you, Thomas led Lucille up the stairs. You threw the rest of the tea into the fireplace.

You awaited Thomas' return in the kitchen, figuring you would eat dinner together. Looking around the barren kitchen, you found means to make some soup. Although Margaret had cooked most of your meals, you had watched and assisted enough to pick up a few things. Thomas crept quietly into the kitchen and pressed himself against you while you were stirring the broth.

"A chef as well?" he asked in your ear. "How can all of you be in one woman?"

"It's a gift," you chided. You kissed him and asked, "How is your sister?"

"Distressed," he sighed. "Although I know not the cause."

"I believe it is me," you admitted. "I do not think she likes me."