His Crimson Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own Crimson Peak.

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Synopsis: Though lovely, every rose has its thorns. Alan and Edith return to America in hopes of a fresh start, while Allerdale Hall sits (mostly) vacant for the first time in decades with only the wind rushing through its ramshackle walls. Yet, even for ghosts, there is life-both bitter and sweet-after Crimson Peak.

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Evening was just starting to fall over the urban center of Buffalo, as Dr. Alan McMichael stepped out onto the busy city street and locked the door to the office of his practice for the night. He wore a smile on his face, happy to go home on this Friday night for the weekend. He was already thinking ahead to the things he had planned for Edith and him over the next two days. They had been through a lot in the past weeks, and he was committed to begin finding a way to enjoy their newly-wedded life.

That said, it was hard to imagine how the weeks had passed so quickly. Since their marriage in December, a lot had happened. Alan had fortunately been discharged from the hospital about a week later, and Edith had been there to go with him to his apartments in downtown Buffalo. There they had stayed for about a week, while Alan arranged to have the furniture there either shrouded or moved further uptown to his new wife's property. The Cushing family brownstone in Uptown was far more spacious and well-equipped than Alan's rooms that his parents had acquired for him as a younger bachelor. Alan knew well the old, stately brownstone was where Edith's last memories of her immediate family lived on for her, and he had no desire to separate her from her family home. Moreover, they would need more room for the coming addition to their new family, though they had decided not to share this news with anyone too soon – including Alan's family.

He knew well that the choice to move into his new wife's home would seem odd to his mother and father once they found out though. And there was no way that he and Edith could go long without announcing their marriage to Mr. and Mrs. McMichael. As it was, his mother had already left her calling card twice at his apartment, and he had to ask his valet to tell her that he was not home. Alan knew his mother well, and he knew that her censure would be far greater if she met with him and he did not mention the marriage immediately. Not being a very secretive person by nature previously, he felt guilty hiding things like this from his family, but it had to be done if he was going to try to protect Edith's reputation.

So to alleviate some of the pressure, the evening that he completed his move to Edith's home, she and Alan invited the McMichaels to dinner at the brownstone manor.

Alan's parents and sister arrived precisely at five o'clock that evening. Coming to meet them at the door with Edith, Alan immediately detected the disquiet in his parents at having been invited to the Cushing house for dinner rather than Alan's apartments. Perhaps they accepted it though, as it was known that Alan and Edith had grown very close during Alan's hospitalization and whatever had happened across the water in Britain.

They drank aperitifs, except for Edith who had tea, and politely went over how the McMichaels celebrated the New Year – the usual parties and dinner visits to family and friends. And of course as Alan's father was, Mr. McMichael, Esquire, they had called upon his "esteemed colleagues from the law firm" (as Mrs. McMichael liked to refer to them) in the city.

Afterward, they moved to the dining room. The McMichaels looked confused as Alan and Edith led the way hand-in-hand to the table. The sensation clearly deepened as the young man and woman parted and the servants pulled the host and hostess chairs from the middle of the long, polished walnut table for Alan and Edith to sit. The rest of the family joined, with Mr. McMichael seated to the right of his son, Mrs. McMichael similarly beside Edith. Alan's sister, Eunice, was offered a seat to Mrs. McMichael's right.

"Mother, Father, of course we are here to celebrate my full recovery and release from the hospital," but you may be surprised to meet at Edith's home. I apologize that it could not be explained sooner," Alan started after they were seated. The servants had presented and poured a bottle of richly fragrant Claret from the late Mr. Cushing's collection of fine wines. "But there is something else that we are here to celebrate as well," Alan continued, picking up his wineglass and smiling reassuringly across at Edith. She looked back shyly, clearly uncertain about the reaction their news was about to receive. Alan looked around the table at his family with his gaze returning meaningfully to Edith, as he pronounced, "Mother, Father, I have married, and I would like to present to you the new Mrs. Alan McMichael."

Mr. McMichael's eyes went wide, and Mrs. McMichael went white as a sheet. Eunice reacted immediately, speaking aloud the question going up from their parents minds, "You and Edith married? When?"

"At Bellevue, about a week before my discharge," Alan replied evenly. "We did not wish to wait any longer. The events of the past few months have brought Edith and I very close, and I could not imagine being apart from her at this point." He smiled at his new wife again for added emphasis to his words.

"Alan, you could have discussed this with us first," Mrs. McMichael spoke, her tone rebuking, to which her husband held up his hand to silence her from going on. Although he was a brilliant and often feared attorney of contract law, Bertrand McMichael generally tried to be a decent person. Further registering the situation, he was immediately reticent to insult his son and now daughter-in-law.

Still, his feelings were similar to his wife's. So Mr. Michael began, "Alan- Edith, too – please pardon our reaction, this just seems a bit sudden-"

"I understand it may seem sudden, even rash," Alan interrupted deftly. "But to us, we can assure you, we have taken time to think on things. Particularly speaking for myself, I nearly died but barely two months ago. It's made me determine the importance of not waiting on doing what I feel is right."

The McMichaels sat stunned to silence by the gravity of Alan's words. Even Alan's mother found herself speechless, much to the surprise of all. Mr. McMichael looked down and toyed briefly with his Harvard signet ring before clearing his throat and returning his gaze to the people seated around the table. Decidedly, he lifted his glass of Claret and proposed a toast, "To our son's marriage, and to welcoming Edith to our family."

Completing the toast, all around the table sipped lightly at the wine. Even Edith took a few insubstantial sips for show, wishing to avoid drawing notice to anything being any more out of the ordinary in the situation. For the remainder of evening the family supped predominantly in quiet. Other than Alan's sparse small talk with his father, no one else knew quite what else to say.

Having gotten through that first evening with his parents and sister, Alan had been quite relieved. The next day after the family dinner, he had woken with renewed vigor. He began making plans for what would need to be accomplished over the coming months.

With help from Edith and the servants at the family manor, he had been able to set up his in-home office. He worked for a couple hours as the sun came up, and once Edith awoke, they took breakfast in the sun room together. With all her natural grace and thoughtfulness, Edith planned a gathering of the staff for once the meal ended. Alan saw that she was eager to make sure to introduce the new master of the house to each and every member who would help them both run the household. With admiration at Edith's ability to remember the details of each individual of the staff as she helped warmly introduce them, Alan kindly promised to do his best to get to know them all as well. He also vowed that Edith and he would do their best to maintain the good working atmosphere the Cushings had always provided. In return, Alan and Edith just asked for their utmost discretion and honesty.

They asked Edith's personal maid, Sarah, and the head housekeeper - a plump, motherly looking woman named Hattie and who had a sweet demeanor - to stay on for a smaller meeting in the drawing room. Once the drawing room doors were shut, Edith and Alan discussed with Sarah and Hattie the basic circumstances surrounding Edith's rather awkwardly timed pregnancy. The master and mistress of the house did not go into the details of how it happened that Edith was already with child at this time when their marriage was still so new, but Sarah and Hattie both mainly just listened politely. As they would with other people they would take into their confidence, Alan explained that a doctor friend of his, a Dr. Mattheson, would be providing for Edith during her term. Given Edith's injuries while abroad, Dr. Mattheson was already monitoring Edith's pregnancy as higher risk than most and predicted an early lying-in period for her. In the meantime, Edith and Alan would be looking to plan for the arrival of the child as early as possible so that should the child come early, they would be prepared. They also would not be announcing that Edith was with child very widely due the riskiness of the pregnancy and would probably even wait some time after the birth to celebrate publicly.

"Oh yes, that is probably wise," Hattie finally commented, showing a tactfulness that Alan appreciated in the older woman. "It would be a shame should anything happen with the babe."

"Agreed," Sarah, who was younger than Hattie, added with genuine concern. "There is nothing worse than answering a lot of questions from acquaintances after a miscarriage or the lost of a child in the early days – though, pray Lord, neither would ever happen."

"Thank you for your kind understanding, Hattie, Sarah," Edith replied. Both she and Alan were relieved that the head servants were being so cooperative, whether they were silently reading between the lines or not; Edith and Alan would not be the first couple to try to hide an untimely pregnancy in an effort avoid public censure, but it was also not uncommon for new parents to remain on edge until it was clear that a newborn would be born strong enough to live on well even after the birth.

They discussed setting up the nursery. Alan found himself getting more excited than he could have first imagined he would feel under the circumstances. It was always in the back of his mind that the child was not his, but maybe it was the natural enthusiasm of the servants or the sense of planning for something new and different that he was getting caught up in. By comparison, Edith was relatively quiet as she participated in the conversation, and it was not lost on her new husband. He hoped that she could find it in herself to be happy despite all that had happened. He was beginning to worry a bit when she at last spoke up.

"Hattie, do you think my old bassinet and crib are still in storage somewhere? It might be nice to use them again for our first child," Edith said.

"Oh child, that's a lovely idea - if they are, old Edward will find them for you," the older woman replied with a smile and referring to the groundskeeper and handyman on the staff who she would ask to help out. "Your furniture was so fine, the mistress and master, God rest them both, could not have been more excited to give you all the finest things when you were small."

For the first time, Edith smiled faintly. Things were going to be alright. Alan had to believe. Taking Edith's hand in his, they concluded the conversation with plans for the family tailor to come to the manor to take measurements of the windows and baby furniture once pulled from storage. There would be all new bedding, curtains and decorations made. Alan even suggested that they reupholster and cover an armchair so that it could match the other items, and Edith could use it to sit and nurse the baby.

New dresses would also need to be made for Edith. Hattie would see to the arrangements.

And so it all came to pass, and with the planning, Edith's mood seemed to lighten much to Alan's relief.

However, unfortunately some things could not go so easily it seemed.

Again, returning to his present thoughts, Alan was setting off from his locked office door. He was headed toward the main street where he normally caught the streetcar toward his and Edith's home in Uptown when a familiar male voice called out, "Young Master - Master McMichael!"

Alan turned slowly, surprised and a bit annoyed to be stopped. He had thought the street empty a moment ago when he had stepped out.

"Oh, Theodore, it's good to meet you here," Alan replied, his annoyance abating at seeing that it was just one of the McMichael family servants approaching him. "What brings you past this way?"

"Master McMichael, 'tis good t'see you as well," the young man, Theodore, answered. He tipped his messenger's cap brusquely though politely at Alan. Theodore had grown quite a bit since Alan had last encountered him: he was now a rather wiry adolescent but no sign of a beard yet. Alan had always liked Theodore and was glad his parents saw fit to keep him on staff. "'Tis your father, Sir, he hoped I would catch you in time to invite you to his office on your way home for a brief visit."

Unthinkingly, Alan's allowed his face to fall slightly. He tried to hide his disappointment by looking down to pull out and check his pocket watch, though he already knew the time perfectly well. Now, on Friday evening, right before dinner hour? He had been looking forward to going home to Edith and perhaps sitting in the drawing room with her a bit before their meal. The staff had recently come across lemons in the market, and they were to have lemonade with fresh mint mixed with soda water for this evening's refreshment.

But it would have to wait. Alan knew that it was not like his father to invite his son out of his way for a visit at this hour unless there was definitely something to talk about. "Theodore, thank you, I am glad you caught me. Certainly, I will make my way to his office now."

"Very good, Sir, he said he would be there for another hour from now if'n case you would make it there," Theodore explained, and bidding a polite goodbye, headed back off on his way.

Alan crossed over two blocks to catch the streetcar headed toward his father's practice, which would take him somewhat off route toward home, but at least it still put him a bit closer for the ride after his visit.

Upon his arrival, a clerk who was still on duty led Alan to his father's office. Once the heavy oak door closed behind him, and they were alone, Alan turned and hung up his coat and hat on the rack by the door. Bertrand McMichael watched Alan as he did so and greeted his son. Then, the younger man crossed the large Oriental rug spread out before the lawyer's large, chestnut-paneled desk. A fire was burning on the hearth in the portion of the room that stretched behind the senior McMichael, who was sitting with two crystal tumblers out on the inkblot in front of him. A heavy-based decanter with expertly carved designs that allowed the light to catch on its enticingly caramel-colored contents sat at his elbow on the desk as well. Alan's eyebrows went up slightly at seeing the liqueur poised at his father's reach.

"May I offer you an evening drink son?" Bertrand McMichael offered; it wasn't often that Mr. McMichael offered to drink with Alan over the years; in fact he most commonly drank with his most favored clients or associates and generally imbibed nothing beyond the occasional aperitif or wine at the dinner table in the presence of family.

"Sure," Alan replied simply, feeling that it was intended that he accept on this occasion. Mr. McMichael poured two drinks of the rich French brandy, and father and son each raised their own glass and sipped. After time had passed enough to properly enjoy the liqueur, Alan spoke. It did not seem that his father was being particularly forthcoming though something was clearly on his mind given the thoughtful look on his face: "Father, I appreciate you're calling me here, but is there a certain reason you wanted to meet?"

Mr. McMichael paused another moment and took a further sip of brandy. "Alan, today I received a delivery from Weber's," Alan's father started, as the younger man listened. This seemed of no surprise to Alan, as his parents frequently had tailoring done by Mr. Weber's shop; and Alan himself continued to loyally use the same tailor, as Mr. Weber's work was well-respected throughout the city, including the dressmaking he and his associates were famous for. Alan wanted only the finest for Edith and himself as well.

"I was expecting a new suit for my public appearances to be delivered here to the office," Mr. McMichael continued predictably. "However, when I opened the garment cases that were delivered, it was not my suit."

Alan slightly frowned at this part of the story. Then his father leaned forward and placed a slip of paper on the desk in front of him, and without even looking, a sinking feeling opened up in the pit of Alan's stomach. Alan leaned back and took another sip of his brandy, ready for the other shoe he knew was about to drop.

"A full custom nursery set and two ladies' dresses, maternity gowns according to this packing slip, with your name and address on them – that was what I received, Alan," his father finished, gazing across the desk pensively at his son.

"I know what this looks like –," Alan started, gnawing his lower lip and looking into the liquid in the tumbler in his hands.

"Alan, wait," his father stopped him, his look solemn. "I also know this looks like one thing, but I called you here, because I know my son – I know the kind of man you are: I believe this has to be something else."

"You know I went there, to England, to save her because I realized that she had to be in trouble," Alan started, and his father nodded. Alan had explained that in a hurried meeting with his father directly before he boarded the ship across the Atlantic in early December. "When I got there, it was a nightmare – I told you, they had let her fall and fracture part of her leg, and soon after I discovered the poisoning... the Sharpes attacked us, we barely got out with our lives – there wasn't time for anything else before it all came to a head, and then Edith was accompanying my wrecked body back across the ocean... she was so brave, but I don't know how she survived until I got there-" Alan's voice broke, and he dragged a hand through his hair as he spoke.

Bertrand McMichael studied the pained look on his son's face, as he recounted what had happened again – it was obvious that the entire encounter still left him hurt and shaken.

"Father, I never touched Edith even once outside of tending to her broken leg upon my arrival across the sea," Alan concluded, gazing up at his father, his look serious.

Mr. McMichael leaned forward to get a better look at his son in the evening glow of the office. "I know, Alan, but if I am right about what I think you are saying... Do you realize what you have set yourself up to do – how difficult it may be to raise another man's child?"

"Yes, I've thought it out, Fath-" Alan started to interrupt, but his father continued.

"And if it is Sir Sharpe's child, then it will be the child of a man who brought intense pain on the lives of you and your wife – can you, can Edith accept that?" Mr. McMichael concluded.

Alan sighed and looked into his father's face. "I don't believe we have much of a choice," Alan replied. "But I realized that I had a chance to possibly make this situation into a better one.

"We did not intend that anyone find out that Edith was pregnant so early," Alan continued. "With some care, I realized that we could make it appear that I was the father. Of course, some people would conclude that Edith and I had had congress, and that being even while she was still married to Sharpe. Thinking on it though, I could only conclude that it would still definitely be better than people learning of Edith's child and having only the madman and his sister to gossip about as the baby's real blood family. Even now, as people may find out more, Edith and the baby can avoid that level of censure with me in the picture – I can handle it, I can deal with people talking about how I stole her away from her husband. But I couldn't let Edith face the alternative all on her own..." Alan concluded, his impassioned words fading to tenderness as he spoke of that which he hoped to protect his now-wife from.

"You love her, don't you?" Bertrand McMichael said to his son.

"Yes, I do. I never should have let her go in the first place. And somehow, I feel this is a small price to pay to have her back now," Alan replied.

"Alan, you are a good man – much finer than many among us," his father sighed. "This will still be a hard path to walk, remember that. But I won't give up your secret. It was unfortunate that Weber, who is usually so discreet, made this mistake. Yet, I appreciate that you were willing to speak honestly with me about this, my son."

"Thank you for talking with me as well, Father," Alan replied looking up at his father appreciatively.

Soon after, the two men stood. A young clerk entered, cleared their empty glasses away and dampened the fire. With that, the two McMichaels donned their jackets and hats and stepped out into the late winter evening toward their respective homes for the night.

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Note: Hi, dear readers! I have been amazed as this story continued to attract favorites and follows through 2020 and 2021 even though it had been so long since a last update - thank you so much, and it's such a compliment to the story. His Crimson Rose is a project I love, but it just isn't planned out as fully as my other fic Dying to Live to enable a regular update schedule. Still, since I had some material put together again for this, I wanted to share it with you all and will try to do so whenever I can again.

Hope you all are taking care! Peace ~ Origamikungfu.