Disclaimer: Crimson Peak is Guillermo Del Toro's property, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, The Lodgers to Brian O'Malley. Emma, Constance and I are self-inserts. The old lady from Camden Market belongs to Chibimelodee.
Summary: Ghosts are real and everything happens for a reason. Is this why Marina and her friends find themselves trapped in Allerdale Hall a few days away from Christmas?
Author's note: This story was written for me by « Emma » and « Constance » from Chibimelodee as an Advent Calendar two years ago. Please note that all three of us are french and while we do know our way around English, we might still make some mistakes. Feel free to let us know! As the three girls are french and start to speak from this chapter, I'll put the translations of their sentences right next to them so you know what they say.
At the Candlelight
Chapter 5: They are not real!
Her vision still blurry from sleep, Constance sat straight. Scarier than the voice resounded now the silence.
Then, a piano. A lullaby. An unknown song. It seemed to come from a long-gone era. The player's melancholia and broken dreams could be heard in it. Constance was listening to some fragments of a soul full of sadness and regrets.
The white sheets were cold under her touch, the huge bed empty. Emma and Marina should have left her alone, probably in hope to get some food for breakfast, even if Constance doubted they could find something eatable in a long-deserted house. Her heart hammering fast, she quickly got up, almost falling as her head spun. She didn't want to say any longer alone, still haunted by the bribes of her dreams.
The piano played on. Bright light filtered through the windows, casting sunbeams, speaking of a morning spent in slumber. From the sun's position, it will soon by lunchtime. Her stomach growled, she felt a cramp and decided to leave the room.
And oh, how the piano knows
The piano knows something
I don't know
Intrigued by the sad beauty of the lullaby, Constance followed the notes, going downstairs, until she wandered into the enormous living room lined with books and glass curio cases. Oils portraits stared down from the walls at the antique grand piano. As soon as she entered the room, the instruments abruptly stopped, like it was upset by her presence. The young woman went near it, slowly brushing its yellowish keys with her fingertips.
Hearing hurry footsteps, some light paw steps and the cracking of wheels, Constance turned to face Marina, Emma and Beetlejuice, out of breath. The three of them stared at each other with confusion, the little dog went playing to catch the sunlights crossing the room, barking happily.
« Vous m'avez laissé toute seule ! » Constance screamed angrily. « On avait dit qu'on ne se séparait pas ! » (You left me all alone ! We said we would not seperate!)
« Mais… mais, on voulait te laisser dormir… » Marina answered. (But... But we wanted to let you sleep!)
« Constance, t'as trouvé ça où ? Et tu crois que c'est drôle de nous faire peur comme ça ? » her sister bursted out. (Constance, where did you find this ? And, you think it's funny to scare us like that?)
« Trouvé quoi ? » Constance asked, confused. (Find what?)
« Ben, ta chemise de nuit ! Alors là, tu fais vraiment la mariée Ravenswood ! Il ne manque plus que le chandelier et le couloir sombre… Tu sais, celui trop long où elle disparaît ! Franchement, dès qu'on trouve les accessoires, faut qu'on fasse une photo, maman va halluciner ! » (Well, your nightgown. There, you truly look like the Ravenswood bride ! You only lack the candelabra and the dark corridor... You know, the one where she disappears ! Frankly, as soon as we find accessories, we need to take pictures, Mom's gonna hallucinate!)
Puzzled, Constance looked at her younger sibling and slowly lowered her gaze to discover with horror that she was wearing the same nightgown of her dream, minus the crimson clay.
« Ne rigolez pas » the young woman whispered, her voice shaking « mais dans mon rêve j'avais la même chemise de nuit… dans un long couloir avec un chandelier… et si j'avais pu choisir, ce n'est pas la chemise de nuit que j'aurais choisi de ramener de ce rêve… » (Don't laugh but, in my dream, I had the same nightgown... In a long corridor with a candelabra... And had I been able to pick, this wouldn't be the nightgown I would have chosen to bring from that dream...)
Emma laughed heartedly at the pale face of her sister. Surely, she was messing up with them… There were no other explications ! Wiping away tears of laughter, the invalid laughed even harder when her sister glared hard at her, clearly not amused. Unease, Marina cleared her throat while Emma was yelling a « Très drôle ! ». (Very funny!)
« On t'a attendu pour le petit déjeuner… » Marina finally said as her friend was slowly calming from her laughter. (We've been waiting for you for breakfast...)
« Vous avez trouvé quelque chose de mangeable ? » Constance asked, trying to ignore her sister who was mimicking her with an imaginary candelabra. (Have you found something edible?)
« Crois-le ou non, mais quand on est descendues, la table de la cuisine était dressée et tout était prêt ! » (Believe it or not but when we went down, the kitchen table was all set!)
Doubtfully, Constance followed them to the old kitchen. When she stepped inside the warmth of the room, a mouth-watering smell tickled her nose in the most exquisite way. Her stomach grumbled once more as her eyes fell on a very furnished table. Scrambled eggs still steamed on the nearest pan, the delicate smoke mixing with the bubble and squeak preparation. Some baked beans were slowly heating to the antique cooker, next to a pan of smocked sausages which smelled truly delicious. There was also perfectly cooked bacon – crispy, yet still melting just like she liked it – and some grilled toasts, with already butter on them. It was truly a meal made from heaven for the three women who had nothing to eat, the repast seeming to scream at them :
Mangez-moi! Mangez-moi! Mangez-moi!
Mangez-moi! Mangez-moi! Mangez-moi!
« Je ne sais pas qui a préparé ça, mais c'est mon sauveur ! » Marina sighed with glee, looking famished. (I don't know who prepared this but whoever he is, he's my savior!)
Constance glimpsed a napkin, clearly old and with two crimson embroidered initials : T. S.
« Thomas… » she whispered, brushing the embroidered letters with her fingertips
« Thomas ? » Emma asked, intrigued but nevertheless slowly making her wheelchair rolled near the table, using the furnitures to help her. « Qui est Thomas ? Tu as fini par rencontré le psychopathe qui se cache à l'étage ? » (Who's Thomas ? Have you ended up meeting the psychopath hiding upstairs?)
« Non, c'est le propriétaire ! C'est peut-être un psychopathe… et je l'ai rencontré à l'étage… quelque part… je crois… » Constance answered, blushing slightly at the memory of the man of her previous dream. « Bon, en fait, il mort, mais c'est quand même le propriétaire ! » (No, he's the owner ! He might be a psychopath... and I met him upstairs somewhere... I think... Well, actually, he's dead but he's still the owner!)
Emma and Marina glanced at each other with perplexity before shrugging. Cocking her head to give a proper doubtful look at her older sister, Emma snorted.
« Bien sûr, maintenant, tu as rencontré un gentil fantôme qui est le proprio de cette maison… Constance, dis, je pense que ton sandwich devait être périmé… T'es carrément en train d'halluciner, ma pauvre… » (Of course, now youv'e met a nice ghost who owns this house... Say, Constance, maybe your sandwich was past its date... You are hallucinating, poor thing!)
Shaking her head but not saying anything more, Constance took a plate and put a full English breakfast for her minus the scrambled eggs, the sausages, the vegetables, the toast and the baked beans – in a nutshell, just bacon – before she sat down to eat it in silence while her sister took a plate full of bacon and sausages and Marina a little of everything.
« Ah mais je n'ai jamais dit qu'il était gentil ! » Constance said with a sly smirk, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. (Oh but I never said he was nice!)
« Mais il doit certainement l'être… Tu as vu le petit-déj qu'il nous a préparé ! Si tu n'en veux pas Constance… je l'épouse ! » Marina laughed, giving a slice of sausage to Beetlejuice who scratched discreetly her leg to beg for some food. The eldest became scarlett and fixed her bacon to try to hide her flutter.
(But he must be... Have you seen the meal he made us? If you don't want him Constance... I'm marrying him!)
« Oh ! Oh ! Il y a de l'amour dans l'air… Alors il ressemble à quoi Casper ? S'il est genre fantôme de Victoria Frances, il est à moi ! » Emma overboded, pointed at her sister with her fork.
( Oh! Oh! There's love in the air... So what does Casper look like? If he's the Victoria Frances kind of ghost, he's mine!)
« Non absolument pas ! C'est vrai qu'il est plutôt gentil et qu'on a l'impression qu'il sort d'un épisode de Cranford, mais… ce n'était qu'un rêve… »
(No, absolutely not ! It's true he's rather nice and you have the impression he's out of a Cranford episode but it was just a dream!)
« Oui, un rêve qui prépare le petit-déjeuner ! » Marina interjected with a wink, eating a huge bite before Emma cut:
(Yes, a dream that prepares breakfast!)
Ouh la menteuse,
Elle est amoureuse !
Constance rolled her eyes and interrupted her sister, clearly not amused :
« C'est vrai qu'il est gentil
Qu'il a beaucoup d'humour
Ce qu'il faut de folie
Mais ne va pas t'imaginer que j'ai trouvé le grand amour »
Despite her sister's protestations, Emma kept singing loud and childishly :
« Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! »
« Arrête de chanter ça, tu m'énerves ! » Constance sighed with a smile… (Stop singing that, you are getting on my nerves!)
Emma burst out of laughter, covered her ears with her small hands, pulled her tongue out and kept singing even louder.
« Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! Ouh la menteuse elle est amoureuse ! »
Constance, annoyed, glared hard at her :
« Oh tu es pénible écoute…
On dirait une gamine de 4 ans ! Enfin quel âge as-tu? »
« Et donc, la chemise de nuit… C'est lui aussi ? » Marina asked with a sweet smile, putting her head on her hands with a dreamy look.
(So, the nightgown, it's him as well?)
« J'espère que non !... Il m'a donné l'impression d'être un gentleman !... Et un gentleman l'aurait posée au bout du lit ! Je ne veux même pas essayer de savoir comment elle s'est retrouvée sur moi… Mais je vous jure, si je découvre qu'il a quelque chose à faire avec ça, je le tue ! » Constance retorted, her eyes shining scarily, a murderous smile on her lips.
(I hope not! He gave me the feeling of being a gentleman. And a gentleman would have dropped it by the side of the bed! I don't even want to know how it got on me! But I swear, if I find out he tried to do something with it, I'll kill him!)
« Je croyais qu'il était déjà mort… » Emma interrupted with a laugh. (I thought he was already dead.)
« Tu as raison… J'avais oublié ce détail… Il me faut un autre plan ! » Constance answered, frowning, before refocusing attention to the crispy pieces of bacon in her plate. (You are right, I forgot this detail, I need another plan!)
Their stomachs full, the tensions soon disappeared between them, replaced by only fun and laughter.
After they quickly dressed with the gothic clothes they had bought some days before, they all stood in the living room, hope lingered on them while Marina turned on her cellphone. She must absolutely find a way to leave this awful place… Even the bathroom and her reddish water seemed to play against them ! It was out of question they would bathe in a thing that looked like blood ! Maybe they would be able to contact the local police and be rescued from the terrible snow that kept falling, Emma shivering with the mere sight of the dreadful weather through the windows. But the hope died fast as Marina shook her head no, not really wanted to announce out loud the bad news. Still no signal. And no network. No way to contact the rest of the world. They were alone… Alone until the weather would calm down…
A burst of grimy laughter echoed in the air, freezing them on spot, following by a loud creak which made them come closer to each other.
« Ce doit être le vent » Marina tried to reassure, her voice betraying her fear. « C'est une vieille maison, le bois doit travailler et… ». Her speech was made short, a low, agonized moan cutting her.
(It must be the wind. It's an old house, the wood's working and...)
« Ça, c'est pas le vent ! » Emma yelled, truly scared, her eyes darting around quickly in case she glimpsed someone or something. « Je veux sortir d'ici ! »
(This, this isn't the wind ! I wanna get out of here!)
« C'est drôle, quand je vous dis que j'ai vu des fantômes, vous mettez ça sur le compte du stress, de la fatigue et d'une imagination débordante… Mais quand vous entendez des trucs, là c'est une autre histoire ! » Constance grumbled, rolling her eyes to accent the absurdity of their situation.
(It's funny, when I say I've seen ghosts, you put that on stress, on tiredness and on a fertile imagination. But when you hear this, that's another story.)
« Oui… Oui… On te croit Constance ! On te croit ! Si on pouvait juste sortir d'ici maintenant… tout de suite ! » Marina exclaimed, ready to push Emma's wheelchair. Eyes widened by fear, outlined by the lividity of their skin, the two young women were waving to their oldest to join them quickly.
(Yeah, yeah, we believe you Constance, we believe you! If we could just get out of here now... right now!)
« C'est le moment de croire aux histoires de fantômes, Mesdemoiselles… parce que vous en vivez une ! » Constance declaimed in a theatrical ton, before heading towards the exit, a playful smile on her lips. Surely now, she wasn't the only convinced that ghosts were real…
(It's time to believe in ghost stories, Misses. Bceause you're experiencing one right now!)
When she arrived near her sister, the young woman was stopped by her sibling, gripping her arm. Emma didn't shake with fear or cold anymore. She was glancing at her oldest with little suspicious eyes :
« Dites donc vous !... Dites donc vous !... Tu m'as l'air bien heureuse tout à coup… Tu peux me dire à quoi tu joues ! »
(Say you, say you, you look kinda happy all of a sudden ! Can you tell me what you're playing at?)
« Euh… A Barbossa… La référence me paraissait appropriée ! Non ?... Tant pis… Je croyais que vous vouliez sortir… » Constance said hesitantly, waving at Emma to drop her arm.
(Err, Barbossa? The reference seemed fitting to me! No? Oh well, I thought you wanted to get out.)
« Oui… En fait… Non ! » her sister retorted without blinking her eyes.
(Yeah, in fact, no!)
« Euh… Moi j'aimerais bien sortir d'ici, Em ! ! » Marina interfered.
(Err, I'd like to get out of here, Em!)
« Tsk Tsk… La seule ici qui voulait vraiment qu'on sorte depuis le début, c'est Constance ! Et elle cherche à nous embrouiller pour qu'on la suive… » Emma stated with a firm voice.
(The only one who really wanted out from the start was Constance ! Now, she's tricking us to follow her!)
« Je te demande pardon ! Je fais quoi ? Tu peux me dire comment je cherche à vous « embrouiller » ? » Constance exclaimed, the astonishment clearly written on her face.
(I'm sorry, I'm doing what? Can you tell me how I'm tricking you?)
« Et bien, c'est facile ! Tu nous fais croire que tu t'es fait agressée par la main de Jeanne Mas… qui n'est même pas morte pour ton information ! Tu essaies de nous faire croire que tu as rencontré le propriétaire fantôme… et tu fais genre je connais même son nom… Mais moi aussi j'ai vu la serviette avec le T. S. Qu'est-ce qui nous dit que ton Thomas ne s'appelle par Thierry, Théodore ou Tartempion ?... Et puis, tu nous as fait flipper en jouant du piano tout à l'heure ! » Emma recited evenly like she tried to be reassured.
(Easy! You made us believe you got attacked by Jeanne Mas' hand but who isn't dead yet, just so you know! You try to make us believe that you met the ghost owner and you even pretend you know his name. But I too saw the napkin with the T.S. What makes us believe that your Thomas' name isn't actually Thierry, Theodore or Tartempion? And you spooked us out by playing the piano earlier!)
« Je n'ai pas joué de piano !... Ce n'était pas moi ! » Constance interrupted.
(I didn't play the piano, it wasn't me!)
« Ah ! Encore une preuve de ta perfidie ! Marina et moi, on t'a vue ! Tu as été prise la main dans le sac… ou plutôt, les doigts sur les touches ! Mais c'est pas grave… On t'aime quand même ! » Emma laughed, tears rolling down on her teasing face.
(Ah! Another proof of your perfidy! Marina and I saw you! Caught you, hand in the bag! Rather fingers on the keys but it's fine, we still love you!)
Constance didn't seem amused at all by her sister's accusations… She was even furious. Annoyed and angered, she caught the first item she found under her hand – in this case, an old vase with appeared to have a great value – and threw it at her sister's feet, yelling :
« La prochaine fois, ma chère sœur, c'est en pleine poire que tu le recevras ! ».
(Next time, sister dearest, you'll receive it in your face!)
Marina, agape, was watching the scene, her eyes darting between the two sisters. Constance shrugged and turned her heels, bursting out of the living room, the little dog following her, waving its tail.
« Où vas-tu ? Attends-nous Constance ! » Marina shouted, suddenly filled with apprehension.
(Where are you going? Wait for us Constance!)
« Dans ma chambre ! » Constance yelled from the stairs.
(In my room!)
« C'est même pas ta chambre ! » Emma screamed. Marina tried to catch the eldest but was stopped by her friend. « Laisse-la, elle est partie rejoindre le psychopathe de l'étage ! C'est romantique ! » she whispered, before singing loudly :
(It's not even her room ! Leave her be, she's off to join the psychopath upstairs, how romantic !)
« Mon amour je t'ai vu
Au beau milieu d'un rêve
Mon amour un aussi doux rêve
Est un présage d'amour
Refusons tous deux que nos lendemains
Soient mornes et gris
Nous attendrons l'heure
De notre bonheur
Toi ma destinée
Je saurai t'aimer
J'en ai rêvé »
Marina let the good mood of her friend filled her and they both went into the hall, humming. Coming near the stairs, Emma turned to face Marina, glaring at her strangely. She took a deep breath before waving at her to come closer and whispered : « Toi et moi, on va mener l'enquête ! Il faut qu'on découvre ce qui se passe dans cette maudite baraque… Tu es partante pour une mission secrète ? ». Marina nodded with enthusiasm and they both went up discreetly to the first floor.
(You and I are going to investigate! We need to find out what's going on in that damn house! Are you down for a secret mission?)
Marina whispered with a shaking voice :
« Emma ! Même dans une maison hantée, je ne suis pas sûre que ce soit le bon moyen pour passer inaperçu ! ».
(Emma ! Even in an haunted house, I'm not sure it's the best way to go unseen!=
The two young women were hiding in a corner of the corridor, allowing them to have a great view of the long hallway, dark and dismal despite the cold light that succeeded to pass through the dirty windows. They were both hidden under sheets that were once been white but were now yellow with age. Holes had been cut meticulously – thanks to the embroidery kit the three women had taken for their journey – to allow them to see.
Finding sheets had been pretty easy once Emma had succeeded to convince her sister to move away from the chair she had placed to block the door of her bedroom. Constance had just rolled her eyes, sighing and whispering that their « plan » was truly silly and that only her sister could have found such an idea. She had struggled to not burst out of laughter and had decided to continue gathering their belongings because leaving this house was the only reasonable option for her.
Marina and Emma – who had started humming Sleeping Beauty again to annoy her sister – had decided to both go off on expeditions in the house. The « Fantôme… Vous avez dit Fantôme ? », (Ghost... Have you said Ghost), mission had been launched.
« Mais Marina ! Il ne s'agit pas du tout de passer inaperçu… Bien au contraire ! Dans cette maison, il y a des fantômes… » Emma answered, nodding slighlty her head.
(But Marina, it's not about being unseen, on the contrary! In this house, there are ghosts!)
« Des vrais ? » Marina said, kind of lost.
(Real ones?)
« Mais non ! Des faux… puisque les vrais n'existent pas ! Le fantôme que Constance a vu hier, c'était un faux fantôme ! C'était le psychopathe qui se cache à l'étage ! » Emma explained with a clam and steady voice.
(No ! Fakes ! Since real ones do not exist ! The one Constance saw yesterday was a fraud ! That was the psychopath upstairs!)
« Ah oui ! Oui, oui… Constance essaie de nous faire peur… » Marina added, clearly not really convinced by her friend's logic and suddenly, she was scared. « Dis Em… Tu crois qu'il existe vraiment ce psychopathe ?... Je me demande si ce n'est pas plus rassurant de croire que ce sont des fantômes finalement… »
(Ah yes, yes... Constance's trying to scare us... Say, Em, you think he does exist, this psycopath ? I wonder if it's not more reassuring to assume they are ghosts actually...)
« Euh, je ne sais pas ! Il n'existe certainement pas ! » Emma retorted, shrugging. « Je ne pense pas non plus que la main de Jeanne Mas se promène ici… C'est vrai, quand on y pense ! Tu peux me dire ce qu'elle viendrait faire ici, la main de Jeanne Mas ! Et sans Jeanne Mas en plus !... Enfin, passons… Le point important c'est que, s'il y a des faux fantômes, il faut les provoquer ! A ton avis, quand un faux fantôme rencontre un autre faux fantôme, qu'est-ce qu'il se passe ? »
(Err, I don't know, he certainly doesn't exist ! I don't think Jeanne Mas' hand is roaming around freely either... Without her on top of that ! Well, anyways... The most important thing is, if there are fake ghosts, we need to provoke them ! What do you think happens when a fake ghost meet another fake ghost?)
« Il a peur ? » Marina tried.
(He's scared?)
« NON ! » Emma bursted out, doing wide mouvements with her arms, giving life to the sheet she was hiding under. « Il vous prend pour un complice ! Alors, il s'approche comme ça : « Ooooooouh ! »… Il ne sait pas que c'est nous, et alors là… Crac ! On lui tombe dessus ! »
(No ! He thinks you're in it with him ! So he gets close like this ! Booo... He doesn't know it's us and them, bam ! We fall upon him!)
« Ah ! D'accord… d'accord… Euh, c'est pas un peu dangereux comme méthode ? » Marina enquired, absolutely not convinced at all by the mission « Fantôme… Vous avez dit Fantôme ? ».
(Ah ! Okay, okay... Isn't it a bit dangerous, this method)
« Meuh non ! Il ne faut pas sous-estimer l'effet de surprise… » Emma whispered with a voice full of mystery before she exclaimed : « On ne voit rien du tout d'ici… On devrait aller se cacher un peu plus là-bas ! Allez, suis-moi ! On va hanter le fond du couloir… Et fais attention de ne pas te prendre les pieds dans ton drap ! »
(Of course not, do not underestimate the surprise effect ! We can't see anything here, we should hide below ! Follow me, we're gonna haunt the back of the corridor and be careful not to step on your sheet!)
« Oui, mais moi, j'étais contente de ne rien voir… » Marina grumbled, slightly shaking her head with a weary look on her face.
(Yeah but I, for one, was glad to not see anything!)
Constance had just finished putting all their belongings back in their suitcases, checking for the third time she didn't miss a single thing in the room. She had tried – the best she could – to not focus on the heavy silence and the fact that she was alone by making the loudest noise she could, talking to herself to occupy her mind and to avoid thinking about the invisible households of the manor. Well, in fact, she wasn't really alone… Beetlejuice had decided to stay with her but didn't seem to want to chat, for now, sleepy like it was in the middle of the huge bed. She couldn't think about how grotesque her sister's « plan » was and prayed to avoid Marina and Emma to meet ghosts… whether they were real… or fake ! She just preferred to not think at all about the psychopath's theory !
She should have accompanied them... How could she help them if they were in trouble when she didn't even know where they had decided to haunt ? She was furious to have flared up against her sister and her jokes, because she knew – deep down in herself – that her sister was only doing that because she was scared and her mocking comportment was only used to lessen her fear and the tensions… She should have gone with them... Glancing one last time on their suitcases, she decided to join them. After all, if Emma's plan worked and they met a ghost or someone who wanted to look like a ghost, they might want to leave this dreadful place… Which Constance wanted more than anything !
The suitcases… She would have to put them near the stairs… It would be more practical in their running away… It would avoid them from coming back in the bedroom, chasing by God-knows-what… She bent to catch them when her gaze was attracted by something strange… Something that wasn't there moments before… A wooden rose, delicately crafted… The thin petals were painted with a deep red and outlined by a golden border… Instead of the suitcases, she took slowly the wooden flower to admire the delicate craft. It was so realistic she could almost guess its smell. She toyed with the rose for a moment, making it swirl softly between her fingers, a smile on her lips. Her anger and her fears went away slowly. A hand landing gently on her shoulder made her jump, breaking the magic of the moment. She couldn't repress a terror shriek and sharply turned around.