Author's Note: I first watched Crimson Peak in May of 2021, and was immediately enraptured. As with any fandom I fall in love with, I searched for stories that expanded on the original piece or explored new facets of the characters' relationships. I was especially eager to find stories that focused on Thomas and Edith's relationship - and while I found several that I loved, there were not nearly as many as I'd hoped, and none were exactly what I was looking for.

Thus, this story was born. I wrote the bulk of the first nine chapters within two months; since then I've added bits and pieces over the months as inspiration came, finally completing it in August 2022. The story consists of thirteen chapters plus an epilogue, and I plan to post twice weekly updates until finished. It's fully canon-compliant except for the last thirty seconds or so of the movie.

I find inspiration in listening to music while I write, and for this work I've carefully matched each chapter's theme to one particular song. I highly recommend going to YouTube, Spotify, etc. and finding the songs; your enjoyment of the chapters will be greatly increased if you listen during or after reading!

The song for this first chapter is Hold On by Chord Overstreet.

Enjoy!


Chapter 1 - Hold On

November 19, 1901

It was over.

As Edith stood over Lucille with the shovel, all she could think was that it was finally over. All the horrors of the past several weeks could be traced back to this monster, and she was gone.

But yet...there was one more loose end.

Edith raised her eyes to gaze upon Thomas's spirit, staring silently at her. Oh Thomas...he had chosen her in the end, and had paid for it with his life. She tearfully raised a hand to touch his spectral form, and to her surprise the ghost seemed almost...tangible. She could feel him, not quite solid but not totally insubstantial either, and instead of the icy chill she'd always experienced when encountering spirits before, she felt a warmth not unlike a summer breeze as he nuzzled into her hand and slowly faded away.

The sensation had been so unexpected that Edith didn't move a muscle for several seconds, hand still raised as her mind flitted through possibilities. Was there a reason Thomas's spirit had been so unlike those she had previously encountered? It was not just his warmth, although that was the most remarkable aspect; he had also looked quite different than any other spirit she had seen. All the rest had been grotesque, even the ghost of her mother; in contrast, Thomas had been pristine, as finely chiseled in death as he had been in life. Unless…

Edith's heart sped up as a wild, incredible prospect occurred to her. Was it possible that Thomas was not dead? That somehow his spirit had appeared to her despite being still anchored to his body? When Lucille had come out of her bedroom with the bloody knife in her hand, Edith had been sure she'd murdered Thomas, and the appearance of his shade at first had seemed to confirm that. But maybe, just maybe she had been mistaken? Thomas's ghost had felt almost….alive.

Adrenaline once again rushing through her veins, Edith charged through the maze of Thomas's clay mining machines and up to Allerdale Hall. Every step on her injured ankle shot a sharp pain through her leg, and she could feel her damaged lungs struggling to keep up with the brutal pace, but she paid them no mind - she had to know. Had to save him, if somehow he still could be saved - even if only long enough to say goodbye. In that moment, Edith didn't take the time to pick apart her confusing feelings towards Thomas Sharpe - she only knew that she must go back for him, had to know, even if all that awaited her would be his cold body.

As Edith rounded the corner to the front of the dilapidated mansion, she heard a distant shout from the direction of the gate. Sparing a glance over her shoulder as she kept running, Edith could see the faint outline of several men making their way up the hill. Alan must have asked them to help, Edith thought thankfully, not breaking her stride. Heaven knew Alan would need medical attention, as did she. And Thomas may yet too!

Edith stumbled through the front door, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim lighting from the bright, snow-covered outdoors. "Thomas?" she cried. "Thomas, are you here?" No reply came - she had not truly expected one. She made her way to the elevator and cranked the lever to bring it to her level; she half considered taking the stairs instead, but knew that she was unlikely to make it to the top with her injuries.

When she reached the landing, Edith pounded down the hallway to Lucille's room, and only hesitated a fraction of a second before pushing open the cracked door all the way. She didn't immediately see Thomas, and her heart leaped - maybe he wasn't injured badly at all, and had been able to get up and leave? But then, over the settee in the sitting area, she caught a glimpse of a dark head of hair lolling on the ground.

"Thomas!" she cried, and ran to him. He made for a grisly sight: blood slowly leaked from a facial wound as well as his left eye, pooling under his head like a ghastly halo. Two stab wounds to his torso had turned the white of his shirt almost entirely crimson, and his exposed face and extremities were paler than Edith had thought he could become. Most frightening of all was the deathly stillness that almost certainly meant no life still resided in his body.

In that moment, Edith was more thankful than ever that she was a voracious reader. Not many years ago Edith had read a journal her father had in his library, a volume written by an army medic that included information about how to look for signs of life and treat life-threatening injuries sustained in battle. Such a book was considered unladylike for a young woman of good breeding to peruse, but gratefully Edith had never given much credence to those opinions.

Edith reached out a slightly trembling hand and placed it on Thomas's neck, feeling for a pulse. Seconds ticked by and she felt nothing, and Edith stifled a sob as a swell of despair lashed her. She was too late!

But then...had she felt something? It had been hard to tell if she had felt a small throb, or if it had just been wishful thinking. Edith suddenly remembered that the book had described being able to hold a knife under the nose to check for breath. She glanced around wildly, and her gaze fell on a letter opener sitting on the side table. Perfect! Edith snatched it up and held it under Thomas's nose.

"Please," she whispered, entreating God, Thomas, and the universe itself to have some mercy. She held her own breath as she watched the letter opener intently - and just as she had almost given up hope, the small portion of silver under Thomas's nostrils clouded over.

Edith let out her breath, and felt a wave of relief crash over her. She hadn't realized until that instant how much hope she'd had for Thomas's survival, how much it would have crushed her if he'd been gone.

However, Edith was a practical woman, and knew that even if he were alive now, there was no guarantee he would continue to live much longer. Based on his paleness, Thomas had already lost too much blood, and Edith ripped open his shirt to expose the wounds beneath. Bright red blood leaked from the punctures, and she hastily pulled up the still white bottom half of his shirt and pressed the cloth into the lacerations with as much strength as she could muster.

Glancing at Thomas's face again, Edith knew she needed to stop the bleeding there too; she awkwardly shifted her body to keep pressure on his chest wounds with a knee, then tore off the sleeve of her nightgown with a force that surprised her and pressed the fabric to his cheek and eye.

Thomas still didn't move a muscle, although Edith was sure the pain would have been excruciating if he'd been conscious. She felt tears welling in her eyes and let them fall, hands occupied trying to staunch the flow of life-blood from her husband's still body.

Edith heard shouting coming from downstairs, indistinct at first but growing clearer. A chorus of "Hello! Is anyone there?" met her ears, and she had never been so grateful to hear another's voice as in that moment.

"Up here! Please, help!" Edith cried, praying that there was a doctor among the villagers. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and a few moments later several men burst through the doorway.

"My lady! Are you alright?" The first man cried, and Edith recognized him as the postal worker from the depot. He stopped short when he saw Thomas's bloody form on the floor, Edith kneeling over him. "Is he…?" the man started.

Raising her tearstained face to meet his gaze, Edith choked out, "He still lives! Help him, please! Is there a doctor with you?"

From the small crowd of men still trickling into the room, an older gentleman pushed his way through, still huffing and puffing from the long trek up the stairs. "I'm not a doctor, but I look after the animals 'round here when they're sick, ma'am. Let me take a look."

Kneeling down next to Edith, the man placed a hand on Thomas's throat. After several seconds, he declared, "He still lives, by some miracle." Looking up at Edith, he asked, "How long since he sustained these injuries?"

"Perhaps a quarter, maybe even half an hour? No more than that for sure."

"You've done well, Lady Sharpe, to keep pressure on those wounds. Let's see if we can't get some proper tourniquets on him." Turning back to the men in the room, he barked, "Strip that bed, and rip the sheets into bandages! I need two or three strong men to come help me lift him and wrap these wounds. Hurry!"

As his instructions were rapidly followed, Edith reluctantly stepped away from Thomas to let the man do his work. Although she knew that Thomas's best chance of survival lay in his care, she was unable to stop the feeling of helplessness coursing through her.

"Ma'am, you should come with me," one of the men spoke to her, laying a hand on her arm. "This is no place for a lady." Edith jerked her arm free from his grasp and gave him a quelling look.

"No, I'm not leaving him," Edith insisted. The man opened his mouth as if to argue, but at the look in Edith's eyes he wisely decided to belay his words.

After a few minutes, Thomas was heavily bandaged and the veterinarian declared him stable enough to be moved. As two burly men lifted Thomas in their arms, Edith caught the man's attention. "Sir, my friend, Alan McMichael, he's in the basement and also injured. He needs medical treatment immediately."

"What happened here, Lady Sharpe?" the man cried in exasperation. "You've all been put through hell! Nevermind, don't reply, there'll be time enough for answers later. Lead me to him!" Edith led him and a couple more men to the elevator and took its creaking journey to the bottom. She could see them looking askance at the blood coating the floor and grate, but they gratefully didn't ask her about it.

Alan gave a shout when she stumbled out with the men behind her, emerging from behind one of the clay vats. "Edith! Are you all right?" he cried desperately.

"Yes, I'm fine, Alan!" she replied. "This man has medical experience, he's going to help you."

As the veterinarian began bandaging Alan's wound, Edith slumped down on the ground next to one of the vats, suddenly feeling bone tired and unable to hold weight on her injured ankle any longer.

Alan noticed her actions, and called, "Edith, you need to be treated too! You've been poisoned, and your ankle will need to be set again!"

"Yes, I'll go to the hospital too, Alan," she assured him, looking up and giving him a weak smile. "But I can wait until you and Thomas are taken care of."

"He's alive, then?" Alan queried. "And what about…"

The veterinarian cut off Alan's last thought. "Yes, Sir Thomas still lives, though for how long remains to be seen," he interjected, as he finished tying off the last of Alan's bandages. "He's in considerably worse shape than you, sir! Thankfully, as far as I can tell neither of your injuries has damaged an organ. It'll take a while to recuperate, but you should hopefully be back on your feet in a month or two." Turning to Edith, he said, "Now, Lady Sharpe, let me see that ankle.".

After the splint on her ankle was re-set, the sorry party made their way back to the elevator, Alan leaning heavily on one of the men and another carrying Edith. "We'll get you all to hospital in Keswick as fast as we can," the veterinarian assured them. "Unfortunately there's no proper doctor here in Thornthwaite."

As they were almost to the front door, a muted whining noise reached Edith's ears.

"Oh!" Edith cried. "The dog! Please, sir," she called to one of the men accompanying them, "open up that door!" She motioned to the coat closet in the front entryway emitting the muffled sound.

As the man wrenched the door open Enola's little dog sprang out, yipping happily when it caught sight of Edith. There was a large lump on one side of his head where she supposed that Lucille must have knocked it out, but he seemed none the worse for wear. "I'm so happy you're still here!" Edith cried, the sight of the creature giving her an unexpected boost of hope. "At least someone has made it through today unscathed!"

The group made their way out the front door and down the long trek from Allerdale Hall, the dog bounding along at their feet. Edith spotted a few horse-drawn sleighs waiting at the bottom of the hill - the snow must still be too thick for carriages to pass. She shuddered as she spotted a slightly bloody cloth wrapped around a human-shaped form lying in one of the vehicles; thankfully, the men steered her and Alan toward the other sleigh and helped them in, the dog hopping in behind them and laying down.

Thomas was already in their sleigh, unconscious and slumped bonelessly with a thick blanket thrown over his motionless shape. Edith sat next to him and took his hand in hers, willing some of her strength to flow into him. She glanced up at Alan as she worried her husband's cold digits, not missing the dismayed look he was giving them.

"Edith, what happened?" he asked. "Is Lucille…?"

"Dead," she replied shortly.

Alan looked both relieved and horrified. "I'm so sorry, for everything. I wish to God I'd realized what the Sharpes were sooner, before you left America!"

"You couldn't have known, Alan," she murmured pensively. "Please don't feel guilty - none of this is your fault, and I know you came as soon as you found out." Glancing back at Thomas's still face, she muttered, "Although perhaps…perhaps there was a reason everything turned out as it did."

"You can't mean that!" Alan exclaimed.

"If I hadn't been there, they would have continued their schemes, and more innocents would have died," Edith rejoined. "I was the one to break the cycle. In more ways than one, I suspect." She absentmindedly twirled Thomas's signet ring around his finger as the sleigh lurched off away from Allerdale Hall.

They rode in silence for several minutes until they left the cursed mansion far behind. The silence was not quite uncomfortable, but there was a certain tension between them.

Eventually Alan ventured in an odd tone, "Edith…I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but…he told me he was going to save you." There was no need to clarify who he was. "When he took me to the basement. And…he asked me where to stab so he didn't kill me. Perhaps he did try to do the right thing, in the end."

"He did try. To save me, that is. And Lucille killed him for it, or near enough!" Edith's voice turned vicious. "I wish I could kill her again!"

Alan's face reflected shock at her admission, but he said nothing.

Turning her gaze back to Thomas, Edith murmured, "He does love me, you know."

"Perhaps he does. But that doesn't make up for what he did," Alan rejoined, giving her a warning look.

"I know."

What would she do now, if Thomas lived? He'd schemed with Lucille to marry and kill her for her fortune. He'd been complicit in the murders of at least his previous wives - perhaps even his mother and her father as well. Although Lucille herself had admitted to being the mastermind and executioner, Thomas had stood by and let it all happen. But...he'd also tried to do the right thing - eventually; he'd defied Lucille for her in the end and almost lost his life for it. Was his last-minute change of heart enough to earn her forgiveness?

Edith gave her head a shake, and firmly pushed those thoughts aside as she silently implored Thomas to hold on. As long as he was alive, she could figure out the rest later.


Several hours later Edith lay on her cot at the Mary Hewetson Cottage Hospital, feeling weak and exhausted. A nurse had hurried her to the room and propped up her leg on a pile of pillows, assuring her that the doctor would come to give her further instructions as soon as he was available. Then she'd rushed off to help attend to Thomas and Alan, leaving Edith alone and anxious. Edith's only small consolation was that one of the men from the village had promised to take care of the dog for her until she was well enough to care for him again.

Just as she was drifting to sleep despite her best efforts, Edith's door opened to admit a brown haired man that looked to be in his mid-forties.

"Good evening, Lady Sharpe," the gentleman said as he entered, his face inscrutable. "I'm Dr. Adams."

"How are they?" Edith asked, rousing immediately. "My husband and Dr. McMichael?" Her heart pounded in her chest, and Edith was suddenly gripped with fear. Had Thomas perished after all?

"Dr. McMichael is stable, and I'm pleased to say that I expect him to make a full recovery in time. As for Sir Thomas, he's still alive, for now."

Edith let out an involuntary sound very much like a sob in relief. But yet..."For now?" her voice wobbled unbidden. "Does that mean…?"

"I'll be straight with you, milady," the doctor continued. "Sir Thomas has lost a lot of blood, more than most men could lose and still live. That he's still breathing is a miracle, but every moment he holds on is a good sign. We've stopped the bleeding and stitched the wounds, and if he continues to live his body will eventually create more blood to make up for what he's lost. There's always the possibility of infection, but we've cleaned his wounds as best we can so hopefully that won't be an issue. The next few days will be crucial; if he lives through them, there's a good chance he'll survive - with some consequences, of course, but he'll be alive."

"What consequences, doctor?" Edith asked, her mind suddenly swirling with horrific prospects.

"Well, the wound to his face almost certainly damaged his left eye. It's too early to tell, but it's likely he'll be partially or totally blind in that eye. The injury to his shoulder may affect his arm's range of motion. And though the chest wound narrowly missed his heart, it did penetrate his right lung, causing it to partially collapse - that's why his breathing is so slow. Thankfully, from the angle of the wound, I believe it must have only been a small prick - if he survives, the lung will heal and re-inflate on its own with time. However, there is the possibility that he may have shortness of breath for the rest of his life."

Edith lay, absorbing the words. After a moment, she drew a breath and stated, "Well, that doesn't sound too bad."

Dr. Adams gave her a wry smile. "I like you, Lady Sharpe. You're clearly a sensible woman, and Sir Thomas is a lucky man to have you. If he pulls through, it'll be a long road of recovery ahead, but I don't doubt that he'll do well with you by his side."

She gave the physician a weak smile, but Edith's heart twisted painfully. Would she be staying with Thomas? Could she, after everything? When Alan had first shown up at Allerdale Hall, she had been ready to flee the abominable place and never look back. But that was before Lucille's death, before Thomas's last heartfelt declaration of love to her, before her husband had defied his sister and almost died for her.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, the doctor continued, "Now, enough about them. You need to be looked after as well! I'm going to unwrap your ankle and make sure it's set properly. And I'll get a bandage on that cut there," gesturing to her cheek, "make sure the wound is clean. I'll need to listen to your lungs too, that cough doesn't sound healthy. Your friend, Dr. McMichael - he mentioned something about poison?"

As the doctor continued his ministrations, Edith was lost in thought, giving only brief answers when spoken to.

She had serious decisions to make, and for one of the first times in her life she couldn't see a clear path ahead of her.