This chapter's song is You Are the Reason by Calum Scott.

Chapter 6 - You Are the Reason

November 24th-30th, 1901

A week passed, and Thomas was slowly recovering. His right lung still burned when he took too deep of a breath, but the sensation was gradually improving. He was also feeling much stronger than he had those first several days, and he no longer experienced the dizziness and fatigue that had been the after-effects of his rapid blood loss. Thomas could take himself to and from the lavatory without assistance now, though the nurses still insisted on being by his side as he exercised by walking up and down the hospital halls.

Although the physician cleaned and re-bandaged his wounds twice daily, Thomas still hadn't glimpsed his face under the wrappings; he wasn't eager to see what he looked like now. He'd always had a certain degree of handsomeness going for him, if nothing else, and was vain enough to mourn the loss of his symmetrical features. One thing Thomas knew for sure was that his left eye was blind; he'd discovered that the first time he'd been conscious as his facial wounds were cleansed, and the doctor told him the knife had damaged the optical nerve and his blindness would almost certainly be permanent.

Edith visited him as much as the doctor allowed - twice a day, morning and evening. Although she was still using crutches, her ankle was healing well and she anticipated being able to put weight on that leg in another month or so.

To Thomas's continued amazement, Edith had been steadfast in her devotion to him; indeed, it seemed that revealing the entirety of his shameful past had brought them closer together, instead of driving her away as he'd feared. They talked together for hours; Edith about her childhood, her mother and father, her friends, and her writing, and Thomas about his schoolboy exploits, his time at university, and his inventions.

The one subject they didn't discuss was Lucille.

Oh, Thomas mentioned her in passing, of course; she'd been such a large part of his life that he could hardly speak of his past at all without referring to her. However, the topic was still so raw that he shied away from speaking of her directly. Whenever Lucille came to mind - which was more often than he desired - Thomas could hardly keep conflicting emotions from overwhelming him. One moment he'd be manic with grief and sorrow at her loss, thinking of missed opportunities and could-have-beens; the next he'd experience intense hatred toward the woman who'd been his matriarch, a ruthless satisfaction and relief that she'd never be able to sink her claws into him or anyone else ever again.

To Thomas's everlasting gratitude, Edith didn't press him to talk about his sister. She could have, Thomas knew, and he would have forced himself to answer her questions honestly. However, Edith was an angel - unlike Lucille, who'd never shown a speck of sympathy towards another soul in her life, his wife could sense how painful the memories were for him and didn't pressure him to reveal more than he was willing. Thomas knew he'd have to speak of her to Edith at some point, of course; as much as he may wish to, he couldn't close his eyes and avoid this uncomfortable matter forever. But as Edith kept reminding him, they had time, time to let his mind clear and discuss his late sister and lover later.

As expected, a county detective had arrived to take statements from witnesses two days after Thomas, Edith, and Alan had discussed the matter. Thomas had been a bundle of nerves during the questioning, but called on his well-honed skills of deception to appear measured and answer the queries as straightforwardly as he could.

The policeman also informed him that a date for the coroner's inquest had been set for the next month. The principal witnesses had been given instructions not to leave the area until after the inquest was complete - an order that wouldn't be hard to follow, seeing as all three were in varying stages of recovery. Thomas was strangely looking forward to the inquest; not the proceedings themselves, but the fact that afterwards the nightmare would finally be over, and hopefully he and Edith could leave all of this behind them.

After taking Thomas's statement, the policeman seemed convinced that everything had been solely Lucille's fault; he'd thanked Thomas for his answers and offered his sympathies for what Lucille had done to him and Edith. "She was a real madwoman, your sister," he'd said, shaking his head. "Your wife and that American doctor said the same. It's a shame you didn't leave her locked up where she belonged - all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided."

Looking back, Thomas rather wished he had too.

December 5th, 1901

One afternoon, exactly two weeks since his attack, the doctor declared Thomas's facial wound healed enough to remain unbandaged; the stitches had already been removed several days previously. After the physician left, Thomas gathered his courage and made his way to the washroom. Nothing for it, he thought, as he finally lifted his single good eye to look upon his reflection in the mirror.

The cheek wound actually wasn't as bad as all that, considering - the entry scar was small, and though it was bright pink for now, Thomas knew it would fade to white with time. The real blemish was his ruined left eye. The lid drooped, and under it the previously bright blue-green orb had faded to a dull, milky bluish-grey. It was unnerving to watch the eye move without being able to see from it, and Thomas gave his head an agitated shake and looked away, quickly completing his business and returning to his room.

Edith arrived as usual that evening, beaming as she swept in as quickly as she could on her crutches. She stopped short at the sight of Thomas's unbandaged face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Your face is almost healed now - that's wonderful!"

Thomas gave her a disbelieving look. "That's all you have to say?" he asked, gesturing at his wounds. "Edith, I'm so...ugly, now."

Smiling good-naturedly, Edith sat at his bedside and took his face in her hands, her thumb not quite brushing over the lesion. "It's not ugly, Thomas - you're as handsome as ever. In fact, I think you look quite distinguished! Your wounds…they're your battle scars."

Thomas swallowed convulsively. "That's one way of thinking about it, I suppose."

"They'll remind us of all you've overcome," Edith retorted gently, honesty coloring her voice. How can I be this blessed? Thomas thought to himself for the thousandth time.

Edith drew a breath, sobering, and Thomas could tell she had something on her mind. "What is it, my love?" he asked tenderly.

"Thomas," she began, "we need to talk about...about when to return to Allerdale Hall to gather what we need."

Thomas felt the blood drain from his face. A sense of dread and revulsion flowed through him at the thought of that accursed place, and he tamped down those emotions as forcefully as he could.

He'd known since the detective's visit that he'd need to return to the property at some point before the inquest. Locked in a drawer in the library were the documents from the Swiss institution where Lucille had been held all those years: documents detailing the conditions of Lucille's release, and more importantly Lucille's diagnosis of insanity at the time of her departure. The policeman had strongly suggested he bring those documents to the inquest in order to prove Lucille's madness and make sure Edith was completely cleared of any wrongdoing in his sister's death.

However, knowing theoretically he'd need to go back was much different than setting a date to do so. Thomas never wanted to set eyes on that place of lunacy and slaughter again.

"I talked with the doctor on the way in just now, and he said that by next week you should be well enough to be discharged." Edith smiled encouragingly at the good news. "The inquest is in two weeks, so I was thinking that we could make the trip back to Allerdale next Saturday. That should give you more time to heal before the journey."

"Yes, that sounds...acceptable," Thomas said weakly. "But, Edith - you're talking as though we shall be going together. You don't need to come with me - I just need to go in quickly and gather the papers, you don't need to trouble yourself."

"Thomas Sharpe, if you think I'm going to let you go back to that awful place without me, you have another thing coming!" Edith exclaimed. "We're partners. Whatever comes, we'll face it together. Always."

Thomas couldn't help the dizzying relief that swept over him. As much as he didn't want to see Allerdale Hall again, he knew it would be bearable if Edith was by his side.

"Thank you, Edith. I don't - I don't want to go back," he continued in a small voice.

"Me either," Edith replied, "but we have to face it sometime. We may as well start preparing ourselves. And besides, now that Lucille's, ah, gone...it's just a house. All the spirits I encountered had a purpose for remaining behind - to help, to warn the living of some peril. Now that the danger has passed, I hope - I believe - that the ghosts will have left too. The only thing that'll trouble us there will be memories."

Although Thomas nodded his assent, a chilly sensation crept up his spine and he wished he could share Edith's confidence.

December 10th, 1901

True to his word, the doctor released Thomas from Mary Heweston one evening just shy of three weeks after he'd arrived. The stitches in his shoulder and chest wounds had been removed, although he was instructed to keep the lesions dry and wrapped for another week yet. His right arm remained in a sling, as he couldn't risk any arm movements hindering the recovery of his shoulder wound; his chest had finally ceased burning on every breath, and only bothered him now upon deep inhales.

Thomas accompanied Edith out the front door and into the waiting carriage, wincing at the sudden brightness. It had snowed heavily two days prior, and the sun reflecting off the white expanse was a marked change from the dimly lit interior of his room. Thankfully he'd only stumbled once on the way out; he still wasn't used to walking far without depth perception, and the sensation was clearly going to take some time to get used to.

Edith chattered excitedly on the short drive, but fell silent when the carriage stopped in front of a cottage on the outskirts of town. It was a modest dwelling, with a few snow-covered trees littering the yard, and the light of a fire showing through the front window.

"I know it's not much, Thomas, but wait until you see the inside! It's very cosy."

"It's perfect," Thomas replied. "I don't care where I stay, as long as it's with you...and it's not Allerdale Hall."

To Thomas's shock, as they walked up the front drive the imperishable little dog came running out to greet them, yipping excitedly. "The dog survived?" he blurted out.

"Oh, yes!" Edith exclaimed. "I can't believe I forgot to mention him earlier! Lucille had knocked him out and stuck him in the coat closet, and I heard him whining as we left. One of the men who came looked after him for a few days, and when I rented this place, I brought him here. Susie - that's our maid - looks after him during the day when I'm not here."

"What's his name?" Thomas queried, as he carefully bent down to give the pooch a pat.

"I haven't named him yet, actually. I was rather hoping...we could decide on a name together, once you came home."

Home, Thomas thought, an incongruous sentiment creeping over him. Home had always meant Allerdale Hall, had always meant Lucille. Despite knowing that he'd be coming back to live with Edith, the reality seemed to hit him all at once. This was the first time they'd actually be living together as husband and wife, just the two of them, no secret sister-lovers or murderous plots hanging over their heads.

If Edith noticed his sudden mood shift, she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, as they entered the house into the sitting room, she kept her voice light and cheerful. "You'll have to forgive the lack of seating at the moment," she said, gesturing to a camp bed that was placed in front of the sofa along one wall. "Since I can hardly navigate the stairs with these crutches, I've been sleeping here for the time being. When I can walk properly again I'll join you upstairs in the master." She gave him a shy smile, then continued. "It's just to your right up the stairs. I took the liberty of purchasing you some clothes, which you should find in the closet; I wasn't certain of your size, so I guessed. They're certainly not as fine as you deserve, but they'll do for now until we can get to a tailor."

"I'm sure they're perfect," Thomas murmured. "I don't need much."

"Nonsense," Edith replied. "We'll buy you a whole new wardrobe once you're all healed. Now," she declared, turning to the dining room he could glimpse through an open doorway, "I'm sure you're hungry! I've had Susie prepare us supper, it should be ready any minute."

Amazed at the domesticity of his current situation, Thomas realized the unfamiliar feeling he was experiencing could only be happiness.