This chapter's song is My Arms by Ledger.

Chapter 8 - My Arms

December 18, 1901

The day of the inquest dawned grey and dreary, signaling another snowstorm incoming. The weather matched his mood perfectly, Thomas thought grimly, as he slowly dressed in clothes that didn't fit him quite right. He'd finally been able to discard the sling, but he couldn't yet move his right arm above his torso without agony lancing through his shoulder. It made dressing an arduous task, but Thomas wanted to look as best as he could this day, for Edith's sake.

Although it had only been four weeks since all the horror came to a head, Thomas simultaneously felt as though it had been yesterday and a lifetime ago. Shaking himself, he headed downstairs and found Edith waiting, a calmly resolute look on her face.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Thomas moved forward; with his bad arm he reached out to take her hand, and the other he brought up to caress her face as he leaned down to give her a small kiss.

"Absolutely," Thomas replied, a fierce determination rising up within him. After this day he could finally put all of this behind him, and concentrate on his future with Edith. "Let's get this over with."

Edith's answering smile lightened his heart, if only by a fraction. "I love you."

"I love you too," Thomas returned, and they were the sincerest words he'd spoken in his entire life.

Although the inquest was open to the public, thankfully only a smattering of locals were present to view the proceedings. Evidently most common folk didn't care about the goings-on of their local impoverished gentry in the dilapidated manor - they had their own lives to live. Thomas felt himself relax ever so slightly; in his mind he had imagined a riotous crowd baying for blood, and the largely empty hall gave him a small measure of relief. Hushed tones emanated from the area where the twelve jurors were seated, eager for the proceedings to begin.

A figure making its way over to sit near them drew Thomas's attention, and he caught his breath as he beheld the form of Alan McMichael. This was the first time he'd seen the doctor since their little heart to heart in the hospital those weeks ago; he was gratified to see that the man looked almost fully recovered. McMichael caught Thomas's gaze and stared back, unknown emotions glistening in his eyes. However, after a moment he gave Thomas a small, sharp nod and turned away in his chair to stare stiffly ahead.

As the inquest began, the coroner called forth Edith as the first witness. Thomas ground his teeth together so hard he felt a headache coming on. If Edith said something accidentally incriminating, if she were to be accused of murder…

"Lady Sharpe," the coroner started, "do you know how Miss Sharpe died?"

"Yes," Edith replied calmly. "I hit her in the head with a shovel."

Thomas sucked in a sharp breath at Edith's matter-of-fact words. To have put the matter so bluntly!

If the man was surprised by Edith's plain statement, he hid it well. "And why did you do that, Lady Sharpe?"

"Because she was attempting to kill me with a knife, sir. And she had already attacked my husband and my friend Dr. McMichael, intending to kill both of them as well. It was a miracle that they both survived her savage attacks. She was insane."

"An accusation of madness is not to be taken lightly, Lady Sharpe," the coroner questioned.

"I have proof, sir," Edith replied adamantly. She described Lucille's behavior: how Lucille had been hostile and jealous toward Edith from the start, how she kept plying Edith with strangely bitter tea, and how Edith became mysteriously ill within weeks of her arrival. How Lucille had suddenly snapped and pushed Edith over the banister - "She meant to kill me then, I'm sure of it, but thankfully I only broke my ankle."

Edith continued, recounting Dr. McMichael's arrival and attack. She carefully left out the fact that Thomas had been the one to actually wield the blade, placing the blame solely on Lucille without explicitly being dishonest.

She then recounted Thomas's final confrontation with his sister, and how Edith realized that he must have been attacked as well when Lucille had reappeared holding the bloody knife. Her tale finished by describing the two women's showdown outside Allerdale Hall - "She was in a murderous rage, and I had no choice but to use the only weapon I could find to kill her before she could kill me!"

As Edith finished speaking the jurors muttered among themselves, and a few were obviously moved by the tale. That was a good sign, Thomas hoped. The coroner let out a long breath and finished scribbling notes, then stated, "Well, that's quite a tale, Lady Sharpe. Thank you, you may be seated. Will Sir Thomas please come to the stand?"

Thomas swallowed and rose, and Edith gave him a steadying look as they passed each other. Edith had done a masterful job of recounting events truthfully, while keeping Thomas's own complicity in Lucille's crimes completely hidden. Now it was up to him to verify Edith's story and make himself out to be only an ignorant fool, instead of an accomplice to murder.

Feeling nauseous, Thomas kept a crushing grip on the railing as he slowly ascended the few steps. A sudden wave of self-loathing crashed over him, and he wondered what would happen if he were to just take the blame for everything, blurting out that it was he who poisoned Edith and stabbed McMichael, and all the others besides, and to just take him and hang him then and there!

Almost desperately, he craned his neck around to look at Edith - he had to turn around further than he expected so his single eye could meet her gaze - and found her giving him a look of such love and trust that all thoughts of reckless self-incrimination flew from his mind. For her, he reminded himself. I can do this for her. Thomas took a deep breath, wincing when the action made his chest ache, and turned back around.

"Sir Thomas," the coroner started, "Please tell me what happened in the weeks leading up to Miss Sharpe's death."

Taking a fortifying breath, Thomas recounted the events of those weeks, matching Edith's version that left out his own culpability in McMichael's stabbing and all the rest. Once he was finished, the man gave him a pointed look.

"Sir Thomas, do you mean to tell me that you lived with your sister for years without realizing her mental instability?"

Thomas winced inwardly, but kept his voice calm as he replied, "No, sir. I did...I did realize that my sister was...unstable. I just did not realize how deranged she had become."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, sir. In actuality...my sister was under my official guardianship. That is...ah. Let me start from the beginning. When I was twelve years old, after our parents had...passed, Lucille was sent away to an institution. A….sanitarium, in Switzerland. I went away to boarding school, and then on to university. When I came of age, I traveled to the institution to...retrieve her."

Thomas awkwardly reached his left hand into his waistcoat and brought out the sheaf of papers that had been in Allerdale's library all those years. "As you will see here, sir, she was released to me under my legal guardianship. These papers detail all the particulars, including her...diagnosis." An attendant came forward and transferred the papers from Thomas's hand to the coroner, who took them and looked through them quickly.

"Hmmm. Yes, I see here...psychopathic inferiority. A grave diagnosis indeed." The coroner glanced up, and Thomas could tell that the documents had gone a long way in convincing the man of Lucille's infirmity. He had just started to let some of the tension fall from his shoulders, when the coroner narrowed his eyes slightly and stated, "It says here, Sir Thomas, that although she denied it, your sister was strongly suspected of murdering your mother, and this is the reason she was committed to begin with. It's a wonder you did not take more care with your sister. After all, it seemed you already knew what she was."

Thomas swallowed, and desperately wished he could turn around and meet Edith's encouraging gaze. However, such an action would almost certainly be perceived badly, so he clenched his hand around the railing harder as he searched for the right words to say.

"Yes, sir. I should have been...more careful. Looking back, there are many things I wish I would have done differently. I...I loved my sister, you understand. We were very...close, as children. When I took Lucille from the institution, she seemed...better. Stable. I thought the therapies to cure her had succeeded. I realized too late that - that she had become even worse." Thomas's voice had dropped to a whisper by the end, and he blinked back tears he wouldn't allow to fall.

As the coroner passed the documents to the jurors for their perusal, he stated, "Very well, Sir Thomas, thank you. You may step down."

Trying not to let the relief show in his expression, Thomas made his way back to Edith and sat beside her. Edith immediately entwined her fingers with his and gave him a confident smile.

Alan McMichael was called to the stand next, and Thomas felt a thrill of fear: what if he turned against them after all? As the American gave his testimony, however, Thomas was relieved to hear him echo Thomas and Edith's narrative exactly.

Doctor Adams stood up next and gave a brief report on the injuries that Thomas, Edith, and McMichael had sustained at Lucille's hand. He confirmed that Edith had been slowly poisoned by yew leaves made into tea, and Thomas shuddered as he recalled the vicious smirk Lucille had worn each time he'd seen her preparing the hateful brew.

The detective came forward last to report the findings of his investigation. He had precious little to add to what the others had already said, and after he was finished the coroner cleared his throat and turned to address the jury.

"Gentlemen, we will now take a recess for you to confer." Turning back to the witnesses and onlookers, he muttered, "I expect it will not take long."

Thomas let out a shaky breath, and Edith squeezed his hand. They didn't speak, observed as they were, but let their touch comfort each other as they waited for the verdict.

Not ten minutes later, the jury filed back into the room. "Read out your conclusion, if you please," the coroner stated, and a stooped older man stood and read from a document in his hand.

"The jury's conclusion is lawful killing," the man recited.

Thomas felt the blood rushing through his ears as a swell of relief crashed over him. The juror continued, reading out the full Record of Inquest, but he heard none of it. Edith was safe! Glancing at his wife, he found his emotions mirrored in her expression. He wanted very much to kiss her, but this was certainly not the appropriate time or place for such a gesture, so he settled for giving her a little grin and clasping her hand tightly.

After the proceedings were complete and Thomas and Edith rose from their seats, Alan McMichael made his way over to them. Giving Edith a melancholy smile, he declared, "Well, that went well - according to some definitions, at least."

"Yes, it did," Edith replied. "Alan, thank you! I owe you so much, we owe you so much. You've been a dear friend. Will you...will you be returning to Buffalo soon?"

"Yes," McMichael rejoined, "I leave tomorrow."

"So soon?" Edith asked, shocked. "Are you fully recovered?"

"I'm well enough to travel, and I need to get back to my practice. This, ah, adventure has taken me away far longer than anticipated."

Edith paused, then stepped forward and enveloped McMichael in a careful embrace. "I'm sorry, Alan," she whispered. "For everything."

McMichael closed his eyes and his face contorted in grief for just a moment, before he collected himself and gently pushed Edith away. "Take care of yourself, Edith. Please write to me, let me know how you're doing. And please, be careful." His eyes slid to Thomas, and there was a hard glint in their blue depths.

"I'll make sure she stays safe," Thomas affirmed, willing every ounce of sincerity into his tone.

"Yes, you will," McMichael returned, and Thomas could see the unspoken addendum to his words: Or else.

"Farewell, Edith. I wish you good luck." Giving her a small bow, he turned to exit the hall.

"Goodbye, Alan," Edith sighed.

Then, turning back to Thomas, Edith beamed and pulled his face down into a kiss - propriety be damned. As they broke apart, she declared, "It's over, Thomas! Let's go home!"