Edith was horrified as she watched Lucille burn the pages of her novel.

"You killed her baby," she gasped. Lucille turned and glared at her.

"No I didn't."

She turned and walked back to the dresser. "None of them ever fucked Thomas. It was mine. It was born wrong." She shrugged her shoulders. "We should have let it die at birth, but..." She paused, and sighed heavily. "I wanted it."

There was a moment of quiet, then Lucille turned to face Edith, leaning against the bedpost. Her smile would have been touching if it wasn't for the woman wearing it.

"Thomas with a child," she said quietly, smiling a little at the memory. "He's perfect." She glanced at Edith. "It happened once before. I couldn't bear to break him like that, that's why we kept the first one."

Edith's heart dropped as she realised what Lucille meant.

"Florrie..."

Lucille smiled then, genuine and proud.

"Florence Elle Sharpe. Heir to the Sharpe Mines and the legacy of Allerdale Hall. If I were only an aunt she'd be the honourable child of a talented engineer," she crooned. Edith was horrified.

"She's your..."

"My daughter, yes. I must say, I thought you were brighter. It amazed me when none of the others noticed that she was far too young to have been born before her supposed Mother died, but then Thomas would have told them she was only a half sister."

Lucille sighed and stepped forward. She picked out strands of Edith's hair and began to plait them as she crooned./p

"Thomas and I would do anything for that little girl. That's why he pours so much effort into his machine- if it worked, we could afford to send her to school. She could escape this life, this place. And we could afford to tend to the house, restore it to its former glory so that when she grows up and comes home she has something to be proud of..." She was dreaming now, her eyes teary. Edith couldn't understand.

"But women have been tortured and killed in this house..." Lucille glared at her.

"I kill for my child," she snapped. Edith recoiled. "She is never usually allowed to spend time with her sisters-in-law, to become attached. The first one thought she was a ghost- she was only small. I wouldn't want her to be upset once they were dead. But you..."

Lucille tilted her head, her lips a thin line. She reached forward and traced a bony finger along Edith's jaw.

"Thomas has slipped up with you. He let you look after her, grow to love her. And the way she talks about you, oh, I don't doubt that she adores you too. You've stolen my little girl's love from me," she whispered dangerously. Edith sat rigid as she snipped off the plaited lock of hair with her scissors. A slow smile spread across Lucille's lips, scarier than ever.

"I'd better steal it back," she breathed darkly. Edith gasped, and felt the hot tears run down her face. Lucille turned and walked across to the dresser.

"(the grapple- a scene I'm working up to writing when I have plenty of time on my hands ^_^ )

As Thomas' body got heavier with his death, Lucille dropped him with a sob and screamed. At exactly this moment, Florrie stepped further into the room, where she'd stayed unnoticed after seeing Edith in the elevator. Thomas stirred weakly, and saw her.

"Florrie," he gasped, lifting his hand. The ghost of a grimace flitted across his lips, guilt stricken, and as Lucille turned around her face fell when she saw her daughter stood there.

"Florence, sweetheart..."

Lucille reached towards the child with bloody fingers, her expression one of agony. Florrie stumbled backwards away from her, eyes wide with terror. Realising the true damage she had done, Lucille let go of Thomas and ran from the room, screaming as she went.

The clanging of the elevator as Edith fought to escape didn't register in Florrie's mind as she stared at her father's bloody form. Helpless, she cried out and dropped to her knees beside him. Thomas managed to wrap his arms around her and pull her to his chest, where he buried his lips in her hair. Florence cried into his shirt.

"She killed you," she choked out, gripping his shirt in her hands. Thomas sighed, too weak to speak.

I...I'm sorry," he breathed. Florence looked up into his face and took it between her hands, careful to avoid the stab wound in his cheek. She frowned to mask the burning tears.

"Don't be sorry, Papa."

Unable to ignore the image of Lucille covered in his blood, Florrie's breath stuck in her throat, and her eyes filled with tears. She stroked his face and touched her forehead to his.

"Edith will know that you love her," she promised him. She pecked his lips, the way she had always done since she was very small, and he smiled. Florrie gazed at him, frenzied, then had an idea.

"Haunt me," she gasped, overcome with emotion. Thomas frowned at her, growing weaker again, and she stared at him.

"Haunt me, Papa! Haunt me, please..." she begged, crying freely. As Thomas smiled his last smile and looked into the eyes of his sister- his daughter- for the last time, he gave a tiny nod. He would try.

"My love is yours, Florence," he breathed.

Florrie collapsed onto his chest, and cried. She gripped his shirt in both hands, felt his arms grow heavy and lifeless around her. She followed his every breath, as they slowed to nothing. His heart stuttered, then stopped, and she was left in the arms of a corpse, cold already because of the cold house they had always lived in.

Edith gasped as Thomas' gruesome apparition slipped away from beneath her fingers. Whether he loved her or not, it no longer mattered, because he and his cruel sister were dead and Edith was leaving with Alan.

She turned and tried to walk away, but remembered something else that seemed to hold her there. One key element that had made her life here even a little pleasant, at times.

"Florence," Edith whispered aloud. Eyes wide, she turned and stared at the house. The doctor shook his head.

"What? No! We must go..."

"I can't leave her there, all alone. Having her family away in America is one thing, having them dead is another."

"Thomas and the Lady were monsters. What makes the youngest one any different?" Alan insisted. Edith glared at him.

"Florence is ten years old. She never once frightened me, lied to me, hurt me. She is a good child who deserves a life, no matter what her parentage!"