Florrie lay there for what she thought was some time, refusing to look at her father's dead, hollow face. She was so wrapped up in grief for a father rather than a brother, that it took her a moment to realise that the new voice echoing from the main hall was calling her name.
Lethargic, Florrie untangled herself from the body's arms and stood, dusting herself off without looking at him. At it. There was no Thomas in there any more, no Papa.
As a second thought she leaned down and prised the ring off of his left finger, his wedding ring, and slipped it onto her own. She would never lose it.
Still refusing to look at his ruined face, Florence turned and darted out of the room, moving towards the woman's voice.
Florrie said nothing as she reached the staircase, relieved to see that it was Edith stood there. Remaining semi-hidden in the shadows, she called out in a clear, unwavering voice.
"Edith?"
"Yes, sweetheart, it's me. Where are you?"
Florrie clenched her jaw, and went against all the rules her mother had ever told her to step out into plain view. Edith's face was a picture of relief when she saw her.
"Here," she said calmly. Edith smiled, teary eyed.
Florrie slipped carefully down the stairs and stopped just short of her, tilting her head. She knew Edith could see the tear streaks that marked her face, and attempted to rub them away with her sleeve. Edith smiled sadly, and held out her hand. It shook with nerves.
"Come with me, Florence. Leave this place," she said quietly. Florrie stood perfectly still for a moment, and became aware of a shape in the corner behind Edith. As she looked closer, she saw that it was a ghost, and recognised Thomas's stature. Edith waited for an answer.
"Thomas wants me to take you," she whispered gently, looking at Florrie with apologetic eyes. Florrie didn't shift her gaze from her father's ghost over Edith's shoulder as she spoke. He nodded once.
"Lucille is dead too."
Edith nodded shakily. Slowly, Florrie tilted her head to the other side, childish once more.
"You killed my Mama," she said quietly, eyes flicking back to Edith. Thomas' apparition seemed to tense as Edith looked down.
"Yes," she whispered. "I'm sorry..."
Florrie's eyes filled with tears and she wrung her hands, unable to look at the ghost again.
"But that's ok, because she... she killed my Papa," she stuttered in a shaky voice. Edith's eyes were wet too as she nodded.
"Yes."
And then Florence ran forward and threw her arms around Edith, burying her face into her gown.
"He's dead," she cried, the pain in her young voice breaking Edith's heart. Edith found her resolve and wrapped her arms tightly around the little girl.
"I know, honey. I'm sorry," she whispered. "I promise I will look after you, I will love you as much as he did because I loved him and he loved you more than anything else in this world." Edith found herself growing frantic, and she leaned back to hold Florrie's face between her hands. The child watched her with those stunning green eyes.
"No, he loved you. He does. He wants you to live," she whispered. Edith frowned in confusion, and Florrie blinked through her tears, but her voice still broke. Edith found nothing to say, simply pulled Florence close and held her tightly as the little girl cried for her father. Her father, who had fallen in love with Edith, escaped his past, and so entrusted her with his most valuable possession.
Edith was hit by a wave of emotion, and squeezed her eyes shut. She and Florrie stood there for a short while, imagining what life was to be like for them now.