She means well, Edith thought as she sat on the edge of her bathtub, waiting for the water to rise. Women of a certain age don't understand how any woman can refuse the prospect of a husband. Mrs. Williams lives in a dream world of happily ever after.
Mrs. Williams had never met anyone like Thomas Sharpe.
She sighed. It wasn't so long ago that she herself thought she'd found happiness with Thomas. Their romance was swift and passionate; apart from the one unpleasant moment at the party, when he deliberately insulted her talent as a writer, their courtship was picture-perfect. She couldn't have written it better if she'd tried; he was there for her in the weeks following her father's murder, rushing to her side at the drop of a hat, comforting her whenever she needed him. He let her cry until she was spent and then wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips against her neck and kissed her, whispered "I'm here, darling. I'm here."
Nothing drove her desire for him more than having him there by her side after hours of missing the people in her life who were dead and gone. She kept her maidenhood, of course, but there were moments - when he looked at her, when he held her hands, when he spoke to her with his deep and gentle voice – that almost made her forget herself.
She removed her house dress and stepped into the tub, her skin goosepimpling as the hot water surrounded her. Still a fool, Edith, she thought, thinking of him that way. No wonder you were duped so easily.
She ran through his every betrayal, to remind herself of the truth: he chose her from the other girls because her father was rich, he was responsible for his death; he lured her to England with the promise of a loving, happy marriage when, in reality, all he wanted was her money to finance his horrible machine. He let her be poisoned. He let her be haunted. He was responsible for the most horrifying period of her life.
He and his monstrous sister.
And there was that moment, when she caught them together… Edith squeezed her eyes shut and pressed two warm, wet hands against her face. Lucille, coiled around him like a snake on a branch, her hand between his legs. And him, digging his fingers into the pale flesh of her shoulder, allowing her to do it. How could he?
In her weaker moments, Edith thought perhaps Lucille had groomed him to be terrible all his life. She was the older sibling, after all, and her insanity may have manipulated him into silence. He may have feared coming to harm himself. But what sort of hold could she have had over him really, and for how long? He was an adult, free to choose his fate as he saw fit. If mere chance had brought the two of them together in the first place, surely he couldn't have always been under Lucille's thumb.
And then there was the baby… the baby…
Edith's eyes filled with tears. There you go, getting yourself worked up again, she thought, allowing herself a sob. They died at Allerdale Hall. They can't cross oceans. They can't harm you anymore.
She let herself weep until she'd exhausted every muscle in her body, and then lay back against the tub, finally ready to let the water's heat soothe away her tension. Her mind wandered until she found herself drifting through a hazy dream. A voice called her name softly, sweetly.
Edith, my darling, come back to me…
She opened her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling. A chill passed through her. How long have I been asleep? she thought, her mind still fuzzy. The water's freezing. She turned her head.
The chill came from the air in the room, not the water. She wasn't lying in the water at all.
She was lying on top of it.
She screamed. Her body immediately dropped, sending lukewarm water rushing over the edge of the bathtub, spilling it across the floor. "No!" she screamed as she scrambled out and rushed to pull her bathing dress around her. "No!" She ran towards the bathroom door, frantic for escape. Her foot slipped on the wet tile.
Something caught her before she fell. Something - with arms like his. Something brought her gently to her feet even as she twisted and fought against it. It pushed her bathing dress off of her shoulder. She screamed again, flailed her arms, lashing out at whatever it was that held her. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
It released her. She ran to her bedroom, slammed the door and bolted it shut, though she knew no ghost could be kept out by any lock designed by man. She ran to the furthest corner of the room and pressed her back against the wall. "You belong to Allerdale Hall," she whimpered. "You were supposed to stay there."
Two knocks on her bedroom door, and then another two; his knock. She sobbed. Another two knocks. And another two.
"Go away," she whispered. "Please. Please, please go away."
Silence. She waited, expecting a shriek, a light bulb to explode, a violent spectre to tear its way through the wood and set itself upon her. But the silence remained.
He would keep her safe, for now.