Another chapter, yay! I do not own Crimson Peak. Nope.
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At Christmas eve, Edith found herself happily ensconced in her favourite reading spot, an unusually awake and aware Thomas at her side, playing with her hair without needing any prompting to make him come out of his musings. She had been frightened, after their day out - lovely as it was - that he'd fall more deeply into his depression (or whatever it could be said to be) after the effort, but to the contrary, he seemed more ready to participate than she had seen him in months.
Her father was still highly guarded when it came to her husband, but he was no longer outright rude, and more often than not acted politely towards him now. In return, Thomas seemed to make an effort to readily speak when spoken to.
It was on Christmas morning, Edith found herself awakening alone in bed for the first time since she were married. Thomas always awoke hours earlier than she did, but he never moved before she rose, spending the time staring at nothing in a worrying way instead.
This morning, however, she spotted him over at her desk, preoccupied with mending the little trinkets she kept in a desk drawer, which were in need of repair. She had broken a favourite pen the previous evening, and she hadn't been aware Thomas was paying any heed when she spoke out loud about it when she was settling into bed the day before. Clearly, he had been. She sometimes had a feeling that he was always listening, whatever she spoke of.
She rose with a smile on her face, coming over to kiss his neck, crowding close to see what he was working on. As ever, he leant into her touches, seemingly more eager to do so the softer they were, and explained without prompting what had been amiss with what he was currently fixing, happily lost in his work, but not so much so that he was unaware of his surroundings.
He seemed at peace, to her, and genuinely happy in a way that wasn't entirely unfamiliar to her, though it usually came in mere glimpses, while this was a more outright, full emotion. It made her happy just to see him like that.
After a minute or so, she left him to it, after making him promise to come join them at breakfast as soon as he was done, and went to dress for the day. Thomas had always been trying, she knew that, trying incredibly hard to be a good husband, but it seemed to come easier to him now, as if he finally had the energy to stay awake long enough to give her the attention he wanted to, like somebody who had been grievously ill but who finally had the strength to be up again.
She entered the breakfast room with a bright smile, her heart feeling lighter than it had done for months. "Good morning, dear. I see you're in a good mood today," her father greeted her with some surprise, but looking very pleased. "My pen broke yesterday," she replied with a big smile, puzzling him even further.
"We can get you another," her father replied after a little pause, clearly unable to connect why this should make her so pleased. "Thomas was sitting at my desk, mending it, when I woke up," she explained to him, and saw the dawn of understanding, and yet not, in her father's eyes. "He haven't been doing that for months, but he did today," before her father could respond, her husband entered the room, coming over to kiss her on the crown of her head with the words, "the pen could be fixed, darling, it was merely a small problem," and greeting her father with a nod and, "sir," before sitting down with them. It was the best Christmas gift she could have asked for.