Crimson Peak Page #3

You are falling

in love with her.

Is that it?

You play the part well.

The other day, my daughter asked me

why I didn't like you.

Honestly, at the time,

I had no good answer.

But now, I do.

That document there

gave me my answer.

That's the first honest

reaction I've seen from you.

Does she know?

No.

But I will tell her,

if that's what it takes

to send you on your way.

Sir, I know you will

find this hard to believe...

You love her.

I know.

You're repeating yourself.

Now, you,

you seem to be the more

collected one, dear.

It's overly

generous, I know.

But if you want that check to clear,

there are two conditions.

There's a train for New York City leaving

first thing tomorrow morning.

You and your brother

better be on it.

Do we understand

each other?

We do.

What is the second

condition?

That concerns my daughter.

Tonight you must

thoroughly break

her heart.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we have an unexpected

announcement.

Sir Thomas.

Thank you, Mr. Cushing.

Ladies and gentlemen,

when I first came to

America, my heart was

brimming with a

sense of adventure.

Here, the future actually

seemed to mean something.

I have found warmth and

friendship among you all.

But for now,

farewell.

May we meet again.

Perhaps on

a different shore.

My sister and I

depart for England

just in time

for the winter.

To lasting friendship.

To lasting friendship.

Excuse me. Sorry.

Edith.

You're leaving us.

We must return home immediately

and attend to our interests.

And with nothing to

hold us in America...

I see.

Your novel.

I read the new chapters.

I'll have them delivered in the morning.

That's very good of you,

thank you.

Would you still like

to know my thoughts?

If we must.

It's absurdly sentimental.

The aches that you describe

with such earnestness.

The pain, the loss.

You clearly haven't

lived at all.

In fact, you only seem to know

what other writers tell you.

That's enough!

You insist on describing

the torments of love

when you clearly know

nothing about them.

I'm not done yet!

What do you dream of?

A kind man?

A pure soul

to be redeemed?

A wounded bird

you can nourish?

Perfection.

Perfection has no

place in love, Edith.

I advise you to return

to your ghosts and fancies.

The sooner, the better.

You know precious little

of the human heart, or love,

or the pain that

comes with it.

You're nothing but

a spoiled child!

How's the water

today, Benton?

Piping hot.

Just the way

you like it, sir.

Very well.

Be kind enough to order

me some ham and eggs.

I'll start with

coffee, if it's hot

and a sip of port.

Right away, sir.

And The Times?

If you'd be so kind.

No. No.

Miss?

What is it, Annie?

Your manuscript was delivered

this morning by Sir Thomas Sharpe,

but I didn't want

to wake you early.

It's all the same, Annie.

Thank you.

Just leave it there.

The letter, too?

Yes, the letter, too.

Dear Edith.

By the time you read this,

I will be gone.

Your father made evident to me

that in my present economic condition

I was not in a position

to provide for you.

And to this I agreed.

Annie!

He also asked me

to break your heart.

My Coat!

To take the blame.

And to this

I agreed, too.

By this time, surely I have

accomplished both tasks.

But know this.

When I can prove

to your father

that all I ask of him is his consent

and nothing more,

then, and only then,

will I come back for you.

Yours ever,

Thomas.

Thomas and Lucille Sharpe.

Uh, room 107

and 108.

But wait!

Wait!

Miss? Wait!

Thomas?

Thomas!

Uh, they, um...

They checked out

this morning, miss.

In time for

the early train.

Are you all right, miss?

Edith.

Lucille has gone.

Your father bribed me

to leave.

I cannot leave you, Edith.

In fact, I find myself

thinking of you even at the most

inopportune moments

of the day.

I feel as if

a link exists between

your heart and mine.

And should that link be broken

either by distance or by time

my heart would cease

to beat and I would die.

And you,

you'd soon

forget about me.

Never

I would never

forget you.

I'm afraid you have

to identify the body, Edith.

There's no other way.

Wait!

I came as soon

as I heard.

Edith,

don't look at him.

I'll give you a

positive identification.

That is

not possible.

I was his physician,

Ferguson, you know that.

And I am his

lawyer, Dr. McMichael.

I'm sorry. This is not

a legal formality.

It's obligatory,

I'm afraid.

How did it happen?

Apparently,

he was alone.

The floor was wet.

No one really knows.

May I, sir?

Help me turn him.

Don't touch him

like that.

Stop! Don't touch

him like that!

That's my father!

Forgive me, I was...

He's turning

60 next week.

He's afraid of looking

his age, you see.

That's why he

dresses so well.

Why he likes taking

long walks.

His hand feels cold.

Why is it so cold?

I'm here for you now.

I'm here.

Whoa!

Ah, young Master Sharpe.

Hello, Finlay.

How have you

been keeping?

Never better,

Sir Thomas.

Finlay,

this is my wife.

I know, my Lord.

I know.

You've been

married a while.

Awhile?

What is he

talking about?

I'm not sure what

he was talking about.

His family worked for ours

for centuries. In fact...

Who is this?

You never told me

about him.

He has a collar.

Is he a stray,

you think?

That's impossible.

There's no other house for miles and

the town's half a day's walk away.

Oh, the poor thing.

He's famished.

Can we keep it?

As you wish.

Now, Your Ladyship,

may I have the honor?

Goodness. How many

rooms are there?

I don't know.

Would you like to

count them?

What do you think?

Does it look the part?

It does.

Although, it's even

colder inside than out.

I know, it's a disgrace.

We try to maintain

the house as best we can,

but with the cold and the rain

it's impossible to stop the damp and erosion.

And with the mines

right below, well,

the wood is rotting

and the house is sinking.

Take it upstairs,

Young Master?

Oh, yes, please.

This one goes to the dressing room.

Let me show you.

But how do you

manage this house?

Just you and Lucille?

It's a privilege

we were born into

and one we can

never relinquish.

But we manage somehow,

my darling.

My workshop's

in the attic.

I can't wait

to show you.

Please, Finlay.

Would you take my bags to the attic?

I'll be up shortly.

Edith.

Lucille?

Look, these curtains

have been closed for too long.

- Would you bring that over here?

- Yes.

Hey.

Where did you

get this?

Thomas, I saw a woman

in the elevator.

A woman?

You mean Lucille?

No, it wasn't

Lucille.

Must have been

a shadow.

That contraption has

a mind of its own.

The wires are affected

by the damp in the house.

Connects to the

clay pits, you see.

Never, ever,

go below this level.

What's this thing

doing here?

Lucille.

Thomas.

Welcome, Edith.

Thank you.

Well, I went to

the post office.

Your machine parts are

here from Birmingham.

You'll need Finlay

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