Crimson Peak (2015) Script

Ghosts are real.

This much, I know.

The first time I saw one, I was 10 years old.

It was my mother's.

Black cholera had taken her.

So, Father ordered a closed casket, asked me not to look.

There were to be no parting kisses.

No goodbyes.

"And the Lord said unto me..."

No last words.

"...take thy place beside me..."

That is until the night she came back.


My child.

When the time comes beware of Crimson Peak.

It would be years before I again heard such a voice or understood its desperate warning.

A warning from out of time and one that I came to understand only when it was too late.

Barley mead and ale! I got sweet and bitter!

Barley mead and ale!

Apple, sir?

Straight out of the oven this morning.

Edith!

Alan. When did you get back? Two weeks ago.

I thought Eunice had told you.

No, I hadn't heard.

Oh. She made a conquest in London.

What are you doing here?

I'm setting up my practice upstairs.

I'm to meet Ogilvie at 10:00 to see if he wants to publish my manuscript.

You do know it's only 9:00.

I know, but I couldn't wait any longer.

And I want to make some corrections anyway, so...

If you have any free time, please come and visit.

We met him at the British Museum last fall, when we were visiting Alan.

Mother. You wouldn't believe it. He's so handsome.

And he has crossed the ocean with his sister, only to see Eunice again.

Mother, he's here on business.

It seems he's a baronet.

What's a baronet?

Well, an aristocrat of some sort.

A man that feeds off land that others work for him.

A parasite with a title.

This parasite is perfectly charming and a magnificent dancer.

Although, that wouldn't concern you, would it, Edith, our very young Jane Austen?

Though, she died a spinster, no?

Mother, please.

That's all right. Actually, Mrs. McMichael, I would prefer to be Mary Shelley.

She died a widow.

Alan.

Ah, Miss Cushing. You're early.

Just a little.

A ghost story.

Your father didn't tell me it was a ghost story.

Oh, it's not.

It's more a story with a ghost in it. Mmm-hmm...

The ghost is just a metaphor.

A metaphor?

For the past. Well...

Lovely handwriting. Nice confident loops.

Miss Cushing, may I offer a word of advice?

He told me it needed a love story.

Can you believe that?

Ogilvie's old-fashioned.

He said that just because I'm a woman.

Everyone falls in love, dear. Even women.

I don't want to write a love story like that.

Well, my darling, I was hoping to make this a celebratory gift.

I'm a builder, dear.

If there's one thing I know, it's the importance of the right tool for the job.

It's beautiful.

But actually, Father, I was hoping to type it, in your office.

Type it?

I'm submitting it to The Atlantic Monthly, but I realize now that my handwriting is too feminine.

It gives me away.

Without a doubt.

But what you must appreciate, is the way that the molding is incorporated into the overall design of the clock.

It'll take me all day, but it does make it look rather handsome, don't you think?

Yes.

Good morning, miss.

Forgive the interruption.

I have an appointment with Mr. Carter Everett Cushing.

Goodness. With the great man himself.

I'm afraid so.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet."

He'll be here shortly. Thank you.

You're not late, are you?

He hates that.

Uh, not at all. In fact, I'm a little early.

Oh, I'm afraid he hates that, too.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but this is a piece of fiction, is it not?

Yes. Who are you transcribing this for?

It's to be sent to New York tomorrow, to The Atlantic Monthly.

Well, whoever wrote it, it's rather good, don't you think?

Really? It's certainly captured my attention.

I wrote it.

It's mine.

Ghosts?

Well, the ghosts are just a metaphor...

They've always fascinated me.

You see, where I come from ghosts are not to be taken lightly.

Sir Thomas Sharpe.

Welcome to our fair city.

Sir. It's my pleasure.

I see you've already met my daughter, Edith.

The Sharpe clay mines have been royal purveyors of the purest scarlet clay since 1796.

In its liquid form, it is so rich in ore and so malleable that it can produce the strongest bricks and tiles.

Excessive mining in the last 20 years has caused most of our old deposits to collapse.

This is a clay harvester of my own design.

It transports the clay upwards as it digs deep.

I have absolutely no doubt this machine will revolutionize clay mining as we know it.

Turn it off, please.

Have you tested it? Full-scale?

Not yet, sir. We're very close.

But we hope that, with funding...

So, actually, what you have is a toy, and some fancy words.

Mr. Cushing, I...

You've already tried, and failed, to raise capital in London, Edinburgh, Milan. Yes, that's correct, sir.

And now you're here.

Correct again, sir.

The men at this table, all of us, came up through honest, hard work.

Well, maybe not all of us. Mr. Ferguson, here, is a lawyer.

But even he can't help that.

I started as a steel worker raising buildings before I could own them.

My hands.

Feel them.

Rough.

The reflection of who I am.

Now, you, sir, when I shook your hand...

You've got the softest hands I've ever felt.

In America, we bank on effort, not privilege.

That is how we built this country.

I'm here with all that I possess, sir.

A name, a patch of land and the will to make it yield.

The least that you can grant me is the courtesy of your time and the chance to prove to you and these fine gentlemen that my will, dear sir, is, at the very least, as strong as yours.

I need a corset.

No, you don't. You look very handsome.

Do I?

Yes, you do, young man.

I do wish you'd change your mind and come along tonight.

Mrs. McMichael has gone to a lot of trouble.

Little Lord Fauntleroy will be there.

You mean Thomas Sharpe?

Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet.

Apparently, he's taken an interest in young Eunice.

I saw you spying on us, child.

Was his proposal so outrageous as to merit such a harsh answer from you?

It wasn't his proposal, my love.

It was him.

There's something about him that I don't like.

What, I don't know.

And I don't like not knowing.

What I saw was a dreamer facing defeat.

Did you see his suit?

It was beautifully tailored, but at least a decade old.

I can see that you observed far more than I did.

And his shoes were handmade, but worn.

That'll be young Dr. McMichael.

He's brought his new motorcar to collect me.

Come and see it. Say hello to him.

He's just opened his new practice.

And he's always been awfully fond of you.

I know that, Father.

Good evening, Marie.

Good evening, Dr. McMichael.

Good evening, Mr. Cushing.

Alan.

Hello, Edith.

My, don't we look smart, Alan.

Oh, it's just something I threw together.

It's Edith who should be the belle of the ball this evening.

Don't you agree, Alan?

As I recall, Edith takes a dim view of social frivolity.

You lads enjoy the party.

Don't let him drink too much.

Hey-

So, she's not coming?

Stubborn to the bone.

Where does she get that from?

I'm not complaining.

I like it.

"Allerdale Hall."

Father, did you forget something?


What is it?

What do you want?

Beware of Crimson Peak.

Excuse me, miss. Are you all right, miss?

Whatever is it? Please, help me up.

There's a Sir Thomas Sharpe at the door.

Thomas Sharpe?

He's dripping wet, and most insistent on coming in.

Well, that's absolutely out of the question, Annie.

Please just tell him to go away.

I tried. And?

He wants to talk to you.

Miss Cushing.

Are you all right? You seem a little pale.

I'm not all too well, Sir Thomas, I'm afraid.

Father isn't home. Oh, I know.

I waited in the rain for him to leave.

Oh.

I know he's going to the reception at the McMichael house, which is my destination, too.

But that's in Bidwell Parkway, sir.

This is Masten Park.

You're very, very lost.

That I am.

And I desperately need your help.

My help with what?

Miss Cushing, the language, for one thing.

As you can plainly see, I do not speak a word of American.

Tell me, why would you want to stay here?

All alone.


Alan, this is Sir Thomas Sharpe.

Sir Thomas, Dr. Alan McMichael.

Best man in town if you're feeling poorly.

I've heard so much about you from Mother and my sister.

Although, I must confess, I had a little trouble understanding your title.

"Baronet."

Edith kindly explained it to me.

Edith, this is Lady Lucille Sharpe.

My sister.

I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Cushing.

You've managed to delay my brother quite a bit.

Now's the time.

Poor Eunice was growing desperate.

She claims no gentleman in America knows how to dance a proper waltz.

Come with me.

Interesting development, don't you think?

Indeed.

Ladies and gentlemen, please make some space.

The baronet would like to demonstrate for us the waltz.

European style.

Mrs. McMichael, I wanted to apologize.

Edith, we weren't expecting you.

I know. And I'm sure there's no place for me...

Don't worry, my child.

Everybody has their place.

I'll make sure you find yours.

The waltz.

Not a complicated dance, really.

The lady takes her place slightly to the left of the leading gentleman.

Six basic steps, and that's all.

However, it is said that the true test of the perfect waltz is for it to be so swift, so delicate and so smooth that a candle flame will not be extinguished in the hand of the lead dancer.

Now, that requires the perfect partner.

Would you be mine?

I don't think so. Thank you.

But I'm sure Eunice would be delighted.

I dare say.

But I have asked you.


Why are we doing this?

I've always closed my eyes to things that made me uncomfortable.

It makes everything easier.

I don't want to close my eyes.

I want to keep them open.


Mr. Holly!

Mr. Cushing.

I like the club the first thing in the morning.

I have it all to myself.

A great way to start the day, sir.

There's a young gentleman and his sister.

I want you to investigate for me.

There's something not quite right about them.

I want results.

As soon as possible.

You have not been using the drops regularly...

Edith, come in.

And I must insist you do so.

Take this to the druggist and ask him to prepare it exactly.

And resume the dose.

"Toxicology of the Eye." "Morphology of the Optic Nerve."

"Principles of Optical Refraction."

And "Arthur Conan Doyle."

Fancy yourself a detective?

Well, not really, but he is an ophthalmologist just like me.

Come.

I think you're going to like what I have to show you.

Ghost photography is easy to fake.

However, with glass plates it is, by definition, impossible.

I got these in London.

They're genuine.

The image is captured using a coating of silver salts, invisible to the naked eye.

It's called a latent image.

Now, it's my belief that houses, places, be it by chemical compounds in the earth or the minerals in the stone can retain impressions or a person that is no longer living.

But not everyone can see them.

The man that just left, amongst other ailments, is color blind.

Now, that man will never perceive the colors red or green.

He only accepts their existence because the majority around him does.

Perhaps we only notice things when the time comes for us to see them.

You've never spoken to me about these interests of yours, Alan.

You've never given me the chance.

Edith, I understand your fascination with the Sharpes, but in your own best interest, proceed with caution is all I ask.

You've been gone a long time and, well, I've managed somewhat.

No, Edith.

I think every time I read it, it gets better and better.

And I don't mind the love story at all.

Just a chapter or two.

Well, I like it.

Let me know what you think.

I'll finish it now.

Is it a butterfly?

No.

But it will be soon.

Oh, I hadn't seen them.

They're dying-

They take their heat from the sun and when it deserts them, they die.

That's sad.

No, it's not sad, Edith. It's nature.

It's a savage world of things dying or eating each other, right beneath our feet.

Surely there's more to it than that.

Beautiful things are fragile.

At home, we have only black moths.

Formidable creatures, to be sure, but they lack beauty.

They thrive on the dark and the cold.

What do they feed on?

Butterflies, I'm afraid.

Are you sure about this?

I don't think she's the right choice. She's too young.

She's just a child, Thomas.

Lucille, I've explained all this.

I will need the ring.

The ring's mine.

I earned it.

I will want it back.

Then you'd better hope I'm successful.

This is the last thing we have to sell.

You're not selling it.

We are buying something with it.

Mr. Holly. Ls something the matter?

Mr. Cushing.

It is not often that I am the bearer of bad news, but when I am, I insist upon delivering it myself.

Don't open it here.

Now is the time.

Edith, may I have a word?

Just one moment. Let me get my father.

Father. Everybody's waiting.

I'll be there shortly.

Miss Cushing.

Edith. I really have no right to ask this, but...

Sir Thomas.

May I speak with you in my study, please?

You and your sister, if you would be so kind as to fetch her.

Child, please tell our guests that we will join them presently.

Now, Lady Lucille.

Sir Thomas, the first time we met I imagine it was hard for you to realize that I didn't like you.

You made that clear enough, sir.

But I had hoped that now, with time...

Your time, Sir Thomas, is up.

Could you speak plainly, Mr. Cushing?

Plain I will be, missy.

Plainer than you might like to hear.

In the past few days your brother has deemed it fine enough to mix business with pleasure by repeatedly engaging socially with my daughter.

My only daughter.

Sir, I'm aware that I have no position to offer, but the fact is...

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 to fetch them.

Excellent.

Is something the matter with you, Edith?

Something startled me, that's all.

A shadow.

All that lives in this house are shadows and creaks and groans.

So, you better soothe that boundless imagination of yours.

I just need a proper welcome, that's all.

From now on, I want this house to contain nothing but friendship, and love and warmth.

Warmth would be an excellent start.

Thomas, your bride is frozen.

Of course. Forgive me.

Let's go upstairs, start a fire at once.

I'll run you a hot bath.

The pipes will run red at first because of the clay, but soon the water will clear.

Oh, Lucille.

When it's convenient would you mind getting me a copy of the house keys, please?

You don't need one.

I'm sorry?

There are parts of the house that are unsafe.

It will take you a few days to familiarize yourself.

Then, should you still feel you need them, I'll have copies made.

Come on, Edith, come with me.

Let's take you upstairs.


I thought you said the dog was dead.

I left it out there on its own.

Thought it would perish in the cold.

How has it survived all this time?

On scraps, I suppose.

As we all do.

Well, you needn't worry.

We won't have to do that anymore.

Won't we?

Her money's not here, is it?

Not yet.

You have to trust me.

You chose her.

Why?

All right.

Okay, ready?

Fetch!

Come on!

To my hand. Come on, to my hand.

Come on.

Go fetch!


Hi.

Where's your ball?

Did you lose your ball?

Hi.

Where'd it go? Hey, where's the ball?

Hi.

This will make you feel better.

What is it?

Firethorn berries.

They're very good for you.

You don't like it?

It's a little bitter.

I'm afraid nothing gentle ever grows in this land.

You need a measure of bitterness

not to be eaten.

What was that?

That's the east wind.

When it picks up, the chimneys form a vacuum and with the windows all shuttered up, the house...

Well, the house breathes.

It's ghastly, I know.

Now, come here.

I'll have a bath, I think.

And if you do happen to fall asleep, I won't wake you.


"To the hills we raise our eyes."

I'm sorry, I interrupted you.

That music, what is it?

An old lullaby I used to sing to Thomas when we were young.

I can imagine the two of you in here as children.

You, playing music and Thomas coming up with wild inventions.

We were not allowed in here as children.

We were confined to the nursery in the attic.

Mother played the piano sometimes.

We'd hear her through the floor.

That's how we knew she was back in the country.

Mother.

She looks quite...

Horrible?

Yes.

It's an excellent likeness.

I like to think she can see us from up there.

I don't want her to miss a single thing we do.

Are all of these books yours?

Mother collected most of these.

Have you heard of a fore-edge illustration?

No.

There are images hidden in the book's fore-edge.

Carefully dissimulated until you bend the pages.

So...

Secrets everywhere.

Well, this can't shock you, now that Thomas and you have...

He was very respectful of my mourning.

Nothing happened.

We traveled in separate cabins.

How considerate.

In time everything will be right.

It's a pity to liquidate all this.

So quickly, so soon.

Too soon, don't you think?

All a matter of opinion, it seems.

I will need these crates shipped.

And then to make sure we get an invoice, you will send them to me.

"Thomas Sharpe."

Baronet.


Do you like my workshop, Edith?

It's wonderful.

Did you make all of these?

I used to carve toys for Lucille.

And make little trinkets to keep her happy.

Were you alone, here in the attic, all the time?

Father was always traveling.

The family fortune didn't lose itself.

Papa really had to put his back into it.

It's wonderful.

You're so different.

From who?

From everyone.


What is it?

I thought I heard a noise.

We were hoping you were here.

I found him wandering the hallway.

Made us some tea.

Oh, you're too kind. Don't mention it.

We needed the company.

Thomas?

Uh, not for me, thank you.

Drink your tea.

It'll warm you.

Let the wind Blow kindly Thomas?

In the sails Of your dreams.

And the moon light your journey.

And bring you to me

Thomas?


How did you get in there, you silly doggie?


Wax cylinder recordings.


No, wait!


"Enola."

Keep her steady, Finlay. Yes, sir.

We need more coal, Finlay. Yes.

Thomas!

Thomas.

Thomas, listen, I need to talk to you.

Well, Edith, now's not a good time. Lucille is inside.

No, I don't want to talk to Lucille.

I want to talk to you.

Very well. What is it?

Listen, has anyone died in this house?

Edith, the house is hundreds of years old.

I'd venture many souls have come and gone.

But I mean specific deaths, violent deaths.

Master Sharpe?

Edith, now is really not a good time.

Try it again, Finlay!

There.

It should feel better soon.

My hands are getting rough.

Your father would approve.

My machine will never work.

Never. Why do I keep deluding myself?

Why did I bring you here?

Who did you marry?

A failure. Don't say that.

You're all that I have.

The men leave at nightfall.

We'll be racing against the snow.

Soon we won't be able to make any progress.

That's when you'll find out why they call this Crimson Peak.

What did you say?

Crimson Peak.

That's what they call it.

The ore and the red clay leach up from the ground and stain the snow.

It turns bright red, so, "Crimson Peak."

So, you asked to see me.

Perhaps it all ended for the best.

Edith seems to have found happiness, don't you agree?

I wouldn't know. I haven't heard a word.

I have.

She has asked me to transfer all her assets to England.

Seems to be investing all of it in that clay machine of his, and I have no recourse but to obey.

There's something about all this, Ferguson.

The manner of Cushing's death, the impact on his head.

The last check Cushing made was to Sir Thomas Sharpe.

If I may confide.

Before Cushing died, he hired a New York man, Mr. Holly.

Now, he digs up these unsavory facts.

The fact that this Holly got involved in all this, just gives me pause.


Thomas?

If you're here with me, give me a signal.

Touch my hand.


Leave now.

Thomas! Thomas!

Edith...

His blood will be on your hands.

Edith! Thomas!

Thomas, come quick!

A woman in the corridor, there! Edith, what's the matter?

There was such hatred in her eyes.

And intelligence.

She knows who I am and she wants me to leave.

Nonsense, my dear.

You're not going anywhere.

You had a bad dream. You were sleepwalking.

No! I'm afraid I shall go mad if I stay.

My darling, you're imagining things.

Tomorrow, why don't we go out, to the post office.

I think some fresh air will do you good.

No. I have to leave.

I have to get away from here.

Edith, this is your home now.

You have nowhere else to go.

What is she doing?

How could she know about Mother?

I have no idea. I haven't told her a thing.

What's she trying to do?

I don't know. She's in quite a state.

Tomorrow I'll go to the depot, pick up the machine parts and take her with me.

Let her get some fresh air.

Yes. Get her out of here.

Once she signs the final papers, I want this over with.

This is a valve controller I had fabricated in Glasgow.

This could make all the difference.

Think lucky thoughts, Edith.

The Sharpe mines might reopen if this thing cooperates.

Mr. Sharpe?

Ah, excellent. Thank you.

You're Lady Sharpe, then?

Forgive me, mum, but there's a few letters for you.

Two of them are certified letters from your solicitor.

And another one comes all the way from Milan, Italy.

I don't know anyone in Italy.

Respectfully, your Ladyship, it's apparent that you do.

Edith.

The storm's picking up. We ought to leave soon.

Otherwise we won't make it back to the house.

If you need to stay the night, Sir Thomas, we've a small room downstairs.

Why not?

And you're sure this is their forwarding address?

Thomas and Lucille Sharpe, yes, in Cumberland, England, sir.

Thank you.

Dr. McMichael.

Mr. Holly. At your service, sir.

Did you bring the copy of the information?

It took some time to obtain that newspaper clipping.

It's damn gruesome, if you ask me.

It's a shame.

The only relevant information I could pass to Mr. Cushing were the civil documents.

But it was enough to impede any further relationship between Sir Thomas and Miss Cushing.

Prevent them from marrying.

Why was that?

Because, you see, Sir Thomas is already married.

This fellow, Cavendish, your hero.

There's a darkness to him. I like him.

Does he make it all the way through?

It's entirely up to him.

What do you mean? Characters talk to you.

They transform. They make choices.

Choices.

As to who they become.

Well, this is rather dismal, I'm sorry to say.

But at least it's warm.

Oh, I like it much better.

Better than what?

Better than the house.

Why don't we leave?

The house is all we have.

I left everything I was behind.

Everything I had.

We could live anywhere you want. Anywhere?

London. London?

Paris. Paris is beautiful.

Milan.

Have you ever been to Italy?

Yes, I have once.

The past, Thomas.

You're always looking to the past.

You won't find me there.

I'm here.

I'm here, too.


Finlay, help me carry this valve controller.

Lucille?

Lucille, we're back.

I was making breakfast.

It was burning. I moved it.

Where were you?

We, uh... We got snowed in.

You didn't come home last night.

We spent the night at the depot.

You slept there?

What's wrong with that, Lucille? He's my husband.

This is all a game to you?

I was frantic!

What are you talking about?

You two alone in the storm.

I didn't know if you had an accident.

I was all alone.

I can't be alone.

Are these from America?

I don't feel well.

I'll make you tea.


That dreadful noise.

The more the house sinks, the worse it gets.

We must do something about it.

My dear Edith.

Please be advised that the first transfer of your father's estate has been completed.

Now, the final transaction for the remaining sum will require your signature on the document enclosed.

Yours very truly, William Ferguson.


"Enola."


It's working, Finlay! Right, Master.

A gramophone player.

"Milan."

"Edinburgh."

You've already tried, and failed, to raise capital in London, Edinburgh, Milan.

And now you're here.


Isn't it beautiful?

It's been working perfectly for an hour.

We've done it.

We've done it, Lucille.

I can't wait for Edith to see it.

Edith?

I did this with you.

Of course you did. We did this together.

Lady Sharpe! No one else.

We'll need more coal to test the steamer.

Would you mind, Lucille, sparing a bit more coal?

You just need to give him the key. He'll fetch it.

Lucille?

Edith?

Edith?

Edith?

I want to apologize for my behavior this morning.

I was concerned that...

You didn't drink your tea.

Oh, I don't feel so well.

Would you mind bringing me some cold water?

Of course.

Have you had a chance to read your letters?

Yes. Just some papers for me to sign.

From my lawyers, to finish the transfer of funds.

I should let you rest.

You'll feel better soon.


Let's see what we have here.

This is Pamela Upton, testing the wax cylinder recording, bought in this most jubilant year, 1887, for my beloved Thomas Sharpe.

Thomas, speak into the horn.

Say something.

It's a beautiful machine, Pamela.

But, no, thank you, I'd rather not.

Just for me, Thomas.

Well, what do you want me to say, exactly?

Say that you love me.

"Margaret McDermott."

Ding, dong, bell.

Kitty's in the well.

Who put her in?

Little Johnny Thin.

Who pulled her out?

Little Johnny Stout.

Oh, what a naughty boy was that.

To try to drown poor pussycat.

"Enola Sciotti." E.S.

I wish I had the strength to leave, but I can't.

All they want is my money to work on that infernal machine of his.

That's all they care about.

I will hide these cylinders away in the linen closet.

Should anyone find them, let it be known that they did this.

I must stop recording now. I can hear them coming.

A baby.

To whoever finds this, know that they are killing me.

I'm dying-

The poison is in the tea.

Find my body, take it home.

I don't want to die this far from home.

I have to get out of here.


You're awake.

We found you at the bottom of the stairs.

Do you feel better? I need to go to town.

See a doctor.

Yes, of course.

But I'm afraid we're snowed in.

No.

Then you must eat.

You must get stronger.

I tended Mother in this bed.

Father was a brute.

He hated Mother.

Broke her leg.

Snapped it in two under his boot.

She never quite healed.

She was bedridden for a long time.

But I cared for her.

Fed her. Bathed her.

Combed her hair.

Rubbed liniment on her scars.

I made her better.

I'll do the same with you.

I'll make you better.

May I have a moment alone with my wife?

You'll be out of this bed soon.

I promise.

Don't drink that.

Never

Lucille, she's very sick. She's dying.

Of course she's dying.

She knows everything.

She stopped drinking the tea.

Doesn't matter. I put the poison in the porridge.

Lucille, stop it!

Do we have to do this? Must we?

Yes.

You have no idea what they'd do.

I would be taken from here.

Locked away.

You would be hanged.

We stay together. Never apart.

Never apart.

You couldn't leave me.

You wouldn't.

I can't.

I can't.

I know.

There's a gentleman out there asking for directions to Allerdale Hall.

At this hour? Surely not. Yeah.

You can't get there on that horse. It's exhausted.

Can I hire one from you?

We're closed for the winter.

Well, can I get there on foot?

It's well over four hours following the road.

Then I'd better get going.

Sir!

Meet me there. After the storm.


I know who you are.

Your name is Enola Sciotti.

Tell me what you want from me.

And the sweet Tide carry.

In the arms of the sea.

Let the wind Blow kindly.

In the sails Of your dreams.

And the moon light your journey.

And bring you to me.


It's all out in the open now.

No need to pretend.

This is who I am. This is who he is!

I knew it.

Don't do it, Lucille! I knew it!

Someone's at the door! You're not his sister!

That's delightful.

I am.

Don't do it!


Hello, Edith.

Try not to move or talk just yet.

You're heavily sedated.

I needed to sedate you to set your leg.

You're going to be fine.

Forgive me for dropping in unannounced.

Heaven-sent, as it turns out.

I should have sent a wire, but I thought you'd enjoy the surprise.

It's a miracle. We didn't know what to do.

She's so ill. Delirious.

Then she fell down the stairs.

She spoke to me.

Who spoke to you? My mother.

She was delivering a warning.

Crimson Peak.

Delirious, you see? Poor thing.

Yes, I see.

Here. Try to drink.

No, not that.

Not that.

You will stay here with us, won't you?

Wait for the storm to pass.

If you insist.

But now, I need a moment alone with my patient.

We'll leave you then, Doctor.

Edith, listen to me.

I'm here to take you away.

Do you hear? I'm taking you with me now.

Somebody has to stop him.

Lucille, please.

What are you doing?

I just want to know, brother.

Is it going to be you this time?

Show me you can stand up.

All right.

I won't let them harm you.

I'm going to find you a coat.

Don't go.

I'll be right back.

Things are getting a bit emotional, I see, Doctor.

She's exhausted.

She's showing signs of anemia.

I'm going to take her to a hospital.

That won't be necessary.

I'm afraid it is.

You've been poisoning her.

Edith.

Front page. The Cumberland Ledger.

Lady Beatrice Sharpe was murdered in the bathtub.

One brutal blow almost split her head in two.

No suspect was ever arrested.

There was no one else in the house at the time.

Only the children.

The truth was too horrible to consider. Doctor, stop it.

You did this. No.

Sir Thomas, you were only 12 at the time.

After questioning by the police, you were sent to boarding school.

As for Lucille, at 14, her story is less clear.

A convent education in Switzerland, the news account says, but I think a different kind of institution.

Sir Thomas is already married.

He married a Miss Pamela Upton.

Margaret McDermott and Enola Sciotti. "E.S."

Edith, you don't know...

Edith and I are leaving.


You stay there.

Edith.

Edith.

You should do this!

Get your hands dirty.

Come here, doggie. Little shit!

If I don't do it, she will.

But listen to me.

You're a doctor.

Show me where.

No!

Alan!

You're monsters.

Both of you!

Funny.

That's the last thing Mother said, too.


Lucille has taken Edith to sign the papers.

The moment she signs those papers, she is dead.

I have to go. I'll bring her down here.

I'll find a way.

The mine shaft is open, you understand?

Get out up there.

Can you hold on?

Go.

You thought you were a writer.

With your ghosts.

What are you waiting for?

You have nothing to live for now.

Sign.

All the women we found...

London, Edinburgh, Milan.

America.

Yes, America.

All had what was necessary.

Money, broken dreams and no living relatives.

No one ever looked for them.

Mercy killings, really.

Is that what I'm going to be?

What about the Italian woman? Enola?

You killed her baby.

I did not.

None of them ever fucked Thomas.

Don't you understand?

It was mine.

It was born wrong.

We should have let it die at birth,

but I wanted it.

She told me she could save it.

She was determined.

She lied.

All this horror, for what? The money?

To keep the mansion?

The Sharpe name? The mines?

The marriages were for money, of course.

But the horror, the horror was for love.

The things we do for a love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret.

This love burns you and maims you and twists you inside out.

It is a monstrous love and it makes monsters of us all.

But you should have seen him, as a child, Thomas.

He was perfect.

So, from all his small infractions, from my mother's cane, I protected him.

I took so many beatings.

And when she found out about us, well...

The only love Thomas and I ever knew was from one another.

In these rotting walls.

Hiding.

That's not true. You suffocate him.

Sign your name!

Sign your bloody name!

My father, who killed him?

Such a coarse, condescending man.

He loved you.

You should have seen his sad face when I smashed it on the sink.


You!

Don't come near me! Listen to me. Please.

You get away! Edith, please. Listen.

McMichael is still alive. He's still alive.

You lied to me! I did.

You poisoned me! I did.

You told me you loved me!

I do.

Edith, please. Please trust me one more time.

You can leave if you want, or you can wait here for me.

I'm going to get those papers back.

I'm going to finish this.

You burnt them.

Lucille.

You burnt them.

Yes, she will live. You're not to touch her.

You're ordering me?

We can leave, Lucille. Leave Allerdale Hall.

Leave?

Think about it. We can start a new life.

Where?

Anywhere. It doesn't matter. We can leave it behind.

We let the Sharpe name die with the mines.

We let this edifice sink in the ground.

All these years holding these walls together.

We would be free.

Free, Lucille.

We can all be together.

All?

Do you love her?

This day had to come. We've been dead for years, Lucille.

You promised...

You and I in this rotting place.

Do you love her more than me?

Look at what we've become!

You promised you would not fall in love with anyone else.

Yes, but it happened.

Lucille.


Lucille.


Thomas?

Thomas?


She's coming.

I'm going to get us out of here. I will get help.

You have to trust me.

I'll come back for you. I promise I will.

Shh, hide.


Before they put me away

I kept a little souvenir

from Mother.


Edith?


I won't stop till you kill me or I kill you.

Help me.

There's no one here to help you.

Yes, there is!

Look at him! Turn around!

Thomas.

Lucille.

I won't stop

till you kill me or I kill you.

I heard you the first time.


Ghosts are real.

This much, I know.

Lady Sharpe! Lady Sharpe!

There are things that tie them to a place, very much like they do us.

Some remain tethered to a patch of land.

A time and date.

The spilling of blood.

A terrible crime.

But there are others.

Others that hold onto an emotion.

A drive.

Loss.

Revenge.

Or love.

Those,

they never go away.