Chapter Text
White.
White as far as the eye could see.
A pale figure stood alone in this white, snowy world.
The only other color visible was red; both surrounding and staining her.
Looking at one of her blood covered hands, a single tear made its way over her injured face.
"Demons are real, this much I know."
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Charlotte “Charlie” Morningstar's mother died when she was a 10 year old child; black cholera had taken her. Her father had ordered a closed casket and asked Charlie not to look; not wanting to taint the memories she had of her mother with the way she’d looked upon her death.
There were no parting kisses, no goodbyes and no last words.
Her mother had been strong, beautiful and her singing had brought joy to those fortunate enough to hear. Her hugs were always soft & warm and she had gentle hands that would braid Charlie’s hair while singing her a lullaby before bedtime.
She had raised Charlie to be kind to all, to see wonder in all that humanity created and been the biggest reason she had come to love helping people, their thankful smiles warming her heart.
The disease had come suddenly and had taken her before nightfall.
As the casket descended into the ground, Charlie leaned a little closer into her dad's arms. And in that moment, she thought to herself that she would have given everything just to see her again, one last time.
Little did she know that her mother would come to her to say her goodbyes, disguised as a warning.
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Curled up in her covers, Charlie was unable to sleep that night. Her bedroom door was kept open to air out the room, but she could sense that something was off.
Everything was too quiet- despite the heavy rainstorm outside, and whether it was due to the door being open or because of the loss of her loved one, it felt as if all the warmth had vanished from her room.
Hugging the stuffed deer plush she had gotten as a present from her mother just a week before her passing a little bit tighter, seeking comfort in its smell, she closed her eyes and hoped for sleep to come, believing that it would help cure the ache in her small heart.
Just then, the grandfathers clock in her room stopped ticking. A creak made her open her eyes and look up to where the noise had come from. There; she saw movement in the dark end of the hallway that was connected to her room.
A dark shape.
Twisting its body in ways that instantly made her turn around and hide in the safety of her bed, noises that sounded like snapping twigs started to come closer and closer. Closing her eyes again and wishing for it to go away, praying it was just a dream, she felt it.
A cold hand, touching her shoulder through the blanket.
"My child," The shape said in a throatless whisper, which sounded slightly like her mother’s voice.
"When the time comes, beware ... of Crimson Peak."
The shape had come even closer, whispering directly into her ear, both hands touching her tiny body, as if trying to hug her.
Charlie let out a scream - And as sudden as the shape had appeared, it had left, taking some of the cold with it.
The desperate warning did not make any sense to her at this time, for it had been a warning from out of time. And she would only come to understand it, when it was too late.
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Buffalo, 1901
Charlie, now 22 years old, was headed towards her father’s office building with a small stack of notebooks in her left arm. Her father had arranged a meeting with Adam Hadama, the current head and representative of Binghamton State Hospital, who would come all the way to Buffalo to read her notes and listen to her proposition.
The weather was nice; puffy white clouds dotted the seemingly endless blue sky.
The streets were alive with motorcars, carriages and people of all ages who were simply enjoying their day.
Walking among the small crowd at the square’s market and trying to keep the burnished gold skirt of her double-breasted suit from getting dirty while Charlie crossed the roads, she couldn’t stop the pep in her step.
‘This is it.’ she thought, the moment she had worked towards for the past 5 years. All the research she’d done, all the times she had visited places such as the Genesee County Poor House for firsthand experiences about the living situations and all those interviews she’d done. It had all lead up to this.
-
Having reached the five-story brick office building, she went inside. Familiar with the layout of the entire building as she had spent many hours here as a child, she made her way towards the stairs and hadn’t noticed that she came across a familiar frame while going up.
“Charlie!”
She heard someone call out.
Looking to where the voice had come from, she saw (much to her surprise) her best friend; Vagatha Carmine.
Vaggi, as she preferred to be called, had been away to train and work as a contract nurse.
“Vaggi! When did you get back?”
Charlie could feel the giant smile that had started to spread on her face, although she knew that Vaggi’s early return hadn’t meant anything good.
Vaggi began to move back up the stairs to come closer and talk to her a bit more properly.
“Two weeks ago. I thought Odette had told you?”
Odette was one of Vaggi’s sisters, who for some reason did not like Charlie. It seemed fitting that she would have ‘failed’ to mention the return of her dear friend to her.
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
Charlie responded with a small smile, not wanting to tell her friend about how both of her sisters had ignored her during the annual high tea party last week.
“Oh. She and Clara made a conquest in London; they found a great location to expand business overseas.”
Charlie let out a small chuckle. That much she had heard.
“What are you doing here?”
She couldn’t hide her curiosity about Vaggi’s early return and about her presence at her father’s workplace.
“Well… With the establishment of the ANC, I was no longer wanted there. You’d think they’d want as many hands on board as they could, but no, they’re only allowing white nurses now.”
Vaggi said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Even though she trying to act nonchalant about it, Charlie could see that it had hit her pretty deeply.
Despite being from the Carmine family, one of the biggest and well known rifle manufacturers in the United States, Vaggi’s honey bronze colored skin was enough for her to be turned away the second certain people saw her.
The fact that she had to wear an eyepatch to cover what used to be her left eye did not help in the slightest.
While having had good schooling, private tutors and even connections to higher society, Vaggi would never be able to proof herself in a world where people can’t see past the color of one’s skin or gender.
“Buuut on the bright side I’m setting up a practice upstairs.
Your father has asked me to work here, said that having an experienced nurse in the building could help ‘lessen the complaints of these soulless office workers after getting another papercut’.”
Charlie’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“Oh Vaggi, that’s amazing! Your very own practice!”
Charlie took a step closer, planning to give her friend a hug, but remembering that they were currently in a professional space, she refrained from doing so.
“And what about you Charlie? Are you here to see your father?”
“Not exactly…” Charlie started, unable to stop the grin that was starting to spread on her face.
“I’m to meet Mr. Hadama from the Binghamton State Hospital at 10:00. He’s here to hear my ideas for bettering residential treatment centers and I hope to be able to convince him to open a establishment here.”
Charlie quickly turned around and tried to continue her way up the stairs.
As expected, Vaggi began to follow behind her.
“Charlie, you do know that it’s only 9:00?”
Hearing the fondness in Vaggi’s voice, and with her having known Charlie for forever, she could definitely guess as to why she would be here an hour early.
“I knowww, but I couldn’t wait any longer!”
Charlie hugged her notebooks a little tighter and she could feel that she was starting to get nervous.
“And I wanted to make some corrections to my notes anyway, so--”
“Well, if you have any free time, please come and visit. We could catch up a little.”
As the two women were smiling gently at each other, they could hear voices coming closer to them. Familiar voices.
Both Vaggi and Charlie turned their heads towards the stairs where a small group of well dressed women descended.
“We met him at the British Museum last fall when we were visiting Seviathan during his studies.”
Vaggi’s eye widened slightly in recognition. Charlie could feel her good mood souring a little bit, and cast her eyes towards the ground in hopes to somewhat avoid the trouble that was bound to happen.
“Oh no, not these hazards.”
Vaggi bit back in a quiet whisper.
Bethesda and Hellsa von Eldritch were walking at the front of a small group existing of 4 other young high society women, whom were all talking amongst each other.
Both von Eldritch women were wearing dark green silk morning dresses and matching hats, which were decorated with big, fluffy, white feathers.
“You wouldn’t believe it. He was so handsome.”
Hellsa was almost swooning whilst recalling a seemingly pleasant memory of some unknown gentleman.
“And he has crossed the ocean with his business partner, only to see me again.”
She added, a soft blush visible on her pale face.
“Sweetheart, he’s here on business.”
Bethesda responded while turning her gaze towards Vaggi and Charlie, but not yet acknowledging their presence.
“It seems he’s a baronet, despite being born here in the United States and being mixed.”
One of the women whispered, but it was still loud enough for Charlie to hear.
“What’s a baronet?”
“Well, an aristocrat of some sort.”
“A man that feeds off land that others work for him.”
Charlie said as a snide remark, turning her gaze towards the group of women who had now turned all their attention to her. So much for avoiding trouble.
“A parasite with a title.”
She finished while looking Hellsa in the eyes. That last sentence caused some shocked gasps amongst the group.
“This parasite is perfectly charming, and a magnificent dancer.
Although that wouldn’t concern you, would it, Charlotte?”
Hellsa responded in a mocking tone. Charlie had a feeling where this was gonna go and she would rather not give Hellsa the satisfaction with any kind of reaction she might have.
“You are our very own Jane Addams after all. Though, she still hasn’t gotten married despite her age, no?”
“Hellsa, please mind your tone, we’re in public dear.”
“That’s alright. Actually, Hellsa, you do realize that women such as Jane Addams and Mary Richmond are currently very successful right? They prove that a woman doesn’t need to get married to be recognized by society; all you need is a goal, determination and sympathy for those who are in need.”
Hellsa gave Charlie a foul look and with that Charlie knew that it was time to finish this most unpleasant interaction, having had the final word.
“Vaggi.”
Charlie said in a polite tone, doing a small curtsy as a goodbye to the group. She turned around and continued her way towards her father’s office to go through her notes for the last time.
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Hunched behind the desk with her head leaning on her left hand, Charlie was too distracted to notice that her pen had started to leave ink stains on her fingers - and her face.
A small knock at the door made her look up. In the doorway stood her father, whom looked at her with a knowing smile.
Lucifer Morningstar was a famous business man in the state of New York, not only for his success and wealth, but for his looks as well.
While not that tall; standing at only 5’2’’, he always made sure to be extremely well dressed in the most fashionable suits at the moment, his styled light golden blonde hair had a few white streaks and he had barely any wrinkles on his face despite being almost 50 years old.
His entire aura screamed power and that combined with the gentle, but sad look in his hazel eyes had made him a very popular widower.
“Hello Papa.”
Sitting up a little straighter, Charlie gave her father a small, fond smile.
“Charlie, dear, you’re early.”
“Just a little. Sorry for using your office while you were out, I just wanted to go through my notes for the last time.”
“I can see that.”
Her father said with a laugh, coming closer to where she was sitting.
“You got a little something on your face sweetheart.”
Lucifer’s hand came to her face and he started to wipe the ink away with a wet thumb.
‘Heh’, Charlie thought to herself, ‘just like when I was little.’
“Thanks, I might have gotten a little carried away.”
“You ready for this?”
“Yes, I just hope I won’t make a bad impression on Mr. Hadama, since I’m hoping to work together with him one day.”
“Hm, sweetie, about Mr. Hadama...”
‘Oh no.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Please don’t let anything have happened to him.’
“It appears that he has send his personal assistant this way instead of coming here himself.”
“…What?”
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Sitting across Charlie was a very pale woman, no older than 27, dressed in a gray and white Promenade gown.
She had introduced herself as Lute and was (according to her) the right hand woman of Mr. Hadama, whom, for reasons unknown, was unable to attend himself.
Going through all the notes with a uninterested look on her face, Charlie could hear the woman scoff from time to time, as if the things written down had offended her personally.
Still, Charlie remained hopeful, praying to herself that at the very least one of her suggested ideas would get her a positive reaction.
“Miss Morningstar, your father hadn’t told us that these would all be wishful theories.”
“Oh no, they’re not.. They’re not ‘wishful’ theories, as stated; I’ve visited multiple establishments, read every available book upon the subject and interviewed both first and secondary parties who have their own experiences upon the matter.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I have, for example, noticed similarities between a lot of the living situations the patients had before and after being admitted and believe that, if, those living situations could be bettered, it would have a positive effect on those… ”
“Miss Morningstar, who is the professional here?”
Lute cut her off mid-sentence with a sharp tone.
“Me, who has been working with these kinds of people for the past 8 years or some rich girl who has only visited a few of the less extreme cases and thought she could somehow help them with getting ‘better’?”
“But in my notes I’ve sta….”
“Your notes are messy, scribbled on and stained with ink, which truly gives me the impression that you’re not taking this serious.”
Once again, she got cut off.
Charlie felt heat rise to her face and irritation was starting to take root. But not wishing to appear less than professional, she just smiled through it, although she could feel that one of her eyes started to twitch.
Silence returned as Lute went through the last pages of the first notebook.
“Miss Morningstar, may I offer some words of advice?”
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“She told me it’s all extremely unrealistic and suggested I take this seriously or find something else to waste my time on. Can you believe that?”
Charlie huffed out as she walked towards her father, who was sitting at the head of the dinner table, enjoying his meal and listening to Charlie complaining as she entered the dining room.
Finally being home after a long day and having put on a simple house dress in the hopes that it would help her calm down a little after the disaster of a meeting she’d had, the only thing she could do in that moment, was complain.
Placing her hand on her fathers’ shoulder and giving him a kiss on his head as she walked past to take a seat on her usual spot on his left side at the table, a filled up dinner plate was already waiting for her.
“They’re all narrowminded dear, refusing to work with methods that aren’t the easiest for them and just preferring whatever makes them the most money.”
“She said that just because I’m young and ‘naïve’.”
Angerly taking a bite from her potato, her father reached for something in his pockets.
“Well, my darling, I was hoping to make this a celebratory gift.”
Lucifer said as he handed her a small, dark green box, wrapped in a beautiful light yellow ribbon.
“I’m a creator, dear. If there’s one thing I know, it’s the importance of the right tool for the job.”
Charlie put her fork down and opened the gift while listening to her father, although she knew that her father had meant the work in the steel business that he had done while he was younger, her mind immediately went to those wooden duck figures that had been all around the house since her mother’s passing.
Ducks had always fascinated her father and he had found comfort in them during his grief, carving them had kept him focused & occupied and the pride he felt when finishing one had become addictive.
Inside the box was a sterling silver fountain pen, with little forget-me-not flowers engraved into the sides.
He must have gotten it for her since he had seen that her other pen had been leaking all over his desk at the office earlier that day.
“It’s beautiful.”
She said to him in awe, thankful for her fathers’ thoughtful gift.
While admiring the pen, she sighed and placed the box next to her plate and carefully placed the pen back in it.
"But actually, Papa, it was partly due to my handwriting that I got so much critique. I was hoping to type it, in your office.”
“Type it?”
Lucifer looked at her, confused.
“I’m sure typing everything out will make it appear less childish and more put together." Charlie said in a quiet voice, not wanting to sound ungrateful for the gift.
“That way I won’t be tempted to draw all over my notes as well.”
“But the drawings make it so cute.”
“Exactly, I want it to be taken seriously.”
Charlie took a bite of her dinner, not noticing the slightly sad look Lucifer gave her. If it was due to him being proud of how big she’d grown or due to him realizing that his little girl was in fact a adult woman now, we’ll never know.
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It was busy at the office’s workplace. It always was, but Charlie didn’t pay it any mind at all. Seated behind one of the desks in the middle of the room, a secretary, Molly, was kind enough to explain to her how to use the typewriter that was in front of her.
Smiling as she finally got the hang of it, she looked up at Molly who stood behind her with a grateful look on her face.
“It’ll take me all day, but it does make it look rather handsome, don’t you think?”
Both women were chuckling as she began to open her first notebook to the correct page, not noticing the figure that was starting to walk towards them.
Dressed in a black velvet suit, light brown suitcase in one of his hands, cane in the other and a top hat that looked slightly too big for his head, a man stopped in front of the desk Charlie was sitting at, most likely thinking that both women are secretaries.
“Good morning, my dear. Forgive the interruption.”
As Charlie tried to look up to see who was speaking to her she could feel that Molly squeezed her shoulder slightly, which made her turn her gaze towards her instead.
Seeing that the woman had a flustered look on her face, Charlie turned her head towards the man, who in that moment had begun to take off his top hat.
The moment his face was no longer hidden from her sight, Charlie could understand the reaction the other woman had.
Olive skin, slicked back curly dark brown hair and brown eyes whose shape reminded her of a fox.
The man standing in front of her was stunning.
If she had to guess his age, she’d say around mid-30. He stood with a confidence that was earned, which made him all the more attractive to her.
Although the wide smile on his face was a little off-putting.
Bending slightly to place his suitcase on the ground, the stranger started to fix his suit before addressing her again.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Lucifer Morningstar.
“Goodness. With the great man himself.”
Charlie said, grinning, shooting a knowing gaze towards Molly. She couldn’t help herself from teasing the man a little, and luckily, if she’s reading his reaction correctly, he didn’t seem mind it.
“I’m afraid so my dear.”
Reacting to her jokingly reply with a wink and a smile that reached his eyes, the handsome stranger pulled out a business card from his jacket’s pocket.
Taking the card from his gloved hand, she was extremely curious about who this man was.
“Sir Alastor Hartfelt, baronet.”
Charlie read out loud whilst passing the small card to Molly.
The baronet part made her look up to him, eyes wide open, remembering the unpleasant ‘conversation’ she’d had with Hellsa at the stairs the day before.
Putting one and one together from what she could remember, she realized that this must be the man that Hellsa had spoken about.
“He’ll be here shortly.”
Molly said, taking her leave, most likely to go get Lucifer.
“Thank you.”
Charlie could feel his curious gaze fall back to her, as if he had noticed that something changed the moment she had read his card.
“You’re not late, are you? He hates that.”
Standing up to throw away the piece of paper she’d used for testing the typewriter, she couldn’t help herself from talking in a somewhat more neutral tone than before; having now instantly taken a dislike to the man, seeing that Hellsa was so smitten with him.
‘If someone like Hellsa is so taken aback with this man, there must be something seriously wrong with him.’
“Hmm, not at all. In fact, I’d say that I’m a little early.”
A man after her own heart. So to speak. Eugh.
She could spot a slight accent in his speech, although she couldn’t quite put her finger to it. The way he spoke also reminded her of the way stage actors speak in the plays her father would take her to from time to time. It now felt as if this entire interaction between them is nothing more than a play to him.
Since she had her back turned to him, she didn’t notice that Mr. Hartfelt had picked up one of her notebooks and started to skip & read through some of the pages.
“Oh, I’m afraid he hates that too.”
With a snappy remark as she started walking towards the trash bin and with that creating some distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but, these notes, they’re for ‘bettering living situations for mental patients’ and plans on ‘helping addicts get back on their feet’?”
Flustered, she quickly turned around to look at him, only now realizing that he was holding one of her notebooks.
“Yes, what about it?”
“Well everyone knows that once you’ve had a taste of something excitingly addictive, you’re unable to go back to your old ways. Why, I fail to see how ‘having someone to talk to’ and ‘painting’ could help them get rid of any addiction.”
Oh, she definitely hated this man. That all knowing tone, infuriating smirk and his all too comfortable stance seemed to mock her very being.
“What makes you so sure of that Mr. Hartfelt?”
“Well, I have some experiences on this matter myself and I’d say that whoever wrote these should perhaps spend more time with these poor souls, rather than just a few hours for one day.”
“I’m the one who wrote them.”
Charlie bit back.
The smirk on Mr. Hartfelt’s face became more of a grin as he looked her in the eyes. Something in the way he looked at her made her think that he had already guessed that she was the one that wrote them the minute he had started reading them. It felt as if he was hoping to get some kind of a reaction out of her with that interaction. Bastard.
She had not expected what he would say next.
“Well my dear, to be honest, I’m actually somewhat intrigued by these little notes of yours! While I don’t believe in things such as these myself, it would be a great pleasure to help you with this silly little project, because as I just stated, I do have a little experience myself.”
He had taken a step closer to her. She could feel her heart go to her throat and her eyes widened. He was actually interested in helping her, despite of how he had just spoken about her ideas? What a strange man…
“Sir Alastor Hartfelt.”
Lucifer and Molly, who had in fact gone to get him, walked in through the same entrance Alastor himself had come from.
“Welcome to our fair city.”
As Lucifer went in to give Alastor a handshake, Charlie started to move to stand a bit more at her father’s side, but never taking her eyes off Alastor, unsure what to think of him in that exact moment.
“Sir. It’s my pleasure, quite a pleasure.”
Alastor retracted his hand after the shake, secretly whipping it on his pants as if having touched something disgusting.
Lucifer turned a bit to the side to extend his arm towards Charlie, who straighten her stance now that the attention was directed towards her.
“I see you’ve already met my daughter Charlotte.”
This seemed to come as a surprise to Alastor; if his risen eyebrows suggested anything. His eyes switched between her and her father, now seeing the resemblance between the two.
While being a head taller (thanks to her mother) and her eyes more of a warm brown color rather than hazel, she’d often heard people say that she’s the spitting image of her father due to having the exact same apple cheeks and shade of light golden blonde hair as him.
She decided to glance her eyes downward as to no longer meet his eyes, now that he knew who she was.
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“The Hartfelt clay mines have been royal purveyors of the purest scarlet clay since 1796.”
Alastor stood in the middle of the conference room, 13 well-dressed older men were sitting behind the circular table that surrounded him. It felt like he was in a cage and he did not like it one bit.
Behind him was a little round table where he had placed his suitcase and the other items he needed for his presentation.
Taking a step forward and putting the smaller wooden box with the clay that he was holding during the first part of his presentation in front of Mr. Morningstar, he turned and went back to the middle to get his next item from the little table; a jar with liquid clay.
“In its liquid form, it is so rich in ore and so malleable, that it can produce the strongest bricks and tiles.”
He put the jar on the other end of the table for the gentlemen to examine.
“Excessive mining in the last 20 years has caused most of our old deposits to collapse.”
Beginning to open the suitcase on the table to take out the mahogany box which contained his final and (personally) most important item;
“This is a clay harvester of my own design.”
Opening the box to reveal the scale model of the harvester caused some of the eyes that had been watching his every move to look at the other men that were seated. 'Got them', Alastor thought to himself in that moment, silently enjoying the feeling of victory the reactions had given him.
“It transports the clay upwards as it digs deep.”
Putting the model on the table and turning it on to give a little demonstration of its function, Alastor felt nothing but pride in his little invention.
“I have absolutely no doubt this machine will revolutionize clay mining as we know it.”
Alastor could see the big oak doors slowly open and that little miss Morningstar was quietly entering the conference room.
While she didn’t come closer into the room and stayed close to the door, she met his eyes and they exchanged polite smiles with each other, which Mr. Morningstar noticed.
“Turn it off, please.”
The ‘big’ man himself said, his tone a bit annoyed.
Switching the machine off and taking his place behind the little table, machine still visible, Alastor was waiting for what the man would say.
He does fear that his little shared smile with the man’s daughter just now might have been what cut this moment short.
‘Overprotective bastard,’ he thought to himself, and though he would love to see how far he could push the smaller man by interacting with his daughter, that would sadly ruin his entire plan.
Mr. Morningstar stood up and made his way towards Alastor.
“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.”
The smaller man was gesturing towards the machine, but kept his eyes on Alastor, staring into his very being, as if searching for something only he knew.
Alastor held his stare and it felt like both men were in a stare down for but a moment.
He could hear scattered chuckles from the other men in the room, but he still kept his eyes on the man in front of him.
“Mr. Morningstar, I--”
Lucifer turned, breaking the eye contact and took a step towards the man that was sitting closest to them. Turning the pages of the paper files that laid in front of the man, Lucifer took a quick look at it, checking something and turned back to face Alastor.
“You’ve already tried and failed to raise capital in London, Edinburgh, Milan--”
Alastor could feel miss Morningstar’s eyes on him and when he turned to meet her gaze, she cast her eyes downward, perhaps afraid to cause another reaction from her father. But it was already too late for that.
He kept his eyes on her a moment longer before giving his answer.
“Yes, that’s correct, sir”
Looking back to the man, Alastor knew that this entire thing was heading south.
“And now you’re here.”
He could hear the offended tone in the smaller man’s voice.
“Correct again, sir.” While forcing himself to stay as polite as possible, he made sure to smile a little bit sharper, as an attempt to show that he did not feel intimidated by the smaller man.
A scoff was Lucifer’s only reaction and he started to walk around the inner part of the table, walking past all the men sitting there.
“The men at this table, all of us, came up through honest, hard work. Well, maybe not all of us. Mr. Satan here is a lawyer.”
Lucifer jokingly said, shortly stopping in front of said man, earning small laughs from the men surrounding them.
“But even he can’t help that.” He continued.
“I started as a steel worker, raising buildings before I could own them.”
Lucifer was back in front of Alastor now, having walked around the entire table during his little conversation.
“My hands, you’ve felt them during our handshake. They’re rough. They’re the reflection of who I am.”
Holding up both his hands into Alastor’s field of vision, to show off the damage of years of working in construction. Alastor also noticed that the man was still wearing a wedding ring, despite having heard from miss von Eldritch that his wife had died many years prior.
“Now, you, sir, after I shook your hand—Not only did you not remove your glove; you pulled your hand back in silent disgust and thought that I wouldn’t see you secretly wiping your hand on your pants the moment I turned around.”
Narrowing his eyes at the smaller man, feeling a little bit pissed about the fact that he had noticed. The man was sharper than he looked, he had to give him that.
“Normally, it would have been me who’d wipe his hands after shaking yours or I could have refused to even touch you altogether.
But you have a rather high social position, despite your mixed heritage, so I was expecting a gentleman with impeccable manners.”
Collecting his thoughts for a comeback and correcting his stance before facing the man again, with a cruel smile on his lips.
“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.”
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-
There was a heavy rainstorm outside; the sky was dark and the streets misty.
Inside the house, servants had started to lit the candles. Their warmth welcoming and their glow distracting from whatever was happening outside.
Lucifer stood in front of the large mirror that was located on the second floor’s hallway, fumbling with his suit. Charlie, who just came out of her bedroom on the second floor, made her way down the stairs and headed towards her father.
“I need a corset.”
Lucifer said, looking himself up and down in the mirror.
Smiling, Charlie came closer and stopped to stand behind him.
“No, you don’t. You look very handsome.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do, young man.”
Laughing while grabbing her father by his shoulders and turning him around to make him look at her, Charlie started to fix his tie (and secretly remove the tiny golden duck brooch he had pinned on his breast pocket), knowing he loved it when she did that.
“I do wish you’d change your mind and come along tonight. Mrs. von Eldritch has gone to a lot of trouble.”
“Hmmm”
“Little Lord Fauntleroy will be there.”
“You mean Alastor Hartfelt?”
“Sir Alastor Hartfelt, baronet.” Lucifer said in a mocking tone, moving his head from side to side.
It was very clear that her father had also taken a dislike to the man, but not for the same reason as Charlie did.
“Apparently, he’s taken an interest in young Hellsa.”
Charlie finished fixing his bowtie and walked around her father to do a final check of his outfit. Getting rid of some hairs that were sticking to the back, removing a loose thread, letting out a hum as a reaction.
“I saw you spying on us, child.” Of course he had, she hadn’t been that stealthy while entering the conference room.
“Was his proposal so outrageous as to merit such a harsh answer from you?”
Not only had his answer been harsh, he had been most disrespectful towards him at the end, but she had already given him a piece of her mind for that.
She did feel partly guilty for this entire ordeal, as it appeared to have turned sour the moment she had entered the room and shared that smile with the baronet.
She may not like the guy, but she would feel really bad if she turned out to be the reason he wouldn’t be able to get the funding he crossed the Atlantic Ocean for.
Plus, the way her father had spoken to him had reminded her of the meeting she’d had with Mr. Hadama’s assistant, so she could understand how frustrated he must have been during that situation.
“It wasn’t his proposal, my darling. It was him. There’s something about him that I don’t like.”
“Father.” Charlie responded with a warning tone.
Doing a final check himself, moving his bowtie in an attempt to make it less tight, he met Charlie’s slightly angry gaze in the mirror.
“What, I don’t know. And I don’t like not knowing.”
Saying his goodbyes with a soft kiss to her cheek, Lucifer turned around and started to make his way towards the front door.
“What I saw was a dreamer facing defeat.”
Following a few steps behind her father, Charlie couldn’t help but defend the baronet a little. Her father reacted to her with a groan, probably already tired of discussing the man.
“Did you see his suit? It was beautifully tailored, but at least a decade old.”
Another groan. But he did turn around to look at her.
“I can see that you observed far more than I did.”
She could hear the doorbell ringing, signaling that this conversation was coming to end.
Although she felt a little embarrassed about ‘admitting’ that she had paid a lot of attention to what the baronet had been wearing (and what he’d looked like) during their first meeting, she continued.
“And his shoes were handmade, but worn.”
“That’ll be Frederick. He and his son brought their new motorcar to collect me.”
Ignoring her statement and turning his head to look at his daughter, a small grin started to grown on his face.
“Come and see it. Say hello to young Mr. von Eldritch.” Turning his head back towards the stairs, seemingly rather pleased with himself about the new direction this situation was headed to.
“He’s just come back from England himself, much like our ‘esteemed lord baronet’. And he’s always been awfully fond of you.”
Now it was Charlie’s turn to groan; young Mr. von Eldritch, Seviathan, was the same age as her and with their fathers being very close, they had spend a lot of time together growing up.
While romantic feelings had grown between them at some point during their early teenage years, they didn’t date for that long (much to Hellsa’s pleasure).
A few years after their break-up, Charlie had started a secret relationship with Vaggi. They had dated for almost 3 years, but the stress of being discovered became bigger by the day, so they mutually decided to end their romantic relationship, but remained best friends.
“I know that Father.” She said with a hushed tone, not in the mood of giving her father any ideas.
The front door opened and the von Eldritch men made their way inside. Seviathan politely greeted the maid who had opened the door for them and Mr. von Eldritch himself was already heading towards Lucifer with a broad smile and an extended hand.
“Mr. Morningstar.”
“Von Eldritch.”
Noticing Charlie by the foot of the stairs, Seviathan came closer to her with a smile on his face.
“Hello Charlotte.” He said to her and kissed her hand in a gentlemanly manner.
“Seviathan. My, don’t you look sharp.” Trying to stay polite and interact with him, all she really wanted in this moment was to return to her room.
“Oh. It’s just something I threw together.”
That was a lie and she knew it. He had always been a slave of fashion, much like the rest of his family. Wearing the latest trends and the most expensive suits; his obsession with his appearance had become one of the biggest reasons for their break-up.
The midnight emerald green three piece did however compliment his green eyes and his raven hair seemed to make them stand out even more.
“It’s Charlie who should be the belle of the ball this evening. Don’t you agree, Seviathan?” Her father cut in, most likely still disappointed that she did not want to join him to the dance.
“As I recall, miss Charlotte takes a dim view of social frivolity.” Mr. von Eldritch added.
“You lads enjoy the party.” Charlie started to push them towards the front door.
Adding in a hushed tone “Don’t let them drink too much” to Seviathan, knowing very well that her father would still be able to hear her.
“Hey.” He reacted in mock offence, while Charlie looked at him with big, innocent eyes.
Handing them umbrellas and standing in the doorway to wave them goodbye, she could still hear some of the conversation the men were having, despite the heavy rain.
“So, she’s not coming.”
“Stubborn to the bone.”
“Where does she get that from?”
All three men laughing as they climbed into the motorcar.
“I’m not complaining, I like it!”
The car’s engine started and the men drove off.
Closing the door as she made her way back inside, Charlie made a quick stop at the kitchen to get a cup of hot cocoa before heading towards her bedroom, where she was going to spend the rest of the evening going through the new books she’d gotten from the library about social work and one about clay mining in the North of England, which may or may not have some information related to a certain smiling baronet.
-
Putting her now half full cup of cocoa on the nightstand and laying stomach down on her bed surrounded by the spread out books, Charlie let out a pleased sigh.
Candles flickered gently next to the cocoa and as the grandfather’s clock was softly ticking away, she felt a certain peace she hadn’t felt these past few days.
She was currently reading the clay mining book, since she was very curious about the crimson clay Mr. Hartfelt had come to present, and maybe a little bit about Mr. Hartfelt himself, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself.
With her notebook on her right side and holding the pen she’d gotten from her father, she skipped through some of the pages until she finally got to the one containing information about the scarlet clay and the history of his family house.
“Allerdale Hall.” She read out loud, not really speaking to anyone, since it was just her right now.
Amazed by the sketch of the majestic Gothic manor that the page contained, she could also see a drawing of the great hall and even a floorplan of the ground floor one page further.
Suddenly, she heard the door handle rattle.
Thinking it must be her father who had probably forgotten something and came back to get it, she didn’t look up from her book while addressing him.
“Papa, did you forget something?”
Getting no reply, the rattling continued.
Charlie had been so lost in the drawings that she hadn’t noticed that the grandfather’s clock had stopped ticking as well.
Turning her head to look at her door, she could see that the doorhandle kept moving at an alarming speed. Sitting up properly and unable to look away, thunder could be heard somewhere in the distance.
The door slowly opened, handle still moving at the same fast speed.
Nothing.
There was absolutely nothing but darkness in the hallway connected to her room, the little lanterns on the walls dimmed to nothing but a flicker. The handle stopped moving and was now hanging loosely, as if the speed had broken it.
The clock started ticking again.
Alarmed, Charlie stood up very slowly and hesitantly made her way towards the open door.
Kneeling down to look at the drooping handle, she started to reach for it, only for it to snap back into it’s correct position, startling her.
Charlie jumped up with a small gasp and grabbed the door, trying to close it as fast as she could. But before she was able to close the door fully, she noticed something;
The smallest hint of movement.
Not being able to see clearly due to the dark, she tried to focus on the spot, despite the voices in her head telling her to close the door and hide.
A shape started to form; a familiar shape, one she had seen, many, many years ago.
Unable to tear her eyes away, the shape remained at the spot it appeared on.
As her eyes started to get used to the darkness, she could see things about the shape that her younger self hadn’t seen, for obvious reasons.
Staring back with empty eye sockets, the shape’s cadaverous face was covered by a black lace veil that was draped over a black bonnet. It had no nose, visible ribs and boney, dried up hands.
The shape was wearing her mother’s mourning dress. She recognized it from her grandparent’s funeral, which had been just a few weeks before her mother’s own passing.
Just as realization hit, the shape stretched out its arms and shrieked, scaring Charlie, who now instantly closed the door and sank to her knees, blocking the door face wise.
Breathing heavily, she leaned her face closer to the door, putting her ear to it.
Holding the handle in her left hand and her right hand pressed to the door, she swallowed before whispering.
“What is it? What do you want?”
No answer.
Although afraid, she turned her head back to look at the door, feeling tempted to look through the keyhole, to see if the shape was still there.
Just as she began to sink lower on her knees, black boney fingers burst through the door, grabbing her by the shoulders.
Struggling while trying to get out of its grip, its face came next, stopping a mere inch from her own.
“Beware of Crimson Peak!”
The same warning as years ago, although sounding even more desperate than memory recalled.
Its cold breath was all over her face, and the nauseating aroma of it - the sweet undertone of rot, was invading every sense in her body.
Finaly able to tear herself from its grip, Charlie stumbled backwards and crashed into the pouf that was in front of her bed.
The shape retreated into the door, leaving black, moldy spores which disappeared slowly as the door started to open.
Breathing hard through her mouth, fear was taking over and Charlie tried to crawl away backwards, but she was blocked by the pouf.
She could feel tears forming in her eyes and as the door opened even further, one of the footmen (a friend of hers), Anthony, stepped into the room.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Noticing Charlie sprawled out on the floor with a face that screamed terror, he hurried over.
“Ya ahright, Charls?! Wuh-evuh ‘s‘t?!”
Dropping formalities in worries for his friend, Anthony’s accent slipped through as well.
“Please help me up.”
Stretching her arm out towards him to help her stand up, tears started to roll down her cheeks.
Legs wobbly and trying to get her breathing back under control, Charlie saw Anthony turning his face to the door and back to her, as if he was trying to figure out what could have possibly happened that would have gotten her in such a frightened state.
Anthony (nicknamed Angel by his friends) finally took a step back and coughed once before addressing her again; getting back into his workspace persona.
“There’s a Sir Alastor Hartfelt at the door.”
“Alastor Hartfelt?”
Confused as to why the baronet would even be at her house, at this hour, the sheer amount of fear from what had happened just a minute ago had yet to fade from her system.
“He’s dripping wet and most insistent on coming in.”
“Well, that’s absolutely out of the question, Angel. Please, just tell him to go away.”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“He wants to talk to you.”