All language subtitles for Crimson Peak 2015 Eng

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 good-byes.
- 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!

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... 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 own 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.

- 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... it's not.
It's more a story with a ghost in it.

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.

- 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 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.

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.

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... I waited in the rain
for him to leave.

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 daresay. 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.

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 gonna 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 compound 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. Is 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. I'm 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.
You only 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.

Please.

- 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.

Room 107 and 108. But wait.

Wait! Miss! Wait!

Thomas? Thomas.

They... 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...

a link exists between your heart and mine.

And should that link be broken
either by distance or by time...

then 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'll 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...
- 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.

- 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.

- A while? What is he talking about?
- I'm not sure what he was talking about.

- His family worked for ours for centuries.
- Who is this?

You never told me about him.
Oh, 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?

Take the lady's belongings.
I will grab master's.

Take the horses for their feed
after we finish here.

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.

Lucille?

Look, these curtains have been closed for
too long. Would you bring that over here?

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've 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.
And 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. Good boy.

Come on.

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...

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 to make sure we get our invoice,
you will send them to me.

"Thomas Sharpe...

Baronet."

Come on, doggy. Come on.

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... 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?
- Not for me, thank you.

Drink your tea.

It'll warm you.

Thomas.

Thomas?

How did you get in there, you silly doggy?

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.

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

No, I don't want to talk to Lucille.
I wanna 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?
- Now is really not a good time.

Try it again, Finlay!

This way.

There. 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 in 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,

a Mr.... 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 here 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 a 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?

Excellent. Thank you.

You're Lady Sharpe, then? Forgive me,
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?

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 that 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
the valve controller to my shop.

Lucille?

Lucille, we're back.

- I was making breakfast.
- It was burning. I moved it.

Where were you?

We... 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.

Oh. We've done it. We've done it, Lucille.

- I can't wait for Edith to see it.
- Edith?

- I did this with you.
- Yes, 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.
- 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.

- Say something, Thomas.
- 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
who tried to drown poor pussycat.

Enola Sciotti. E.S.

We had plans 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...

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.
- Yes.

Can't get there on that horse.
It's exhausted.

- Can I hire one from you?
- We're closed for the winter.

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.

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.

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 gonna 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 gonna 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, doggy. 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.
And 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 at 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!

- You told me you loved me!
- I did. 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 gonna get those papers back.

I'm gonna 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 could 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. 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...

until you kill me...

or I kill you.

I heard you the first time.

Ghosts are real.

This much I know.

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 on to an emotion...

a drive...

loss...

revenge...

or love.

Those...

they never go away.