Free Crimson Peak: The Official Movie Novelization by Nancy Holder Page B

took their leave of the room, and Edith couldn’t even care where they went, or what they did next. She supposed he would present himself to her father and they could begin again, on better terms. Surely Papa’s consent would be given once he saw that an honorable man stood before him. A man who could not be bought, and who prized her, Edith Cushing, above the wealth he required to fulfill his mining plans. He could have kept the check and made his way back to England where any number of young ladies were no doubt waiting in line to become Lady Sharpe. But he loved his American commoner with his whole heart. What father would not wish such a man on his only daughter?
    I am so incredibly happy.
    But as they crossed the lobby, she saw her father’s lawyer, Mr. Ferguson. And her maid, Annie, stood with him, pointing at her. She and Thomas slowed and her heart thudded so hard she felt her pulse in the soles of her feet. The agonized looks on their faces, wrenched, horror-stricken… hollow eyes, speaking of tragedy. She had seen that same expression on her father’s face when he had come to tell her that her mother’s suffering had ended.
    Of her
death…
    * * *
    Of death.
    Here was proof that a terrible mistake had been made: Her father, who so loved grandeur and elegance, could not possibly have been taken to such a filthy, disgusting place. The Buffalo City Morgue was more vile than a stable, anyone could see that. No one who knew him would have brought him here. And so… there had been an error and someone else’s poor father lay dead inside.
    And though it would be a simple thing to enter and point out the blunder, she found she could not do it. Fear was drowning her denial: Mr. Ferguson would not make such an error; and in the lobby, Annie, who had been with them for three years, had burst into tears and embraced Edith as soon as she had come within arm’s length.
    But this is my day of greatest happiness
.
It cannot be. It cannot.
    Thomas and Mr. Ferguson stood with her, and she felt the warmth of Thomas’s body through the frozen block of terror encasing her.
    There was a clatter of footsteps, someone catching up to the trio. It was Alan, quite out of breath, and his appearance gave weight to the reality she was fighting so hard against. She stared at him as if through a snowstorm, barely able to see. She couldn’t sense her feet on the ground. She began to feel as if she were dissolving, as insubstantial as one of the specters in Alan’s spirit photographs.
    “I’m so sorry,” Alan said. “I came as soon as I heard.”
    No, don’t say that
, she silently begged him. And then Thomas’s hand gave her substance again, and some modicum of courage. She must be here for her father. If a mistake had been made—
    —
Please, please, please let it be a mistake. Oh, please.
    She started holding her breath.
    Alan faltered as the coroner opened the door to the morgue. Edith turned to follow the man.
    “Wait,” Alan ordered. “Don’t look.”
    Edith’s throat was so tight that it took a great effort to speak. “I am told that I have to.”
    Alan appealed to the coroner. “No. Please. I’ll give you a positive identification. Don’t make her look. I was his physician.” He turned to the family lawyer for support. “Ferguson, you know that.”
    That wasn’t the truth; perhaps Alan had fitted him for eyeglasses. He was trying to spare her.
    Unless Father was ill and didn’t want anyone to know… and that is what has happened… some kind of seizure…
    The renewed possibility that they were all supposed to be here squeezed her chest even tighter. She was afraid she was going to faint.
    No. It is not he. Please, if it is not he, then I will do anything. I will give everything I have or want. I will not marry Thomas…
    But her heart wailed in anguish at the thought of losing the man who was holding her up even then. Whose arm encircled her and protected her as she swayed forward.
    Mr. Ferguson set his jaw