The English Descendants

34

1883- Entry 1

I am sixteen. There have been many changes in my life since my previous entry, but most of all, I have watched the other boys discover love. I see their pursuit of the girls from a nearby girl's school and wonder if this is something I will be allowed. Lucille is still living, and she has vowed to kill anyone who tears us apart- were she to be released, would she hunt any lovers I chose to take as well? Would she seek out any woman or child I had cloven to and sever that tie? I think she might. I would like to think better of her, but her desperation and madness, I fear, has only been amplified by her time away. Her letters demonstrate this quite clearly.

She often writes in code, though I do not know why. Perhaps her letters are being read by those who hold her. Her code is becoming more complex, and even deciphered, her writing is often nonsensical. I fear she has deteriorated with confinement.

But what is love, other than that which has made Lucille and I monstrous? And should I wish for it at all? The other boys seem happy, as though this pursuit, with all its heartbreak, is worth every pound of gold in the world. They speak of futures with wives, children, laughter, and homes bright with success as their own parents have had, success that has allowed them to attend Saint Andrew's.

I stand in stark contrast.

I do not like the thoughts in my head, those that lead me to think I have only a future alone or, if she is ever freed, with Lucille.

God, if he exists, may he have mercy.

1883- Entry 2

I have been offered a place at the university to study engineering, should I want to pursue it. It would make me immensely happy to have this opportunity. What other use will there ever be for Allerdale Hall than a mine manor? I should like to see it restored someday, perhaps gutted and rebuilt so that the mining families could stay there to be closer to their men during the work season, everything about it that reminds me of Father stripped and burned.

1883- Entry 3

I received a letter today from the asylum. Lucille has been released. It was nearly a week ago that they freed her. I fear she will come for me.

1883- Entry 4

My fears were entirely founded. She arrived today and begged me to leave Saint Andrew's and return with her to Allerdale Hall, to care for it, to care for her. But we have no fortune, no money, and I had to convince her that one of us must work so that we do not starve. I sent her with every penny I saved from my work in the library, a considerable sum. It was to send me to university, but she has denied me that. I asked her, no, begged her, to consider that I could make us far more comfortable a life were I to advance my studies, gain a degree, seek out work on one of the steel projects rising above our cities- the bridges, the buildings taller than any that have ever been built... Or to find work in the great steam driven factories, those great hives of industry. There are rumours of an Exhibition planned in America in 1892 that will be greater than any the world has ever known, though they have not announced where or what. It will celebrate the four centuries since Columbus landed there. They will certainly need those with big ideas to build their magnificent city and it will pay handsomely. We could move our lives to America, find our fortunes, marry well, and bring the Sharpe family name the honour that our father denied it.

This idea frightened her. She made me promise two things- that I would return to Allerdale Hall after my studies at Saint Andrew's and that I will never leave her- nay, that I will never fall in love. She threatened to end her life if I break either of these promises and, try as I might, I cannot bring myself to tempt fate. So I gave her the money I had saved and declined the place at the university with the excuse that I must care for my ailing sister. They were kind and invited me to apply myself there at any time in the future. If she ever allows it, I will. I do not think this likely.

I, Thomas Sharpe, Baronet, have decided my fate at the age of sixteen, and it is a dismal one indeed. There is no hope in Allerdale Hall, only death and those damned black moths.