A New Estate - Crimson Peak

Chapter Three

"I am not ready for this."

My heart sank when I saw the state the kitchen was in, this was the last thing I wanted to see first thing in the morning.

After a great night's sleep, although finding a non-dust laden cover to wrap up in was as difficult as I expected considering how long things had been left, I had woken up with a dry throat and was dying for a cup of tea.

However, looking at the state of my new kitchen completely put me off even the thought of drinking water from the taps, let alone using any of the left kitchen equipment.

It wasn't just the pots and dishes that still littered not only the top of the stove but also the kitchen table, it was the floor.

No matter where you looked there was something covering the surface, dirt, debris and all kinds of crumbs coated the floor and made even one step crunch under my foot.

Past the table on the left hand side was a small wash area, sitting against the nearest corner was a round table with a knife still resting on top. Beside this cutting table was a small box that still had wilting wheat inside, that was no doubt attracting some form of living being I wanted no encounter with.

What worried me more was the large, silver globe that stood in the centre of the main eating table.

"I think I'll just throw that out," I sighed to myself. "After finding some iron gloves."

I tiptoed my way around the room, watching out for any signs of infestations of insects or rats, and take in all the details I'd need to consider whilst tidying.

It was worrying to think that the sturdiest looking thing in the room was a wooden cabinet that I suspect housed the Sharpe's cutlery, this conclusion only dawned on me when I noticed that anything else I'd expect to find in a kitchen was clearly on display, the cutlery seemed to be the only thing tucked away somewhere, and even they were probably rendered unusable in some way.

I couldn't blame them, I didn't know their state of living when they were alive and the house had been abandoned long term for just over a year, I had no way of knowing how much of this was leftover from my father's hired builders.

Surely they had used the kitchen during their breaks, it seemed rather rude that they didn't even bother to tidy up after themselves.

Although part of me couldn't blame the work men entirely, something told me that some of the dirt was old enough to have been around when the Sharpe's were alive, but thinking of them living in a faintly dirty manner made me feel guilty for thinking a little insultingly of the dead.

"You have no evidence to back that up," I scolded myself as I moved around the room to find anything to clean with. "Yes, it seems cluttered and very dark here, but it doesn't mean they were willing to let their home go untidy."

It only took a few minutes of searching, and mentally reprimanding myself, for me to find a scrubbing brush, some rags and an empty bucket.

Carrying the bucket over to the sink, I set it, the brush and the rags on top of the dinner table and put the bucket underneath the faucet then turned it on. Nothing happened at first, not that I exactly anticipated it to be honest and I was preparing to turn it off again when a loud sound of jittering pipes filled the silence.

Without warning a flurry of thick red came spitting out of the faucet, causing me to jump back to try and save myself, rather in vain, from getting hit with what must have been clay residue.

I had been informed that the most they could attempt to do was level the house somewhat, there was no removing the red clay.

Something about it not being their jurisdiction.

Tipping out the reddened water from the bucket, I wait for the spurt to turn clear before rinsing the rest and filling the bucket to the brim.

With a grunt of effort I heaved the bucket out of the sink and set it on the floor, there was already a broom next to the cabinet so I grabbed that and swept up anything littering the floor to one corner in the kitchen.

Taking the rags, which were only slightly stained white pieces of ripped cloth, off the table, I set them in the furthest corner of the kitchen and pulled up the skirt to my nightdress.

Kneeling down on the rags, I pulled the bucket closer and dipped the brush inside. Once the bristles were coated in a way I felt was perfect, I then hunched my back over and began to scrub at the floor.

I was barely five scrubs in and the water was already a horrible dark brown, almost black colour.

A pungent smell was already coming up as the water sloshed a little, not that it was surprising considering the amount of treading and muck floors gathered over time.

Once I'd gotten an area cleaned to my liking, I grabbed another cloth from the top of the table and wiped up the excess bits of water.

And this is how it carried on, me on my knees, scrubbing the floor in a way I'd never done before.

Apart from the sloshing of water, scuffing of rags and scrubbing of a brush the house was silent, it was an eerie yet content feeling. It had been so long since I'd had proper silence and in Allerdale Hall I had complete silence in abundance.

It felt like hours had passed by the time I reached the end of the table closest to the door, my arms ached from scrubbing and my back hurt from being hunched over, yet I wasn't even halfway through the room.

It felt like I'd barely done a quarter and I hadn't even pulled out the table, chairs and other bits to get underneath yet.

I let go of the brush and knelt up, groaning a little as my muscles break from their newly accustomed position.

"I should have washed the cutlery and dishes first," I pouted to myself, now feeling the need for that tea I had intended to make what could have been hours ago.

With slight strain I get up off the floor, my knees and thighs aching as they stretched out, the ease of tension being such a relief. Once the blood had rushed back through my legs and the tingling had disappeared, I shuffled to the cupboards to scour through and find something to make a drink.

With the exception of my light panting, the manor fell silent once more as the sounds of bristle scraping across the floor halted. Though it didn't last long as I started scavenging around for something I could use, hopefully without poisoning myself by accident.

Pots, pans and plates clattered together as I moved things around, searching for a semi decent cup, the noise crashing straight through my head due to the lack of other sounds to drown it out.

I must have only been about half a minute into my search before a large clanking sound from somewhere behind me made me jump, the sound of old screeching metal piercing my ears.

My heart thumped rapidly in my chest as I rushed towards the source of the sound.

It was the large, black metal lift I'd passed so many times today with barely a glance, the gate was pulled shut and the manor filled with jittering mechanical noises as the gears began to squeak.

I felt my blood run cold as I watched the lift slowly move up into a darkness I hadn't explored yet.

There was no one inside the manor besides myself and I couldn't see anyone inside the lift to work the system.

So how on earth had it turned on?

And where exactly was it going?