A New Estate - Crimson Peak

Chapter Forty One

Looming over the edge of the vat to peer inside at the clay, which appeared threatening and foreboding in the light of the candelabra's flickering flames, my nerves shot up once again as the chill of the bricks seeped through my palms.

Every fibre of my body was resistant to having to reach into the substance but I knew that I had no choice in the matter, I had taken this task upon myself and I had come this far, this must be seen through to the end.

China sat on her haunches beside me, staring up in her canine curiosity while letting out the occasional short whine, which I liked to think was out of concern for my safety.

"If I fall in, you will save me, correct?"

An awkward laugh left me as we maintained eye contact, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side in her silent response.

As I returned to eyeing the sludge, my arms prickled at the thought of having to reach inside and make myself vulnerable to a surprise attack from behind.

"Thomas, will you be my lookout?"

"Of course, I shall alert you if I sense her approach."

"Thank you," I smiled wearily. "Are you ready?"

"Not at all."

"Excellent, neither am I."

Giving my hands one final wring together, I took a long and deep breath in preparation, perhaps to also stall for a few seconds longer in hopes of finally steeling my nerve.

Letting it out after a short while, I leaned over the edge so that my stomach was resting atop the bricks and pressed the tips of my fingers into the clay.

I had thought that I was prepared for the chill of the red clay, but that mixed with the coldness of the brickwork almost burned the inside of my arms and through my bodice from the difference in temperature.

Having to grit my teeth in an attempt to stop them chattering, I fought past all the instincts that were screaming for me to remove my hands and sunk them in until they were wrist deep as quickly as I could.

In what I assumed to be a result of sitting in a cold mine, undisturbed for many years, the clay was thicker than I had anticipated and proved hard to penetrate without some great effort. Though somewhere in the back of my head, a small voice was reasoning that perhaps it was Lucille's influence, not wishing to be found and resisting all attempts.

This thought turned out to be an unknown needed drive in me forcing myself in elbow deep.

"How deep are these things?" I asked, awkwardly shifting to glance at Thomas.

"Deep enough to successfully hide a body without it rising easily."

"Until convenient, how comforting, thank you."

By this time, I was deep enough for the clay to be hitting the short cotton sleeves of my bodice, the fact that they barely reached mid-bicep and I still hadn't felt anything becoming bit of a concern.

I was quickly running out of arm, meaning that I would have to change my method.

With a spot of quick thinking, I start moving my arms in alternating wide circles while trying to fight past the resistance of the clay, my eyebrows knit in intense concentration as my jaw locked.

After three of four attempts with each arm, I twist in place to look at Thomas again, feeling helpless.

"I'm not feeling a thing," I relayed, voice broken in panted breaths from the effort.

"That's concerning, are you certain you chose the right one?"

"Absolutely."

Using the balls of my feet, I hoisted myself up a little further so I was resting more on my hips than my stomach and pushed my left arm in until it was submerged to the shoulder.

Thomas gave a soft warning in the form of my name, stepping closer until he was stood beside China, who had thankfully remained calm.

"Please, don't put yourself in further danger, that seems quite deep enough."

I glanced at him; lips fastened between my teeth as if that would lessen the effort of my fingers which were flexing within the clay.

"Perhaps I have merely come at it from the wrong angle," I explained, hoping that airing my thought process would sate his concern.

In a last-ditch effort, I pushed my arm in until it was just past the shoulder and gave an efforted grunt as I swivelled my arm in another wide circle.

An involuntary yelp of surprise escaped me as the tips of my fingers brushed against something solid and, upon further investigation when I'd managed to reach just a little further in order to grasp it, thin.

Thomas started forward so suddenly that, in my distraction, I almost worried that he would harm himself on the brickwork having forgotten that he and Robert were not one in the same.

Somehow my mind slipped into thoughts of the possibility that ghosts or spirits could feel pain like we living could or could there, perhaps instead, be a reflex memory from when they were living.

Like the itch of a phantom limb.

This broken distraction proved to be all I needed to drive me forward into mindlessly grasping the suspected bone as tightly as I could with numbed fingers, there being no concern as to the reality of what I was currently touching.

Pulling my right hand free of the clay, I braced it against the top of the vat and adjusted my grip on the suspected bone to give myself enough leverage to heave my find out.

"Did you hide anything else within these?" I asked as I shifted to get better footing.

"I definitely didn't but Lucille had many secrets, even from me."

"That is truly wonderful news, then with any luck I have found her."

Taking another deep breath in and holding it, I pushed into my bracing hands while pulling the other back with as much effort as I could, silently praying to bring up more than one solitary bone.

The clay gave surprisingly easily considering the resistance I had met while searching and I feel excitement starting to bubble.

This could be it; Lucille and Thomas could be put to rest and the renovations could be finished.

Life will return to peace, the workmen will leave and I shall start my future as a homeowner.

But what of Robert?

Would he stay without Thomas' influence?

Travel back and forth when he isn't working elsewhere?

Or would this be the end of this fleeting and abrupt romance?

I was jolted back to the present as I find myself lurching forward, groaning in discomfort as the air is knocked out of my when my stomach connects with the edge of the vat.

An unpleasant shot of pain courses up my arm and into my shoulder.

Instinct kicked in and was screaming at me to let go of my cargo, to recuperate and try again, it would still be there and easier to reach.

Now that these thoughts mattered.

Even if I had let go, the grip on my own wrist was too tight to give me freedom, the clasping, bony fingers colder than the clay burned into my skin in a vice like grip.

I'd barely a second to exchange a wide-eyed look of panic with Thomas before, with the strength of nothing that walked this earth, there was another terrible tug and I was lurched forward, pulled over the edge of the bricks as an arm of red bone and tattered dress broke free of the clay to wrap around my neck.