Crimson Peak (2015) Movie Script

Fixed & Synced by bozxphd.Enjoy The Flick

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 goodbyes.

"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!

Apple, sir?

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 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 young

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.

Ah, 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 not.

It's more a story with a ghost in it.

Mmm-hmm...

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.

Uh, 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's 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.

Oh, 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.

Well, 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 waited in the rain

for him to leave.

Oh.

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 dare say.

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.

There's 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 going to 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

compounds 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.

Excuse me. 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.

In fact, you only seem to 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.

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.

Uh, room 107

and 108.

But wait!

Wait!

Miss? Wait!

Thomas?

Thomas!

Uh, they, um...

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 link exists between

your heart and mine.

And should that link be broken

either by distance or by time

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 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, you know that.

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.

Whoa!

Ah, 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.

Awhile?

What is he

talking about?

I'm not sure what

he was talking about.

His family worked for ours

for centuries. In fact...

Who is this?

You never told me

about him.

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?

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.

Edith.

Lucille?

Look, these curtains

have been closed for too long.

- Would you bring that over here?

- Yes.

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 have 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.

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.

Come on.

Go 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 have...

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 then to make sure we get an invoice,

you will send them to me.

"Thomas Sharpe."

Baronet.

Do 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 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?

Uh, not for me,

thank you.

Drink your tea.

It'll warm you.

Let the wind

Blow kindly

Thomas?

In the sails

Of your dreams.

And the moon

light your journey.

And bring you to me

Thomas?

How did you get in there,

you silly doggie?

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.

Well, Edith, now's not a good time.

Lucille is inside.

No, I don't want

to talk to Lucille.

I want to 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?

Edith, now is really

not a good time.

Try it again,

Finlay!

There.

It 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 and 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,

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 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

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?

Ah, excellent.

Thank you.

You're Lady Sharpe,

then?

Forgive me, mum,

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?

It 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

I 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

this valve controller.

Lucille?

Lucille,

we're back.

I was making breakfast.

It was burning.

I moved it.

Where were you?

We, uh...

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.

We've done it.

We've done it, Lucille.

I can't wait for

Edith to see it.

Edith?

I did this with you.

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?

I want to apologize for my

behavior this morning.

I was concerned that...

You didn't

drink your tea.

Oh, 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.

Just for me, Thomas.

Well, 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.

To try to drown

poor pussycat.

"Enola Sciotti." E.S.

I wish I had

the strength 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

this far from home.

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.

You couldn't leave me.

You wouldn't.

I can't.

I know.

There's a gentleman out there

asking for directions to Allerdale Hall.

At this hour? Surely not.

Yeah.

You can't get there on that horse.

It's exhausted.

Can I hire one

from you?

We're closed

for the winter.

Well, 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.

And the sweet Tide carry.

In the arms

of the sea.

Let the wind

Blow kindly.

In the sails

Of your dreams.

And the moon

light your journey.

And bring you to 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.

Do 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 going to

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 going to 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.

You should do this!

Get your hands dirty.

Come here, doggie.

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.

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

on 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!

I did.

You told me

you loved me!

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 going to get

those papers back.

I'm going to

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 can 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.

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.

Shh, 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

till 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

onto an emotion.

A drive.

Loss.

Revenge.

Or love.

Those,

they never go away.

Crimson Peak (2015) - full transcript