A New Estate
DarkHell616
SYNOPSIS
Unofficial sequel taking place ten years after the events of Crimson Peak.
Odd happenings have been going on at Allerdale Hall.
Perhaps there is more to the sudden quittings of the workmen than Father let's on, but something certainly isn't right here
It had been a long and bumpy ride, the carriage rattling on the cobbled pavement with only a short, temporary reprieve at some point during the arduous journey.
The constant vibrations of my seat shook my bones to a point where I'd begun to feel sick and could feel a terrible headache starting to kick in.
I had heard that my new estate was quite a travel away from my current home, but I hadn't quite expected this.
After hours of rattling, bouncing and feeling like the wheels of my carriage may come off at any point we finally reached the large gates of my newly claimed home.
Allerdale Hall.
The entrance gate had the look of something almost regal, with the red bricks holding an almost golden arch over the entry. The sign decorating the middle stating the estate name and topped with what I'd presume to be a family crest, surrounded by a design that reminded me of a clockwork spin wheel.
The red bricks of the pillars matched perfectly with the continuing wall that currently housed dead looking twigs, which grew up the blocks like clasping hands.
Past the gates lay a vastly empty and large area of land, it wasn't anything I'd call a garden, not with all the dead looking grass and leafless trees that barely decorated the view.
"For such dead looking things, the plant life sure is thriving," I muttered to myself as my eyes scanned the area.
The path, mainly brown mud which was tinted red, that led to the house was still a trek, I'd estimate that it would take at least five minutes to walk from the front gate to the main door of the large, foreboding manor that sat at the end.
As the carriage continued to bounce down the path, I took note of various bits of machinery I'd never seen the likes of before.
A smaller building stood to the side of one of these large machines.
Not something I would be getting close to if I could avoid it.
The manor itself was gorgeous, much better than how I'd imagined it to be.
Standing larger than I'd anticipated, who knew how many rooms were in there to explore.
The design was stunning, unlike any other building I'd seen in the countryside where I'd come from. Though I'd never seen anything as isolated either.
Each level was higher than the other, the dark roofs ending in small piers that were simply enticing to look at.
Everywhere you looked there'd be something new to look at, unlike many houses which all began to look the same after the first few.
Initially the front of the building looked almost perfectly symmetrical, it wasn't until you took a closer look at the details that things truly stood out.
Allerdale Hall was truly a unique something to behold.
And Father had bought it for barely a thing.
The carriage finally came to a stop, letting me jump out and take some much needed cool air, anything to try and ease my unsettled stomach.
Up close the manor was much more beautiful than I'd given it credit for, almost like an old dolls house my father made me for my birthday one year.
"Well, here ya go."
I turned away from my new home to face my driver, his thick, farmer like Wiltshire accent shining through in every sentence he spoke. An accent I had apparently not picked up unless spoken on specific words, despite living there for twenty five years.
His brown cap was covering slicked, greasy dark hair and matched his jacket and trousers. The only thing that didn't match was his beige shirt, white socks and black shoes, I could only tell his socks were an off white colour because his lanky legs caused his trousers to have a fight with his ankles.
A fight his ankles quite clearly lost.
Despite the reputation of my home county, he was a well presented man who was only faintly rough around the edges.
"My father paid you for this long trip, correct?"
He grinned at me with yellowed teeth whilst climbing down from his spot in the carriage, once his feet hit the ground he made a few exaggerated movements to ease his tense muscles and stretch his limbs.
"He did, don't you worry 'bout it."
In a few swift movements he'd pulled my bags out of the carriage and set them to one side, I noticed his dark eyes briefly flickering towards the manor as an uneasy look flashed across his face.
"You'll be all alone here, 'mam."
"I'm fully aware, but I shall be fine thank you," I smiled at my friendly, though kind of peculiar looking driver.
"You're aware of what happened here, ain't chya?"
"I can safely say I am."
"Ya still wanna risk it?"
"I do."
"Bit mental if ya ask me."
"There's a certain appeal to a house with history, much like Lizzie Borden's home I'm sure."
"Horrible case that, you think she done it?"
"I'm not entirely certain what I think," I laughed faintly whilst picking up my belongings, two bags in either hand. "Thank you for bringing me here, but I can take care of things from this point."
He put his hands on his hips and looked back at the manor, letting out a low whistle.
"Ya sure ya don't want me to stay?"
"It'd be fairly uncouth for me to invite in a near stranger, besides you should leave whilst you still have some light."
There was a brief pause before he shrugged and climbed back onto the carriage, wiggling his hips a little until he'd found a position he was comfortable in.
"Sure you'll be alright?"
"Positive, I have people coming in a few days to check the roof for further damage," I nodded as I speak, thinking of the repair that my father had already paid to be done before I arrived.
Something about seeing to the base of the house as it was sinking into a red clay like substance.
This was apparently how it'd earned its nickname of Crimson Peak, a name I found oddly fascinating.
"Right well, luck to ya," he tipped his hat.
I stepped back and watched as he maneuvered the carriage around and headed back down the path, giving me a farewell wave.
After returning the wave I took one last deep breath, my lungs filling with nippy autumn air that held the smell of clay, before heading to the front door.
Setting my bags down I take out a selection of keys, fumbling around until I found the right one to twist into the lock.
With a clunk the doors swung open to invite me to my new home in Allerdale Hall.
Chapter 2
Cluttered.
That was my initial reaction upon entering the main hall.
Cluttered and dreary.
Although the main hallway was large and open and wasn't covered in possessions there was still this enclosed feeling when you glanced around, this was mostly due to the balconies that protruded from the walls.
Dark wood carved with intricate designs made the balconies more appealing, just above the staircase to my left there was a windowed area that would need to be explored further to know what lay behind it.
It astounded me that everything still seemed to be in place, no one had even attempted to remove any of the previous owner's belongings.
Even the portraits that decorated the walls as you went up the stairs still hung in place, at the bottom of the dark wood banister, tucked into the corner to my left, was a partially covered love seat and to my right on the other side of the curtained alter was a chair and mirror.
There was so much going on around me that it was almost claustrophobic, the dark colours not helping.
The dark browns, greys, dull yellows and faint dark blues made everything cave in.
Various golden decorations hanging from the ceiling didn't help with the enclosed vibe of the room, yet I still found the place so beautiful.
So much was hidden in shadows.
I set my bags down, which clunked and created an echo as they hit the floor, and stepped towards the center of the hallway.
My black boots scuffed against the dust that hadn't been cleaned up from previous damage.
I remember my father telling me about a hole in the high roof that desperately needed mending, but according to sources and despite their clearly elaborate and lavish home, the Sharpe's were far from the rich people they could pass themselves off as.
I don't know much about the Sharpe's themselves, only of the odd happenings surrounding their deaths and Sir Sharpe's newly made widow.
Though many of my peers seemed surprised when I told them about my buying of Allerdale Hall, I could swear some glances had been exchanged yet no one said anything to deter me from moving there.
It wasn't until I entered the parlor that I realised just how much of the Sharpe's belongings would need to be sorted through.
There were portraits, a large piano, dirty looking jars and ornamental vases, partially used candles, pieces of papers and books scattered around that would need to be sorted through.
That wasn't even touching on the cabinets that would need to be opened and organised.
"This is going to feel uncomfortably intrusive," I sighed, my eyes scanning the area.
An unlit fireplace caught my gaze and I couldn't help but smile at the thought of warmth, it was getting late now that winter was coming close and the evenings were beginning to become a little crisp.
Allerdale Hall didn't seem to be the warmest of manors either, quite often drafts would blow through and send a chilled shudder down my spine.
Though that was no surprise considering the aforementioned hole that was still in the roof.
"Ad montes oculos levavi," I muttered softly, attempting to read the engraving on the fireplace, probably butchering the beautiful language in the meantime, "I have no idea what that means."
I let out a small laugh at my own idiocy and turned towards the piano that stood to my right, underneath a high set window.
The piano was grand but rustic and looked like an antique.
Despite not knowing how to play I had always enjoyed the smooth feel of the keys beneath my fingers when I was a child.
This is probably why I couldn't help but smile childishly and laugh at myself whilst gently pressing down on one of the white keys, letting the low note rumble around the room.
A wave of dust wafted into the air as I flopped onto the piano stool, causing me to cough as it gathered in my nose and the back of my throat. Something I probably should have anticipated considering the lack of use and how long it had been sat here, unused and forgotten.
Once the dust had settled again and I could breathe without worrying about having another coughing fit, I sat up straight with my shoulders pulled back and head held high. My hands poised over the keys as I introduced myself and my new 'revolutionary, one of a kind symphony', that I would now play for my imaginary audience.
In my head people watched in awe at the amazing melody that played, created by a novice no less. Though in reality, it was fair to say that the tune being plunked out by my clumsy and less than talented fingers was more like a stampede of horses trampling over uneven cobbles.
With my eyes closed and head tilted back, I soon lost myself in the imagined scene, almost forgetting that I wasn't in fact on a stage surrounded by adoring gazes.
It wasn't long before I was soon shoved back into reality by a harsh wind that seemed to slam against my right side, colder than any other gust I'd felt in the manor so far.
Goosebumps rose on my skin beneath my thick dress and I let out a small gasp, opening my eyes as I was pulled into the parlor once again.
With the force that the wind hit me, I could have sworn that someone had brushed past me.
Albeit rather forcefully.
Yet the only thing that caught my attention, and made me jump upon sight no less, was a rather ghastly looking portrait that was hanging on the wall above a cabinet to my right.
An older woman with white hair in a dark dress, holding a cane glared down at me, despite it only being a painting there was still a very intimidating feel to it.
"I'm sorry," I spoke to the portrait whilst standing up, "I didn't know my playing was that bad."
Without sparing another glance at the portrait I leave the parlor through the archway, back to the main hall, feeling foolish at having just spoken to a painting of a woman I didn't even know.
My hand rubbed the top of my shoulder that was already beginning to feel oddly bruised, the rubbing of my fingers only making it worse but feeling like a necessity, as if to reassure myself that it had indeed happened.
The pain confirmed my worries, yet part of me still didn't want to believe it.
Perhaps a large draft had picked something up that hit my arm, that seemed more plausible than 'the wind did it'.
"Maybe I just need a proper nights sleep," I mumbled to thin air.
Retrieving my bags from the main hall, I used the remaining light of the evening to make my way up the large staircase to find a room to sleep in for the night.
If it wasn't the master bedroom then I'd use the afternoon tomorrow to find where that was and transfer my things, but for now I just wanted a soft bed where I could wrap up warm and lie down.
Loving this and want to read the rest,then click on the link below
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787017/chapters/29179779#workskin
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hell Richards is a Bookseller from Trowbridge, England. As an avid fan of horror she’s spent many hours watching B-movies, reading horror stories and researching various myths and legends from around the globe. After accumulating a mass of books on hauntings from around her local area, she figured it was time to give it a shot herself.
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TWITTER : https://mobile.twitter.com/Hell_Richards
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