You watched her from around the corner. Her back to you, blinding hair that streamed down her back like a river made of gold. This was Thomas' new wife: Edith Cushing, no, no longer Cushing. She was Lady Sharpe now. A tremor ran through you. Oh how Lucille must hate it. Even more than the fact she had to surrender her garnet ring that was now on Edith's fourth finger. Edith seemed to glide through the decrepit, rotting, corridors like a ghost herself. She was beautiful though, that you would not deny. So incredibly bright that you felt yourself become warm for the very first time in ages. She didn't belong in a place like this. This place full of death.
Following your admiration for her was a slight twinge of jealous that started from your stomach to rise in your throat. Unlike any of his other brides you saw the sparkle in Thomas' gleaming eyes when he looked at her. The same way he used to look at you. That gaze that made you lost for hours wanting nothing but to revel in the feeling of being loved by him, by this exquisite man, by this incredibly sad man.
Your jealousy was soon doused when you became morose, thinking of Enola. Would he allow Edith to perish? Certainly his love would protect her from Lucille.
The slight pressure from your foot made the old floorboards creak making Edith turn at the sharp sound. Her large dark eyes searching for the source. You had hid, clamping your lips tight to prevent any more noise from escaping you.
"Edith!" Thomas' voice called for her, pulling her back toward her husband but not before casting one more glance to the place where you hid.
Even if you were jealous you prayed that Thomas' love was enough to save her. That he would stop Lucille from taking anymore lives.
Then again, his love had done nothing for you.