Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 7. The fireplace is started and the team is formed

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She giggled and grabbed a rose from the pile. It was late autumn and they just got engaged yesterday. She needed to go to visit her parents before the wedding. James didn't want her to go, he had that strange feeling looking at her pricked finger, where the deep red drop of blood was glistering. It did not trouble her though, she smiled and put the finger in her mouth, licking blood away.

"You should be careful, dear Charlotte, roses, no matter how gentle, can sting cruelly."

She didn't answer for some reason, but her eyes were frightened suddenly, so he just grabbed her hand to kiss the cut finger gently.

A garden knife fell onto the floor making a clinging sound. James blinked and raised a brow, watching the figure going down the dark hall. 

He was still holding Gregory's hand.

"Oh. Excuse me." He let his hand go and kneeled on one knee to pick the dropped knife. "I'm starting to think if this ghost is indeed ours, dear Gregory."

Greg's throat produced the squeaky sound. Not exactly by his own will.

The bad part was he didn't mind. James was the very first...gentleman Greg ever met. He used to think he has met a lot of different people. 

His experience suddenly seemed pretty shallow. 

The kiss was filled with gentleness and care. Was it because James was a gentleman?

"It's-it's...no prob. Any time. " He swallowed and forced the smile realising his eyes have widened and remained big and round. And swallowed again. "Roses. We...we should put them in water, aye?"

"Indeed so. I believe I would deal with the thorns. And you might arrange them..." James looked away and located a champagne bucket. "There."

They shared some silent moments while Greg was doing his best to manage his mission in style. It was easy, though. With that flowers and James. Late roses were loosing petals, and soon everything was covered with them. Greg was going to make a photo for Instagram but stopped the hand half way to the pocket.

It was only for him here. Including James. His very own mister Darcy.

Shite.

"I don't think it's about me. I just happened to be near. Pure luck, for me, at least. I hoped we, the party, I mean, um, scared away another Lord James with the music. Don't know if how he'd tolerate. Are you in London sometimes?"

"If you referring to the tea, I believe it would be much closer than London to have some in the orangery now." James smiled, turned the bucket to have a look, and just left it in the middle of kitchen table stepping back to have another angle look. "Now, where do you think we should put it?"

"There is a nice table in the room where I was waiting for the bride yesterday. Like...I mean, they cleaned up the room already. I can make tea."

"Oh, can you?"

Gregory rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and shrugged. James smiled. It was a nice addition to the ghost, though. "I'm not a big specialist as well. Nothing compared to Wilkins. But he's here only tomorrow, so... we'll have to deal. Do you otherwise engaged today? I would like to check something and I honestly believe I might need your help."

"No! I mean, I'm not engaged. Otherwise." Greg has never felt so tongue-tied in his life. The wave of sharp regret upon not attending college almost left him breathless with burning cheeks. "Sure, I-I would be happy to accompany you. Sir. Should I address you my lord, by the way?"