James should have been thinking about the estate or about the ghost on his way to the town, but the only thing that was constantly returning to his mind was the kiss. It was not Gregory, of course, but Charlotte. The unknown girl from the unknown town from 300 years back from now. His ancector had her portrait. She kissed her lord Blacke. He couldn't keep his word, because he died unexpectedly. Were they engaged? What happened to this woman? And how was she connected to his own unexpected guest? It might have been just the coincidence. Or time played a joke deciding to mend the things broken long ago.
It would be curios to know if the young man kisses differently from her. Gregory was a mess. But there was something about him, James could not exactly put his finger on it, that made him attractive. Not the deep dark eyes or messy hair. Something more. A certain mix of femininity and being straightforward up to being rude. Might be. Something.
The tea he was offered in the big and expensive, but hopelessly untidy office of the managing company, was bad. James made a sip and smiled at the bold manager with awful cockney English. They both were untidy as well, the man and his English.
"We have 4 more contracts for this season, Your Grace."
James frowned. The addressing sounded... fake. "I do understand my great uncle had some financial difficulties which made him open the house for the events."
"Right. It turned out to bring some good money though. I advise you to not change things. I could just keep the thing running, as I used to for His late Grace."
"No, thank you. I plan on closing the venue...do you happen to know who might be in the possession of the landowning documents?"
"Well, don't you..."
"The old ones. Making his branch of the family in the ownership of the estate."
"Er... I think, you might be able to find them in the archives, sir. So, about the venue..."
"Thank you, Mr. Hayley. My attorney will contact you. Good day."
"But..."
It was probably a bit rude. James guessed, it was Gregory's attitude getting to him. Made him smile on his way back.
And wondered suddenly whether his night companion was still there.
***
That another bedroom was different. Larger, lighter, with darker furniture. With the private bathroom, rather modern one, fortunately. When Greg first looked inside, he was afraid of another part of historical reconstruction with water heated by fire and the hole in the floor as a loo. James would smile on that idea. Maybe, even laugh a wee bit.
That was the most beautiful bathroom in Greg's sorrow life. Towels were the whitest and the softest, much whiter than in the hotel where Donny and him were celebrating six months together.
Fuck. Donny. He forgot to call him.
Okay, later.
The bathroom was definitely much better than the whole shithole Greg was currently staying at with two more flatmates. Not living, you can't describe it so. Staying.
When Greg returned after the shower, all stuff from the previous room surfaces was at the logical places in the room. Clothes in the wardrobe. The phone on the night stand. Folders with the drawings on the desk near the window.
He immediately hid them in the bag. It took him some time to find the bag in the closet. He had nothing to stay for the days here, not even his anti-acne face cream. Certainly no clothes.
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Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts
غموض / الإثارةGreg is an unsuccessful London-based make up artist. When he receives a chance to work at the All Saints wedding party, he has no idea how the officially haunted manor will welcome him. James is also coming to the party. Although he is a bit late, h...
