Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 23. The nightmare is scary and the aunt is not

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They were arriving to the beautiful house built in classical style, with the fountain in front of the main entrance surrounded by enormous loans. Coaches were, probably, somewhere in the stables, together with cars. At least, nowhere to be seen. James' Bentley floated to the porch with the standing lines of identical Victorian servants, like in The Black Butler anime. Wilkins opened the door for Greg, and James helped him out from the car, wearing the black tuxedo. They had to be in tuxedos for the first meeting with the aunt, right? Sure. He didn't know, as usual. The aunt's scary shape was moving through the row of windows, like a nightly ghost inevitably making its way to the ground floor. Wilkins gazed somewhere down making a strict face. Greg followed his gaze and realised he was wearing his ancient slippers from home, forced to wear them by the elemental force, his Gran Bri. She was sure everybody would catch their death if not wearing the pair of shabby woollen home slippers. Those slippers were Greg's eternal nightmare for years. How could he forget to change them?! What would James think?.. The aunt was ready to open the main door, there was no time to return and find at least sneakers..!

"My dear Gregory, please, wake up. We are about to arrive."

"Huh?!"

Greg blinked looking around with sleepy eyes and the rest of the dream slowly leaving his memory. His neck hurt from leaning on James's shoulder. Meaning he was leaning on James' shoulder. At least, for a while. 

"Haven't we already..?"

"I am afraid not."

"Shite..."

"But I asked for late dinner, so it's all fine. May I ask what slippers you were referring to while napping?"

"So I was napping...shite." Greg pressed both palms to his eyes trying to switch on something his head. He succeeded with hunger only, for now. "And talking."

"Quite nicely, I must admit."

"Aye, yes. Sure. It was inappropriate." 

"Not at all." 

"We are arriving, sir." The driver changed the topic elegantly, and Greg tried to put on an appropriate face. And laughed when James asked if he felt well.

James' thoughts were floating around the ring matter while Gregory was napping away. He had contacted the jeweller that was making his mother's pieces for ages, and made some sort of small talk before asking about an appropriate design of an engagement ring if the recipient happened to be a young man. The jeweller made his promises to think and present the design in the shortest possible time. Also inquired about the young man's essence. James answered he was an artist from Glasgow.

"I see." That was the only answer he had got with a new promise to come up with the design no later than Monday.

They have arrived by that time - James saw Sanders, his aunt's butler. A scary old lady, she was, and he was sure even Wilkins was afraid of her at some point, they did have to work together on the couple of occasions. She was Scottish as well.

When the car stopped she was the one to open the door even before the driver did. "Lord Blacke, welcome. Lady Longborn asked to tell she would be waiting in the Orangery."

"Thank you, Sanders. Good to see you as well."

"Sir." 

"It's better than I thought..." Greg dropped out from another side of the car looking around the bare trees of the park and finally finding James and the Lady Butler with his gaze. And making up the widest smile possible upon the car's roof. "I mean... hi. Awright."

Temperature of Sanders' look dropped from cold to somewhere near the North Pole. 

"Tha mi toilichte gun còrd e riut, sir. Fàilte gu Thornby."

Greg made an attempt to hide behind Bentley. "Tapadh leat gu mòr, mo bhean."

"Please, follow me." Sanders took a turn. Yet, James noticed a smile on her lips and leaned slightly to Greg offering him the elbow.

"I am not aware of what you told Sanders here, my dear, but you certainly possess diplomatic skills."

"Night shifts in Costa Coffee near Victoria station. No idea what I did now, though."

"I guess I had worse training than you then, I guess." James smiled. It made Greg chuckle a little, and hopefully, allowed him to relax enough to lighten the grip on his elbow.

Aunt Pricilla was wearing the Christmas sweater given to her last Christmas by some of her grandchildren, probably. James gave her earnings. She was wearing them as well.

The Christmas sweater was an extremely Christmas one, red and green, depicting some reindeers and snowflakes. James was grateful she was wearing it. It, well, lightened the mood.

"James, darling!" She stepped in to hug him and kiss him on the cheek as soon as they came in. He kissed her back carefully, bending to her height. Aunt Pricilla was a small lady, barely to his shoulder.

"Who's the handsome young sweetheart you brought today? Are you finally out of your silly loner state?"

"Aunt... this is Gregory Bay, my friend. He's an artist. Gregory, this is my aunt, Pricilla Longborn. I bet she knows more artists than I do. "

Aunt Priscilla turned to Greg who could not stop smiling with the shining eyes - exactly how James hoped he would.

"Well, darling, what are you waiting for? Life is short, and James here hides his passions too well for his own good! Happy to meet you, finally. James told me a lot about you."

"Hope not about how much vases I've broken already, Mrs Longborn!" 

She only laughed.