Page 80 of Love At First Fright
“Thank you both. For everything.”
“Today’s your last day then?” Cecilia inclined her head.
“Yes. I head back to London in an hour. I came to say goodbye.”
The two ghosts turned to her then, Cecilia stepping back into the circle of Juliet’s arms.
“I ought to say thank you, but I don’t think that is an adequate sentiment,” Cecilia said.
“You don’t have to thank me, either of you. I’m happy I could help.”
Juliet smiled. “Even so, thank you, Rosemary. Whatever happens after, whatever comes next for us, we want you to know that we consider you a great friend.”
“We always will,” Cecilia added.
Rosemary felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “There was something I wanted to ask you, before I go.” She looked at Juliet. “Your diary, your letters. I know this is a big request, but could I borrow them? I’ve been thinking about writing a book—”
“About us?” Cecilia squeaked. “Oh, take them! Juliet, let her take them. Imagine that, us in a book.”
“And I would return them when I’m finished,” Rosemary assured the ghosts.
Juliet shook her head. “Keep them. I worry that eventually we won’t be able to hold things anymore and then they’ll be lost to history. Use them.”
“I will. What will you both do now?”
“I think we’ll stay here for a little while longer. I heard someone in the crew saying that there will be a Regency show filming here next, something calledBridgerton? We’d both like to see what the fuss is about.”
Rosemary thought about the ghosts witnessing the not-entirely-historically-accurate TV set ofBridgertonand grinned. “I think you’re going to love it.”
“Well, if you see a candle floating in the background of a shot you’ll know it was us,” Juliet said.
And that was that. Rosemary said goodbye. As she walked down the stairs, Rosemary spared a look back at the ghosts on the balcony. In the winter sunlight they appeared almost translucent, the bottom of their dresses fading. It struck a bittersweetchord with Rosemary. She suspected that they were each other’s unfinished business, and that now they had indeed found each other and told the other how they felt, their time here would be limited. But perhaps she was wrong. Meeting Juliet and Cecilia had taught her how little she truly knew about ghosts, and how powerful a motivator love was. Maybe they would be able to stick around longer if they wished. It was strange, though, seeing the two of them, Juliet with her arm around Cecilia’s waist as they pointed and talked about the film crew below them, knowing that she would never see them again. Not in this life, anyway.
—
“We’re here,” Ellis said, tuckinga lock of hair behind Rosemary’s ear. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep in the car back to London, but Ellis had seat warmers in his car, Fig was tucked into her lap, and the sound of Ellis humming along to folk rock on the radio had lulled her into a nap. At some point he must have pulled off his jacket, because it was covering her and Fig like a blanket.
Groggily, Rosemary rubbed her eyes and pushed her glasses up her nose. So, this was Ellis’s home. It was not what she’d been expecting. She immediately kicked herself; of course, she should have known that Ellis wouldn’t choose to live in some kind of McMansion with gaudy pillars. No, this house was Ellis through and through. It was fancy without looking expensive, with ivy-laden walls and surrounded on all sides by nature.
“What does that sign say?” Rosemary pointed at a wrought iron shop sign that hung over the front door.
“The Old Bakery. There used to be a mill nearby, and this was the local bakery. Funnily enough, sometimes I can smell freshly baked bread in the living room.”
They had pulled up to the front door on a short gravel driveway, a monkey puzzle tree overhanging in the front garden, where she noticed a few tall evergreens afforded privacy. The house itself was sandstone brick, with a large, rounded maplewood door set into its side. The moment she was out of the car, Fig set off to sniff and run around the garden, no doubt to check that her territory was still intact.
“Your home is beautiful,” Rosemary said, watching the way Ellis’s entire body seemed to soften and exhale.
“I’m glad you like it. I don’t know why, but I was worried you wouldn’t.” He laughed, though she could hear the nervous inflection in his voice. This was a big moment for them both, she got that. She was a little shaky herself, standing behind Ellis as he unlocked the door. Fig came bounding through Ellis’s legs—it was time to check her inside territory as well. Rosemary was surprised by how quickly she’d become familiar with Fig’s little canine eccentricities.
Rosemary glanced up and looked around her. The hallway had a high ceiling, was painted white, and the warm wooden floors led off down a hall and twisted up a staircase. Up to where Ellis slept. Where she would be sleeping with him. Rosemary felt totally normal about that.
Ellis kicked off his shoes and took Rosemary’s hand, leading her through the downstairs of the house, Fig at their heels.
“This is the living room.” Ellis ducked his head through an arched door. “My sister, Annie, is always telling me that I have enough money so I should have a separate library room, but I really just like being able to see all my books when I’m on the sofa.” He grinned. Rosemary briefly wondered if she liked this room even more than she liked Ellis.
“I see her point, but this room is perfect, I could live inhere,” she said, gazing around at the wood panelling and bookshelves and the low, wide green velvet couch under the window. In the spring or on sunny days, she bet the light would come in here just right.
“I know you said your friends want to meet me, what if we invited them and Annie over for a Sunday lunch? I know how important Dina and Immy are to you, and I suspect I need their approval if I’m going to be your boyfriend.” He spoke so earnestly that Rosemary felt a flood of warmth in her chest, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
