A/N: Hello there. For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I've been on this site for a little over ten years now, but this is the first time I've written a fanfic for this fandom. I'm a big fan of the Horrible Histories series and Yonderland series from the Six Idiots, so it's no surprise that I ended up falling in love with Ghosts since finding out about it during the Series 3 airing. I've been itching to write something for it for a while now, and after checking out the fanfic section of this site and noticing a lot of the OC stories here have been incomplete and abandoned, I finally felt compelled to actually give birth to this idea I've had. I ended up making this chapter a lot longer than intended (it's probably the longest first chapter I've ever written, in fact; blame the descriptions), so I'll try to summarise the gist of what to expect before you dive in.

For those of you who already follow my Owl House fic, you'll find that this OC story basically follows the same format as that. While this is an OC story, said OC will be following the main cast in the canon events of the show. Dialogue and events will be altered to accommodate her and the surprises she's able to bring, of course, but expect this story to follow the main series. There won't be any romance or shipping involved with the main ghosts, however, and while I won't be updating this on a set schedule, you can check out my profile for 'active updates' to check on the next update's progress, which I have recently started to do with my currently active fanfics. I probably won't update this fanfic fairly quickly for the moment, as I want to see how well it's received first. I will say, though, that I'm aiming to summarise each episode between four chapters at least; although, this may go over depending on how things go.

And now, with that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this new story. The first chapter isn't very exciting, as the main focus is to introduce my OC and also establish context towards the setting and her current relationship with the characters. I have purposely emitted specific facts about her for you to try to figure out using what I have revealed which time period she's from (I'm sure you'll guess it before the next chapter. Some of the clues are very obvious. XD) and also the circumstances surrounding her death. Thought it was more interesting to keep it hidden to keep you guys hooked. XD I also did try my best to keep the characters as in character as I could (if the military jargon I looked up for the Captain is any indication), even though I'll admit, it was a challenge. This is the first time I've written a fic based on the real world, so this is a little out of my comfort zone, especially because I had only the show stills to rely on for room accurate room descriptions as there wasn't any map layout online I could find for West Horsely Place (the filming location). Either way, feedback is greatly appreciated. Hopefully in the next chapter, I'll be able to talk in more detail about some of the decisions I made in this chapter (well, if the word count is shorter).

Disclaimer: I do not own Ghosts 2019 or its characters; however, I do own any OCs used in this fanfic.


Chapter 1: The Invisible Spectator

Ghostly white fog descended upon the two storied, bricked manor house of Surrey, England and its surrounding areas during the early hours of the morning, shrouding it in mist so thick that one couldn't see their palm even if they'd held it right in front of their own face. For those who lived nearby, it was a sign of a dreary and depressing day of weather. But for the invisible inhabitants of Button House, as it was locally known, it was a warning to set the tone for what had been a long time coming.

Within the east wing of the manor house's second floor, hiding away amongst the faded red walls and the bare wooden, dead leaf strewn floor of the ballroom, a young woman was seated on one of the room's many windowsills, staring out towards the fog lurking on the other side of the glass. Her dirty-blonde hair rested in waves against the back of her long-sleeved, dark and light brown plaid buttoned shirt, which was hidden away under a woolly, white shawl with intricate patterns. She was currently alone, appearing to be basking in the company of the scattered armless wooden chairs stacked into random corners of the room, along with a tattered and rolled up rug by the white marble and unlit fireplace. She was sat with her back as straight as a pin and her front facing the window, her hands clasped together within the creases of her red and white ruffle lined, ankle-length skirt, her brown laced ankle boots flat against the wooden floor. Drooped blue eyes visible in the window's glass reflected the thousand-yard stare of the young woman's petite gaze as she fixated on the looming mist that had engulfed the Button Estate, her mind trailing elsewhere as she pondered on recent events.

From the moment she'd been startled awake by Robin's indiscernible shouting during the ungodly hours of the morning alongside her other 'housemates', she immediately sensed that something was amiss. The ill-mannered caveman was often known for causing unnecessary ruckus for one reason or another, yet this time he'd had a very good reason to do so, as she'd found out when eavesdropping on the others gathered in the common room on the first floor wishing to hear Robin out. It had been difficult for her to decipher at first due to Robin's limited vocabulary and use of the English language, but somehow the others had managed to translate his excited and rushed rambles in relation to the mansion's currently only living occupant, which she'd come to understand had something to do with a change in the woman's breathing. She struggled to hear the rest once the group began talking over each other, all nine of them eagerly throwing around shocked and intrigued exclamations over the news, with a few disbelieved ones here and there. But it didn't take long before Robin regained order by insisting (in his own words, of course) they follow him to the owner's bed chambers, with the group soon hurrying off towards the west wing of the mansion by phasing through the wall on the opposite side of the common room. She hadn't bothered to follow them after that, instead choosing to retreat to the ballroom until she was sure it was over.

And so, here she was, toiling her time away within the confines of her head, pondering on current events alone on the abandoned second floor of the manor house.

'I cannot blame them for treating this as some 'mystical spectacle',' the woman mused in a voice containing a posh accent. 'It is not a frequent occurrence on the grounds of Button House, after all. Yet I believe taking vigil at her bedside just to observe whether she stays or goes is a little disrespectful. I do not doubt there are exceptions who merely wish to see her off. But I imagine the rest are using it as temporary entertainment.'

The resounding chime of the nearby grandfather clock roused the young woman back to reality with a blink. The blonde gave her head a slight shake and released a small sigh at sighting the brightened white of the fog, raising her fingers to her fringeless forehead to their tips along her hairline and down to the thin strands hanging in front of her ears. She couldn't see the grandfather clock from where she was currently seated, but the brightened surroundings of outside were more than enough indication for her to gauge what time of the day it was.

'The mid-morn is finally upon us,' the woman mused as she stood from the windowsill, brushing her fingers against her skirt to smoothen out the creases. 'I'd best see if they are finished with their follies.'

Clasping her hands against her front, the young blonde made to depart from the ballroom with slow, echoing steps, choosing to stroll through the doorway rather than through the wall. While she could have done so as a shortcut, even she could admit that there were times where she wanted to trick herself into believing she was still alive, despite her surroundings having changed immensely from when she had been.

She ignored the occasional creaking of the hallway floorboards as she traversed the top floor of the east wing, doing well to keep her gaze forward and resisting the urge to peek into the other empty rooms she passed. There was little point, when all that remained of the once vibrantly coloured rooms was peeling wallpaper, carpet-less floors and dripping leaks galore.

'I rarely visit the second floor these days, yet I oft-forget how much the rooms have fallen into ruin. When did that start happening, I wonder…? Perhaps the year the lady of the house no longer had the strength to tow her frail body up the stairs.'

Upon reaching the landing of the second floor, she made to descend the first set of wooden stairs against the left wall without a break in her stride. However, as she reached the bottom and rounded towards the last set, she paused at hearing the cheerful female voice she knew belonged to Kitty from the common room.

"Oh! Has anyone seen Cordelia?"

The woman chose not to move from her current spot, instead listening in to the ensuing discussion while occupying her gaze on the blue wallpaper of the area in front of the stairs.

"Cordelia?" A male voice with a thick Yorkshire accent repeated the name, whom the young woman recognised to be from Pat. "Was she with us back there?"

"I don't thinks so," a female voice with a West Country accent answered, with the unnecessary plural indicating it was likely Mary. "Thoughts I seen 'er peepin' at us earlier."

"I no see Cordel," added the rough male voice of Robin, causing the young woman to briefly close her eyes and slightly shake her head.

'Of course I have once again become a subject of conversation amongst them due to my absence. God, spare me!'

"It's Cordelia, Robin," a stern male voice corrected, whom she identified as the voice of the Captain.

"That's what I said: Cordel!" Robin replied defensively, prompting the Captain to heave a heavy sigh before continuing.

"She's probably retreated to her sleeping quarters."

"Do you think we should tell her the news about Lady Heather?" Kitty asked.

"I wouldn't trouble yourself, Kitty," a posh and snobbish female voice said, which 'Cordelia' knew belonged to Fanny. "She seldom chooses to be in our company. Why must we make the effort when it's never returned?"

"Quite right, Fanny," agreed the Captain, just as Cordelia heard striding footsteps approaching the common room from the west wing. "It won't be long now until someone arrives to check up on the old girl. Cordelia will figure things out for herself."

The posh condescending male voice that followed (whom Cordelia identified as Julian) ended up addressing the newcomer, soon confirming the identity of the new arrival to the common room to be Thomas by use of a specific derogatory term.

"So, Berk, how long did it take you to realise you were performing rubbish to thin air?"

"Oh, hush, sir!" Thomas snapped, speaking in a posh accent of his own. "It was you who chose to forgo hearing art in its glorious making!"

"You keep telling yourself that, bohemian!"

Before long, the group gathered in the common room broke out into a string of incoherent conversations, once again drowning each other out by trying to talk over one another. Cordelia took this as her cue to resume her walk down the last flight of stairs, heading straight towards the blue wallpaper without so much as a peek into the common room.

'I have counted eight of the nine voices from the common room. Which means they have all departed from Lady Heather's sleeping quarters. I should be safe to pay my respects without their usual prattling.'

While it would have been quicker for her to have stridden through the common room to reach the west wing, she purposely avoided doing so for two reasons: firstly, Cordelia didn't wish for the other ghosts to start to converse with her, and secondly, she always avoided going through the common room as a matter of principle. Even now, as she prepared to phase through the wall to go back the way she'd previously come to reach these stairs, she couldn't help flinching at the faint searing pain that prickled at the middle of her upper back.

It had been over a century, yet the thought of stepping into that room again was still too raw.


One quick walk round the front of the manor house from the outside and then a small traversing through a corridor maze later, and Cordelia soon found herself entering the familiar narrow, white walled and wooden floored corridor that lay within the farthest part of the west wing's ground floor. Cordelia headed straight towards the first door to her left, which was bathed in the dim lighting emitted through the window opposite it and ajar. Despite sensing a strange heaviness in the air in the form of a tightness in her chest, she proceeded to step into the room without an ounce of hesitation, phasing through the door and coming to an immediate stop once she was on the other side.

Cordelia was met with the familiar plain white walls and ceiling of the rectangular room that she was aware in recent years had become the primary sleeping quarters for the lady of Button House, partially illuminated by the dim lighting of the lamp switched on upon the right side of the room. Due to having seen the room enough to know what it contained off by heart, though, she didn't waste her time giving her surroundings a brief glance. Instead, her gaze instantly turned to where she knew the large, single bed was beside the bedside table with the lamp atop it, aware that the person she was searching for was likely there. And sure enough, that came to be true.

Blue eyes fell upon an elderly woman with short grey hair and dressed in a pink nightgown, tucked up underneath the green bedding with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together atop her chest. At a mere glance, due in part to the dim lighting, someone unsuspecting would have been fooled into thinking she was sleeping, but the longer she stared, the more Cordelia knew that was not the case. The woman's skin had started to turn a ghostly white and Cordelia failed to hear any breathing or see signs of movement from the woman's chest.

'Alas, it would appear I was right: the fog was a sign of her inevitable parting of this realm.'

With drooped eyes, Cordelia dared to step closer to the bed, her gaze never leaving the woman's wrinkled face even as she came to a stop at her bedside. Despite the obvious signs that she was currently staring at a body that no longer had a soul residing within it, it was strange to Cordelia how serene the woman looked in her current position. She couldn't quite place why, but it reassured her to know that she'd moved on without any pain.

'We all knew this day would be inevitable. But to think you have finally left us, Lady Heather… It is a mere reminder of just how cruel the passage of time is to the living. Yet I suppose I am prejudiced as an apparition who is no longer affected by time's vices. And whose death wasn't peaceful…' Cordelia sucked in a non-existent breath through her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. 'Nevertheless, you should still be granted a moment of silence in your memory. It is only fair.'

Keeping her hands clasped together against her skirt, Cordelia stayed silent to take the time to process everything and as an act of respect for the soul that had moved on, allowing the silence of the room to linger for a while longer…

… until a familiar male voice calling out to her forced her eyes open again.

"Hello?! Is someone there?! I'm down here!"

Cordelia raised her body up on her tiptoes to peek over towards the foot of the bed, specifically within the vicinity of a thin, white bookcase that stretched towards the ceiling that was settled to the left of the pair of drawn to black curtains in front of the window. After a quick sweep, she eventually spied the short, curly brunette hair of a familiar Tudor male head with a moustache and goatee lying on its side facing away from the bed, in turn exposing the clean slice on his neck stump where he had been decapitated from his body. Biologically, he was at least ten-to-twenty years her senior.

"Dear Humphrey," Cordelia eventually addressed the head in a low and posh sounding voice as she flattened her feet and made to walk round the bed. "Why am I not surprised to know you're still here?"

"Oh, thank goodness!" Humphrey exclaimed at hearing Cordelia respond. "Am I glad to see you, Cordelia."

"I believe you are one of few who usually are." Cordelia paused just in front of Humphrey's head and gave the left side of the bedroom a quick glance, attempting to search for the fur lined, red coat, white stockings, black shoes and white ruff that consisted of Humphrey's body's usual outfit amongst the furniture that occupied Heather's room. "Have they left you behind again?"

"Them and my stupid body. God knows where that idiot's gotten to!" Humphrey took a few seconds of pause before flicking his eyes up towards the ceiling. "Um… Would you mind…?"

Cordelia focused back on Humphrey when he trailed off with his request and gave a stiff nod, already knowing what exactly he was asking for. "Not at all."

The young blonde bent down and collected Humphrey's head into her hands, quickly standing with the back of his head cradled into the crook of her arm like a baby.

"Thank you kindly," Humphrey said once his head was secure in Cordelia's hold.

"You are very welcome, as always." Cordelia partially turned to face the bed again at remembering where she and Humphrey were, her gaze trailing over the empty husk that once belonged to Heather Button. "So, Lady Heather's spirit ascended to the heavens, I take it?"

Humphrey followed Cordelia's gaze when she asked the question, a faint scowl gracing his brow. "Couldn't tell you, I'm afraid. Body dropped me before I got a good look. Judging by what Thomas said, though, she must have."

"As suspected…" Cordelia mumbled as she broke her eyes away to stare at Humphrey's head in her arms. "I heard the chatter coming from the common room as I passed by. They implied she had ascended."

"At least you didn't have to listen to 'em while they were still in here," Humphrey grumbled. "Between the Captain insisting he's taking the bedroom, Julian and Robin betting over whether she stayed and Thomas' terrible poetry monologue, I couldn't make sense of anything."

Cordelia tutted and clicked her tongue with a scowl. "How insolent. As if them treating this event as some entertaining spectacle was not already disrespectful enough."

'And that is without the knowledge of Captain Pompous now taking residence a corridor away.'

"You can't blame them," Humphrey reasoned. "I mean, it's not every day we see something like this, is it?"

"It does not excuse such ill-mannered behaviour," Cordelia responded with the slight tilt of her chin and the roll of her eyes. "And yet why am I not surprised that they are more concerned about their own needs than what will now become of Button House?"

"Oh, yeah. Lady B mentioned Heather was the last of the Button line. She had no living descendants."

Cordelia released a quiet sigh and allowed her shoulders to slouch, bringing her arms and Humphrey's head closer to her chest as she did so. "Be candid with me, Humphrey: is it silly of me to be fretting over such a trivial matter as the house's next inheritor while the rest are not?"

A momentary silence fell between the two ghosts as Humphrey appeared to be pondering over Cordelia's words, evidenced by the quiet hum he made and the momentary closing of his eyes. Eventually, after what felt like minutes, the Tudor head gave his answer with the opening of his eyes.

"I wouldn't say so. The others seem to think this place will be abandoned, but I know from experience that won't be the case…"

"And I agree. Granted, I have not been alive—or dead—for as long as you. Yet I have paid close enough attention to Lady Heather's exchanges with many visitors to know they have their eyes on this place."

"But on the other hand," Humphrey turned his gaze to stare off elsewhere, specifically towards a random wall nearby. "it's not like we can have a say in what happens anymore. So, what's the use in worrying?"

Cordelia slowly nodded to this and lowered her head, her eyes momentarily closing when she responded in a quiet voice. "Very true."

'Another thing that I and my fellow ghosts oft-forget, as much as I am loath to admit…'

"All we can do in the meantime is just wait and see what happens," Humphrey continued, turning to look up at Cordelia again with a forced smile. "Maybe things will turn around."

"Of course. Just as wise as always, Humphrey," Cordelia eventually complimented, her gaze returning to Heather's body when she opened her eyes. "But whatever the future may hold for Button House, we can at least take comfort in the knowledge that Lady Heather left this realm peacefully..."

"Oh, yes! There are worse ways to go, as we already know!"

Humphrey let out a hearty laugh at his intended joke, prompting Cordelia to peek over her right shoulder towards the far-left corner of the room. A wooden dresser with a rectangular mirror atop it stood there, its reflective surface catching Cordelia's back and exposing the dried blood stains drenching the middle of the shawl. Cordelia's lips curled the moment her blue eyes locked with the darkened stains surrounding the thin, circular tear in her shirt just about visible past the matching tear in her shawl, close to the middle of her shoulder blades.

Even after all this time, she still couldn't stand the sight of it.

She eventually made her quiet response when the silence had dragged on long enough. "Quite right…"

"… Oh, sorry," Humphrey quickly apologised at silently observing her current expression, his brow furrowing out of guilt upon realising what she was likely looking at. "Still too soon?"

Cordelia relaxed her expression and returned her gaze to Humphrey, the faintest of smiles dancing upon her lips despite its slight quiver. "It would seem so, yes. Yet I must applaud your humorous courage in these trying times, Humphrey."

Humphrey's brows raised with a wide blink. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, if I had had my head severed from my body, I could not see myself making light of it."

Humphrey rolled his eyes. "Oh, believe me, Cordelia, I'm surprised at myself too."

"Is that right?"

"Yes." An amused smile spread across his lips. "Not even I could have foreseen this far ahead."

For a moment, Cordelia's usually gloomy and stoic outlook broke with a small chuckle, a sight that left Humphrey blinking a couple of times to make sure he wasn't hearing and seeing things. But her temporary mirth was soon dispelled by a bright yellowish light streaming into the room within her peripheral vision, prompting Cordelia to face the slight gap in the drawn curtains with a squint.

"Oooh!" Humphrey commented, his eyes widening ever so slightly out of awe. "It's brightening up out there!"

"It seems the Queen's weather is upon us at last." Cordelia straightened out and twirled on her heels to face the doorway. "We'd best depart. Observing the living uncovering a body is surely a heart-breaking sight…"

"Especially when it's your own."

"Agreed," she replied through a sigh and headed straight for the door, not once glancing back at the bed as she went. "Where would you like me to take you, Humphrey? Do you need assistance in locating your body?"

Humphrey furrowed his brows in thought for a moment, eventually answering once he and Cordelia had phased back into the corridor outside of Heather's bedroom.

"Not a good idea. We'll be wandering the whole estate before we find 'im!"

"Should I leave you close to the common room for the rest to find you then?"

"You can just leave me in the library." Humphrey paused to yawn loudly, smacking his lips soon after. "I could use a nap."

Cordelia allowed a faint smile to slip onto her lips, yet it was soon gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Then it shall be done."

"Much appreciated, Cordelia."


When she was still alive, the passage of time was a concept that Cordelia had naturally never given much thought, even when it came to how it affected herself. Yet upon her death, it became a theme she was unable to escape from, especially because of the constant changes that occurred to her surroundings and the living, changes that no longer affected her. While the other ghosts had paid little attention to the life of Heather Button and had gone about their own agendas throughout each waking day (due in part from Pat's influence with projecting his scout activities and routines onto them), it was only just now dawning upon Cordelia how much time she'd spent observing the late lady of the house to kill her boredom. Because of Heather's daily routines and schedules, Cordelia had become more aware of current events and dates in comparison to her housemates, with Heather's ninety-nine years on the earth helping to occupy her mind when other things simply could not and make her forget her troubles. But from the moment Heather's body was removed from the Button Estate and the house became abandoned, Cordelia's grip on reality slipped the same way one would if they'd had a rug yanked from underneath their feet. No one from the living world visited, leaving her and the other ghosts that occupied the house to become its only invisible inhabitants.

In the following days since Heather's passing, Cordelia wandered aimlessly and alone through the empty corridors and rooms of the manor house's interior and across the lush and wide empty fields of the manor house's grounds, only having the grandfather clocks to give her some estimate regarding the time of day. Yet with no way to tell what day or month it was, daytime and night-time gradually began to blend. Weeks became months, leaving her reliant on the changing weather conditions to try to gauge how much time had truly passed. And before Cordelia knew it, she was re-entering the same routine she was in after she'd died, leading her to suspect she'd developed yet another form of the very thing that had plagued her ever since she'd first become a ghost: grief. But what or whom was she grieving for? Heather Button? Unlikely, she thought. It didn't change the fact that the lingering emptiness she'd felt all these years suddenly felt more intense, leading to daytime trances while wandering into rooms Heather had frequently occupied and sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of her room on the ground floor of the west wing (yes, ghosts could still sleep if they wanted to, apparently. And no, she did not understand the logic behind it either, much like the other things they could do). Meanwhile, the other ghosts acted as if every day was just a regular day at Button House for them, seeming unperturbed by Heather's absence and enjoying the tranquillity now that they had the manor house to themselves.

And on this particular day, from where she currently laid sprawled on her back across the side of the bed that faced the window within her sleeping quarters, Cordelia assumed it was just going to be another one of those days.

The bedroom at the back of the west wing that Cordelia had chosen to occupy was almost box-like, possessing bare white walls and wooden flooring that housed a double-sized, light and dark blue plaid covered and pillowed bed, a tall rectangular window with pulled back dark blue curtains and a small wooden, circular table with a matching armless chair beside it. Cordelia hadn't known who this room was initially supposed to be for, nor had she ever seen Heather or other visitors use it, especially because compared to the rest of Button House, this bedroom was unremarkable and cramped. But for someone like Cordelia? It was comfy and suited her just right, especially for when she wanted to hide away and be alone with her own thoughts undisturbed. After all, it was the only room on the ground floor that was at the far edge of the west wing, with only one corridor leading straight to it.

With her gaze focused on the ceiling bathed in the mid-morning sun streaming in, the young blonde closed her eyes with sharp intake of (non-existent) breath through her nostrils, waiting five seconds before she loudly exhaled through her mouth. She basked within the faint sounds she could hear through the deafening silence, such as the cooing of the pigeons outside, the occasional creaks and moans from the wooden floors outside of the room, the resounding tap of slightly heeled shoes approaching the room from her left—

'… Wait.'

Cordelia barely had time to open her eyes and process what was happening before the stern voice of the Captain spoke her name from the doorway, followed swiftly by the marching footsteps halting.

"Cordelia! Thought I'd find you in here!"

The blonde ghost's eyes drooped as she tilted her head to the side to glance at the doorway, her blue eyes meeting with the combed silver hair and moustache that belonged to the man who looked to be around thirty years her senior standing with his arms tucked behind his back. She spied his black baton missing from where it was usually tucked away under the left arm of the brown jacket that made up his World War 2 Army Officer's uniform, an item he'd had on him when he died. He was probably holding it behind his back, she thought.

"Captain," Cordelia eventually greeted through gritted teeth, continuing to speak while slowly pushing her body up into a sitting position partly turned to face the biologically older ghost. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

The Captain cocked a brow at detecting the hostility in Cordelia's tone, followed by the slight tilt of the head. "What's this now? Is that any way to speak to your commanding officer?"

"You are not my commanding officer, Captain," Cordelia answered with slightly pursed lips, placing her hands in her lap with the straightening of her back. "And even if you were, I am certain I have a right to speak in such a way to a gentleman who feels his sense of purpose greatly outweighs the suspension of simple manners." She saw the Captain's head briefly turn to look at the shut door behind him with a frown, causing Cordelia to huff loudly and place a hand to her forehead. "And yes, I am well aware you do not have the capability to physically knock. Yet that is no excuse to not stop outside and politely enquire about entry."

There was a slight pause before the Captain loudly cleared his throat and faced forward again. "Yes, well,"—he rolled his shoulders and bent his neck to the left for a few seconds, then straightened it again—"you should know that manners matter little in a state of emergency, hence why I suspended them."

"A state of emergency?" Cordelia repeated with a squint, giving the Captain a look from head to toe as if to scrutinise his appearance. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why else would I have sought you out?" The Captain countered. "Forgive me for saying this, but you're…" He trailed off and raised a finger to his shirt collar to give it a light tug, breaking eye contact to look at the window while stumbling over his words; had it been possible, Cordelia would have guessed he'd be physically sweating buckets by now. "W-Well, you're not exactly… Uh… W-What I mean to say is…"

Cordelia's eyes narrowed further at his hesitation. "Do not try to sweeten the honey for my sake, Captain. I think we both know precisely what you want to say. So, you might as well just come out with it."

"Ahem!" The Captain cleared his throat again with a fist close to his mouth to regain his composure. "Yes, well, to put it simply, Cordelia… if you were a solider in the army, you'd have been what we'd call a 'barrack-room barrister' and a 'skiver'." He shook his head. "But that does not change the fact that you are still a member of this platoon as a resident of the upper floors, and thus are required to be consulted during emergency briefings."

Cordelia relaxed her expression with a blink and tilted her head to the side, naturally unfamiliar with those specific terms. She was used to the Captain's 'army' jargon, though, and she could easily tell by the stern tone of his voice and the curl of his upper lip that he was calling her were supposed to be bad things. Hence her sarcastic response:

"I do not know what you just addressed me as, but it does not take a prodigy to deduce that you'd think me a disappointment should I have been assigned under an old man such as yourself."

At first, the Captain's brows furrowed at the last thing she'd said, appearing to be attempting to understand it. But the moment he gaped and stared at her as if she'd grown a second head, Cordelia allowed a small smirk to slip onto her lips, which widened with the slight raise of her chin when the Captain scowled. He understood what she'd done, and she couldn't help feeling proud of herself for that (especially as it was a term she'd heard many use with the Captain before).

"Oh, I see. Double meaning. Think you're being clever, do you?"

And Cordelia responded in kind, her smirk fading from her face. "I think I am. It's not my fault the double meaning happens to be very relevant to you, Captain, nor is it my fault that I managed to work that out."

The Captain released an exasperated sigh and lifted an arm to wipe at his forehead, daring to walk close to the window without taking his eyes off the biologically younger ghost.

"Now look here, young lady," he snapped, suggesting to Cordelia that he was slowly losing his patience with her. "this is not the time for horseplay!" He stopped with his back to the window and pointed his baton towards the door with a harsh whipping motion and a loud 'swish!' to follow it, which Cordelia showed no reaction to whatsoever. "There is an emergency meeting in the common room and your attendance is compulsory. So, quit mucking about and get going." When Cordelia merely reacted by having her eyes follow his baton and then resume focusing on his face without saying anything or moving, the Captain raised a brow and jerked his head towards the door. "What are you waiting for? Chop chop!"

"With all due respect, Captain," Cordelia began sarcastically as she crossed her arms and leaned back a little on the bed. "I will have to decline."

The Captain gasped and clutched his empty hand to his chest with the drop of his other arm back to his side, acting as though Cordelia had just betrayed him and shot him through the heart at point blank. "I beg your pardon?"

Cordelia huffed and frowned at the Captain's apparent shock. "Please cease the theatrics, good sir. We do not need another 'Thomas Thorne' in this household."

The Captain's nostrils twitched and flared as he stood up straight and returned his hands behind his back, trying to keep his composure despite being compared to Thomas; not that Cordelia could blame him. Who liked being compared to that melodramatic poet? Certainly not her, as evidenced by the times she'd heard Julian joking about it.

"Would you please take this seriously, Cordelia?"

"Oh, believe me, Captain, I am." He cocked a brow at her immediate answer. "Taking aside the fact that you are fully aware of my aversion of the common room and to the activities and business of the rest of you, it is no secret that I am not liked amongst your little menagerie, particularly in the instances of yourself and Lady Button."

"And what has that got to do with it?"

Cordelia's frown deepened. "I think you know." When the Captain didn't respond or react, she leaned forward a little, her next words spoken in a low voice. "I am not as gullible nor as oblivious as everyone else, so it should not surprise you that I know you abuse your self-appointed leadership whenever a situation isn't to your liking."

"Wha—! I—!" The Captain spluttered, only to turn his nose up at the ceiling. "Well, that—! That is utter nonsense! How dare you make such an accusation!"

Cordelia's eyes drooped at the World War 2 veteran's attempt to defend himself, continuing as if his outburst didn't just happen. "Accusation or not, sir, your real reason for seeking me out is because I possess something that can give you an advantage over the other ghosts." She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "And I refuse to let myself be used to escalate petty squabbles that have nothing to do with me."

Silence fell between the Captain and Cordelia for what felt like minutes, during which time the latter made no attempt to peek at the former. Yet that didn't stop her from coming to the conclusion that his lack of a retort meant one of three things: either he knew it was useless arguing with her and was going to retreat, he didn't want to say anything that would prove she was right with her assumptions, or he was re-evaluating his tactics to see what else he had at his disposal. Regardless of which one it was, Cordelia knew better than to let her guard down. After all, she knew the Captain was a highly intelligent man, because how else would he have gained his title and his medals (attached to the left breast of his jacket) otherwise?

Finally, after what felt like forever of dwelling in the lingering silence, the Captain spoke first, keeping his voice low.

"Right. So, you are declining to attend this urgent meeting?"

"Yes," Cordelia answered abruptly.

"And that is your final answer, is it?"

"It is, yes."

Another few seconds of silence followed and then…

"Very well," he replied through a huff. "Then you've left me with no choice."

Cordelia opened an eye and turned her head slightly to observe the Captain roll back and forth on his heels and soles once, keeping his arms behind him and puffing his chest out. At first, Cordelia was struggling to understand what it was he had planned up his sleeves, hence why her eye narrowed and part of her gaze remained fixed on the biologically older ghost, refraining from saying anything.

But then, with the loud clearing of his throat and a quick lick of his lips (which was unnecessary because… they were ghosts. They didn't have saliva), he broke out into deep and fast-paced singing, having chosen a song that Cordelia's eyes instantly widened at.

"I am the very model of a modern Major-General~! I've information vegetable, animal and mineral~!—"

"Oh Lord, have mercy…" she quietly hissed and stuck her fingers in her ears at his brief pause for breath, squeezing her eyes shut to try to block it out; her attempts were, of course, futile.

"—I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical~! From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical~!"

The Captain paused with his singing to hum the catchy and face-paced tune under his breath, causing Cordelia to grit her teeth and dig her fingers deeper into her ears. She was no stranger to this song. It was a common one she'd often heard the Captain singing to himself or something he'd use as an annoying tactic to get his way. She suspected the latter was likely the reason why he was singing right now, which she knew wasn't good.

'Damn your eyes! You are surely a stubborn fellow! For even if I was to flee this room and seek sanctuary elsewhere, you would not cease your infernal racket!'

Cordelia knew she didn't have a choice in the matter anymore. If she wanted this man to silence his singing, she was going to have to give in to his demands. He was the hunter smoking out her burrow and she was the rabbit being forced to the surface to avoid suffocation, knowing the moment she emerged she was in his trap and ready to be shot at.

"Damn you, sir," she muttered under her breath while opening her eyes, prompting the Captain to go quiet and allow her to remove her fingers.

"Apologies, Cordelia, did you say something?" he asked with a sly smile. "I couldn't quite hear you over my singing."

Cordelia breathed in deeply through her mouth and counted to ten in her head, eventually exhaling and slowly bringing herself to stand.

"… If I accompany you to the common room and give in to your childish whims, will I have the luxury of being left alone after that?"

The Captain's smile faded with a stiff nod. "Yes."

"Then I shall go," she grumbled, shooting the Captain a brief glare as she made to stroll past him and place her hands to her front. "But I am not going any farther into the common room than the doorway."

"I can agree to that."

"Thank you."

The moment she took the lead and phased through the door into the corridor outside, she heard the Captain following close behind her like clockwork, attempting to match his striding footsteps with her nimble own.

"Just out of curiosity," the Captain began once they'd reached the middle of the corridor, speaking in a gloating tone. "what did you think of my singing? Thought I'd gotten that spot-on myself."

Cordelia responded without glancing behind her or breaking her walk. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

"I do."

"Then to be frank, Captain…" Cordelia let a faint smile of amusement slip, knowing her next words were going to be but a hollow victory this time. "I've heard pigeon coos with more tune."


The common room of Button House was one of the first rooms of the east wing that visitors would encounter upon arrival to the manor house, situated to the left side of the small foyer. Due to its long and rectangular width, it happened to be one of the largest rooms on the ground floor and also one of few rooms inside that guests would have to traverse through to reach the rest of the east wing, with a high white ceiling supported by a trio of white columns at the far end. As such, it was equipped for social gatherings, such as containing a piano close to the farthest window, two cream-coloured sofas and matching armchairs gathered close to the fireplace at the back of the room, and multiple wooden tables scattered about with various items atop it either close to the seating (which contained lamps) or against the walls outlining the room. While three of its walls were decorated with lush green wallpaper, however, the wall close to the room's entrance was brown, housing many and various sized picture frames and a mirror whose large crack spread from its top left corner. It was this room that the other eight ghosts were currently occupying, as Cordelia was quick to confirm when she became the first to step into the doorway.

A quick glance inside revealed Robin (a caveman around ten years Cordelia's senior biologically with wild, brunette hair framing his face like a lion's mane and dressed in filth covered furs resembling a sleeveless shirt, sleeves covering from his wrists to his elbows, shorts and boots up to his thighs) and Julian (a Conservative MP around twenty years Cordelia's senior biologically with short, curly flaxen hair and dressed in a black jacket, blue and white stripped shirt, red tie and black shoes, but missing his trousers and exposing his black-knee high socks with straps round his shins) respectively seated in the two armchairs to the left of the fireplace on either side of the circular table that contained the chess set. To Julian's left was Pat (a short and stout bespectacled Scoutmaster around ten years Cordelia's senior with short brunette hair and dressed in a beige jacket decorated with various badges and matching shorts, plus a blue and yellow neckerchief tied by a woggle, knee-high black socks and brown shoes, that made up a Scoutmaster's uniform), who was shuffling from side-to-side on the chair he was sitting on to avoid the blue broken ended arrow sticking diagonally through his neck from hitting its back.

Cordelia could also see Fanny (an Edwardian noblewoman biologically around thirty to forty years Cordelia's senior with her blonde and grey streaked hair tied into a bun and dressed in a long, high-collared cream dress with silver earrings), Mary (a Stuart-era peasant woman around twenty years Cordelia's senior biologically covered head to toe in soot, with short black hair hiding under a white cap and dressed in a yellow and blue laced dress with a white apron) and Kitty (a Georgian noblewoman around Cordelia's age biologically—or possibly ten years older—with her black hair styled into an up do and decorated with feathers, wearing a rich burgundy fabric gown trimmed by lace and four pink bows along the front plus a fisu at her neckline) respectively seated on the cream sofa lined close to the wall where she stood, with Thomas (a Regency-era gentleman biologically around the same age as Cordelia with dark brown curly hair and dressed in a white linen shirt with a high collar and puffy sleeves, a brown and buttoned decorated waistcoat stained with blood surrounding a small hole on his left side, a cravat tied into a bow, white breeches and black boots) leaning against the back of the sofa behind Fanny's head.

The seven ghosts had yet to take notice of Cordelia, so for a brief moment she was left observing them silently as Julian and Robin mulled over the chess board with Pat watching, and Mary and Kitty chatting between themselves while Fanny and Thomas each looked off in different directions, one seeking a distraction while the other sulked in his thoughts. She couldn't see Humphrey anywhere, yet she could take a good guess that he was likely somewhere on the floor, where he usually was in most situations.

She soon got her answer when that familiar searing pain suddenly prickled at her wound with such intensity, it was like someone had wedged a flaming stick into her back.

'Damnation!'

Cordelia winced and started to drop towards the floor at feeling her knees buckle, only to feel a strong grip from a pair of hands swiftly swooping under her arms to halt her movement.

"Whoa there, Cordelia!" The voice confirmed her saviour to be the Captain, whose shout had caused the other ghosts in the room to fall silent and turn to them. "Steady now."

From within her peripheral vision, Cordelia caught Kitty, Mary, Pat and Thomas soon leaping from their current positions to stand upon instinct, with Kitty, Mary and Thomas sharing brief frowns of concern, which was something the blonde had expected from them. Fanny, on the other hand, remained watching from where she was seated, staring on at the scene with a wide blink and a slight gape.

"Hello! Look at that!" Cordelia heard Julian remark as the Captain hoisted her up to her full height again and kept his hold on her, with the blonde giving the MP a quick glance to see him leaning over the chess board towards Robin with a beckoning motion. "Told you he'd get her to come in here! You owe me a tenner, mate!"

"Not so fast," Robin countered with a scowl, his gaze focused on the chess board all the while. He eventually raised an index finger and pointed to a random square on the board, moving his fingertip two squares forward. "Little guy go dooka dooka…" He jabbed his finger above the chosen square, causing Julian to gape. "Checkmate." Robin leaned back in his seat and shrugged. "I owe nothing."

Julian growled and smacked his fists against the arms of the chair. "Argh!"

"Guys, please!" Pat shushed the pair and slightly tilted his head towards Cordelia and the Captain, as if trying to subtly indicate for them to be quiet. "Not the time."

With heavy breaths, Cordelia rolled her shoulders to try to dispel the burning sensation still lingering around the middle of her upper back, despite knowing it was a useless feat. She gave her hands a brief glance, her eyes drooping at the sight of the slight shaking of her fingers; how was that possible when she didn't have a physical body anymore to experience these sensations?

'Of all the times this had to happen, why must it have been in the company of an audience?!'

"You alright there?" Humphrey's concerned voice prompted Cordelia's eyes to trail to the wooden floor, where she spied the Tudor nobleman's head staring up at her with a furrowed brow close to where she was standing. "You look like you can barely stand."

Ah. There he was.

"I'm fine," she heaved through her erratic and non-existent breathing. "Just a little faint." Then she frowned at her own words and glanced around at the other ghosts for confirmation. "Can apparitions feel faint?"

The other ghosts made noises of confusion to her question, either accompanied by the shrugging of shoulders or shakes of the head. It didn't take long, though, for Pat to become the voice of order the moment he side-stepped away from his chair and held his hands out towards it.

"Here, Cordelia. You can take my seat. Maybe you'll feel better once you—"

"NO!" Mary's shriek at the offer caused every ghost in that room to nearly jump out of their (non-existent) skin simultaneously (even Cordelia, despite knowing why Mary had objected). The peasant woman was repeatedly shaking her head and waving her hands about, her next words spilling out of her mouth like a rushing waterfall. "Cordelia cannots sits there! She musts nots sits there!"

"Why can't she sit there, Mary?" Pat asked, prompting Mary to cease the shaking and waving once she'd processed his question.

"'Cause… Uh…" Mary trailed off and looked to Thomas and Kitty for help, with the pair exchanging a quick sideways glance and then giving the peasant woman an open-armed shrug each. "It- It be 'cause…" She then turned to Cordelia, who could only shake her head to dissuade her from even trying. Eventually, Mary focused on the chair and held her hands out towards it, blurting out the first thing that popped into her head. "The chair be cursed!"

Robin groaned quietly and smacked a palm to his forehead, grumbling something inaudible under his breath. Thomas' shoulders slumped with the shake of his head. Kitty, Pat, Julian, Fanny and the Captain were left frowning and exchanging confused glances. And then there was Cordelia, who hid her dismay behind her hand and lowered head, listening to Humphrey's muttered comment amidst her thoughts.

"Oh, good god…"

'Lord, have mercy…'

"You what?" Pat eventually questioned when he found the will to speak, prompting Robin to raise a finger upon answering the scoutmaster in Mary's stead.

"Uh, I think Mary try to say that Cordel too unwell to sit in chair." He pointed towards the doorway. "Maybe Cordel go back to room."

"That's out of the question, Robin," the Captain said, keeping Cordelia close to his side at seeing her posture slump a bit and her jaw clench. "All personnel are compulsory for this emergency meeting and that includes Cordelia."

"But Cordelia looks so sickly and pale!" Kitty exclaimed, only to squint a bit and tilt her head upon scrutinising Cordelia's face a little closer. "Unless she's always looked like that…"

"Do not trouble yourselves," Cordelia interjected with the dismissive wave of her hand, her tone wobbling a bit because of the pain. "Seat me by the piano, Captain. I can push through."

That was a blatant lie and Cordelia knew it, yet she had a little choice in the matter. The Captain was a persistent adversary. Her protests and the protests of the others would likely fall on deaf ears, or—as he often tended to do—would be interrupted with the use of random noises or words to catch them off guard and allow him to take over the conversation again. In other words, fighting the Captain was pointless.

"That's the spirit, Cordelia!" The Captain praised with the puffing of his chest and raising of his chin. "Spoken like a soldier. Come along now."

Cordelia rolled her eyes at the 'compliment' and started to follow the Captain forward as he tried to slowly lead her along, quietly hissing when the movement forward resorted in the searing pain increasing in ferocity, going from feeling like one flaming stick was poking through her wound to feeling three flaming sticks were poking through her wound.

"Captain, if I may," Thomas suddenly said, prompting Cordelia and the Captain to stop walking and turn towards the poet as he stepped away from the sofa and approached them, a hand to his chest. "Perhaps I should escort young Cordelia along so we may get this meeting started. We have already lost quite a bit of time because of this incident, don't you think?"

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at Thomas then, giving the Regency gentleman a quick look over to try to determine what he was up to. But when the Captain glanced her way with a faint frown, as if contemplating Thomas' proposal, Cordelia saw Thomas wink at her, the subtle action being all she needed to understand his intentions.

'Ah! Attempting to divert the attention away from me, Thomas? For all your self-indulgence and obliviousness, your consideration as a gentleman is an advantageous weapon when you have the wits to use it.'

"Jolly good idea, Thorne," the Captain eventually said, taking a step back to allow Thomas to come forward and hook his arm through Cordelia's, which the Captain took as his cue to release his hold. "Then I shall leave her in your care."

Once Cordelia's arm was secured in Thomas' hold, the shorter ghost breathed deeply and leaned herself against Thomas' side, closing her eyes the moment she heard the Captain walk towards the seating area. Cordelia was only three inches shorter than Pat (who was apparently around 5"5 in terms of height), so she could only just about rest the side of her head against Thomas' shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling Thomas give her arm a gentle pat to acknowledge her gratitude before he resumed her slow walk (or limp, at this point, because the pain was making her stagger) to the piano.

She did open her eyes and peek back towards Kitty, Robin and Mary from where they were still observing her though, giving the trio a collective nod to show she was grateful for their attempted interventions as well as Kitty and Mary returned to their seats with Pat. While Cordelia made a great effort to avoid the ghosts on a daily basis, even she could admit there were times where she was glad some of them were understanding and had her back.

Once she and Thomas had moved past the seating area, however, she gradually felt the prickling of her wound die down to a point where it was bearable, allowing her to quicken her pace and stand up a little straighter with a sigh of relief. The Captain, who was now stood with his back to the fireplace with his hands behind him, began his talk as Thomas helped Cordelia sit down on the stool in front of the piano before sitting beside her, with the blonde putting her hands in her lap and Thomas clasping his atop his crossed legs.

"Right. Now that everyone's in attendance, I can finally get to my A.O.B, which involves you, Fanny," he started with a hint of annoyance in his tone, facing the addressed with a glare while Fanny gaped and blinked widely.

The other ghosts, meanwhile, were left frowning at Fanny out of confusion, with Cordelia being the exception when she raised a brow the former noblewoman's way instead.

'The Captain is at odds with Lady Button? How unexpected.' She rolled her shoulders a bit, noting the searing pain was still there, but it was a little fainter compared to before. 'Still, it will make for a convenient distraction, I suppose.'

"Me?!" Fanny shrieked, prompting the Captain to nod with a deepening glare.

"That's right! Because ever since I've moved rooms, I've been woken every night at exactly 0300 hours by you screaming like a mad person!"

Fanny made a noise of disgust and leaned back in her seat as if she'd been slapped round the face. But before she could even bring herself to say anything, a loud gasp from Cordelia caused heads to turn towards her, with the ghosts gathered witnessing the blonde's face contort to a scowl in a matter of seconds.

"You knave!" she shouted and pointed a finger accusingly towards the Captain, who showed no outward reaction to her outburst. "So, it was Lady Button's nightly jumping and screaming that forced you to seek me out!"

"What?!" Fanny exclaimed with wide eyes, with the Captain using a hand to straighten out his collar and Thomas leaning away from Cordelia with a finger twisting in his ear.

"That's exactly right, Cordelia." The Captain returned his hand behind his back. "Your room also has a garden view. I had an inkling you would have seen or heard Fanny and could verify my statements."

"Those were Lady Button's screams?" Kitty questioned with a small smile, placing a finger to her chin. "I always thought that was an owl."

"An owl?" Cordelia repeated with a creased brow, recalling the many times she'd heard Fanny's screaming. "The two do not even sound close enough to be muddled up."

"Do you even know what an owl sounds like, Kitty?" Thomas asked with a similar perplexed expression to Cordelia.

"I thought I did." Kitty shrugged her shoulders and widened her smile, her innocent and naïve nature clearly shining through. "But not anymore, I suppose."

Cordelia and Thomas shared a sideways glance and drooped eyes, only to return their attention to the Captain when he loudly cleared his throat to restore order.

"Now see here, Fanny," he continued with a stern tone, glaring at Fanny and raising his baton to point directly at her. "This can't go on! This jumping and screaming nonsense needs to stop!"

"Well, I don't see why it should!" Fanny retorted and rose to her feet, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Firstly, I am not even aware I'm doing it! And secondly,"—she gestured a hand towards Cordelia—"Cordelia has apparently been aware of this, yet she hasn't complained!" Fanny straightened out and turned her gaze towards the ceiling, her hands clasped across her middle. "Which I'll admit, I am surprised at."

Cordelia rolled her eyes at the last comment from Fanny, but she didn't say anything until Pat addressed her.

"Actually, now that Lady B's mentioned it… If you've heard those screams and knew it was Lady B, how come you've never said anything, Cordelia?"

"There has never been a need to, Patrick," she answered bluntly, prompting the others to blink widely at her immediate response. "From the first moment I heard it, I easily identified the screams to be from Lady Button. Yet upon a quick investigation to ensure she was not in distress, I discovered her in the garden with a glazed look in her eyes." Cordelia saw Fanny's brows raise at this, yet she continued. "The act appears to be subconscious and during slumber, occurring ever since her death only once per night and with Lady Button having no recollection of it. Complaining about mere seconds of screaming that is clearly involuntary seemed pointless, especially as it is not a bother to myself."

A moment of silence fell around the gathered ghosts as they stared silently at Cordelia, with Fanny standing still with her mouth agape, as if she hadn't expected Cordelia to come to her defence. Not that Cordelia could blame her, considering the Edwardian noblewoman spent the most of her time criticising her unfairly whenever they were in each other's company.

But that was soon broken by the slashing interruption from the Captain.

"Well, it is to me!" he protested while jabbing his baton into his own chest, to which Cordelia huffed loudly and closed her eyes. "Even ghosts need regular sleep, you know!"

"Yet you are the only one with complaints, Captain." Cordelia opened an eye. "If you are unable to withstand the distressed screams of a traumatised Edwardian noblewoman for at least five seconds or slightly more each night, perhaps you would do well to return to your original sleeping quarters, hm?"

"Cordelia does make a point, Cap," Pat agreed as he stood from his seat, holding out his arms with a slight shrug. "Maybe you should return to your old room in the east wing."

"Nonsense!" The Captain snapped and stomped a foot against the floor. "As ranking officer, I deserve the garden view!"

"And the garden view comes with the screaming woman!" Thomas replied in an overexaggerated tone, gesturing towards Fanny as he did so (with said Fanny scrunching her nose at what he'd called her).

Cordelia nodded to Thomas' statement. "Indeed it does. So, either you accept it like the rest of us, Captain, or you return to your previous sleeping quarters."

"That's right," Mary said in agreement, smiling towards the Captain. "But I'm sures yous gets used to it after a hundred years, likes Cordelia."

"But I should not have to 'get used to it'!" The Captain objected, causing Cordelia to sigh and shake her head.

"Well, throwing a childish fit will not get you what you want, Captain."

"Oooooooh…" Julian remarked in a teasing tone, rubbing his hands together and sitting forward in his chair. "Here we go!"

"A childish fit?!" The Captain repeated, aghast. "How dare you, Madam! It is a genuine grievance!"

"Yet you've chosen to die on the hill that involves you getting a room with a garden view." Cordelia folded her arms. "If it was a 'genuine grievance', Captain, would you not have accepted mine and Patrick's solution? Because from where I am sitting, your arguments thus far have been senseless."

"Senseless, you say?!" The Captain stomped his foot again and whipped his baton in Cordelia's direction with a deepened scowl. "Now see here, young lady—"

"Ugh!" Robin's groan quickly cut the Captain off, prompting heads to turn to him and preventing the others from speaking before they had a chance to devolve into a senseless debate. "It not hard!" The caveman gestured towards the Captain and Fanny. "If you no want to move that badly, then just swap rooms."

"Swap rooms?" Fanny repeated with a raised brow, which Robin nodded at.

"Yes." Robin pointed one hand at the Captain and the other at the ceiling. "Captain go up top,"—he then indicated a hand towards Fanny and the other one towards the floor—"Fanny come ground floor,"—he held both hands on either side of him and raised his shoulders—"Fanny no jumpy or screamy."

Silence rung around the common room once the caveman was finished, with some of the others exchanging quick sideways glances before focus turned to the Captain and Fanny. Eventually, Fanny became the first to break it, slowly nodding and twitching her nose as she turned her eyes to the ceiling.

"Well… I think that would suit me." Fanny dared to glance at the Captain, who was also staring at the ceiling after rolling back and forth on his heels. "Captain?"

There was a short delay before the Captain nodded and loudly sniffed, his voice quiet as he decided to comment on the compromise. "Yes, I… I agree that could work."

The other ghosts collectively released a sigh of relief at the pair conceding, with Robin smiling proudly and sitting up straight in his seat.

"See?" He gestured his hands at his face. "Not just pretty face."

Cordelia hid a smile behind her hand at this, keeping her gaze on her lap to avoid laughing. While many often dismissed Robin due to his appearance, terrible grammar and lack of manners, they often forgot that the caveman was smarter than he was given credit for, barring those like Cordelia, of course.

'Well done, Robin. Good of you to step in before we wound up devolving into wild animals.'

"Ahem!" Cordelia loudly cleared her throat to get the attention of the others once she'd pulled herself together, her blue eyes fixing specifically on the Captain with the next words to leave her mouth. "Was that all you wished to discuss, Captain?" She smoothed out the creases in her skirt in preparation to stand. "Because if that is all, I shall make my leave now."

"U-Um… Y-Yes!" The Captain eventually said after a brief stutter, pausing to swallow to regain his composure. Cordelia also thought she heard Fanny click her tongue, but she chose not to acknowledge it. "Meeting's adjourned. You can go."

"Thank you," Cordelia replied sarcastically as she rose from her seat, even daring to lean forward a bit to give the others a small bow and slightly lifted her skirt with a hand despite the continued pain in her back. "Then if you will excuse me…"

And without sparing the other ghosts a parting glance, Cordelia stood up straight and clasped her hands to her front, striding to the left side of the common room instead of the entrance leading to the foyer so she could head towards the second floor. As much as she wanted to return to her room, this was easiest way for her to escape her physical agony, as proven when she gradually found her pace quickening and her back straightening as the pain in her wound began to dull.

She closed her eyes with a quiet and relieved breath, hearing Kitty call out to her and Fanny make her disapproving comments.

"It was nice seeing you, Cordelia!"

"Hmph! How unladylike!"

But Cordelia didn't acknowledge either. She kept her head held high as she prepared to phase through the wall to the room opposite the common room, the last thing she heard being Pat as he spoke up to regain order and go over the ghosts' itinerary for the day.

'At least I have finally freed myself from that wretched room. Hopefully, that is the last time I shall have to convene in it again in relation to their follies.'

But if only Cordelia knew just how wrong she was going to be regarding that thought.


For the remainder of the day, Cordelia returned to her sleeping quarters and stayed there undisturbed, a respite she was thankful for. Yet once the darkness descended upon Button House and slowly engulfed the daytime light within the dusk of the evening, Cordelia settled atop her bed facing the ceiling with her arms rested across her abdomen, eventually drifting off to the hooting of the owl from outside of her window.

The general consensus after today's meeting (well, for Cordelia at least; although she did assume the others shared her sentiments based on what she'd seen and heard at the time) was that with Fanny and the Captain having switched rooms, Fanny's nightly jumping and screaming the moment the clocks struck three in the morning would cease. So, when Cordelia found her eyes opening to the three consecutive chimes of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside of her door, she was quick to close them again with a gentle and loud exhale, having remained in the same position from the first time she'd fallen asleep.

'Force of habit, Cordelia. Let us hope you will eventually grow out of it.'

No sooner had she thought that, however, the high-pitched scream of Fanny Button resounded from outside, forcing Cordelia's eyes open seconds before a bone-crunching thud followed. She quickly sat up and turned her head towards the window at hearing the Captain's annoyed yelling, just about catching the faint figure of Fanny in the dim moonlight strolling past her window to return to the house.

"Throw yourself out of your own damned window, for heavens' sake!"

Cordelia sat there as still as a statue for a few seconds, taking the time to process what she had just witnessed. But in the end, when she came to the realisation that the petty squabble between Fanny and the Captain was going to continue and she would likely be dragged into it yet again, she hid her face in her hands and shouted into her palms.

"Fie!"