A/N: Phew. Goodness, this chapter was harder to write than I thought. But after a lot of indecisiveness and back and forth between ideas, I've finally managed to write the concluding chapter to the first episode. This turned out to be less comical than I was originally going for, even though the ending of this chapter definitely started to go that way. XD But that was because after a lot of thinking, I thought the best approach for this chapter was to link it back to Chapter 1, especially as this chapter is yet another timeskip and Cordelia would have done a lot of self-reflecting during that time, most likely. Also, as some of you will have heard, Ghosts BBC is coming to a close once Series 5 airs, so I need to pick and choose carefully what parts of Cordelia's past begin to come to light between the episodes, whether through flashbacks or word of mouth.
But anyways, thank you to everyone who has been reading this fic over here. Your support is greatly appreciated. Can't believe the attention and traction it's gained over on AO3, though. I do have some commentary on the chapter at the bottom if you want to stick around to read that, but otherwise, I hope you enjoy the concluding chapter to episode one. I don't know when the next chapter for episode two will be done, as I'll need to go back through the episode properly, but hopefully this chapter will keep you entertained in the meantime.
Chapter 8: A Phantom's Epiphany
To the ghosts who haunted Button House and its surrounding estate, 'karma' was a familiar face they had become acquainted with upon entering purgatory, albeit reluctantly. Sure, when karma was in your corner and inflicting its righteous judgement upon those who had morally wronged you, they were a loyal and caring friend. But when it was you who was on the receiving end of that judgement, whether you believed it to be just or unjust, karma was a cruel mistress. It was no secret amongst the ten present ghosts that they shared a toxic relationship with karma, and in its own ironic and twisted way, it was the singular ghost that haunted them all; never physically there, and yet its presence was always heard, taunting them deep within the dark crevices of their mind and reminding them of their plights. Each restless soul here had their own version of karma making their afterlives a literal living hell, but in the days following the events involving Alison and Mike, one ghost in particular was unfortunate enough to get an unexpected and prolonged visit from her old foe.
Despite Fanny's attempt to reassure Cordelia (in her own way) that she was not to blame for Julian's actions, she only succeeded in staving off the guilt nibbling away at the Victorian ghost's invisible innards. After all, Cordelia knew that Fanny, along with the other ghosts (barring Jemima), were unaware that she possessed ghostly abilities which she felt could have prevented these tragic events had she bothered to use them. Inevitably, though, her guilt's return was enabled with a little (and unintentional) help from Kitty, who—ever the innocent and gossipy young woman she was—divulged the extent of Alison's life-threatening fractures and head injury she'd caught from a conversation between the paramedics when Cordelia happened to be within earshot of one of the ghosts' daily gatherings in the common room. And thus, the Victorian ghost was propelled back into the same, monotonous routine she was in after Heather Button's death, aimlessly wandering the manor house and estate lost in a deep-thinking trance during the day and then spending sleepless nights in her bed chambers staring at the darkness covered ceiling, all the while having karma tauntingly whispering in her ears how she'd once again hurt someone with her selfish actions. Meanwhile, the rest of the ghosts remained unperturbed by the absence of the married living couple, and happily resumed their routines as normal. It was clear to Cordelia that while Alison's and Mike's presence had done very little to shake up the afterlives of her other invisible housemates, the married couple had certainly left their mark upon her, with that fact remaining even upon this particularly bright and sunny morning over the Button Estate.
Amidst the sun-streaked and creaking corridors that encompassed the manor house's second floor, Cordelia walked her way through with her hands clasped against her skirt. Her drooped blue eyes focused ahead and ignored anything else within her peripheral vision, occupying her mind with random thoughts in the hopes of blocking out the cruel whispers of her invisible stalker, albeit pointlessly.
'I spent three years at Button House whilst I was still breathing, and upon my death thenceforth spent another one-hundred-and-fifty-years here as a mere apparition. And yet still I do not tire of wandering these faded corridors and vast fields, as though I were an adventurer of old age attempting to relive the glory days of my youth.' Cordelia sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a few seconds, her posture slumped a little. 'My, what a dull afterlife I lead. But I suppose it is better than lending an ear to the mocking tones of the pesky little imp who dares take residence within my head, nor the nonsense of whatever everyone else currently in the common room is prattling on about…'
As far as Cordelia was aware at present, the ghosts had gathered in the common room for one of Pat's infamous 'talk of the day' activities, where a ghost was chosen at random to talk to the rest about any topic of their choosing. If she recalled correctly, all nine of them should have assembled by now, meaning that upon entering the ballroom of the second-floor, Cordelia naturally expected it to be empty outside of her own presence and the echo of her shoes from the bare, wooden floor.
However, she'd barely strode even a quarter of the way into the room before a familiar male voice greeted her cheerily from the windowsill of the middle window, whom she immediately recognised belonged to Humphrey.
"Hello there, Cordelia!" The blonde-haired ghost came to an abrupt halt and partially turned to face the direction she'd heard Humphrey's voice from, spying the back of the Tudor man's curly, brown locks upon the left corner of the windowsill. How on earth did he get up there, Cordelia couldn't help wondering. "Lovely morning!"
Cordelia raised a brow upon noticing Humphrey's head was positioned towards the window.
"How did you know it was me when you did not see my entrance?" she enquired, making to approach the windowsill with cautious steps in the same way Robin would a baby animal.
"When you're just a head forced to fend for yourself against the world, you learn to recognise the differences in walks and shoes," he replied jokingly, turning his eyes Cordelia's way when she stopped in his view line. "But seriously, who else was it going to be? The others are all downstairs listening to Mary talk about how to milk a cow. Doesn't sound like something you would have joined in with."
Cordelia let an amused smile slip at this, knowing full well that Humphrey was correct. Her isolation and 'antics' were well-known to the invisible inhabitants of the manor house by now, after all.
"Quite right," the Victorian ghost murmured in agreement, her smile fading just as quickly as it had appeared. "Though, the reasoning you gave before is still sound enough. I would not be surprised if the loss of your body has forced you to attune yourself to noises more so than the rest of us." The blonde's brows furrowed in thought then. "Speaking of your body,"—her blue eyes gave the ballroom a brief skim from left to right—"would you like me to return you to it?"
The blonde ghost did recall seeing the Tudor man's body staggering about in the garden while she was passing through earlier…
"Thank you, Cordelia, but there's no need," Humphrey answered with a grateful smile, focusing on his faint reflection in the window's glass. "Quite enjoying the view of the grounds, honestly." He paused to sigh heavily, his follow-up sentence laced with a hint of sombreness to his tone. "It's rare I see them from a window these days…"
Cordelia's brows furrowed as she chose to follow Humphrey's gaze to the sun-soaked courtyard and fields stretching as far as her eyes could see, deciding not to comment aloud out of respect for Humphrey.
'The means by which we became apparitions upon this estate were certainly cruel in some cases, and yet we fail to realise just how lucky we were.' Cordelia rolled her shoulders from side-to-side at becoming conscious of the wound on her back. 'Despite the visible injuries inflicted upon the few of us, we can continue to function as though we were still alive. The same, however, cannot be said for Humphrey, who is forced to endure his purgatory recalling how much he took for granted by simply having a body while he was alive.' She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a thin line. 'I cannot even begin to imagine the thoughts that spiral through his mind on a daily basis. It is no wonder he has resorted to humour to cope with his predicament.'
"So, how have you been, Cordelia?" Humphrey's question brought Cordelia out of her reverie with a forced blink and an involuntary flinch, naturally because she hadn't been expecting the topic of conversation to suddenly switch to her.
Cordelia cleared her throat to regain her composure and squared her shoulders, returning her attention to the Tudor man's head with the slight tilt of her own.
"How peculiar," she remarked. "Since when did you show an interest towards my wellbeing, Humphrey? You know my mood and state of mind oft do not change."
A moment of silence descended between them, with Cordelia observing Humphrey knitting his brows together and turning his eyes to the ceiling, as if he was contemplating what to say next very carefully. However, it didn't take long before an idea of why he'd asked popped into her head, causing the blonde ghost's brows to raise out of realisation as she straightened out her head.
"… You have been made aware of my furious outburst towards the Captain and Julian the other day, haven't you?"
There was a few seconds of pause from the Tudor man's head atop the windowsill, soon followed by a hum of agreement and the closing of his eyes. The non-verbal confirmation had Cordelia release an exasperated huff, her eyes immediately averting themselves to the doorway of the corridor connected to the ballroom that led to the bathroom.
"Why am I not surprised that I have once again become a topic of chatter amongst the invisible denizens of this house?" she grumbled under her breath.
Yet she failed to stop Humphrey from hearing her, causing the Tudor man to chuckle heartily and the blonde ghost to once again focus her attention on him.
"You can't blame 'em!" he said, a hint of amusement dancing along the edge of his tone. "Sure, you're outspoken, but you're not usually expressive." He paused to shift his eyes in the direction of the doorway momentarily, the following thing he said spoken in a lowered voice. "And between you and me, I think you scared a few of them."
A wry smile appeared on the Victorian woman's face as she recalled the stuttering mess Julian was reduced to the moment she'd started angrily stomping towards him that fateful day, his palms held up in surrender while he'd attempted to back up to the door. She was the shortest of all the ghosts who lingered in the main parts of the house (outside of Jemima), so there was a significant height difference between her and Julian. And yet recalling how intimidated he'd been once she'd gotten up in his face and started ranting, she couldn't imagine how she must have looked to both him and the other ghosts who had been behind her the whole time.
'I suppose Humphrey is right. The events of previous surrounding Michael and Alison has awoken a voice within that I often keep to myself. It is only natural it would frighten those who are not privy to my past…'
"Still, I am sorry you had to hear it through the mouths of everyone else and not my own," Cordelia murmured her apology with the fading of her smile.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Humphrey reassured, looking up at the biologically younger blonde with a weak smile. "Sometimes you have to let it out rather than keep it in. As long as you're feeling better afterwards, that's the important thing."
Cordelia sighed exasperatedly at this, her reply grave. "And yet that is the dilemma I am facing at present, dear Humphrey." Blue eyes wandered once more to the stretch of fields surrounding the Button Estate from behind the dirty and dusty glass, now muddled in with the faint reflection of the Victorian woman whose matching coloured and dull eyes stared straight back. "It did not alleviate my pain and guilt. In fact, I would argue it has done nothing but strengthen its wretched hold over me."
Within her peripheral vision, Cordelia spied Humphrey's brow crease and his lips purse, appearing to be taking a moment to ponder over her response. And sure enough, her suspicions were soon proven correct at the enquiry that left the biologically older ghost's mouth after a short delay.
"Why would Alison being pushed out of the window cause you to feel—Oh." The Tudor man cut himself off with a wide blink when his vocalised query seemingly caused something to click in the back of his head. He stayed that way for a solid five seconds, eventually mustering up the courage to give Cordelia a sideways glance. "Is it because of what happened to you and—?"
Humphrey was silenced by the abrupt wave of Cordelia's palm in his general direction, her other one raising to cover her eyes.
"Don't," she rasped harshly, her voice an octave shriller than she intended.
The name hadn't even left Humphrey's mouth and yet her mind still conjured a brief image of the lifeless hand lying before the fireplace of the common room, highlighted in the dim orange lighting cast from the crackling flames—
"Please do not speak that name in my presence," she pleaded further, her voice barely above a whisper. "I cannot bear the thought of it passing through my eardrums even after all of this time, as with anything connected with my untimely demise…"
Cordelia remained unaware of Humphrey looking on with furrowed brows during the moment where neither of them dared to utter another word, his pitying gaze going unacknowledged even as his eyes shifted to the dried bloodstains on the back of her shawl.
"… Apologies, Cordelia," Humphrey murmured solemnly after allowing the tense-filled absence of sound to drag on for longer than he probably should have. He observed Cordelia inhaling a short breath through her nostrils and waiting around five seconds to loudly exhale through her mouth, likely in attempt to regain her composure with the dispersion of whatever her mind had just conjured. "But you shouldn't feel guilty for what happened to Alison. You couldn't have done anything to stop it."
Cordelia bitterly snorted at the last part, both hands slowly lowering to her sides once more with the slight shake of her shoulders.
"And what if I could have?" she quietly countered, the urge to admit the secret she still bore tingling on the tip of her tongue like snake's venom. "Everyone has claimed that out of our little menagerie, I am the only one who isn't afraid to say what needs to be said." She scowled and held out her left hand palm-up, her voice rising a little in volume. "Yet what did I do during the haunting operation? Nothing. I stood back and kept my thoughts to myself, despite knowing it was destined to fail." She held out her other hand palm-up, her scowl deepening as she kept her eyes locked on her aggravated looking reflection. "And did I make up for it afterwards by convening with everybody in the common room to discuss our next plan? I did not." She gestured her hands towards the window in front of her. "I sat up here and hid away. And why? Because I am no better than the ones I oft judge as selfish and inconsiderate!"
Humphrey didn't say anything to Cordelia's little rant initially, instead forcing a couple of blinks with the crinkling of his nose.
"… Are you finished?" he eventually asked, prompting Cordelia to huff and reach her hands behind her skirt to tuck it underneath her.
"I am," she answered calmly as she sat on the opposite end of the windowsill, turning her body to the right to face Humphrey's head with her hands clasped together in her lap.
"Wow," was the only word to leave Humphrey's mouth, to which Cordelia turned her nose up to the ceiling and closed her eyes.
"What else would you expect from one who guards her heart and emotions so closely they rarely have the freedom to roam?"
A few seconds of silence passed before Humphrey unshackled his voice from the speechless chains that originally trapped him, his tone careful and slow with added emphasis. "But are you sure that's the reason?"
Cordelia pried open an eye and gave the Tudor man's head a narrowed sideways glance, the question he'd posed striking her as strange and making her wonder if she'd misheard him. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, if you would like to hear my opinion on the matter…"
When Humphrey trailed off, Cordelia nodded. "I would."
"I think you did it to save Button House," Humphrey answered bluntly, prompting Cordelia's brows to raise sharply with a wide blink to match.
"Save Button House?" she repeated. "I do not think I understand what you are trying to get at."
Humphrey pursed his lips and knitted his brows together, appearing to be mulling over how to phrase what he needed to say appropriately. It only lasted around a minute, though, his expression relaxing once he spoke again.
"Do you remember when the two of us were stood at the late Heather's bedside and you confided about your worries over the fate of the house?"
Cordelia turned her gaze to her lap and frowned in thought, recalling the day that had set the current events into motion. Goodness, it felt like it was decades ago, she realised! And yet she could still remember everything the pair had discussed as if it had only happened yesterday; though why wouldn't she, when there was very little that went on around here that would have made her forget?
"Yes, I remember," she mumbled, a hand stretching to her shoulder for her fingers to subconsciously fiddle with a thick strand of her wavy, dirty-blonde locks draped over it.
"Besides me, you're the only other ghost who always seems to know what's going on with the living people here. You proved that when you said you'd witnessed Heather's conversations with visitors looking to buy the house."
Cordelia returned her eyes to Humphrey's head with the slight tilt of her head. "… So?"
"So, don't you think the reason why you didn't help the others with the haunting was because you wanted the living people to stay?"
Cordelia's mouth fell open like a door dangling off its frame by broken hinges, overcome with shock for a solid five seconds. Upon realising what Humphrey was now implying, however, she stood suddenly from the windowsill and placed her hands to her hips, a scowl on her brow.
"Faradiddle, sir!" she exclaimed, aghast, smacking her palm to her chest with a resounding thump. "Alison and Michael seek to reduce this glorious manor house into a boarding house! Why on earth would I be in favour of such an intention?!"
"Because they're not like the previous visitors who sought to buy this place, are they?" Humphrey replied calmly, causing Cordelia's shoulders to slump and her mouth to close immediately with a forced blink. "We both know you cared about Heather Button, whether you want to admit it or not. So, the way I see it, I wouldn't be surprised if you see a part of Heather in her descendant." Cordelia relaxed her stance and turned her eyes to her boots, with Humphrey taking her silence as his cue to close his own. "But that's just what I think from our past conversations. You're not an easy read a lot of the time, after all."
Cordelia's words were caught in her throat, her body acting like she'd magically lost the ability to speak. She wanted to refute the Tudor nobleman's words, so certain that he was wrong. But if that was true… why couldn't she physically argue back?
Loud and muffled honking from outside that Cordelia recognised to be from a horn snapped her out of her internal conflict with a wide blink and a flinch.
"What on earth…?" she mumbled while moving to the window once more, stretching close to the glass with her palms resting upon the windowsill.
"What's going on 'ere, then?" Humphrey enquired as he tried to follow Cordelia's squinted gaze down to the far left of the courtyard outside, narrowing his eyes when his current vantage point failed to give him a good view of the situation. "I can't see anything."
Cordelia spied two medium-sized white and red vehicles without windows on the rear that she thought looked like a 'car' but which she knew wasn't, both of which were parked in front of the manor house and close to the gates. The vehicles' doors were wide open, with men of varying builds, ages and appearances stepping out of them wearing bright green, sleeveless vests. Cordelia recognised the vests to be a uniform she recalled seeing in the past here at Button House whenever Heather had called upon workmen to fix specific things inside or outside of the home, a recollection that had her frowning.
"It would appear Button House is being visited by a group of workmen," Cordelia explained for Humphrey's benefit.
"Oooooh!" Humphrey exclaimed with enthusiasm, only for his brows to raise after a few seconds. "I wonder who called them though…"
Cordelia felt her joints freeze with the brief skipping of her (non-existent) heart within her chest when this was said, the horror settling in quickly and causing her stomach to drop. Humphrey was right; Mike and Alison weren't here, which means…
'Oh, Lord.' Cordelia's (non-existent) breath hitched in her throat, her legs beginning to wobble to the point she thought she was going to collapse. Her eyes darted between the different workmen while they moved around the vehicles to remove equipment from the back and then carry it inside. 'Please, please do not tell me the worst has come to pass! Please tell me that—'
Cordelia's panicked thought halted when she became distracted by a pair of blue jeans and a yellow and puffy coat with a furry hood emerging from around the other side of the white vehicle and walking towards the house's double doors. Three forced blinks later and a rub of the eyes at noticing the familiarly styled brunette hair soon confirmed the identity of the coat wearer for the Victorian ghost, causing her jaw to drop with a loud gasp and the smack of her hands to her cheeks.
"Alison!" she cried breathlessly and righted herself from the windowsill, her hands moving to cover her mouth at feeling her eyes starting to sting.
She couldn't see her figure properly from her current vantage point (although Cordelia noticed there was something thick and white around her neck), but she was up and walking! That was more than an indication that Alison was okay, that she was alive!
The relief washed over her so fast that before Cordelia knew it, her knees buckled underneath her own weight. She collapsed to the floor with a breathless chuckle and covered her face with her hands, the tears streaming down her cheeks like a pair of cascading waterfalls. She silently cried within the middle of the ballroom, with Humphrey silently watching her in turn and giving her the moment she needed to pull herself together. Because the tears she was shedding now, which she realised she should have shed at Heather's bedside, were the proof of the denial she'd been hiding behind for all this time: Humphrey was right.
'Upon my demise in this very house, I have watched many lives come and go with detachment. But Lady Heather… she outlasted them all. I have watched her journey and development for almost a century. I have seen all her triumphs and failures. And through my time in her company, I have come to know her more intimately than anyone else. But deep down I convinced myself I did not care for her as I watched her grow, when in the months following her death I mourned her passing the same way I have for the loss of—' Cordelia's shoulders stiffened as she cut her thought off before she had the chance to speak that dreaded name, loudly sniffling and wiping at her eyes with her palms. 'Nay, Cordelia. You are not ready to leap down that rabbit hole just yet.'
Aside from the occasional sniffle from Cordelia, the silence between the Tudor and Victorian ghosts lingered a little longer. Eventually, after Humphrey waited patiently for Cordelia's tears to cease and her breathing to even out, the former of the pair became the first to break it.
"Feeling better?" he enquired gently, prompting Cordelia to nod stiffly while finishing up wiping her relief off her face. "Good."
Cordelia took the opportunity to pull herself from the floor with a soft sigh, straightening out her skirt and shirt of any creases before she quietly cleared her throat.
"I am sorry you had to witness that emotionally tumultuous display," she said in a low voice and with the brief aversion of her gaze to the nearby window.
"Better out than in, I say!" Humphrey replied in jest, causing a hint of a smile to appear on Cordelia's face for several seconds.
'Ever the jester, are you not, Humphrey?'
"Though I do hope you will think through what I've said," Humphrey continued, making Cordelia's smile fade as she returned her attention to the Tudor man's head smiling softly back at her. "I know you aren't selfish and inconsiderate. If that were true, you wouldn't have helped Lady B, let alone stood up to the Captain the amount of times you already have."
And Cordelia didn't dare to object to Humphrey's words this time, instead giving a nod of acknowledgement and clasping her hands together against her front. After all, Humphrey was the fourth ghost to have pointed out the good in her. It was hard to argue when more than one person was drawing attention to such things.
"I appreciate the honesty, nonetheless. Thank you, Humphrey."
Humphrey's smile widened, his eyes appearing to glisten with a sense of appreciation for her gratefulness. "You're welcome, Cordelia."
But then the Victorian ghost closed her eyes and turned to face the window once more with the slight shake of her head.
'Still, as much as I am relieved to rejoice in Alison's return, I cannot even begin to imagine the thoughts the rest downstairs are likely experiencing at present. I do not doubt the cavillers will rise amongst them soon enough—'
A shocked and familiar sounding feminine voice gasping disrupted Cordelia's train of thought and had her turning to the left, the Victorian ghost's eyes widening the moment blue locked with wide green. Alison was standing in the doorway of the ballroom, staring in Cordelia's direction with a wide gape and a stiff posture. When had Alison gotten there, Cordelia wondered. Perhaps she'd failed to hear her approach initially.
Cordelia, of course, was the first of the pair to recover upon taking notice of the white object around Alison's neck, her brows furrowing with a scrutinising gaze. While she was bewildered by Alison's current reaction, her curiosity over the object round her neck was stronger, so much so Cordelia wasted no time in turning her attention to Humphrey and proceeding to rotate his head at least 180 degrees.
"Whoa! What's going on?!" Humphrey exclaimed with a wide blink, prompting Cordelia to explain herself.
"Humphrey, the people of your time were well-known for their extravagant neckwear, were they not?" Cordelia explained and pointed at Alison, whose eyes had since drifted in Humphrey's direction with the colour draining from her face. "Is that supposed to be a modern ruff of some kind?"
Humphrey, naturally ignoring Alison's horrified reaction, squinted towards the neckwear in question and looked the young woman up and down.
"I don't know what that is, but it's definitely not a ruff," he answered after a few seconds of delay. "If it was, there'd be frills on it."
Cordelia opened her mouth to enquire further; however, she was immediately silenced by a high-pitched scream from Alison. The blonde-haired ghost looked on with raised brows as the living woman whipped her body towards the doorframe and squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing deep and erratic.
"Alison?!" Mike shouted from the hallway behind Alison, followed by the echoes of a pair of feet hurrying to the ballroom. Several seconds later, Mike could be seen dashing down the hallway wearing a dark coloured jacket, yellow shirt and black trousers, with a white hard hat tucked under his arm. "Ally, what's wrong?" he asked upon reaching Alison, lifting a hand to her shoulder.
Alison flinched and stumbled away from the physical contact back into the ballroom, her eyes snapping open as she pointed a shaky finger towards Humphrey on the windowsill.
"There's a severed head on the windowsill—!" she hastily whimpered, starting to stutter as she directed her finger to a now gaping Cordelia. "A-And an old timey lady—!"
"Excuse me! There's more to me than that!" Humphrey replied defensively, while Cordelia froze and smacked her hands over her mouth upon processing what had just come out of Alison's mouth. "He's just not around at the moment!" It took Humphrey a little longer to realise what had happened, though, only for him to narrow his eyes and purse his lips the moment the situation clicked in his head. "Wait a minute…"
'Did she just say what I think she just said? Have I once again found myself in the clutches of the fantasies conjured by my mind?!'
Cordelia warily focused her gaze to Mike when he frowned and followed where Alison was pointing, with the sounds of charging footsteps resounding from the opposite entrance's staircase shortly after. He stared intently at where the two ghosts lingered for a solid five seconds before returning his attention to Alison.
"I don't see anything," he answered slowly, leaving Alison whipping her head back and forth between a shellshocked Cordelia and her disbelieving husband.
"But they're right there!" Alison protested and gestured both hands at Cordelia and Humphrey. "There is a head without a body and a creepy, old-fashioned lady by the windows!"
Cordelia's eyes would have drooped at the offensive form of address Alison had apparently chosen for her, but she was in too much shock right now to comprehend anything. Mike scratched at the side of his head with a hand and took two cautious steps into the ballroom.
"Alison, it's been a long day. Maybe you should go and lie down—"
"Mike!" Alison pleaded as she took two steps back and raised her hands to her head, her breathing quickening with the digging of her fingers into her scalp. "I can see them with my own two eyes! How can you not—?"
However, she was soon cut off by the remaining eight ghosts running into the room from the opposite entrance, their mini stampede bringing Alison's attention back to them with a gape while they were making their way over to Cordelia.
"Cordelia!" Pat addressed the Victorian ghost from the front of the group as they all gathered by the window, their sudden appearance failing to snap Cordelia out of her petrified state for the time being. "What's going on? We heard screaming and shouting from downstairs!"
Alison's horrified gasp answered Pat in Cordelia's stead, prompting the gathered ghosts to collectively look to the brunette woman with forced blinks and raised brows as she shakily backed up to the nearby wall, bringing her trembling palms close to her mouth.
"Oh god! There's more!" she cried, prompting Mike to quicken his stride towards her with a deepened frown.
"What are you talking about?"
Alison started to frantically point both of her fingers to the ghosts she verbally listed off in a wobbly tone. "T-There's a caveman! A-And an army man— Augh!" Alison interrupted herself and covered her eyes with her hands the moment she looked at Julian, leaving the Captain and Robin sideways glancing each other at being mentioned. "And a man with no pants on!"
"Aha!" Julian declared triumphantly and looked to the Captain with his hands to his hips, his chin tilted to the ceiling. "I told you she spoke to me!"
"I beg your pardon?!" Cordelia exclaimed aghast, finally shattering out of her shock and whirling her head to Julian so fast it could easily have snapped off her neck like a twig had she still been alive. "What do you mean 'she spoke to you'? What is going on?"
"That's what we'd like to know," Pat admitted with the shrug of his shoulders and a lopsided smile, leaving Cordelia speechless as she returned to watching Mike take Alison by the shoulders with both hands and speak to her in a low voice, her thoughts blocking out the content of what he said.
So much was happening in the short span of time she and Humphrey had encountered Alison that Cordelia was struggling to process it all. This interaction was absurd, like a fever dream! She was so certain that her mind was conjuring up some guilt-induced scenario because of what had happened to Alison all that time ago. That had to be it, right?
But Cordelia soon got the confirmation she was looking for when a tenth presence phased through the opposite wall and started to stumble in the ghosts' general direction, soon revealed to be Humphrey's headless body blindly waving his arms about in front of him. The moment Alison saw the headless apparition, a glass-shattering scream escaped from her lungs, forcing all the ghosts to wince and either turn away or stick a finger in one of their ears.
Cordelia's surroundings didn't change once, no matter how many times she blinked or even dared to harshly twist her finger round in her earlobe to elicit some pain. Everything stayed the same, which was all she needed to confirm her suspicions.
This wasn't a dream. Alison could see them.
A/N: Out of all the ghosts I could have chosen to have this specific talk with Cordelia, Humphrey definitely seemed like the best choice. Outside of the fact he and Cordelia conversed about what was going to happen to Button House in the beginning chapter, Humphrey is also the kindest, most down-to-earth and honest of the ghosts on the estate, which is one of the main reasons why he and Cordelia get along well. Not to mention he and Cordelia are both frequent observers to everything going on within the house outside of the ghosts' antics (which is reluctantly on Humphrey's part, 'cause... his head and body are separate. XD). So, with the addition of him knowing about Cordelia's past to a degree and the circumstances surrounding her death, he would best understand the feelings she was going through.
And then regarding the changed ending... I thought it was better to have Cordelia encounter Alison and discover the situation by accident rather than have her jump between the floors and find out from Julian like the other ghosts do. This is because 1) Cordelia avoids the Common Room, which is where the other ghosts are gathered prior to the whole kafuffle and 2) Julian's encounter with Alison is something that can be discussed in more detail when they have their next 'gathering' in the second episode. And maybe a third reason: seemed like a waste of words to have Cordelia jump between the floors anyways, especially because I could include Humphrey here considering only his body appears in the last few seconds. Alison ends up in the ballroom anyways by the end of the episode. Why not have Cordelia be there ready? XD
I also forgot to add a note on from the previous chapter as well. For those who aren't aware, Victorian times typically released books in volumes rather than one whole book, as was the case with Jane Eyre. It was split into three. So, if you ever see Cordelia mention owning one book in reference to Jane Eyre, she is referring to that specific volume and not the whole book. The last chapter had her specifically referring to Volume 1, just to let you know.