Barnaby had not been able to add much in terms of talents to Miss Chevalier’s bandaging or Greengrass’ tailoring, so instead he had looked on with great diligence, as attentive an audience as anyone, living or dead, could be.

And they had both survived the interaction mostly intact, Barnaby noted, keeping an eye on the high colour of Ford’s face and Miss Chevalier’s general levels of exasperation. “But how providential an attack,” Barnaby burst in jovially, when they brought up the gnomes again; “What good luck that you two should meet! Miss Chevalier, this is my friend Fortitude Greengrass,” Barnaby said in ceremonious introduction, as if his friend had not already been nosing about in her skirts. “Greengrass, this is Miss Chevalier.” (Barnaby presumed that Ford probably hadn’t met her, and that he, the ghost, had the more acquaintances of the two.)

He gave Miss Chevalier his best smile, as if to say forgive my friend his awkwardness. To Ford, as a whispered aside, Barnaby added, “Is not she a most charming creature?”

---