by Kirsty Ferry
And it would have been a much colder journey home had he not raised his arm and had she not snuck underneath it and been drawn in towards him, where she could feel his steady breathing and the beat of his heart beneath his scratchy waistcoat.
They were much quieter on the way back from the Abbey than they had been on the way. Ailsa was pleased to see that Ella and Adam had moved closer together – one blanket around their knees and one around their shoulders – but whether it was by accident or design or by instinct alone, she didn’t know.
At one point, Ella was holding the reins, giggling while Adam tried to show her how to guide the horse. She was, admittedly, even quite bad at driving the sleigh, and certainly didn’t like the idea of flicking the whip to encourage the horse. She clearly left that to Adam who kept trying to hand it to her, and she kept shaking her head emphatically and jiggling the reins instead.
Lydia seemed to be allowing the exercise and the fresh air and the warmth of the blankets to lull her into a daydream as she stared, her eyes glazed and unfocused, at the moors. They bounced over a rut and she started, then looked up at the sky. The sun was dropping and the clouds were silvery and gathering in low, and almost on cue a couple of flakes of snow drifted down and settled on the blanket.
‘I think we left at the right time,’ she said. ‘We’ll take the sleigh around to the courtyard and we can go in through the back door. We can kick off our boots and drop the skates off in the boot room and it’ll be warm down there anyway. I might even steal a mince pie on our way past the kitchens.’ Her eyes sparkled like the frost that was beginning to tip the hills and valleys of the snow drifts and ruts in the road.
‘Is that where Ella’s fountain is?’ asked Ailsa, remembering the description of it in the book.
‘Ella’s fountain? Do you mean that old angel thing?’ Lydia frowned, questioningly.
Too late, Ailsa remembered that the fountain had been in a state of disrepair until Adam had fixed it for Ella as a wedding gift. And, even worse, she recalled that it had subsequently been destroyed on their wedding day by, so the story went, a jealous Jacob. Oh she was so glad he wasn’t here for Christmas! She didn’t think she could have demonstrated much Victorian restraint with that man, despite what Ned had told her.
‘Oh – well, it was just that—’ Thank goodness! She suddenly recalled a reason she could justify discussing it. ‘—You said earlier that she loved the fountain and Adam had found her there when she was upset.’ Her cheeks burned, embarrassed to think of that little scenario.
‘Oh. Yes.’ Lydia’s eyes slid across the landscape again. ‘That’s right. Yes. The fountain is there. You’ll be able to see it. Not that there’s much to see. I don’t know why she likes it so much.’ The girl’s eyebrows knitted together again and she shrugged the blanket further around her. Ailsa definitely got the impression that Ella’s problems had affected Lydia more than she cared to admit, even to herself.
‘Still, I’d like to see it,’ replied Ailsa.
‘You can’t really miss it,’ said Lydia. She turned and shouted to Adam. ‘Straight into the courtyard, Adam.’
‘Right-ho!’ replied Adam, and spurred the horse on a little faster as the snow began to fall more heavily.
It wasn’t long before they were skirting around the edge of the parkland and pulling up to the gate which led towards the back of the house. Adam slowed the horse down and Ailsa got a view of the back of Carrick Park she had never seen before. The structure and shape were the same, of course – but where the hotel had fenced off rubbish bins and skips, and where there were loading bays for suppliers and the VIP car park, and where it was just a tarmac square in the twenty-first century, there was a snow-covered area with a stone fountain in the middle of it.
Outbuildings seemed to embrace the courtyard – a dairy, a laundry, a still room, perhaps – and a bench was placed, its back to the house, facing the fountain, piled up high with glittering, frosted snow.
The fountain was almost unrecognisable as an angel under the drifts of snow that clung to its wings and decorated its outstretched hands, but Ailsa knew beneath the smooth mounds of winter was a sweet face and loose curls of carved hair. The angel was, if you believed the story, a fair likeness of Ella.
‘Happy now?’ whispered Ned in her ear. ‘Happy you’ve seen the angel fountain?’
‘Yes,’ replied Ailsa. ‘I would have liked to see it without the snow though.’
‘That can be arranged,’ he said. ‘Adam! Just stop here, would you – there’s a good chap.’
‘I’ll have to get my assistant to slow the beast down,’ called Adam. ‘Ella. Pull on the reins – yes – just like that. Whoah! Whoah there, boy.’ The horse stopped and pranced a little, shaking its mane, probably knowing that it wouldn’t be long before it was back in the stables getting warmed and fed and rubbed down.
‘He stopped!’ cried Ella, delighted. ‘I think I’m certainly a better driver than I am a horsewoman.’
‘If you think so,’ said Adam, amused. ‘There you are, my friend. Stopped just at the fountain. Next thing, we offload the cargo and I take this sleigh back to the stables.’
‘One thing, before you do that,’ said Ned. He threw the blanket off and leapt down from the sleigh. He hurried over to the fountain and, before anyone could stop him, he had climbed up and jumped inside the base, sinking into the snow right the way up to his calves. He swore, to the delight of Lydia who clapped her hands and crowed with laughter, then he lifted his hands and began to sweep the snow off the angel, dusting it away from her face and her hair, knocking it off her wings and brushing it off her robes.
‘There you are, Mrs Cavendish,’ he cried, turning and throwing his arms out to the sides. ‘One snow-free angel for your delight.’ He swept a low bow, still standing inside the fountain base, and came up grinning. ‘I know how much you wanted to see her face!’
‘She looks like Ella! She does!’ cried Ailsa. ‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Believe it,’ said Ned. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. You’re allowed to believe in angels.’
‘I believe in angels all the time,’ said Ella, leaning forwards, her beautiful smile lighting up her face as she studied the fountain. ‘Not just at Christmas. That’s why I love this one so much.’
‘Then you are a very sensible woman,’ replied Ned, sweeping another bow to her. ‘Now. If someone would be kind enough to help me get out of this thing, I would be most appreciative.’
There was a scramble as Lydia and Ailsa tossed off their own blankets and half-slid, half-clambered out of the sleigh, laughing. Ned threw his arms out again and beckoned them forward. He gave one hand to each woman and managed to climb out of the bowl. His trousers were dripping wet and Ailsa didn’t want to think about how soaked his feet must be.
‘Thank you,’ she said to him as Lydia released him and he turned to Ailsa and tucked her arm into his. ‘I know it’s true now. The story about Ella’s angel. It’s beautiful.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he said. ‘And I’m bloody freezing.’ His teeth were chattering and she could feel him shivering. ‘It’s tough being married to you. I have to do all these things to keep you happy.’
‘Surely I’m worth it,’ she teased as they made their way towards the back door.
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he replied. He stood back and let her in first. Ailsa waited, just inside, for him to stamp off the worst of the snow, and looked out at the angel. The courtyard was a mess of footprints and sleigh tracks and hoof prints, and there were clumps of snow, fallen from the fountain, ruining the pristine appearance of it all. She thought she had never seen it look more lovely.
Ella was hurrying in behind them and Lydia was bringing up the rear, four pairs of skates dangling from her fingertips. She was shouting some instructions to Adam as she headed towards the warmth.
‘Adam is taking the sleigh back to the stables,’ Ella told Ailsa. ‘I said I would come with him to see Blackie, but he said I wa
s too wet and needed to get indoors. I’ll go up later and take him a treat for Christmas.’
She was shivering too and Ailsa moved aside. ‘You’ll take Adam a treat or Blackie a treat?’ she asked.
‘Oh! Ha! Blackie. Of course.’ Ella giggled. ‘Adam will probably get a treat from Johnson. He’s the head stable hand, and I do think he spoils Blackie more than anyone. He is also fond of whisky and I’m sure Adam will be inveigled into having a festive drink with him.’
Ella headed into a room just to the side of the corridor and dropped her own skates on the floor. She grabbed a button hook from the scrubbed wooden table and bent down to start undoing her boots.
She looked up and smiled at Ailsa. ‘I’ll help you with yours if you would like me to. I’m used to doing them myself from living with my aunt, but I know Lydia prefers someone to help her. I don’t mind.’
Ella, then, was still quite down to earth. She certainly wasn’t some Victorian diva that shouted until she was heard.
‘That would be lovely,’ said Ailsa. She didn’t want to show her ignorance by failing to undo the boots. ‘I always take far too long and I’m desperate to get them off.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ said Ella. ‘Please – sit down. I’ll do them.’
Ailsa sat and watched Ella work. She bit down on her lip hard. She’d only known Ella a short time, but it was so unfair. Life was so unfair.
She felt the pressure of Ned’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. It was either a reassuring squeeze, or a warning squeeze. She reached up and covered his hand briefly with hers.
‘I know,’ she murmured, safe in the knowledge that Ella had her head bent to the task in hand and wouldn’t read her. ‘I’ll say nothing.’
The pressure left her shoulder, then he patted it. He came around into view and leaned against the table, pulling his own boots off. He upended the first one and water spilled out of it.
‘Rather damp,’ he said, repeating the process with the other one.
By now, Ella had finished and sat back on her heels. ‘All done,’ she said. ‘I’ll do Lydia next. She’ll be ordering those mince pies in the kitchens.’
‘Indeed I was,’ said Lydia, sweeping into the little room, which was now starting to get quite crowded. ‘Thank you my dear. Ned, I’ll see you in twenty minutes as we agreed? In the hallway?’
Ella looked from one to the other. ‘You’re making him go out again?’ she asked, surprised.
‘It’s a job he promised he would help me with,’ said Lydia. Ailsa stood up and moved so Lydia could take the seat. Lydia pulled her skirt up and stuck her foot out, ready for the button hook. ‘But he needs to change into dry clothes first.’
‘Ned, you’ll freeze. You can’t go back out there!’ interjected Ailsa.
‘Ah, my wonderful wife,’ said Ned, dropping a kiss on her forehead. ‘How nice that you worry about me. But I’ll be perfectly all right. I’ll see you as we arranged, Lydia. And you, Ailsa Cavendish, can relax for a little while. I’ll see you in about an hour. I’m just going to find some dry clothes.’ He put his hands in his pockets, and left the room, looking incongruously modern in the old-fashioned boot room.
Ella tapped Ailsa’s hand so she looked at her. ‘It’s all right. This place is like a rabbit warren. I’ll take you back through to the main part of the house.’
Ailsa knew she would find her way no problem. The old servants’ staircase was a fire escape route in the hotel, and a short cut down to the ground floor for the staff after all.
But she bit her lip again and nodded and smiled at Ella Dunbar as if she was the guest she was supposed to be.
It didn’t take Ned long to change into a warm, dry suit, and he was waiting in the hallway for Lydia as promised.
Lydia ran down the stairs, now wearing a heavy cloak over her outfit and obviously ready to head back out into the snow. ‘Thank you. Did I keep you waiting? Poor Ned!’
‘You’re here now. But you’ve only got yourself to blame if it gets too dark to find what we want.’
‘It’s still daylight. We have hours yet!’ cried Lydia.
‘Maybe not hours!’ replied Ned. ‘But come on – let’s go, then we can get back inside.’
‘I do appreciate you coming with me,’ said Lydia, smiling up at him, her eyes mischievous. ‘It’s something I need to do before Adam goes away.’ She hurried towards the main door and stood back for Ned to open it for her. ‘I just think we’re running out of time.’ She stood on the steps and looked so guileless that for a moment Ned wondered if she knew more of the future than he thought.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked carefully.
‘I mean,’ said Lydia twirling away from him and running down the steps, ‘that Adam is going to Europe soon, and he still hasn’t set his cap at Ella. Any idiot can see they’re meant to be together. Any idiot, except my brother who is the biggest idiot I know.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Ned blew out a little huff of air, relieved. It was a long time since he had come across anyone who knew more about the futures of the people he helped than he did; and he seriously doubted Lydia was privy to that sort of information, but he needed to be sure.
‘So, Ned, as one of his oldest friends – who has, I must say, managed to find a wonderful woman of his own – I need your advice.’ Lydia stopped in the middle of the driveway, snowflakes falling and settling on her cloak, her cheeks and nose still pink from the sleigh-ride. ‘What’s the best thing to do? Or are we hoping for something that’s never going to happen?’
‘I think it’ll happen,’ said Ned, ‘but I think we need to speed it up a bit. Now – it’s Christmas. And I think your idea, Lydia Carrick, is perfectly wonderful.’
Lydia jumped up and down, clapping. ‘Marvellous. Now – let’s head to the woods. That’s probably the best place isn’t it?’ She was off, running away before him like an excited child.
Ned cast a glance back at the house. In the morning room window, he saw a shadow. The height and the shape suggested to him that it was Ailsa. He knew he had to get back to Carrick Park as soon as he could – and not just because he wanted to spend as long as he could and as long as he dared with the dark-haired beauty he had, this time, seen in the drawing room of Carrick Park.
His glance slid across to the strip of ocean he could see in the far distance; then he turned away from that and strode after Lydia, hunched up in his coat and very glad that he had managed to save his own scarf from the hoydens earlier.
Chapter Five
1864
After changing into the dry clothes that someone had helpfully left out on her bed, and summoning Elizabeth again, to help her undress and dress, Ailsa had spent the past hour exploring the house.
She’d looked at the books in the library, stood in the centre of the morning room and popped her head into the study, seeing the rooms she knew, yet didn’t know in this world. She’d also leaned on the window sill of the morning room, and stared out, trying to spot familiar landmarks, but all she could really pick out was the strip of sea across the moors. No telegraph poles or lines broke up the view. And she didn’t think she’d ever seen it quite so snowy and quite so white in all the years she had worked at the hotel.
Somewhere, there might be little roads or tracks across the moors, quite impassable without the help of a friendly farmer and his tractor or a snow plough. She shivered. It was quite isolating, when you thought about it. And for someone like Ella, it must have been terrifying the morning she stood in the servants’ corridor and willed a bell to sound loud enough for her to hear.
Perhaps she had run outside and stood in the courtyard, straining to catch the call of a gull or a song of a thrush; a gust of wind as it whipped past her or the distant chime of a church bell. And there was nothing. How absolutely horrific. She had been, Lydia had said, about seventeen when it happened – just at the point in her life where she should have been getting excited about balls and parties. And then to have Adam, all those years, in love with her – and onl
y to grab that chance a few months before she died … before they both died; for hadn’t Adam gone as well? No. As beautiful and as captivating and as seemingly privileged as Ella was, Ailsa knew now she would not have traded places with her. Not even for all those wonderful Christmases in Carrick Park.
A vision of Ned flitted into her mind; his pale face and his dark hair and his dark, dark eyes. If she, for instance, met someone who she thought could mean everything to her, would she know? Would she grasp the chance with both hands and love that person as much as she dared, for as long as she could?
She had taken those dreary and frightening thoughts to her bedroom – tried, more to the point, to make sense of this whole thing. If it was a dream, it was an awfully long and detailed dream, and far too philosophical for the middle of the night. She had dozed off for fifteen minutes or so, as she lay on the soft bed, looking at the ceiling, tracing the plasterwork on the coving, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the solid tick-tock of the clock. She awoke with a start, expecting to see her usual Carrick Park ceiling in the servants’ quarters, and to see the glow of her mobile phone on the bedside table. But no: she was still looking up at the intricate plasterwork and lying on a feather mattress, her satin skirts spread all around her, heavy against her legs.
After that, she had made her way downstairs, still feeling as if she was dreaming and was now sitting in the drawing room, in front of the fire, aching in places she didn’t know she could ache. Someone had brought mulled wine in, decorated with a cinnamon stick and a plate of little mince pies. Lydia’s instructions had been carried out with perfect timing. The pies were still hot from the oven, the wine warm and spicy and a delight to sip as she sniffed the mingled scents of cinnamon and pine resin from the huge Christmas tree.
She had already been up to the tree and adjusted the pretty china angel that Adam had lifted off earlier, and was now munching her way through the festive treats, her mind going over the day, still wondering if any of it was real – despite her muscles telling her it was – when the door opened with a soft click.
