Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘This… this is food,’ said the Ferryman in a faint voice.

  ‘Some of the best food,’ Isabel agreed with a smile. ‘Made by Mary and Thundigle, of Sophy’s household. They are very talented.’ Sophy and Isabel had packed the box themselves, cramming as much into it as they could manage to fit. There were iced berry pies, moonweed tarts with marzipan, pastries stuffed with rose apples and drizzled with syrup, and finally — Sophy’s favourites — cheerful little sun cakes.

  The Ferryman lifted out a tiny pie and stared at it in awe, then carried it to his nose and inhaled deeply. ‘It is years since I ate,’ he said.

  Isabel stared at him in horror. ‘Years! But how can you live without food?’

  He shrugged. ‘Tis part o’ the curse. It holds me in a kind o’ stasis, ye could say. I don’t even sleep, in the true sense o’ the word. More like a state of… blankness.’ He took a moment to enjoy a bite of the pie, his eyes closing in ecstasy. ‘I had forgotten.’

  He had forgotten food?

  ‘How long have you been under the curse?’ Isabel asked.

  ‘In terms ye would understand? I don’t know. What year is it wi’ ye?’

  ‘In England, it is the year 1812.’

  The Ferryman devoured the rest of the pie in one bite, and followed it with a pastry. ‘Near enough a century, I reckon,’ he said, in between bites. ‘Give or take a decade or two.’ He wolfed down a few more treats, then firmly closed the box and set it aside. ‘I ‘ad better slow down,’ he said with a grin. ‘Wouldn’t do t’ overdo it. Besides, t’ eat before a lady when she is not eatin’ likewise is no manner o’ courtesy, so I understand. Will ye not share the goodies?’

  Isabel smiled and declined. ‘I think a hundred-year abstinence excuses you from ordinary etiquette.’

  ‘Why, no!’ he said. ‘Nothin’ excuses a gentleman from courtesy.’ He gestured to the bag and band-box she had laid in the bottom of the boat. ‘Those yer scrolls?’

  ‘They are not precisely my scrolls, no. But they are the ones that I took.’ She coloured as she said it, with guilt and shame.

  The Ferryman did not look appalled, however. He looked at her with a glow of admiration. ‘Ye ‘ave thieved fer me!’ he exclaimed in delight. ‘An’ ye look right ashamed o’ yerself.’

  ‘I am! Taking anything without permission can never be considered acceptable conduct, regardless of one’s motive.’

  ‘Then why did ye do it?’

  Isabel paused to consider. ‘I cannot answer you,’ she said finally. ‘I suppose I acted impulsively.’

  ‘First time in yer life, eh?’

  ‘Why, of course it is not. There must be some other occasion when I have acted without thinking.’

  The Ferryman crossed his arms and made a show of waiting. ‘Very well. I’ll hold a moment while ye search yer memory.’

  Isabel thought, and failed to think of a single occasion when she had ever done anything so rash. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said with a sigh. ‘You are right. Aylfenhame is a strange place! I do not feel like myself here.’

  ‘I like yer Aylfenhame self.’

  ‘Even though I am a thief?’

  ‘Especially because ye are a thief, an’ on my miserable behalf.’

  ‘I am no thief,’ Isabel said, disliking the term in spite of the levity of the Ferryman’s tone. ‘I shall return the scrolls someday.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I ‘ave not the smallest doubt of it. What will ye do when ye reach England?’

  ‘I will return to my aunt’s house.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘That tells me exactly nothin’ at all. What do ye do at yer aunt’s house?’

  ‘Oh! Well, we will pay morning calls upon her friends, and attend dinners and evening parties. Perhaps we will walk a little in the city, when the weather is fine.’

  ‘Sounds rivetin’.’

  Isabel smiled. ‘It is not as exciting as dashing around Aylfenhame stealing scrolls and travelling by flying boat, indeed. But it is my world.’

  ‘Is there dancin’, at least?’

  ‘Sometimes there is. I do not know if there will be any dancing in York, before I return to Lincolnshire. It is not really the season for it.’

  ‘Well, that’s somethin’. An’ how do ye dance, in England?’

  ‘One dances with a partner, alongside many other couples. The steps are complicated, sometimes, but it is pleasant.’

  ‘Ye ‘ave just described virtually every form o’ dancin’ I ever heard of.’

  Isabel laughed. ‘I dare say I have, but I cannot describe it any better.’

  ‘Then ye must show me.’

  Isabel stared. ‘But I cannot, by myself.’

  The Ferryman took her hands and drew her to her feet. ‘Indeed, ye cannot. So ye must teach me.’

  ‘There… there is not space, here,’ Isabel said, looking around in confusion.

  ‘A moment, then.’ The Ferryman waved a hand, and the boat shimmered and reformed itself, stretching wider by several feet. ‘There, will that do?’

  Isabel watched helplessly as her only viable excuse dissolved. ‘I cannot, sir!’ she said. ‘It would hardly be proper.’

  He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. ‘Oh, propriety! ‘Tis hardly proper t’ take scrolls from the Keeper’s Library either, but so ye did. Would it be so very bad t’ dance wi’ me?’

  Isabel bit her lip. Would it be? She had already committed a much greater transgression, and who would know, save her own self?

  Tafferty, curled up near to Isabel’s feet, nudged her ankle with her cool nose. ‘Thou’rt inclined. Why dost thou not consent?’

  ‘Very well,’ Isabel said softly, and guided the Ferryman into place opposite her. ‘We begin thus.’

  The Ferryman proved to be an adept pupil, agile and light on his feet. The lesson progressed easily and well, and Isabel forgot all about York and her aunt for some considerable time.

  At length, her breath grew short from exertion and her legs began to ache. These dual pains recalled her to herself, and she said with a gasp, ‘We have been too long at work, I think!’

  The Ferryman sighed, and stepped back. ‘I was hopin’ ye’d fail t’ notice fer a while yet.’

  ‘It has been a while.’ Isabel smoothed her gown and patted her hair; finding, to her dismay, that the latter was indeed disordered.

  ‘Ye look very well,’ he said, sinking his hands into his pockets as he watched her. ‘More’n well. I like ye a little less neat. It means ye’ve been doin’ things of an amusin’ sort o’ nature.’ He grinned, and she could not help smiling back.

  ‘Perhaps it does. Though how I am to explain to my aunt how my hair came to be so blown-about, I do not know.’

  ‘Yer passage in a flyin’ boat isn’t explanation enough?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She looked around, observing that thick mists still entirely cloaked the boat. ‘We are somewhere within the vicinity of England, I suppose?’

  ‘Vaguely.’ He sighed. ‘Nay, it must be the truth. In point o’ fact we are right above the spot where I first took ye up.’

  ‘We have been here for some little time, I imagine?’

  ‘Aye. Rather a while.’

  Isabel attempted to look severe, but she could not muster the resolution, for it had been a very pleasant while. ‘Will you let me down now?’

  ‘I suppose that I must.’ He looked at her in silence for a long moment. ‘I’ve a question fer ye first.’

  Isabel inclined her head. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Will ye come back?’

  ‘To Aylfenhame?’

  ‘Aye. To Aylfenhame… and t’ me. Is this, in short, the last time I am t’ expect t’ see ye?’

  ‘I should imagine not. I will be obliged to return once more, in order to deliver your name.’

  ‘Obliged.’ He nodded thoughtfully, then indicated her bag of scrolls with a jut of his chin. ‘Ye’re certain t’ find it in there, then?’

  ‘The Keeper knows his art, I am sure. If he believ
es I might find your name in there, then I have some hopes that he will be correct.’

  ‘An’ if he isn’t?’

  ‘I will search on.’

  He smiled, but sadly, and half-hearted. ‘Very well.’

  ‘You think I will forget, or give up. But I will not! That I promise.’

  The Ferryman took a step towards her, took both of her hands, and kissed each in turn. ‘I will not blame ye if ye should,’ he said seriously, looking into her eyes. ‘Know that. Yer choices are yer own, an’ I will not have ye bound t’ assist me. I know well that yer life is very different from mine. What ye promise now, ye may not be able t’ perform.’

  Isabel returned the pressure of his fingers, briefly, before gently disengaging her hands. ‘I will not forget, at the least. I could not forget you, I think.’

  ‘Ye think.’ His eyes gleamed with amusement.

  ‘You must not tease me so badly,’ she said, laughing. ‘I think I could not forget so unusual a person as you. After all, you have a flying boat.’

  He laughed, and touched his forehead in salute. ‘Aye! True enough. Yer fine gentlemen of England, now. They’d have a hard time matchin’ that.’

  ‘They would indeed.’

  ‘Though it isn’t altogether right t’ say that I ‘ave a flyin’ boat. More that it ‘as me. But, it is home.’

  ‘You do wish to be liberated?’ Isabel said, with sudden concern.

  ‘Oh, I do. I do.’ The Ferryman eyed her for a moment. ‘I am goin’ t’ do somethin’ I should not.’

  ‘We have already done a number of things we should not have.’

  ‘Aye, but I can do worse yet.’ He took her face in his hands and stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, very gently. Surprised, Isabel froze in his grip, and made no move to retreat; not even when he lowered his head to hers and kissed her.

  He held her that way for some moments, before releasing her face with a sigh. ‘Now, I would love t’ know. Did ye let me get away wi’ that because I took ye by surprise? Because ye did not wish t’ offend me, wi’ yer odd notions o’ courtesy? Or because ye wanted me t’ kiss ye?’

  Isabel stepped back, her cheeks aflame, and said nothing. She could not even meet his eye. She had been surprised, but that had only been half of the reason why she had not prevented him. She could hardly admit that to him, however.

  ‘Ye’ll not answer. Aye, well. That’s fair enough.’

  ‘She will not, but I can.’ Tafferty spoke from the corner into which she had tucked herself, surprising Isabel; to her shame, she had all but forgotten her companion’s presence. The catterdandy rose and stretched luxuriously. ‘She is adept at pretendin’ not to think anythin’ that might be considered inappropriate. But she’d have pushed thee away fast enough, if she were disinclined-like.’

  Isabel scowled at Tafferty, who ignored her discontent with supreme indifference and began to wash. The Ferryman was looking at her again, enquiringly this time, but she could not answer him. She busied herself with collecting together her few possessions in preparation for departure.

  The Ferryman turned away, and at the same moment Isabel became aware that the boat had begun its descent. Soon she could see the serene countryside of Yorkshire through the thinning mists.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said softly. It did not begin to cover everything she wanted to say to him, but it was all she could muster.

  ‘Nay, don’t be sorry.’ He flashed her a brief smile. ‘I should not ‘ave done that, an’ I know it. I apologise.’

  Isabel opened her mouth to reply, without having the smallest notion what she would say. But she was saved from having to speak, as the boat came to rest just off the York road. She was relieved to see her aunt’s carriage awaiting her nearby.

  She curtseyed to the Ferryman. ‘I thank you for your kindness. You have been very patient with my various demands!’

  ‘It had naught t’ do wi’ patience, as ye well know. But yer welcome.’ He bowed to her, then helped her to gather her possessions. ‘I’ll bid ye farewell, then, an’ hope t’ see ye again someday. If I should not, though… I wish nothin’ but happiness fer ye.’

  ‘You will,’ Isabel said simply. ‘When I bring you your name.’

  He tipped his hat to her, and helped her down from the boat. Mrs. Grey’s footman opened the carriage door for her and assisted her inside. Isabel had time only to wave once from the window as the Ferryman’s boat soared away into the skies, and she was not even sure that he had seen.

  She sat back with a sigh as the coachman spurred the horses into motion, and the carriage began to move. It was a relief to her to see familiar countryside around her, and to be on her way home. She felt comfortable and safe, two feelings she had not experienced since she had first boarded the Ferryman’s boat.

  But part of her heart was heavy, too. She had left Sophy behind, of course; that would be enough to dishearten her alone. She missed Sophy, very much.

  The Ferryman had nothing at all to do with it. No matter that his laughing smile filled her mind at this moment, nor that she could not seem to help remembering his most reprehensible kiss. All that was mere nonsense, and would soon fade from her thoughts.

  She tried to fix her mind upon Sophy, and sighed.

  ‘Was I right?’ said Tafferty, from her position upon the seat next to Isabel.

  She did not need to ask what the catterdandy was referring to. ‘I shall not answer that,’ Isabel said with dignity.

  ‘I thought so.’ Tafferty licked her lips in a cat-like smile, then curled up against Isabel’s hip.

  Mrs. Grey greeted Isabel’s return with rapturous enthusiasm, which was of some use in distracting her from her lowness of spirits.

  ‘I could not precisely decide whether I wished for your speedy return, or not,’ said Mrs. Grey as she kissed Isabel’s cheek and handed her band-box to a maid. ‘But I am happy to see you! A great many things have happened since your departure.’

  ‘I hardly know how long I have been gone,’ said Isabel, removing her bonnet and spencer with relief, for the morning was warm.

  ‘Almost a week, my dearest love. And I am impatient to hear every detail of your adventures in that time! But first I must apprise you of how matters stand here, and at Tilby. You will be interested to know that you have been abed with a cold for several days, and your mama became insistent about coming here to nurse you. But you are quite recovered as of this morning, and perfectly fit to attend dinner at the Thompsons’ this evening.’

  ‘How tiresome an indisposition,’ Isabel said, with a smile. ‘And to keep me abed nearly a week!’

  ‘Yes. How wretched for you to miss so much of your visit to your dear aunt! But you have the sweetest disposition, and suffered with perfect patience. I applaud you. Come into the parlour, there is tea ready.’

  Isabel followed her aunt to the table, and partook of tea and other refreshments most gratefully.

  ‘Now, my dear. You will remember that the matter of the piper was not to be spoken of, when last I saw you? Though I was so discourteous as to press you on the subject. That is all forgotten, for the piper and his merry group have been seen again! More than once!’ She sat back, lifting her cup to her lips as she awaited Isabel’s reaction.

  ‘Again!’ cried Isabel. ‘But where? And how? What did they do?’ She was as eager for information as her aunt could wish, for the interlopers at the Alford Assembly had intrigued her more than she cared to admit. The Ferryman had distracted her some long while, and driven recollections of the earlier incident from her mind; but she had not forgotten the piper’s strange music, nor the way his intense eyes had, for a brief instant, stared into hers at the ball.

  ‘There are reports that they were seen in Lincoln, just five days ago. At the Assembly Rooms! And it was just as it was in Alford. The orchestra was quite taken over, and the dancers as wild and enchanting as you described! And then again in Gainsborough, and at Wentworth Castle. And finally, just two days ago, at Sir Edward’s private ball at Hay
worth Lodge! There is no telling where they may appear next, and it is all anybody has talked of this past week.’ She set down her tea cup, beaming at Isabel. ‘Theirs appears to be a generally northward journey, does it not? I have high hopes that they may yet appear in York! And so, my love, I think we must steel ourselves to appear at as many evening parties, dinners and balls as we may, for they do not appear to be at all particular as to the nature of the occasions they attend.’

  ‘You are excited to see them, are you, aunt?’ Isabel sipped tea, and tried to appear composed as she thought over this news. Her heart had quickened a little, and she was conscious of a flutter of excitement. How very odd! For she had looked forward to a return to her peaceful world of quiet social engagements, country walks and evenings at home with her family. But the prospect of attending another event with the piper and his dancers thrilled her immeasurably.

  ‘Very!’ said Mrs. Grey. ‘I confess I am! I had not thought ever to experience any part of Aylfenhame again, having given it up. Excepting Vershibat, of course.’ She nodded towards her companion, who was supping vigorously from a tiny plate of fruit. A much larger platter sat adjacent to it, from which Tafferty was refreshing herself. They made a curious sight, Isabel reflected, looking upon them. A tiny green-furred, shrew-like creature and a cattish animal with the wildest colours, side-by-side and at peace, here in a perfectly ordinary English parlour. Brownies she was used to encountering in most households; the likes of these denizens of Aylfenhame, never at all.

  ‘Do you miss it?’ Isabel said.

  Mrs. Grey nodded once. ‘I do.’

  Isabel did not enquire further. She did not need to. Aylfenhame had a way of capturing her interest, whether or not she wished it to. She thought back to something Sophy had said on Isabel’s first visit to her at Silverling. Aylfenhame will catch at you, if you let it. And it can be… unwise, to eat or drink here. It changes you. Do you still wish to stay?

  Isabel had agreed, for how could she do otherwise? To refuse was to give up Sophy. She had not really expected to be much changed by it, but perhaps she had. Perhaps Aylfenhame had been seeping into her soul ever since that first day.