Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (25 page)

‘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 Hayworth 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.

It had certainly
taken hold of her by now.

Soon
it was Isabel’s turn to talk, and that she did very willingly. It
took some time to recount everything that had happened to her in
Grenlowe and Mirramay, but she did not hurry, and left nothing out.
It was a pleasure to her to share it with her aunt, knowing that
she must conceal it from everyone as soon as she returned to
Ferndeane.

‘Are
there a great many of these scrolls?’ Mrs. Grey enquired when
Isabel had finished.

‘Some
five or six, I believe, and they are not small. It will take me
some little time to read through them.’

‘I
will take one or two, if you will permit me. We will work faster
together.’

Isabel smiled at her aunt. ‘I believe you are forming one of
your soft spots for the Ferryman.’

‘Without doubt! Quite as you did. Who could help feeling for
him, poor man? We must certainly discover his name.’

Isabel felt obscurely better at this staunch support, for she
had been feeling a little overwhelmed with the task, and the
pressures it brought to bear upon her. For all the Ferryman’s kind
words to her on her departure, she fervently wished that she would
not disappoint him.

She separated
from her aunt soon afterwards, to rest before she was obliged to
ready herself for her dinner engagement. She spared barely a
thought for the prospect of meeting Mr. Thompson again; all her
ideas were fixed upon the Ferryman, and the piper, and
Mirramay.

Belatedly, she recollected the parcel Sophy had given her as
she had left Silverling. It had been placed by the maid at the foot
of her bed; she caught it up and quickly unwrapped it. She was not
surprised when a gown emerged, though the garment itself caused her
to catch her breath in wonder.

It
was velvet, dyed in her favourite shade of blue: the serene, cool
shade of twilight. The fabric was silk, though woven with something
else; something fae, which felt cool against her hands, and caused
the gown to ripple with the fluid shimmer of water. It was simple,
as suited Isabel’s taste, trimmed modestly at the neckline and
sleeves with bunches of ribbons. An underskirt of darker blue silk
peeped into view at the hem.

It
was a ball gown, of course. Isabel had once given a gown of her own
to Sophy, so that her friend might have something new to wear for a
grand ball given in the neighbourhood. Sophy now returned that
favour with a gown far, far more beautiful!

Isabel held it against herself, smiling delightedly.
‘Tafferty! Is this not the loveliest thing you have ever
seen?’

‘No,’
said the catterdandy, bestowing the briefest glance upon the gown.
‘But it is pretty enough, I grant thee.’

‘Fie
upon that, for it is glorious. I only hope there will soon be a
ball, so that I may wear it!’ Her face fell as she recollected an
obstacle. ‘But I have nothing suitable to wear with it! Any
ordinary accessories will fade into insignificance beside such
loveliness.’

‘That
is a problem most easily fixed,’ said Tafferty. ‘An’ thou didst
promise me to work on thy Glamour.’

Isabel brightened. ‘Do you think I might Glamour something to
match? I had not thought to consider!’

Tafferty sighed, her head drooping. ‘If I had known I need
only promise thee somethin’ extra pretty t’ wear t’ some ball, I
need not ‘ave wasted my time makin’ complicated bargains with thee
over the Ferryman.’

Isabel blushed, and laid aside the gown. ‘Is it frivolous of
me? I fear that it is! But I cannot help it. Such beauty is a
delight to me, and I must make myself worthy of it in other
respects as well.’ She paused, and added more honestly, ‘I believe
I am growing accustomed to the idea, Tafferty. It has taken a
little time, but my aunt’s notion of sending me into Aylfenhame was
a good one. I shall be happy to bring a little of it back with
me.’

‘I am
delighted t’ hear it.’

‘Provided, of course, that my mother and father should not
discover it.’

Tafferty flopped into a heap upon the carpet. ‘Still some way
t’ go, then. No matter. Thou art makin’ some feeble kind o’
progress.’

Isabel went to her companion, and tentatively stroked one of
her thickly-furred, gloriously tufted ears. ‘I am sorry, Tafferty.
I know I am a careful, shrinking creature, and it must be
intolerable for someone as bold as you. But I am
trying.’

Tafferty held herself rigid for a space, but finally
softened, and leaned into Isabel’s hand. ‘Thy mother and father
have somethin’ t’ answer for, I’ll wager. They ‘ave taught thee t’
be dutiful, and by all accounts far too obedient. I must teach thee
t’ have confidence in thine own choices, an’ t’ think on things thy
parents may not ‘ave ever planned for thee.’ She grinned up at
Isabel, one long tooth showing around her top lip. ‘I ‘ave more
than a little assistance from thine aunt, in that. An’ she is a
capable woman.’

Chapter Thirteen

Well,
an’ what a deal o’ happenin’s! I tell ye, I were never more
surprised in the whole of me life. Oh, not about his Majesty, the
Goblin King. I ought t’ have known that he would be lurkin’ in
Mirramay, stickin’ his tricky fingers in all manner o’ business.
Small wonder that he’d be kickin’ up some kind o’ lark thereabouts.
But that Miss Isabel’d find the gumption t’ carry on wi’ her
intended purpose regardless, an’ steal away wi’ a bundle o’
scrolls! She felt a deal o’ guilt, poor lass, but she was
forgettin’ somethin’. Scarce another person in the whole o’ England
could be better trusted wi’ somethin’ o’ value – an’ so I told the
Keeper meself. She’d take ‘em back in time, an’ without so much as
a scratch on ‘em. That I knew.

Her
powers, though. Thas another story. Tafferty ‘ad a problem t’ solve
there, an’ no mistake. How do ye persuade so reluctant a miss t’
take a proper degree of interest in the arts t’ which she was born?
Well, that catterdandy’s a wily one an’ no mistake. The Ferryman,
thas part of it; Miss Isa’s one t’ keep t’ her word, an’ stick t’
bargain. But t’other part, thas real clever. Ye simply tell ‘er
‘bout all the many things she could be doin’ t’ make her life an’
loves a mite simpler. An’ prettier. An’ if she can use ‘er witchery
t’ do some kind o’ good in the world, all the better.

That
Ferryman, now. I’ll admit, I ‘ad an interest there. Good fellow,
that, an’ it irked me that I ‘ad no more an idea what his deuced
name was – beggin’ yer pardon, fer my language – than anybody else.
‘Tis a lapse, right enough! I, that prides meself on collectin’ up
all the choicest bits an’ snippets of information! I ‘ad t’ do
better. Not only that, mind. I also ‘ad no notion what ‘ad become
o’ the Chronicler. Two lapses, an’ important business t’ boot! Oh,
I set all my very best folk t’ work on that brace o’ problems, ye
can bet.

Isabel entered the drawing-room of the Thompsons’ handsome
York townhouse with a feeling of mild trepidation, and for two
reasons: Firstly, because it was the first time she had been in Mr.
Thompson’s company since learning of her Aylir heritage, and she
felt an obscure and irrational certainty that it would somehow
show. Secondly, because Tafferty had persuaded her to embark upon
her first proper Glamour in honour of the evening’s events, and
that most certainly did show.

She
had not worn the beautiful gown of Sophy’s creation. It was too
fine for a dinner; it deserved to be kept for a ball. Instead, she
had worn one of her own, fairly new, gowns and dressed it up for
the occasion. But instead of adjusting its style and trim with a
needle and thread and labour of her own, she had done so with
Glamour.

And
so she was clothed in an elegant, short-sleeved gown of ivory silk
with an overdress of pale gold lace. The latter had originally been
white, but she had altered its colour. She had also adjusted the
shape of the neckline, and added bunches of ribbons at the sleeves
in mimicry of Sophy’s style. Her boldest — and favourite —
alteration was the extremely life-like, gold-and-auburn butterflies
which sat poised atop each shoulder. They looked as though they
were perfectly real, which may prove to have been unwise. She
berated herself for it as she entered the room, and watched as Mrs.
Thompson’s gaze went straight to the butterflies. They were so
beautiful, though, that she had not been able to resist.