Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (39 page)

Isabel found
herself with nothing to say. He was correct, but the truth of his
argument made little impression upon her. She was
unmoved.

‘Will
you at least grant me a little time?’ he said. ‘Say not that this
is a final, and irrevocable, refusal. I have been precipitate,
perhaps. If we come to know one another better, perhaps you may
feel differently.’

Isabel did not wish to consent to his request, but she
struggled to find a graceful way to decline, for there was nothing
unreasonable in it. Besides, perhaps he was right; she might come
to appreciate his qualities more, the closer her acquaintance with
him.

She
opened her mouth to give her consent, however grudging, but she was
prevented by the curious sight of the door suddenly opening, and
Tafferty appearing in the doorway. How the little catterdandy had
contrived to open it herself she could not imagine, but there did
not appear to be anybody else with her.

‘Thou’rt wanted,’ said Tafferty abruptly. ‘I recommend a mite
o’ haste.’ She looked at Mr. Thompson, sniffed, and whisked away
again.

‘Isabel?’ said Mr. Thompson, with a note of
urgency.

Looking at him, Isabel realised she did not even know his
first name. ‘Please excuse me,’ she said, and rose at once before
he could further detain her.

She
found Tafferty in the hall, together with Mr. and Mrs. Ellerby, her
brother Charles, her aunt Eliza, two of the brownies of Ferndeane
and Tiltager. They were gathered around a stranger who had, she
surmised, but this moment arrived. There appeared to be some manner
of disagreement in progress, for voices were raised, and she
detected more than one symptom of grave disapprobation in her
parents’ posture and manner.

‘Tafferty?’ she said quietly, making her way to her
companion’s side. ‘How am I wanted?’

‘Yonder caller is fer thee. Thy mother did not wish fer thee
t’ be disturbed.’

Well
she might not. Picturing her mother’s disappointment at her refusal
of Mr. Thompson’s offer, Isabel sighed. But that was to be borne
later. She moved forward, saying, ‘I am here. Who is it that calls
upon me?’

‘I am
sorry you have been interrupted, Isabel!’ cried Mrs. Ellerby. ‘Go
back to the parlour with Mr. Thompson, my dear. This gentleman can
have nothing to say to you.’

Charles, however, caught hold of his sister’s arm and drew
her into the knot of people. She came face-to-face with the strange
gentleman, who stared back at her in dismay.

He
was elegantly dressed in sand-coloured trousers, a pale waistcoat,
and an elegant blue coat, all of the best quality and of the
highest fashion. His boots were polished to a mirror shine, and he
held a tall black hat tucked under his arm. But his black hair was
not at all fashionable, for he wore it long and tied back with a
length of red ribbon. His golden skin and bronze-hued eyes were
likewise at odds with his attire. She felt a surge of pure joy as
she recognised him, and in that moment she understood why she could
never marry Mr. Thompson.

Talthimandar. His eyes widened as he saw her, and he bowed,
but his face did not lose its stricken expression.

‘Miss
Isabel,’ he said. ‘It seems I must apologise t’ ye. I wanted t’ see
ye, but I… did not realise how unwelcome such a visit must be t’
ye. An’ yer family.’

Isabel felt a flicker of anger ignite. ‘I do not know who has
told you that you are unwelcome to me, but it is not the truth. Nor
are you unwelcome in my home.’ She offered him her hand, and he
took it, though with an air of confusion.

‘My
dear!’ said Mrs. Ellerby. ‘Mr. Talthimandar ought to know that he
may not freely call upon a household where he has never been
introduced.’ Nor ever will be, her tone seemed to say.

‘He
is very welcome to me, Mama.’ Isabel spoke quietly and with
dignity, but her anger was growing.

Mr.
Thompson appeared next to Isabel, and made the Ferryman a cold bow.
Talthimandar’s eyes flicked to that gentleman, and he released
Isabel’s hand. ‘I also did not know that ye ‘ad a gentleman caller
already,’ he said in a quieter voice. Isabel could see that he
imagined matters between herself and Mr. Thompson to have
progressed further than they truly had, and she wondered what her
mother had said to him.

‘May
I offer you some refreshment, Mr. Talthimandar?’ she said. ‘I will
ask Lucy to bring tea to the drawing-room.’

Talthimandar said nothing. His gaze travelled from Isabel to
Mrs. Ellerby to Mr. Thompson and back to Isabel, and her heart sank
at the trapped look in his eyes. ‘No, I thank ye. I will take my
leave,’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He bowed to
Isabel, clutching his new hat too tightly.

‘Please,’ she said softly. ‘Do stay.’

He
straightened up slowly, and directed a searching look at Isabel.
‘If ye wish me t’ stay, then I will.’ A smile returned to his face.
It was tentative and weak, but it held.

Isabel smiled
back.

‘Isabel!’ exploded Mrs. Ellerby. ‘I must insist upon this
gentleman’s leaving at once!’

Isabel turned to her mother, her brow creasing in a frown.
‘Why must you, Mama?’ she said softly, but making no attempt to
conceal the simmering anger she felt. ‘May I not welcome my friends
to my home?’

‘That
depends very much upon the friend, I would say!’ Mrs. Ellerby
swelled with indignation.

‘I
should say so, indeed!’ said Mr. Ellerby, standing directly behind
his wife.

‘Why
should Mr. Talthimandar be considered so objectionable?’ Isabel
directed the question at both of her parents. She was conscious of
her aunt Eliza moving to stand behind her, offering the same kind
of support — albeit silent — that Mr. Ellerby provided for his
wife.

‘Honestly, Isabel!’ said Mrs. Ellerby crossly. ‘A gentleman of
no birth, no family, no connections! And though he is very well
turned-out I should think it unlikely that he is a man of any
property. Indeed, he is not even of your own world, let alone your
own society. A fit connection for an Ellerby of Ferndeane! I should
say not.’

Mrs. Ellerby
spoke brusquely, but Isabel detected a note of fear in her eyes.
Mr. Ellerby, a vision of cold disapproval, said nothing, but he,
too, betrayed signs of anxiety.

Isabel understood. If she married Mr. Thompson, she was — in
their eyes — safe. He was a person they could understand. His
family and connections were well-known and conventional, and his
property was nearby. But Talthimandar, or anybody like him, was
wholly unknown. They saw that his intentions towards Isabel tended
towards more than friendship, as she saw it herself. How could they
entrust her safety and her happiness to one such as him? And how
could they bear to relinquish the prospects of greater importance
that came with her prospective marriage to Mr. Thompson,
besides?

In
preferring Talthimandar, she knew she was dashing those hopes, and
forever. No child of theirs would improve the Ellerby’s social
standing through marriage; neither their son nor their daughter
would bring an increase of either wealth or status through
connection to a family of importance. These were not goals with
which Isabel could sympathise herself, but she understood that they
were of great importance to others — not least her mother and
father. As such, it cost her a pang to disoblige them; but
disoblige them she must. She gathered herself to resist these
arguments, searching her mind for the best way to represent
Talthimandar’s worth to her parents — but she was forestalled by
Talthimandar himself.

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘Cursed I may’ve been, but I never said I
was destitute.’

There
was a speechless silence for several moments, which was broken at
last by Mr. Ellerby. ‘You are a man of property?’ he said in pure
disbelief.

‘Not
rightly speakin’, no,’ said Talthimandar. ‘In no way as t’ impress
ye fine folk, fer certain. But I ‘ad some thoughts t’ purchasin’
somethin’ in the way of a dwellin’ in these parts.’

‘You
are going to live in Tilby?’ said Isabel, feeling suddenly
breathless.

He
smiled faintly upon her. ‘That depends, a bit, on whether I could
expect t’ find a welcome here.’

‘And
a bride?’ said Mr. Thompson, somewhat acidly.

Talthimandar looked at him in silence. ‘I appear to ye as a
threat t’ yer hopes, an’ ye would like t’ despise me for it. That I
can understand, fer I’m minded t’ think the same o’ ye. But the
choice lies wi’ the lady, now, does it not?’

‘When
the lady is an Aylir witch as much as she is English, it is hard to
compete with a sorcerer who possesses a flying boat.’ Mr. Thompson
spoke wryly, but he was certainly disappointed. Whether he was so
because he regretted Isabel herself or merely the prospect of an
Aylfenhame alliance, Isabel could not tell.

‘I
may be missin’ the mark in sayin’ so, but it does not seem t’ me
that Miss Isabel is likely t’ be so much impressed wi’ that kind o’
thing.’

‘Indeed, I am not,’ said Isabel, feeling more than a little
indignant at the notion that she would be so influenced.

Mrs.
Ellerby spoke at the same time. ‘An Aylir witch?’ she said faintly.
‘But no! That is by no means true!’

‘Now,
Harriet,’ said Eliza. ‘Take a moment to consider, I beg
you.’

‘Lizzy?’ said Mrs. Ellerby, her voice growing fainter still.
‘What can you mean?’ Realisation began to dawn on her, and she
stared first at her sister, and then at her daughter, in growing
horror. ‘Isabel?’

Isabel went to her mother and took both of her hands,
squeezing them in an attempt to comfort her. ‘It is the truth,
Mama,’ she said, and as she spoke she allowed the Glamour which
camouflaged her appearance to gradually fade. ‘As you can
see.’

Mrs.
Ellerby could only stare at her daughter’s changed face, speechless
with dismay.

‘Is
it so very bad?’ said Isabel. ‘I am different, as you see. But must
it be deplored?’

‘Oh,
Isabel,’ whispered her mother. ‘You do not understand! Society will
never accept you! Not with those eyes, and that hair. My mother…’
she faltered, glanced at Eliza, and continued, ‘My mother was
talked about. Whispers and gossip and chatter, until she could bear
it no longer! And she hid herself, until the people who had shunned
her began to treat her with at least the appearance of civility.
But the whispers never wholly died away! She was not trusted, and
in the best houses, never fully welcomed.’ She tilted her head
towards Isabel, and said in a lower voice, ‘There may be nothing
wrong with the Ayliri, my dear, but they are not as we are. It
would be like having someone foreign for a husband.’

Isabel knew that when she said foreign, she meant someone
with differently coloured skin. ‘I cannot consider that something
to be ashamed of in either case, Mama. Mr. Talthimandar is a good
man, and I am your daughter — even if I am also an Aylir
witch.’

Mrs.
Ellerby’s eyes filled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She
pulled her hands out of Isabel’s grasp and allowed herself to be
supported by her husband. Isabel noted that her father looked no
more convinced of her arguments than did her mother, and
sighed.

Talthimandar spoke up. ‘It is true that I came t’ seek yer
permission t’ court yer daughter,’ he said quietly. ‘As I
understand is the convention in these parts. If ye will give me a
chance an’ get t’ know me, ye may find I am not so different as ye
think. Nor so objectionable.’ He looked at Isabel, and added, ‘That
is, if Miss Isabel will permit me.’ He smiled at her with obvious
appreciation, and spoke directly to her. ‘Fer my part, I think yer
real face is every bit as charmin’ as t’other.’

Looking at Talthimandar, Isabel felt all of the delight and
anticipation at the prospect of his courtship that had been so
lacking in her dealings with Mr. Thompson. It was the liveliness of
his spirit that enchanted her so, perhaps; the quickness of his
mind and his wit; the peculiar gallantry of his manners, and the
fascinating eccentricity of his behaviour. It was the dignity he
had shown under the burden of the curse which had bound him to his
boat; his refusal to descend into self-pity, or to blame another
for his actions — even when he had clear enough cause to do so. It
was his unabashed exuberance in being freed from the curse, and the
unbridled joy he had shown — so far from the stiff, respectable,
sensible behaviour that she had been used to show herself, and to
experience in others.

And
it was in the reasons why he sought Isabel. It could have nothing
to do with the respectability of her family or the inheritance she
one day expected to receive; he could know nothing of such things,
nor was he likely to care. And she felt fully persuaded that it had
nothing to do with her looks, for even in the heights of her beauty
she was to the Ayliri of Aylfenhame as a candle to the
sun.

She
might have hoped that Mr. Thompson sought her for her own self, but
in Talthimandar’s case she was certain of it. ‘I do permit it,’ she
said to him, smiling for the first time that day. ‘And Mama and
Papa will not forbid it.’ She looked at her parents as she spoke,
allowing all of her hope and fear to show in her face.