Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (7 page)

She
was more perplexed when the carriage bowled out of York and into
the fields, leaving the town far behind, yet without delivering her
to any of the villages she had expected they were to visit. Half an
hour’s journey passed away and still they did not stop. Isabel
began to glance at her aunt, uncertain of whether she should raise
a question. Mrs. Grey did not look at her; her attention was
directed out of the window.

Isabel contented
herself with silence. Fully an hour had passed by the time the
carriage at last began to slow, and finally stopped.

‘Quickly, now,’ said Mrs. Grey as they stepped down. She
consulted a pocket-watch, a slight frown creasing her
brow.

Isabel looked around in utter confusion. They had stopped in
the midst of an expanse of fields. Tall rows of flourishing wheat
met her gaze in every direction, with nothing else to be observed
save for the strip of narrow, uneven road running through the
middle. Besides herself, her aunt, and her aunt’s coachman and
footmen, not another soul did she see.

Tafferty jumped down from the carriage behind Isabel and took
up a station near her feet. This surprised Isabel, as she had been
unaware of her companion’s presence upon the journey. Where had
Tafferty hidden herself? She, too, appeared to feel no
disorientation at the peculiarity of their excursion, for she sat
down and began, in the calmest fashion, to wash her
paws.

‘Five
minutes, perhaps?’ murmured Mrs. Grey.

Tafferty made an
assenting noise, and continued to groom her toes.

Isabel began to feel a sensation of mild pique at this
treatment. Was she not to be informed as to the nature of their
errand out here in this remote place? She pushed such feelings
away, for they were unworthy, and stood her ground. Her aunt and
Tafferty were both facing the same way, out into the fields, and
watched the horizon with an expectant air. Isabel could understand
nothing of this behaviour, but she followed the line of their gaze
and waited alongside them, fiddling with the ribbon of her
reticule.

It
seemed to her, after some minutes, that the sky was growing
fractionally lighter. She blinked, and looked a little closer. Was
she, in her impatience, imagining the almost imperceptible fading
of the azure sky into a paler hue? No; for there followed an
unmistakeable brightening of the light, until it grew so dazzling
Isabel was obliged, briefly, to close her eyes.

When
she opened them, a dark shape had appeared in the sky, starkly
outlined against the blazing light. It began as a small object
barely larger than her fist, but grew rapidly. Isabel realised that
it was something airborne, and coming closer.

It
was a boat. It was shaped like one, at least, with a mast and a
sail and all the usual features; the fact that it was sailing
through the sky instead of the sea appeared not to matter one whit.
The boat soared out of nothing and descended until it landed atop a
low rise some distance away.

‘Quickly, now!’ said Mrs. Grey, and to Isabel’s amazement, her
aunt began to run.

‘Whishawist!’ bawled Tafferty, and sprang after Mrs.
Grey.

Isabel stood
stock still, dumbfounded.

Tafferty turned and galloped back. ‘Hurry, foolish little
witch! The Ferryman will not wait for such as thee, mark my words!’
She barrelled into Isabel’s legs and propelled her forward. Isabel
dutifully set off at a fast walk, but at Tafferty’s renewed cries
of “Wist, whishawist!’ and the sight of her aunt running at speed
towards the boat, a sense of urgency took hold of her and she, too,
began to run.

If
she had expected the boat to be made out of something familiar —
wood, for example — she was destined to be further surprised. As
she neared the strange craft, she discerned that it shone in odd
colours. The body of the boat was constructed from a substance
resembling wood mingled, in some odd fashion, with clouds; the sail
was bright with colour and looked painted upon the sky. The boat
rose up high in the front and at the back, forming graceful,
curled-over points at each end, and the mast was silvery-pale and
deeply graven with complex images Isabel could not make
out.

In
the prow stood a man Isabel had never before seen. He was tall and
lean, and dressed in the fashions of the previous century: tall
boots, a frock coat and waistcoat, and a cocked hat with three
corners. The style of the clothing was familiar, but its materials
and colours were not. His frock coat was rich blue and sewn from
velvet as soft and plush as moss; his waistcoat was as light as
insect’s wings and glimmered with silvery iridescence.

He
was golden-skinned, bronze-eyed and dark-haired, his features human
but with that faint, odd cast which proclaimed him Other. He was,
in short, Aylir.

Mrs. Grey reached
the boat some way ahead of her niece. Isabel drew level with her
aunt, somewhat out of breath and, she feared, unbecomingly flushed
in the face. She took a moment to regain her breath, averting her
gaze from the dazzling vision of the boatman.

‘You
wish to embark?’ said the Ferryman. His voice was deep and melodic.
He would sing well, Isabel thought irrelevantly.

‘This
lady wishes to embark,’ said Mrs. Grey, gently pushing Isabel
forward.

Alarmed, Isabel cried, ‘No! I do not wish to embark! My dear
aunt, what can be the meaning of this?’

Mrs.
Grey clutched Isabel’s hand. All trace of the playful attitude she
sometimes adopted had vanished; her face, her manner, her tone were
all serious as she said: ‘You have some notion, I think, that you
may live as I have done; choose the life of an Englishwoman and
manage your abilities alongside it. I wish you will not! For I have
long regretted the choice that I made.’

Isabel’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘But — my uncle — were you
not happy?’

Mrs.
Grey’s mouth twisted with some emotion Isabel could not name. ‘I
chose safety,’ she said. ‘If that is the choice you, too, wish to
make, then you shall. But I beg you: please, explore the
alternative! I have arranged everything. The Ferryman will take you
to your Miss Landon, and she will help you.’

‘But—’ said Isabel, shocked. ‘But the assembly — Mr. Thompson
—’

‘Think nothing of them,’ said Mrs. Grey. ‘Assemblies, and such
men as Mr. Thompson, are easily come by!’

‘My
mother—’

‘Your
mother shall know nothing of this,’ said Mrs. Grey earnestly.
‘Trust me to manage my sister, and do as I ask. Please.’

Isabel glanced at the boat and the Aylir man who stood,
silent and impassive, in its prow. A knot of fear had taken root in
her stomach and she felt its effects in every part of her being. To
step into this boat and allow it to bear her away to Aylfenhame
seemed an irreversible step. ‘I cannot,’ she said
softly.

‘You
can,’ said Mrs. Grey with quiet confidence. ‘Tafferty will be with
you. You are not alone.’ She squeezed Isabel’s hand and added, ‘It
is not forever.’

Not
forever. Isabel looked again at the boat, and, to her infinite
surprise, a tiny spark of excitement unfurled somewhere inside. It
was feeble, and almost drowned by the weight of her doubt, her
uncertainty and her fear; but it lived, and she felt it. To see
Aylfenhame as Sophy did! Not as a brief, and wholly other, visitor,
but as one who enjoyed some right to be there; who might, in some
small way, belong.

She
squeezed her aunt’s hand in return. ‘Thank you,’ she said. A vision
of Mr. Thompson at the coming assembly flashed through her mind.
Would he notice her absence? Would it be any source of regret to
him? Perhaps he would withdraw his interest in her. Her mother’s
dismay — her father’s disappointment — the loss to her family. All
this passed through her mind in an instant, and her steps
faltered.

But she looked
again at the Ferryman, and her resolve hardened.

‘I
cannot wait,’ said he. He spoke gravely, but Isabel thought she
detected a twinkle in his dark eyes.

‘I am
coming,’ Isabel replied. He held out his hand to her; she took it,
and with his help climbed aboard the boat. Tafferty leapt in after
her with a flick of her tasselled tail.

She
had no time to bid her aunt farewell, for the boat began
immediately to rise. All she could do was wave to her aunt’s
rapidly shrinking figure as she was borne upwards, conscious of a
forlorn feeling.

Chapter Six

Isabel had expected the ascent to be alarming, perhaps even
dangerous, but it was not. The boat’s progress was steady and
smooth, and though the rising winds buffeted her with growing
ferocity as they climbed into the skies, she never felt in danger
of being blown out of the boat.

The
vision of England she was thus afforded staggered and thrilled her.
Vast expanses of fields lay spread before her, painted in various
colours and fitted edge-to-edge like scraps of fabric in a blanket.
Here and there she saw a village or a town, mere clusters of blocky
protrusions in grey or red or white; they were tiny and toy-like
from her vantage point aloft. At length her view was obscured as
white mist billowed into being around her, thickening rapidly until
she could see nothing beyond the edges of the boat. With a small
sigh of regret, she turned her back upon the vanished panorama and
sought some place where she could seat herself.

The
Ferryman sat three feet away, his eyes upon her. She jumped at
seeing him, for in her wonder at the view she had all but forgotten
him. She swallowed her surprise, smitten abruptly with
remorse.

‘I am
very sorry,’ she said with a smile. ‘I was so enchanted with our
ascent, I have sent courtesy to the winds. How do you do? My aunt
ought, perhaps, to have introduced us, but there was not time. I am
Miss Ellerby.’ She made him a curtsey. He ought to have stood to
receive this honour, and it felt strange to her to curtsey to a
seated gentleman. But things were different in Aylfenhame, no
doubt.

The
Ferryman’s answering smile was crooked; twisted, she suspected,
with some form of hidden amusement, though the expression of his
eyes was congenial enough. ‘Missellerby,’ he mused. ‘No name I ever
heard before. ‘Tis a privilege to be unique, and I hope ye make
fine use of it.’ He got to his feet and bowed fluidly to her in
return, sweeping his three-cornered hat from his head. She saw that
his hair was black and long, and tied back with a plain red ribbon.
He soon regained his seat, and indicated that she should avail
herself of one opposite. They were chairs in truth, soft and
comfortable, and upholstered in a shimmering silk Isabel eyed with
covetous envy, so beautiful a gown would it make.

She
reposed herself gracefully upon the indicated chair, and smiled.
‘No indeed, I am not at all unique. It is two words: Miss — Ellerby
— the first being a title, you see.’

His
smile widened, and the twinkle in his eyes grew more pronounced. ‘I
thank ye for yer explanation,’ he said gravely.

Isabel laughed, her cheeks warming. ‘Oh, I see. You are
teasing me.’

‘An’
I should not, I know,’ he said with a note of apology. ‘It’s the
matter o’ having company that’s done the mischief. Goes to my ‘ead
more’n a little.’

His
manner of speaking reminded Isabel of Balligumph, the
bridge-keeper, though his accent was neither so thick nor so
pronounced as his; more of a lilt. ‘Are you so short of company?’
said she. ‘I would think a Ferryman would meet a great many
people.’

‘The
Ferry,’ he said, ‘is not often used, for few seek passage between
my world an’ yours.’

Isabel felt a creeping sensation of discomfort, for it did
not do to be alone with a gentleman like this. Did Tafferty qualify
as chaperone? Her companion had taken up a station on one of the
other chairs, and sat there straight-backed and wholly inattentive.
Isabel looked down at her hands. ‘I did not precisely seek
passage,’ she admitted.

‘I
saw that.’ The Ferryman lounged against the side of the boat, idly
flipping his hat in his hands.

Isabel flushed with embarrassment. ‘My aunt had given me no
warning,’ she said. ‘It was not discussed between us.’