Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (24 page)

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 believes 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.