Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (30 page)

Isabel blinked twice more, and took a breath. Oh. And swiftly
afterwards, the words thank goodness drifted through her mind,
rather to her confusion, for did she not find him a perfectly
agreeable young man? And was not perfectly agreeable the height of
felicity she could expect to encounter in a suitable
marriage?

‘I
shall be delighted,’ she said distantly, her heart pounding with
the echoes of alarm. The moment had not yet come, then, but she
felt that it would. Perhaps at the very ball he spoke
of.

‘I
did not like to ask in front of your aunt,’ he explained. She
noticed that he had not yet released her hand. ‘It did not seem
quite the thing.’

‘I am
sure you are right,’ she agreed, and risked the step of gently
withdrawing her hand.

He
took the hint, and bowed. Within two minutes he had conducted her
back to her aunt, and left the house, together with profuse wishes
for the safest of travels and a number of significant looks. Isabel
did not quite like the faintly proprietorial air he assumed, but
she had not time to consider its import nor how to discourage it,
for her aunt demanded instant tidings of what had passed in the
parlour.

‘Did
you accept him?’ said Eliza. It struck Isabel that she spoke in a
voice of forced calm.

‘He
merely wished to secure me for the first dances at
Ferndeane.’

‘Ah.’
Eliza’s very erect posture relaxed slightly in relief, but her eyes
— hazel once more, at least for the present — remained fixed upon
Isabel with a considering expression.

‘It
must be time for our departure, I think?’ said Isabel, unwilling to
face the question she read in her aunt’s gaze.

‘I
believe it must be,’ said Eliza, and rose from her chair. She
followed Isabel out of the drawing-room without voicing any of her
thoughts, and Isabel was grateful for the reprieve.

It
had been agreed between them that they would visit Mr. Balligumph
before returning to Ferndeane. The journey from York to Tilby was
quiet, unattended by either interest or disaster, and they arrived
at the toll-bridge late in the afternoon. Isabel, sleepy from
boredom and inactivity, blinked in befuddled confusion at the empty
bridge as they approached. The coachman stopped in the centre of
it, as he had been instructed to do, and Isabel waited for the
troll to appear. Moments passed, and he did not.

‘Can
he still be in Aylfenhame?’ Isabel said with dismay. She opened the
carriage door and stepped down. The moment her toes touched the
smooth stones of the bridge, the sound of a great sneeze tore the
air. So powerful was it that the bridge shook beneath her feet, and
she caught hold of the carriage in alarm.

‘Mr.
Balligumph?’ she called.

A
second sneeze followed, and a third. Several moments passed in
silence, and Isabel judged it safe to release the carriage and step
forward. Still she saw no one. Tafferty jumped out of the carriage
with a yowl of protest and stood in the middle of the bridge,
shaking herself violently and cursing.

‘I am
comin’!’ cried a deep, rumbling voice. ‘Wait ye there jest a moment
or two, an’ I’ll be wi’ ye.’

Isabel frowned, for it sounded like Mr. Balligumph and yet
not like him at all. She understood the reason why when at last he
appeared, wrapped in a vast blanket and with a knitted cap upon his
head in place of his usual tall hat. His nose was bluer than ever,
and the smile he directed at Isabel was watery.

‘Do
ye know,’ he said by way of greeting, ‘in years past they used to
think that to bathe in the winter time was a dangerous lark indeed!
Why, ye could die from it! There’s some as still believes it now.
Mighty foolish, I used to say, but what do ye think has come to
pass since my dip in the pool at home? I am sufferin’ wi’ the worst
cold I can remember bein’ burdened with in many a long year. An’ if
tha’ can come to pass in the summer, what might be the consequence
o’ takin’ a bath in the winter? I consider meself chastened, that I
do.’

Isabel laughed, and expressed her sympathy in the kindest
manner she was able. ‘I do hope you are being well taken care of,’
she added. ‘Should you be living under the bridge in this
condition?’

He
winked at her, his great eyes twinkling. ‘It’s a deal snugger down
below than ye’d think, Miss Isabel. But it is kind o’ ye to think
o’ that.’

‘I
will send Lucy with a posset,’ she promised. ‘Just as soon as I
reach home.’

Balligumph waved a huge hand dismissively. ‘Nay, ye’ve no
cause to go troublin’ yer servants. I am well enough.’

‘Then
I will bring it myself.’

Balligumph smiled at her. ‘I can see there’s no refusin’ ye.
I will accept a posset, then, an’ wi’ thanks. But if ye aren’t too
tired from yer journey, I would first ‘ave a word wi’ ye.’ He
nodded to Eliza, who now joined them, and added, ‘An’ wi’ yer good
aunt, too.’

‘We
came in search of you,’ Isabel replied. ‘For we have a particular
question to ask.’

‘I’ll
tell ye straight off: I ‘aven’t the faintest notion what yer
Ferryman’s called.’ He sighed, sniffling with cold. ‘I did me best
to learn it for ye, but wi’ no success. I am sorry.’

‘I
did not know you had enquired! It is kind of you to try for it, and
I am not at all cast down that you have not succeeded. Please, do
not think yourself obliged to apologise.’

‘Ye
aren’t?’ Balligumph squinted at her. ‘Ye’ve some plan in yer mind,
then?’

‘The
beginnings of a plan, at least,’ said Isabel, and glanced at her
aunt.

‘It
is my plan, in truth,’ Eliza said. ‘And therefore, if you do not
like it you must blame me entirely. Isabel has a great deal more
good sense than I do.’

The
troll narrowed his eyes at Eliza. ‘By this I’m to collect that it’s
some manner o’ mad plan, is that the case?’

Eliza
smiled coolly. ‘Perhaps a little.’

Tafferty hissed, her fur rising. ‘A little, I very doubt it!
Cracked in the brain, that thou art.’ She bared her teeth, her tail
lashing. ‘An’ do not be thinkin’ I will stand idly by an’ let thee
haul my Isabel off into madness after thee!’

Balligumph sighed, and blew his nose upon an enormous
handkerchief he retrieved from beneath the blanket he wore. ‘Very
well, I am braced fer somethin’ truly hair-raisin'. On ye
go.’

Eliza
related her idea, briefly and with perfect composure in spite of
Balligumph’s lowering brows and Tafferty’s bristling hackles. When
she arrived at the part in which she and Isabel were to venture
into Aylfenhame in search of the Kostigern’s lair, he sat up in
alarm and shook his head.

‘Nay,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll not help ye wi’ such madness as
that. Tafferty is right. Do ye have any notion what ye’re fixin’ to
do?’

‘We
understand full well that it is dangerous.’

‘I
don’t think ye do! Not if ye are plannin’ to go wanderin’ thataways
wi’ no more premonition o’ disaster than a babe shovin’ its hand
into the fire! The Kostigern, an’ all! He’s a goner, but his little
world is no less dangerous for all that. An’ besides, we don’t even
know for sure that he is a goner. Not absolutely for sure. Nobody
knows what became o’ that one, an’ nobody much wants to risk
bringin’ him back.’

Eliza
began to argue, but Balligumph held up a hand. ‘Tis ill-mannered o’
me to cut ye off, an’ I know it. But it is useless t’ remonstrate
wi’ me on this. May I instead tell the two o’ ye my
news?’

‘Please do!’ Isabel interjected. ‘We would very much like to
hear it. Would we not, aunt?’

‘It
is of use to ye, that I promise. Ye’ll have heard about the Piper’s
Rade, I’ll wager?’

‘Indeed, we have heard of little else,’ said
Isabel.

Balligumph nodded. ‘Well, now. They used to ride through
Aylfenhame an’ England on the eve o’ summer, many years ago, an’ at
other times as well. But after the antics o’ the one we was just
speakin’ of, there came the Diminishin’. Thas what they call it.
Many o’ the fae-folk slipped off into the Torpor for one reason or
another, or vanished into England an’ were never seen in Aylfenhame
again. It must be nigh on a century since the last Rade.

‘An’
now they are doin’ it again, in a manner o’ speakin’. Less o’ the
ridin’, an’ a deal more o’ such merriments as dancin’ an’ music.
They are makin’ a deal o’ noise, an’ that’s important. Pipes!
Fiddles an’ drums! Laughin’ and dancin’ and merry-makin’ all over
England. An’ there’s some as is doin’ the same in Aylfenhame, since
yer return.’ Balli nodded at Isabel. ‘It’s spreadin’. An’ I ‘ave
heard an interestin’ theory as to why.’ He paused expectantly.
Evidently satisfied with the avid look Isabel was certain he would
see upon her own face and her aunt’s, he continued. ‘They are
wakin’ people up. Draggin’ them out o’ the Torpor — kickin’ an’
screamin’, if necessary. It’s time fer the Diminishin’ to be
reversed, an’ fer Aylfenhame to wake up!’

‘That
sounds like a wonderful thing!’ said Isabel. She meant every word,
for the prospect of Aylfenhame diminishing into silence was a
terrible one. ‘But why now? What can have caused the Rade to
suddenly form up once more?’

‘And
why in England as well as Aylfenhame?’ added Eliza. ‘Are they
seeking to draw back those who fled here after the Kostigern’s
war?’

‘I
reckon they are,’ said Balligumph, nodding at Eliza. ‘An’ one other
thing.’ He transferred his blue gaze to Isabel and grinned, the
tusks on either side of his mouth twitching with the gesture. ‘That
bein’ ye, Miss Isabel.’

Isabel stared. ‘Me?’

‘Not
ye personally. Folk such as ye, an’ yer aunt as well. I think ye
aren’t the only people with Aylir heritage wanderin’ about in
England. Some, like Mrs. Grey here, are full aware of it an’ choose
not to pursue it. Some, like yer own self, know nothin’ about
it.

‘In
some o’ that last group, well, they’s too far entrenched in their
Englishness to be drawn to their fae side. Yer mother’d be one,
Miss Isa. She witnessed the Rade, same as ye, but not a flicker o’
difference did it make to her.

‘In
some, though! That heritage can be woken up, so to speak, an’ made
lively-like. Ye bein’ one particularly fine example.’ He smiled at
Isabel. ‘Tis no coincidence that yer witchiness showed itself after
the Rade began to travel in these parts. An’ Tafferty arrived wi’
ye soon after ye saw them in Alford.’

‘Twas
probably that very night I felt the call,’ Tafferty confirmed. ‘An’
it were very unpleasant, I’ll have thee know! Like an itchin’ under
my fur.’ She shivered and shook all her fur out until it stood on
end.

‘As
to why they are wakin’ everyone up, an’ why now, well. Thas harder
t’ answer.’ He glanced around at the deserted bridge and equally
empty road and fields around, and leaned towards Isabel and Eliza.
‘The Diminishin’. It began after the Kostigern, but it worsened
badly after They Majesties an’ the Princess were lost. They’re
bound to the fabric of Aylfenhame in ways yer own monarchs are not.
Wi’ them gone, the realm drifts an’ fades into slumber. But things
change.’ He winked, and straightened up once more.

Isabel
understood. He would not say more for fear of being somehow
overheard, but his meaning was plain. The Princess may not yet have
set foot in Mirramay, but she was no longer lost; no longer
enchanted, bound and disabled. Did the realm feel it, in some way?
Did her presence begin to rouse those who slumbered, whether they
understood the reason or not? Was that why the Ferryman had
returned, and Sir Guntifer, and the Piper?

If
so, she could only feel that Sophy had been wise to keep Lihyaen
away from Mirramay. If the Princess’s mere presence in any part of
the realm, free and unimpeded, could have such a profound effect,
what might occur once she finally returned to the royal
city?

‘Does
Sophy know?’ Isabel asked, for a disquieting thought had entered
her mind. The folk of Aylfenhame must wonder why the Torpor was
releasing those it had long held spell-bound and asleep. They must
also be well aware of the connection between the Diminishing and
the lost royals of Mirramay. Sooner or later, someone would begin
to realise that one of that family walked the realm once more. Was
Lihyaen safe? She was thought to have died, and few indeed knew of
her true fate. But it was a danger, of which Sophy ought to be
aware.