Free Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman by Charlotte E. English

nothing.
    A
thought flashed through Isabel’s mind, and she sat up straighter.
‘Passengers! Was this many days ago?’
    The
Ferryman raised one black brow. ‘Not so very many as all that, I
reckon, no. Why do ye ask?’
    ‘Was
there a piper?’
    ‘There was.’
    ‘And
a fiddler, and other musicians besides? And ladies dressed very
fine.’
    ‘All
those, an’ more,’ said the Ferryman with a nod. ‘Mirisane ‘as
scarcely ever carried such a deal o’ people in one go. ‘Twas into
England I took ‘em.’ He cocked his head at Isabel. ‘Happen ye saw
‘em there?’
    ‘I
did. They attended an assembly in Alford, and…’ she hesitated. ‘It
was very strange. They played music and danced, and — and it was
like nothing we had ever seen or heard before. Did they say why
they came?’
    ‘Nay,’ said the Ferryman. ‘But ‘tis not the custom o’ most
folk t’ talk to me. I am but a lowly Ferryman, an’ the
circumstances of my bein’ here are such as to discourage most folk
from makin’ the attempt.’ He grinned at her. ‘Tis why I am enjoyin’
yer presence. Ye’re a different sort.’
    Isabel frowned. ‘But what circumstances could produce such an
unpleasant, and unkind, result? How is it that you came to be a
Ferryman? And the last of them, too!’
    His
eyes flicked back to hers, and narrowed. ‘That is a tale fer some
other day,’ he said, after a short pause. ‘I ‘ave told ye enough.
Besides, we shall soon be settin’ ye down in Grenlowe.’
    ‘It
is a long journey,’ Isabel commented. ‘I have been through twice
before, on the solstice, and it was but a short distance. I thought
that Tilby and Grenlowe were not so very far apart.’
    The
Ferryman grinned. ‘Truth be told, they are not. I ‘ave been
indulgin’ in a little mischief, an’ have kept ye aboard longer than
I should ‘ave. We ‘ave been goin’ in circles a while.’
    Isabel’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘But why should you do
that?’
    ‘Because the pleasure o’ talkin’ t’ anyone at all is more’n I
expected ever t’ have again,’ he said, his grin fading. ‘An’ when
my passenger is a pretty maid o’ England, with wit an’ brains an’
more besides, I am loathe t’ let her leave.’ His eyes twinkled at
Isabel, and he laughed at her blush. ‘Fear not, for leave ye shall,
an’ I will not keep ye very much longer. But I will be lookin’
forward to takin’ ye home once again, when ye should be ready t’
return.’ He held out his hand: Isabel saw a tiny silver whistle
nestled in the palm. ‘Take it,’ he urged her. ‘When ye wish t’ go
home, ye must simply blow a tiny toot upon this shiny thing, an’
I’ll be able t’ find ye.’
     

     
    Isabel took the whistle carefully, and tucked it into her
reticule. ‘Thank you,’ she said cautiously.
    He
nodded. ‘I cannot promise not t’ keep ye longer’n I should on that
day, but I will see ye safely home. That I do promise.’
    Isabel murmured her thanks. She said no more, for she was
struggling with a variety of feelings, none of which she could
express. The startling realisation that he had, via magics beyond
her comprehension or control, kept her trapped in his boat for
above an hour was no welcome news, for it reminded her how
powerless she was. Could she trust him to keep to his word, and
release her?
    And
there was the matter of his compliments. A pretty maid o’ England,
with wit an’ brains an’ more besides. She ought to be offended at
such freely-expressed admiration; these were not the words of a
gentleman, and nor was his manner such. But she was not offended.
On the contrary, the knowledge that her journey was almost at an
end left her feeling curiously dismayed. If he did not choose to
release her just yet, would she be sorry?
    Her
mother’s long-ago admonition drifted through her mind. If you are
ever in doubt as to what to say to a gentleman, my love, say
something gracious, and remember your manners. ‘I thank you for
your