Read Online Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman by Charlotte E. English - Free Book Online

Aylfenhame,’ said he wisely, with an affirmative nod.
‘Tis natural enough.’
    ‘No,
indeed!’ Isabel protested. ‘It is only that—’ She stopped,
uncertain. It was absurd to imagine that this Aylir would feel in
the smallest degree interested in her turmoil. ‘You have not told
me your name,’ she said instead. ‘May I know whom I am
addressing?’
    ‘Ye
are addressin’ the Ferryman,’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘Tis the
only name ye need know.’
    Isabel nodded, a little stung by the rebuff. After a moment,
she asked: ‘Are we among the clouds?’
    The
Ferryman laughed at that. ‘Not nearly so high. What ye’re seein’ is
but mist, not clouds. We are somewhere In Between.’
    He
spoke the latter two words with a peculiar emphasis, which aroused
Isabel’s curiosity. ‘In Between?’ she repeated.
    ‘Betwixt my world an’ yours. We will be sailin’ that road a
while yet, so I hope ye are comfortable.’
    Isabel was very comfortable, somewhat to her own surprise.
The air was cool, but not cold; a pleasure after the summer heat
she had left behind below. The wind was mild, the light moderate.
Her only discomfort came from within, for the gnawing sensation of
doubt had not left her. What madness had seized her, to send her
sailing away from everything she knew in pursuit of an unfathomable
adventure? She would be outright petrified, were it not for the
promise of Sophy’s guidance once she reached Aylfenhame.
    A
sudden stab of trepidation led her to ask, ‘Where are we to
alight?’ If she was to be deposited at some unknown ferry-point in
the Aylir world, how was she to find her way to Grenlowe, and
Sophy? Would Tafferty’s guidance be sufficient? Would they be
obliged to travel a long way?
    The
Ferryman grinned. ‘Fear not, for ye are to be set down in the town
o’ Grenlowe, an’ with all the care I might bestow upon some tender,
newborn thing.’
    ‘Oh.’
Isabel considered that.
    ‘Someone ‘as paid a great deal fer it,’ he added, tossing up
his hat once more before settling it back on his head. ‘Ye are a
woman o’ privilege.’
    Paid?
To her shame, it had not occurred to Isabel that passage between
England and Grenlowe most likely incurred a fee. But it had been
paid already. By whom? Her aunt? What manner of currency might the
Ferryman require for his services? She had no notion, and felt too
much embarrassment to ask.
    ‘Whither in Grenlowe are ye bound?’ he said.
    ‘I am
to visit a friend, Miss Landon,’ said Isabel. Then she stopped,
frowning. ‘At least, Miss Landon is what she was called, in
England. She has married since, after the fashion of your kind, and
I do not know how she is now addressed.’
    ‘Married an Aylir, did she?’ said the Ferryman, one of his
dark brows lifting. ‘Uncommon.’
    ‘Is
it?’ faltered Isabel, conscious of her own ignorance. ‘Perhaps it
is. It came about in a strange way.’
    That
grin flashed again, and Isabel once more received the impression
that he was laughing at her. ‘Such an oddity could hardly come
about in any normal kind o’ way,’ he said. ‘In point o’ fact, I
cannot remember it ever happenin’ before. To my knowledge, that
is.’
    Isabel’s thoughts flew to the Aylir ancestor her aunt had
spoken of. ‘Sometimes it happens the other way around, I think?’
she ventured.
    His
brows snapped down. ‘Ye mean an Aylir marryin’ one o’ your kind,
an’ settlin’ in your world. I’ve heard o’ such a time or two, but
it’s no common thing either.’ For a moment his thoughts seemed
turned inwards, as though he had forgotten her presence entirely.
Then his attention shifted to focus upon her, and his gaze grew
intent. ‘I see,’ he said.
    ‘You
see… what?’ Isabel said, self-conscious under his
scrutiny.
    ‘What
it is about ye that had me wonderin’.’ The twinkle was back in his
eyes. ‘Human — an’ yet not, entirely. There’s a flicker o’
somethin’ else there.’
    Isabel nodded. ‘That is why