Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman Read Free

smooth, curling locks in similar
chestnut shades, and dark eyes. They more nearly resembled a work
of art than a family of flesh and blood.
    The younger Mr.
Thompson was as tall as his father, with the same burnished curls.
He was dressed in a pair of superb pale knee-breeches with a dark
coat and waistcoat. This was all that Isabel was able to discern
with the brief glance she dared to direct at him before
introductions were made, and the curtsey she offered directed her
eyes back to the floor.
    ‘It
is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Ellerby,’ said Mr.
Thompson. She raised her eyes to his face, and saw, to her relief,
that he was smiling. His countenance was boyish, though she
gathered him to be of some eight-and-twenty years of age, and his
dark green eyes bore an expression of friendliness and good humour
which she found reassuring. They rested upon her, moreover, with an
air of mild approval, and she guessed him to be ready to be pleased
by her. Isabel took a breath, and as she let it out much of her
nervousness dissipated along with it.
    He
solicited her hand for the first dances in a very proper style, and
with modesty which further recommended him to her; for he must be
well aware that she had no power of refusal. He led her into the
set, and as they awaited the beginning of the music he talked to
her in an agreeable way about the dance, and the number of couples,
and the roads, in a fashion exactly calculated to soothe. She found
him to be an excellent partner. He danced with a little reserve,
but with grace and perfect correctness. When the two dances were
over, she was conscious of having enjoyed them more than she had
expected to.
    Afterwards, he
led her to a sofa, bowed over her hand as he settled her upon it,
and retreated for a few moments. He returned shortly, bearing a
glass of punch for her, and seated himself beside her with a
smile.
    ‘I
hope the circumstances of this meeting have not left you feeling
too uncomfortable,’ he said. ‘Our families have been a little
high-handed, I fear.’
    Isabel was
surprised into a genuine smile, though she felt it incumbent upon
her to make a polite demurral.
    ‘Oh,
come now,’ he said, laughing. ‘To introduce us like this and expect
that we should dutifully take to one another! It cannot have been
easy for you, and I am sorry for it.’
    ‘It
has been unusual,’ Isabel conceded, though she smiled as she
spoke.
    Mr.
Thompson nodded. ‘I did want to assure you that I shan’t press any
suit upon you unless we should both genuinely wish it,’ he
continued. ‘And regardless of the wishes of your mother — or mine —
I do not expect that any such conclusion can be arrived at under so
short an acquaintance as this evening allows. Several more
meetings, at least, will be necessary to determine our
feelings.’
    Isabel had not expected to receive such plain-speaking, and
it briefly disconcerted her. But she was also reassured by it, and
a moment’s reflection allowed her to say, ‘I am pleased to find
that I can view the prospect of further meetings with
pleasure.’
    It
was spoken with sincerity, for she found in Mr. Thompson a
congenial young man, not at all the self-important high-stickler
she had been picturing under the onslaught of her Mama’s panic. It
was far too early to imagine with equanimity the prospect of a
lifetime spent as his wife, but the idea did not actively repel
her.
    Mr.
Thompson smiled upon this cautious praise, looking, Isabel thought,
rather relieved. Had his mother been as urgent with him as Mrs.
Ellerby had with Isabel? Surely not, for the Thompsons enjoyed
undoubtedly the stronger social position as well as being far
wealthier.
    Mr.
Thompson began to talk of his family in a manner designed, Isabel
felt, to introduce to her some idea of the company she would be
keeping if she married him. She watched the dancers as he spoke of
his three sisters, for she could see them all, suitably partnered
and whirling about the floor.