Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman Read Free Page A

The picture he painted agreed but
little with what she saw, for he spoke of amiable, unpretending
young women, and they did not, to her eye, appear much pleased with
their company.
    She
saw her brother Charles as well, dancing with Jane Ellis. Charles
was smiling, and Jane was in high bloom. The match was not what her
parents had hoped for, but that it made him happy, none could deny.
Her friend Anne had also married the man of her choice, as had
Sophy Landon. Isabel could only hope that her parents had chosen as
well for her, as Anne, Charles and Sophy had chosen for
themselves.
    Mr.
Thompson had progressed to speaking of his horses. She turned her
attention back to him, watching his face as he talked. Amiable he
might be, and well-looking, but he seemed well-pleased to talk at
great length upon his own topics without requiring much response
from her. Conscious of a feeling of boredom, it occurred to her
that she had made little effort to speak, and she sought in her
mind for a suitable topic.
    But
then the orchestra began to play a lively reel, which instantly
inspired Mr. Thompson to bring an end to his disclosures and to say
instead, ‘May I solicit you as a partner for a second time, Miss
Ellerby?’
    Grateful for the interruption and not at all disinclined to
dance, Isabel smiled upon him and allowed him to lead her back onto
the floor. But as she waited for the couples to form and the dance
to begin, she became aware of an alteration in the music. It began
as a subtle change in the tone, as though one of the instruments
had wandered off to play a slightly different part. Then it began
to seem as though the instruments themselves had undergone some
indescribable change; that what had once been a fiddle had
transformed into something similar, but not quite the same — like
the difference between a pianoforte and a harpsichord.
    Isabel was
obliged to turn about entirely in order to see the orchestra, and
thus risk missing the beginning of the dance. But as the tones and
the tune grew rapidly stranger, she could not refrain from
satisfying herself that all was well. She turned.
    The
orchestra was not clearly visible from the dance floor, for they
were raised up upon a square balcony which overlooked the hall some
way above the dancers’ heads. At first, all she could discern was
the white, full sleeve of a fiddler billowing as he played, and a
becurled head bobbing in time to the music. But then one of the
players leaned over the rail to survey the dancers, affording
Isabel a clear view of his countenance.
    He was not human;
that much she discerned at a glance. His skin was too white, and it
shimmered in an odd way, like mother-of-pearl. His hair was pale
too, long and straight and bound back in a fashion no gentleman
would ever think proper. His eyes glittered like chips of ice and
his smile stretched a fraction too wide.
    Isabel stared. She now saw that not one of the four-piece
orchestra was human, for beside the pale fiddler stood another man,
taller than the first, whose golden skin and green-streaked hair
were every bit as wild and strange. There were two others besides
these, both dark of skin and hair and eye. All four wore clothes of
outlandish style, and their ears curled at the tips.
    Isabel had spent little time beyond the shores of England,
but she had thrice travelled beyond the walls which separated her
homeland from the realm of the fae. Aylfenhame, it was called, and
its principle denizens were the Ayliri. In face and form and
feature they resembled humans, and yet they were not like at
all.
    These
musicians were Ayliri, but how they came to be playing for a
country assembly in England she could not guess. Lesser denizens of
Aylfenhame often wandered into England; indeed many, such as the
household brownies and Balligumph the bridge-keeper, settled in
England entirely. But to her knowledge, the Ayliri visited but
rarely, and never without good reason.
    Her
thoughts flew to Sophy. Her dearest friend in