by Kirsty Ferry
‘And whilst we were otherwise engaged, your luggage has been taken to your rooms, hopefully it’s been unpacked and I’ll show you where you’re to sleep tonight,’ chipped in Lydia. ‘Come along.’ She held out her hand to Ailsa.
Ailsa reached out, half-wondering if she would be able to touch Lydia – after all, surely, if this wasn’t a dream, she was just a shadow, a rip in the veil. None of this was real and she wasn’t really here, was she?
As her hand connected with Lydia’s and she realised how warm and firm her hostess’ grip was, she thought she might have to re-evaluate that one as well.
‘There should be some clothing laid out for you already,’ said Lydia. ‘I gave the maids some instructions and, I’m happy to see, that the weather has obliged us this year. Last year, it was terrible. Can you recall, Ned? It was so dreary and wet, we were quite trapped indoors.’
Ailsa looked at Ned, who, by rights, should have been somewhere in the twenty-first century last year, perhaps celebrating Gabe’s birthday with him and not at Carrick Park.
‘It was awful, wasn’t it?’ agreed Ned. ‘It just never stopped raining!’
‘Quite grim,’ replied Lydia nodding. ‘Look! Look Ailsa – see what good luck you’ve brought us this year.’ She stopped in the hallway and hurried over to the door. ‘This is my absolute favourite view, and you won’t have seen it from within the house. It’s far more picturesque when viewed from the warmth inside the Park. See?’ Lydia flung the door open and Ailsa gasped. Outside, was a patchwork of white. Snow decorated the branches of the trees, and the carriage-drive – which Ailsa knew better as the main drive up to the hotel – was rutted, the frost and snow topping each rut like icing sugar. As far as she could see, the gardens stretched out, pristine white, shining like silver, untouched and begging to be walked in. Ailsa reckoned there was a good six inches of snow.
‘It’s beautiful!’ she cried. ‘I was just saying to Ned before we got here—’
She stopped herself, but Lydia looked at her questioningly. ‘What were you saying to him?’
Ailsa flushed. ‘I was saying to him that I wondered what it was like here with all the snow,’ she finished, unsure of whether she had or had not been saying that to him.
‘And now you know,’ replied Lydia, triumphantly. ‘And I’m so pleased, as it makes our activities much more exciting. Come along, let’s get you to your room and we can play in the snow after that.’
She closed the door, and took Ailsa’s arm again, walking up the stairs with her, chattering to her about inconsequential items, asking her to admire the holly and the ivy that she and Ella had wound around the banisters and the family portraits. Ailsa halted at the fork in the stairs, thrown by the fact there was no Landseer there. For as long as she had worked at Carrick Park, Ella’s picture had graced the wall, apart from when it had enjoyed its brief sojourn at the British Museum. The Landseer itself had been returned to Carrick Park as part of Lydia’s legacy. It had moved out of the Park with her when she had sold the place, then came back after her own death, many years later.
Lydia halted with her, following her gaze towards the huge, blank wall. ‘Oh, I know. It’s a terribly dreary space, isn’t it? That’s why I hung that little portrait of Adam there. It needed cheering up. It really needs a lovely big portrait there. One day.’ She smiled at the watercolour of her brother and Ailsa felt little prickles along the back of her neck. This was the picture at Carrick Park that now hung alongside the Landseer; someone had decided to put Ella and Adam side by side after reading the book about them. It was beyond weird to see it here, exactly as it had been once upon a time. Ailsa leaned towards it, astonished at how fresh the colours looked – to be fair, it hadn’t faded too much over the years anyway.
‘It’s a good likeness,’ she told Lydia, who blushed and smiled.
‘Thank you, I think so,’ she replied. ‘Your room is just along here. It’s not too far from Ella’s. She’s always had the same one, ever since she was little. We’ve practically grown up together, Ned might have told you?’
‘I’d heard that was the case,’ said Ailsa carefully. There was no need to let Lydia know she had gleaned that information from a book published so many years after they had all lived. ‘Ella seems lovely.’
‘Oh she is. And she won’t like me for this, but I have something planned which may amuse us later.’ Lydia stopped outside a door. ‘It’s this one. Ned likes the view out to sea. I don’t know why. He just says he likes to travel. I don’t even know where he disappears to, he never tells us. But I’m sure you know where he goes.’ Lydia smiled and pushed open the door. ‘He’s always back for Christmas though. Says he’d never miss a Christmas at Carrick Park.’
‘Oh.’ Ailsa felt a little faint. ‘Yes. So he tells me. Thank you, Lydia. You’re very kind.’ She looked in at the room. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and someone had even decorated the mantelpiece with a festive garland to welcome them. A bowl of holly, pine cones and crystallised slices of orange graced the windowsill. The odd cinnamon stick poked out of the display and the room smelled delightfully of an old-fashioned Christmas.
‘I’ll leave you to get ready,’ said Lydia with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I hope you don’t hate me for it.’
The thing that, potentially, might have made Ailsa hate Lydia, was an ice-skating outfit, complete with skates. Looking at the red and white checked skirt and jacket wasn’t too scary; but the ice-skates were a different matter.
‘Ah, it didn’t take her long to organise today’s excursion.’ Ned popped his head in at the bedroom door. ‘May I come in?’
‘Of course.’ Ailsa gestured around her. ‘Apparently, it’s your room anyway.’
‘It is.’ Ned went over to the window and peered out. ‘It’s got one of the best views in the whole house.’
‘I can’t skate,’ Ailsa said, flatly. ‘I’ve been twice and was useless both times.’
‘I’ve done it quite a bit more than that and I’m still useless,’ replied Ned. ‘I’m not sure where she’s intending to go skating.’
‘The lake in the grounds?’ asked Ailsa.
Ned shook his head. ‘No, Adam said he went down there earlier and the ice looks too thin. I can only think of the pond outside of the Abbey. It’s a bit higher up there and it’ll be an excuse to get the sleigh out.’
‘A sleigh?’ Ailsa stared at Ned. ‘What on earth are they doing with a sleigh? And surely we can’t get in the Abbey grounds to skate, I mean there’s bound to be security.’
‘It’s 1864,’ said Ned with a grin. ‘What security would there be? And of course they’ve got a sleigh. This is Lydia Carrick we’re talking about here – all the most up to date fads and fancies find their way to Carrick Park. Anyway, having a sleigh was quite common. It was the best way to travel over the snow, if you think about it. Lydia has a four-seater one. Which means Adam will be driving, no doubt.’
Ailsa sat down on the high bed with a very realistic flumph of petticoats and skirts. ‘It’s actually 1864? I still think this is a dream – it has to be.’ She looked up at Ned. ‘It is a dream, isn’t it? One of those lucid ones where you can all interact and you know you’re dreaming, but you enjoy it so don’t let yourself wake up.’ She pointed at him. ‘You’ve been in my dreams before – that’s how I know. That’s why I’m comfortable with you here. That’s why I’m okay being Ailsa Cavendish. Because I know you. We aren’t here. We can’t be. Good God. It’s like being in a living Christmas card.’
‘I’ve been in dreams before? That’s interesting. But a word of advice – don’t mention Christmas cards. They weren’t really massively popular in 1864, and the ones that were exchanged certainly wouldn’t have the sort of pictures on you would recognise as a Christmas design.’
Ailsa shook her head. ‘I won’t. Thanks. But how the heck am I supposed to get this outfit off and that one on?’ She plucked at her skirts. Again, they felt pretty real, fabric-wise.
‘They ha
ve maids for that sort of thing. Unless you want me to—’ Ned’s eyes twinkled.
‘No! Good grief, no. No way are you seeing me in my corsets.’
‘All right. I’ll make myself scarce. Ring that bell over there and I’m sure someone will come up.’ He nodded towards a button on the wall and Ailsa knew that too would be connected to the bells that lined the corridor in the staff area of the hotel. She’d often looked at them and wondered what it would have been like when they rang and the servants dashed out to see what was required – she’d thought it again earlier today, or last night, or whenever it was that she had been leaving the office in her own time and place. Well, now she was going to find out what it was like to use the bell from a guest’s point of view.
‘Okay. I’ll see you later then.’ She glanced at Ned, who was looking very dapper in his overcoat and was clutching a warmer looking hat. ‘You’re ready?’
‘I am. I’ll see you downstairs. I just need my skates.’ He came around to the side of the bed and picked up a pair of ice skates. ‘These ones are mine. See the scuff mark on that toe? I managed to plough into a rock a few years ago. Almost broke my nose as I fell.’ He laughed and raised the skates up in a kind of salute. ‘See you soon. Oh – and another little hint. Don’t say “okay” to these guys, okay?’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It wasn’t in use until World War Two and I believe it was an Americanism.’
‘Oh.’ Ailsa hadn’t known that.’
‘Oh indeed. I’ll see you later – okay?’ He winked at her. ‘And the only thing I must insist on, now I’ve got you on your own, is that you never, ever try to meddle and tell Ella or Adam things that they don’t need to know. Okay?’ His eyes hardened and Ailsa blushed.
Ailsa nodded. ‘Okay – I mean, of course.’ Her cheeks burned as she watched him leave the room, swinging the skates as he went. She stood up and walked over to the button. She stared at it for a moment, and eventually pushed it; then she sat back down and waited.
Sure enough, a maid came scurrying in, and helped Ailsa undress and redress as efficiently as possible. She shivered a little in the cotton undergarments, but couldn’t resist taking a peek to see what she looked like with her figure forced into a corset.
Never a particularly stick-thin person anyway, Ailsa already had natural curves and went in and out where she should. In this Victorian torture garment they called a corset, though, she guessed she could rival any glamour model with her boobs pushed up so high and so proudly, and her stomach and waist sucked in until she could, almost, encircle it with her hands.
As she stared at herself over the white-capped head of the maid who was fussing with the skirts, Ailsa felt sorry for those poor Victorian women who had been forced into maternity corsets. If it squashed her to this extent, she could only imagine what it must have done to the poor baby. If she’d been pregnant in this era, she would have refused, point blank to wear one. Having said that, that idea came with the wisdom of her own time. She shuddered, hoping she would have taken a sensible approach, regardless. She put the idea out of her head and instead turned her attention back to her skating outfit.
It was a pretty, if functional, set of a skirt and jacket, with a little black hat she could perch on her head. The skirt was slightly shorter than the one she had been wearing when she arrived here, and she was smoothing it down, when the maid stood up and went to pick up a pair of tall, button-up boots in the corner of the room.
The girl produced a button hook and smiled at Ailsa. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, Mrs Cavendish,’ she said. ‘Please, take a seat.’
It seemed to take an inordinately long time for the maid to do the boots up, but Ailsa couldn’t help but be fascinated by the whole process. Her own fingers would have fumbled sausage-like at the delicate pearl buttons, and it was with a genuine sense of gratitude that she thanked the girl at the end of the task.
‘Thank you … I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.’
The maid blushed and curtsied. ‘It’s Elizabeth, Mrs Cavendish. And it’s a pleasure to help you.’
‘I’m very grateful,’ said Ailsa sincerely.
The girl curtsied again. ‘I’m going to go and see if Miss Ella needs me now.’
‘I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,’ replied Ailsa. The maid nodded and smiled, and hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
The only thing now, was for Ailsa to pick up the skates and try to see how they would strap onto the boots. It looked straightforward enough, and she was sure someone would help her at the other end, so she took a deep breath and made her own way out of the door.
She didn’t need telling how to get along the corridors and back to the staircase. She had worked at Carrick Park long enough, and began to walk quickly through the house. Then she made a conscious effort to slow down. This is what it was like when the Park was a home. She needed to see it as it was and look at the paintings on the walls, the furniture in the alcoves, the cabinets full of china and ornaments and the bowls of flowers and greenery on the tables. Every so often, there was a festive decoration – a swathe of fir, or a branch of holly. Another bowl of pine cones and crystallised orange. It was exactly as she had imagined a Christmas at Carrick Park would look like.
She descended the staircase, feeling every inch a grand lady and saw Ned at the bottom, talking to Adam. He turned when she walked down and smiled, then held his hand out for her to clasp, just as if he’d never said anything about her meddling in Ella and Adam’s relationship. She could tell that, as far as he was concerned, he’d told her and that was it – no need to hold a grudge of any description. Which was good.
‘You look ready for some fun,’ Ned said warmly and squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve told Adam that you’re not very good at skating, just like me.’
‘To be perfectly honest,’ said Adam, ‘Lydia is the best one out of the three of us. I think that’s why she wants to do this. She’s a terrible show off.’
‘What’s that about me?’ Lydia breezed in looking delightful in a deep blue velvet skating outfit, pulling some white kid gloves onto her hands.
‘I’m just telling them how much of a show off you are,’ said Adam.
‘Oh, I know that already,’ said Ned with a laugh and Lydia poked him in the arm.
‘How dare you!’ she said, but she was laughing as she spoke. ‘The sleigh is almost ready. It’s being brought around to the front very soon. I suppose Ella is still getting ready?’
‘Elizabeth went to her after me,’ offered Ailsa. ‘She shouldn’t be long.’
‘Excellent.’ Lydia looked at the door. ‘We’ll wait for her here, but as it’s Ailsa’s first Christmas with us, perhaps you would like to go and see the sleigh being brought around? It’s a wonderful sight – I never tire of it. But as a guest, I think you’ll enjoy it more.’ Lydia smiled in that confident sort of way she did, which meant, Ailsa now realised, that she had done something she deemed praiseworthy.
‘Thank you. Yes, that would be lovely,’ agreed Ailsa.
‘Come on then.’ That was Ned as he transferred her hand into the crook of his arm. He’d been holding her hand the whole time and she had enjoyed that feeling of security. She cast a look up at her supposed-husband and caught his profile as he looked towards the door himself. He really was a very good-looking man. His hair was obviously meant to be tamed in some sensible 1864 hairstyle, but it wasn’t. It just looked ruffled and slightly messy and very, very attractive.
A butler appeared out of the shadows and bowed as he opened the main doors. Despite Lydia showing her the outdoors earlier, Ailsa still expected to see the vista she was used to – the tarmac road leading up to the hotel. Maybe one or two cars in the disabled spaces right outside, the neat gardens and the lamps either side of the drive to guide cars in when it was dark.
Of course, there was a fresh, white driveway, and she was delighted to hear the faint jingle of bells and the muffled thudding of hooves in the snow, followed by a whinny as a horse appeare
d, pulling a sleigh behind it, shaking its chestnut mane proudly and huffing steam out through its nostrils. She did not expect, however, to see the sleigh decorated with more greenery and more holly and tartan ribbons with a pile of tartan blankets and cushions on the seats and a sturdy box secured on the back of it.
‘It’s beautiful!’ she whispered stunned. ‘Oh Ned, isn’t it beautiful?’
‘It is. As she said, it’s always a sight to behold. But she put the tartan in it this year to honour your heritage, my love.’
‘Lydia!’ Ailsa spun around, her skirts swishing pleasingly around her calves, to thank her hostess for the opportunity to see the sleigh in all its glory; but her attention was arrested by Ella coming down the stairs, dressed in a gorgeous, emerald-green skating dress, trimmed with white fur. On her head, was a little white fur hat and around her neck, hung on a black string, was a white fur muff. Her skates were dangling from one hand as she made her way carefully down the stairs, holding onto the banister, little honey-coloured curls bouncing around her cheeks.
Had it not been for the fact that the Landseer depicted Ella in a white, swansdown-trimmed dress, then she might quite easily have stepped out of her portrait and onto the landing. The likeness, Ailsa noted incredulously, was splendid.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Ella said as she stepped off the bottom stair. ‘I couldn’t find my hat, but now I have it.’ She tapped her head as if to prove her point and smiled. ‘Are we all ready? Is everyone waiting for me?’
‘Yes, we’re just about to go,’ said Lydia. She hooked her arm into her friend’s and led her out of the hallway. ‘I’ve had the sleigh decorated with the bells again. It looks wonderful.’
Lydia paused on the top step outside and dragged Ella back around to face everyone. ‘Adam – you’re driving, of course. Ella and Ailsa can sit together facing the direction of travel, and I will sit next to Ned, and we two shall look at where we’ve been. We’ve seen the scenery dozens of times, haven’t we Ned? I know Ailsa will want to see where we are heading and I know that Ella just feels happier when she can look ahead as well.’