by Kirsty Ferry
‘It saves any nasty surprises,’ Ella explained to Ailsa. ‘If I know there’s a rut coming, I don’t jump so much when we hit it.’
‘That makes perfect sense,’ replied Ailsa with a nod. It was odd what you perhaps had to consider when you’d lost your hearing. She wondered if the reason Ella had come so carefully down the stairs was something to do with her balance. The inner ear controlled all of that, of course. So maybe it was. Or, Ailsa thought, amused, it was because, like any young girl who knew she looked absolutely stunning, Ella just wanted to make an entrance.
‘Shall we?’ asked Ned, gesturing to the sleigh. It was his turn to lead Ailsa down the steps and to the side of the sleigh. He helped her up and she sat down, feeling the thing shift a little with her weight. Next up was Ella, then Lydia, then finally Ned. Adam thanked the driver, and swapped places with him; then he cracked the whip and with a shuffle and a lurch, they were off.
‘Have a blanket.’ Ella handed one to Ailsa. ‘It can get chilly. It’s best to be all wrapped up on the way. And then it’s double blankets on the way back, when everybody is grumpy and cold.’
Ailsa took the blanket, still not quite believing that she was sitting next to the future Lady Eleanor Carrick, who was as solid as Ailsa was in the twenty-first century.
‘Lydia, darling, is there any reason why you didn’t ask Blackie to pull the sleigh?’ asked Ella, quite icily, once she had made sure Ailsa was sufficiently bundled up in tartan wool.
‘Because, my dear, he is simply far too fat and he would sink into the snow,’ said Lydia.
Ella pulled a face. ‘I have to agree,’ she said. She looked at Ailsa. ‘Blackie is my little horse. He is absolutely as fat as butter and would hate to come out of his nice warm stall and do something like this. Do you know, they even light fires in those stables to keep the animals warm! Blackie is incredibly spoiled. Everyone loves him and they all give him far too many treats.’
Lydia leaned forward so she was in Ella’s line of vision. ‘Ella doesn’t exercise him enough, that’s the truth of the matter.’
‘The truth of the matter is that I’m a dreadful horsewoman and nobody will come with me! And it’s dull on my own, anyway.’
‘Nobody comes with you because of the fact you are a dreadful horsewoman!’ said Lydia indignantly.
Ella laughed and leaned forward, weighing a little bunch of silver bells in her hand. Ailsa noticed how she barely held them, letting them vibrate on her palm instead.
‘I always loved sleigh bells,’ Ella said, to nobody in particular, ‘and Blackie would look a dear wearing them in his bridle.’
Ailsa felt uncomfortable in a way she had no words to describe. Ella had been out with Blackie when she died, or so the story went. And here she was, admitting that she wasn’t the best of horsewomen. Surely she could maybe just advise Ella to try and ride a little more, so that she could control the horse if need be …
Ailsa cast a glance at Ned, who just fixed his eyes on her, a warning in the almost-black depths. His voice came back to her: the only thing I must insist on is that you never, ever try to meddle and tell Ella or Adam things that they don’t need to know. But why in heaven’s name should she abide by that? She had a clear chance to help her and—
But Lydia, her eyes sharp and her mind even sharper, saw the look that passed between them; of course she could only guess at the reason why.
So Lydia apparently made her best guess and, before Ailsa could pursue the matter, muttered into her blanket, taking care that Ella couldn’t read her: ‘She always did love sleigh bells, but I can’t honestly say how long it’s been since she heard the damn things.’ She frowned, and glared at the passing scenery, as if it was the moors’ fault that her best friend had gradually gone deaf. ‘I would suggest it’s been four or five years. Certainly, there was nothing there by the time we had our Season and we were seventeen then. Gosh, a whole three years ago! Yes, she just told me that she woke up one day and sort of realised the sounds had finally disappeared – she’d said she came to understand, later, that she’d almost given up on listening by that point. It was too difficult. She was reading lips to understand us, re-learning her dratted piano, somehow, before she forgot—’
Lydia scowled some more and Ailsa wondered if she had taken it just as badly as Ella. Certainly, Lydia liked to be in control, and if she couldn’t do anything for her friend, she would have felt dreadful. ‘And she said she’d tried to listen to the flames crackling in the grate and she couldn’t hear them, then she tried to hear the bells in the servants’ corridor – she just stood in front of them and waited until someone rang one and she saw it jump around but that was it. And then of course she was out by that silly old angel fountain in the courtyard, breaking her heart and getting so very, very angry over the whole thing; and Adam found her. And she couldn’t hear him, and he’s got the loudest voice of any of us.’ Finally, coming to the end of her rant, Lydia pressed her lips together and pulled a blanket further around herself. ‘So now you know as much as I know. Which is why I always go overboard with bloody bells on this damn sleigh.’
‘I don’t suppose that’s any reason to use such terrible language, Lydia Carrick,’ scolded Ned good-humouredly, but she just shrugged into the blankets some more and tucked her chin into her chest.
‘Do you think the ice will be safe enough to skate on?’ Ella sat back, releasing the sleigh bells and looked questioningly at Ned. Of course! Ailsa realised Ella wouldn’t have had a clue what they were saying if her attention was on the little bells, and the change of subject threw her a little.
‘I should think so,’ replied Ned smoothly, as if Lydia hadn’t spent the last few minutes talking about her fellow passenger. ‘And then Lydia will be able to show off until her heart is content.’
‘I hope I don’t fall again,’ moaned Ella, huddling up under the blanket much as Lydia was doing. ‘It’s not very pleasant.’
Adam risked looking around at them, as he reached a straight bit of track, the moors spreading out either side of them, white as far as the eye could see, the sea a pale grey-ish ribbon on the right.
‘I heard someone mention ice. And then worry about falling down – Miss Dunbar, eh? It’s not far now, and we’ll find out if it’s decent to skate on and whether we can all stay upright. Can you see it, ladies?’ He pointed with the whip to the Abbey, and the sight of that familiar building in the distance made Ailsa’s stomach contract. The hulking ruin looked very much as it did in modern times – but she knew in this waking dream that there’d be no car park nearby, and no sign of any public access at all.
‘We can see it!’ cried Lydia, suddenly brightening and almost falling out of the sleigh as she twisted around and half hung out of the thing.
Ella grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down to her seat. ‘And we’ll never get there if you end up on the ground, in a snowdrift, because you can’t sit still!’
Adam laughed and cracked the whip again. The horse found a burst of speed and trotted along the lane.
‘Almost there,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Hang on to your hats, ladies.’
Chapter Four
1864
Ned cast a glance at Ailsa. She still looked stunned, but damn she wore that skating outfit well. There were roses in her creamy cheeks and her eyes were the colour of polished mahogany, glittering in the frosty light, wide with surprise as if she was trying to take everything in and remember it forever – which, to be fair, she probably was doing.
He would have enjoyed staying in the room with her while she got changed, but maybe that was something he would have to reserve for another time, God willing.
Unable to help himself, wanting to touch her again, he reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair under her hat. ‘That’s better,’ he said, smiling at her. She reached up and touched the hat, as if she was trying to make sure that was real as well. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the Abbey like this before?’ he asked, his lips curving i
nto a smile, knowing full well what the answer would be.
‘Never,’ she replied. ‘I can honestly say I’ve never seen the Abbey from this angle before.’ Her eyes slid over his shoulder and her chin tilted and he knew she was looking at the grey stones, trying to superimpose the twenty-first century images of the Abbey onto the open fields and narrow, snow-filled tracks she was surrounded by.
‘It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘Very.’ She cleared her throat and asked a question. ‘Can you get into St Mary’s church from this direction?’
‘You can,’ Ned replied. ‘It’s a lovely church.’
‘Ideal for a wedding,’ she said, fixing him with a look that spoke volumes.
Ned sat back and folded his arms. He shook his head, ever so slightly, so she knew that he knew she was trying to press certain issues. They’d had that conversation. That church was, of course, where Ella and Adam had been married – or, more correctly, where they would be married next year.
Ned knew Ailsa was full of good intentions; he knew that she wanted to help – but there was too much she didn’t understand about his life. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been thrown into the middle of this Christmas on the wings of a wish. That was the hardest thing about her being here – the fact that, as she always did, she wanted to dive in and help people on the road to their starry-bright future. He wasn’t surprised that she was in the job she was – helping love-struck couples plan their perfect day. The fact that he and Ailsa had to pretend to be newlyweds, though, and be head over heels in love, was second nature to him. He’d done that before. He liked that part of being here with her very much.
Ailsa, however, still tried to plough ahead. ‘Ella, if you were ever to marry, do you think you would marry here or at Yo— your other home?’ Ned ducked his head and hid a smile. York. She’d almost said York – which was where Ella’s family home was. But Ailsa, of course, wasn’t supposed to know that, was she?
‘Nice,’ murmured Ned, his head still down and his arms folded. ‘But be careful. I’ll just stop you and you might not appreciate how I do it.’ He raised his eyes and saw Ailsa’s cheeks burn a little brighter as she pretended she hadn’t heard him.
‘Marry? Me?’ Ella looked at Ailsa, quizzically. ‘I don’t think that will ever happen. I’m usually with Lydia, and she’s always so much more talkative than I am. People love Lydia. I just wilt into the corner and smile a lot.’ As if to prove her point, she smiled widely, right at Ailsa.
Ned found himself mesmerised by that smile. Ella really was a stunning young woman. Ned knew many men had fallen for her – himself included, in some small way, although he knew it was never meant to be. People just couldn’t resist her.
Lydia, lost in a daydream, perked up at the mention of her name. ‘Wilting into a corner?’ She stared at her friend as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what she had said. ‘You never wilt. Stop pretending you do.’
‘I do wilt. I always wilt next to you. You make a person wilt.’
‘Rubbish! Utter tosh!’ cried Lydia. She pulled her hand out of her muff and wagged a finger at Ella. ‘You talk a lot of rubbish. I’m saying that very slowly, so you understand.’
‘It’s better for me if you just speak normally,’ retorted Ella. ‘Then you don’t look so … odd.’
Ned smiled into his scarf. He hardly dared look at Ailsa. She would be horrified to think that the two young women she had expected to be paragons of virtue and sensibleness were just like any other hugely close, almost-sisters. They knew exactly what they wanted to say and said it. They never got upset with one another, never took offence and would side with each other until they day they died, should anyone argue back.
‘They’re always like this,’ Ned told Ailsa. He didn’t bother speaking into his scarf any more. The girls were entirely unaware of his conversation, sparking tartly off one another, as they always had done.
‘I am baffled,’ said Ailsa, shaking her head and looking at him. ‘They’re just – normal.’
‘Well of course they are,’ said Ned. ‘What did you expect?’
‘Victorian restraint, I think.’
‘Well you won’t get much of that with these two.’ He grinned. ‘Trust me. I’ve seen all this before, a hundred times over. And please – remember what I told you. It’s important.’
‘Well it’s not my fault. It’s all new to me!’ said Ailsa. ‘I’m not used to this sort of dream.’
Ned laughed; her disbelieving face was an absolute picture.
And he loved her for it.
They soon made it to the Abbey with nobody tumbling out of the sleigh, their arguments forgotten and everybody intact.
‘Will the horse be all right?’ Ailsa asked anxiously as Ned helped her out. ‘I don’t like to think of him standing in the snow.’
‘He’ll be fine. He’s got his own blanket on, as well as some extra ones; he’ll be in the shelter of the walls and we’ll build a little fire to keep him warm. There are some dry sticks and things on the back of the sleigh. They’ve done all this before. Look – Adam’s making a start.’
Sure enough, Ailsa looked across and Adam was arranging some wood, murmuring to the horse who stood quietly as Lydia and Ella began unstrapping the harness between them.
‘I had no idea they would know how to do that – let alone that they would do it,’ said Ailsa in surprise. It was an altogether less privileged side to them than she had expected to see.
‘They’re quite nice people!’ replied Ned with a laugh, ‘And they’ve always spoiled their horses. You heard them talking about Blackie.’
‘Yes about that. What harm would it do if I’d told her to just ride a bit more and get her confidence up?’
Ned didn’t answer for a moment. He was picking up the ice skates and gesturing for Ailsa to sit down on the Abbey wall, presumably so he could strap them onto her feet.
‘In answer to that,’ he said eventually, concentrating on the fastenings, ‘it wasn’t just the riding. It wasn’t just Jacob. You remember he was the cousin who witnessed it all? Lydia’s future husband? There’s actually a stronger argument for how he felt about Ella – he loved her, almost to distraction. Dangerously so, in fact.
‘So it wasn’t just the storm that nobody could have predicted, because nobody could have stopped that anyway. Much of it was Ella being the wonderful bloody-minded, stubborn, person she was. Or is, rather – because we’re in her life, remember. She’s a very determined girl – and if you imagine some sort of scales, with all the different factors weighing up and the end result being what happened to her, you can perhaps imagine what would happen if you took one factor away.
‘If she was an excellent horsewoman, she could have gone out that night and tried to jump a fence to take a shortcut and had an accident anyway. If you keep Jacob away – remember, if you will, that he was actually trying to help, in his own way; he was trying to tell her not to go too near the edge of the cliff, but she couldn’t hear his warnings – it might, just might, have triggered something far more dangerous in him, a desperation of sorts. Then Ella might have suffered far more than she did.
‘What I’m trying to say, is that it was pre-destined. It would have happened and nothing could have stopped it. We can’t rewrite history. History happened. This is real – we’re here with them – but what happens next year will happen regardless, by fair means or by foul. We have to let it ride out. And I don’t like it any more than you do. But at least, for now, and even right up until it happens, they are happy.’ He wiggled her foot gently, making sure the skate was on securely, then did the same with the other foot. ‘There – is that all right, my love?’
‘Yes.’ Ailsa was still trying to take it all in, and she moved her feet almost mechanically. ‘So we can’t help?’
‘We shouldn’t even try to. And I have to warn you—’ Ned smiled up at her but there was a hint of steel in his eyes ‘—like I said, I’ll know when you try and I will stop it. Are you r
eady to stand up?’
She quailed a little bit under his gaze. ‘I think so.’ She pushed herself off the wall and balanced herself on the blades. ‘I still don’t like not helping her.’
Ned made sure she was steady enough to leave alone, then sat down and deftly fastened on his own skates. ‘I’m not in the business of preventing death or destruction. That’s a very specific job and the responsibility of a Guardian Angel or whatever people like to call them. For me, I prefer to work on the principle of soulmates; finding them, knowing them, keeping them close. Now.’ He stood up and put his hands on his hips. ‘Time to go and get trounced by our friends.’ He held a hand out and raised his eyebrows.
Before Ailsa could question him or even dwell further on anything he had told her, she found herself hobbling over to the frozen pond, hand in hand with Ned. Adam had managed to get a blaze going and the horse was munching quite happily on a pile of carrots that had been produced from somewhere – probably the box in the back of the sleigh.
Lydia and Ella were fastening each other’s skates on amidst much giggling and Adam was doing the same. He’d sat just a little distance from Ella, and Ailsa saw their two heads bent to the task in hand – Adam’s fair hair, tousled and adrift from driving the sleigh and Ella’s honey-coloured curls escaping from her hat.
Adam looked up first and his gaze settled on Ella. As if she could feel it, she looked up and across at him, then blushed and smiled, casting her eyes down, then peeping back up at him. Adam was just staring at her, his smile widening as she noticed him. Their eyes locked and neither of them made a move to look away.
Ailsa wished she could frame that moment in time; capture it forever – the pair of them, seeing each other as if for the first time.