Page 22 of Feathers in the Wind
‘Remind me to consult you next time.’ Adam smiled and his fingers brushed the bandage above her ear.
She wished he smiled more often. In the curl of his lips and the sparkle in the light grey eyes, she could see a passing resemblance to his brother, Robin. But where Robin still had the prettiness of youth, the hard planes of Adam’s high cheekbones and strong aquiline nose marked him as a man who carried authority, a man she would trust without question. She imagined that he must be a good officer. She’d seen it in his men’s eyes the day after Edgehill.
‘You must have things to do,’ Perdita said. ‘I’ll be just fine in a couple of minutes.’
Adam shrugged. ‘Things are taking care of themselves. That’s what sergeants are for.’
Perdita glanced at the window where a lowering sky presaged snow.
‘I’ve got to get back to Preswood.’
‘You are going nowhere,’ the apothecary said.
‘Ludovic tells me you lost your horse, so he has set out for Preswood on foot with the laudanum, but you are spending the night in Stratford,’ Adam said. ‘I’ll take you home in the morning if you are up to the ride.’
Perdita opened her mouth to protest but even as she tried to rise, the world tipped and swayed.
‘My wife’s made up a bed for you, Mistress Gray,’ the apothecary said.
Before Perdita could protest, Adam had picked her up bodily.
‘Not exactly a feather,’ he grumbled, and laughed as the heat rose in Perdita’s face. ‘That’s better.’
He carried her up the stairs and deposited her on the bed Mistress Clarke had made up.
‘She’ll be fine with me, Captain Coulter.’ Mistress Clarke bobbed a curtsey.
Adam smiled down at Perdita. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
As the door shut behind him, Perdita struggled to sit up.
‘Let me help you, Mistress Gray.’ The goodwife’s quick fingers tugged at the laces of Perdita’s bodice. ‘’Twere madness to come to Stratford today of all days,’ she said.
‘I didn’t know there would be a battle,’ Perdita pointed out, ‘and Joan Clifford is ailing and needed the laudanum.’
‘Aye, well ’tis lucky Captain Coulter found you when he did.’ She tutted as she held up Perdita’s collar, liberally stained with blood. ‘I’ll put that on to soak, and your cuffs too.’
The woman paused in her ministrations and looked around the little room. ‘This was Tobias’ chamber,’ she said. ‘You know he died?’
‘Yes,’ Perdita replied, lying back on the bed. ‘Captain Coulter told me. I’m sorry.’
‘He’s a good man, Captain Coulter,’ Mistress Clarke said. Her mouth tightened but the betraying tears rose in her eyes and trickled down her plump cheeks. She sat down on the bed with a thump and Perdita laid her hand on the woman’s arm.
‘Foolish of me,’ the woman said. ‘Captain Coulter wrote such a lovely letter about how brave Toby had been and how he hadn’t suffered … at the end.’
Remembering Adam Coulter’s bitterness at Tobias’ senseless death, Perdita kept her peace and the woman drew a deep, shuddering breath and rose to her feet, wiping her eyes on her apron.
‘Now you rest. My John has left a draught for you to help you sleep, should you need it.’
But Perdita’s eyes were already closing.
* * *
When Adam returnedto the apothecary’s house in the morning, he found Perdita up and dressed and partaking of a breakfast of gruel. Beneath the white bandage that circled her head, her face seemed drained of colour and there were dark circles like smudged bruises around her eyes, but she greeted him with a smile that lit her face … and his heart.
‘Are you sure you can be spared? Perdita asked him.
‘I’m sure. I’ve no pillion saddle but I’ve a sturdy horse.’
