Page 54 of Feathers in the Wind
Tears caught in Perdita’s throat. So long in coming, it seemed it now took the smallest provocation to produce a flood and she fell into her Bess’s arms, weeping.
When the flood had subsided to hiccups, Bess disengaged her, looking at her with a furrowed brow. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you so.’
Perdita shook her head. ‘Not crying for Simon,’ she managed. ‘Tears of happiness for you. You and Robin are entirely right for each other.’
Bess flushed. ‘I think so too. We do not intend to make it public knowledge yet, particularly so soon after Simon's death.’ She took Perdita's hand. ‘Fate has dealt you some bitter blows, Perdita. Recognise a change in your fortunes and rejoice in them.’
Perdita dashed at her tears, taking the kerchief that Bess gave her. ‘Your brother had the truest heart of any man I’ve ever known, Bess. I wish he was with me still. I wish that I could throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, tell him how much I truly loved him. All the money in the world will not bring him back or take this pain from my heart.’
Bess laid a hand on Perdita's shoulder. ‘We both lost someone we loved, but time will heal the hurt.’
Perdita lowered her head. ‘Time,’ she echoed. ‘Do we have time, Bess?’
Chapter 11
Gainsborough, Yorkshire, January 1644
Adam shook the snow from his hat and cloak and tried, unsuccessfully, to remove the worst of the mud from his boots before he knocked on the door.
The man seated at the table raised a tired, drawn face. ‘Who are you?’
‘Coulter,’ Adam said. ‘I’ve brought the supplies from Warwick. We would have been here sooner but the wagons bogged in the roads.’
Sir Thomas Fairfax’s face lifted. Black Tom, Adam had heard Fairfax called, and the dark saturnine looks and thin, scholar’s face did not give lie to the nickname. In the tired eyes the fire of the man burned, that spark that differentiated him and would make every man who wore his colours follow him despite their ragged clothes and lack of rations. They were much of an age but Adam felt he was in the presence of a man of many more years, already worn down by the responsibilities thrust upon him.
Sir Thomas gestured at the fire. ‘Come and stand by the fire. The weather outside is foul.’
Adam took a place in front of the cheerful blaze and closed his eyes as the warmth permeated his frozen, aching bones.
‘Take this.’ Fairfax poured him a cup of wine and joined him by the fire. ‘You’re most welcome, Captain Coulter. If you’ve seen any of my men, you will know how desperate our situation is.’
Adam set the cup down and fumbled in his jacket, pulling out a crumpled paper, the same crumpled paper, which Colonel Purefoy had, with some grumbling, consented to sign. He handed it to Fairfax.
‘I have served in the low country and the Palatinate. I have here a recommendation from Colonel Purefoy, should you have need of a field officer of my experience.’
Fairfax took the paper and broke the seal. He studied the contents and looked up at Adam. ‘Purefoy speaks highly of you, Coulter. Why would you wish to leave Warwick?’
‘I am wasted in the garrison, sir. Since Lord Brooke’s death last year, there is nothing to hold me at Warwick.’
Fairfax set Purefoy’s letter down amongst the scattered papers on the table and nodded. ‘I do indeed have need of an officer of such experience, Coulter…several officers in fact. I have a regiment of horse wanting a good major. Would you take that?’
‘I would be honoured, sir,’ Adam said and bowed.
He had not been telling an untruth when he had told Fairfax that garrison life galled, but in truth he had no heart to remain in Warwickshire. He had marked Perdita and Simon’s wedding day by getting appallingly drunk, and in the weeks that followed had taken any task Purefoy gave him to get him out from behind the castle walls. He had jumped at the opportunity to take this convoy of much needed supplies to the beleaguered parliamentary forces in the north, and had persuaded Purefoy to release him should Fairfax have a use for him.
Fairfax looked around the room of the pleasant house he had taken as his headquarters. ‘I had hoped to make Gainsborough our winter quarters, but I have this day,’ he gestured at the paper on the table, ‘received orders from my father to relieve Nantwich. The Irish have landed. They mean to reinforce Byron and undo our work in Lancashire and Yorkshire. We march in the morning. I am afraid that leaves you little time to become acquainted with your new command.’
He picked up his pen and scrawled on a blank piece of paper which he folded and sealed, handing it to Adam. ‘Your orders, Coulter. You will find Captain Hewitson lodging at the sign of the Swan. My compliments to him. I present his new major.’ Fairfax sat back in his chair. ‘You have a northern name, Coulter, but you don’t speak like a man of the north.’
Adam shook his head. ‘My childhood home was in Leicestershire, sir.’
‘I give you fair warning, you’ll not have an easy time of it. The men of the north are loyal to their own and you’re an outsider. You must prove yourself worthy of the men you lead.’
Adam nodded. ‘I’m equal to whatever task you set me, sir.’
A smile lifted Fairfax’s dark countenance. ‘If what Purefoy tells me is the truth then I don’t doubt it, Coulter.’
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