Page 57 of Feathers in the Wind
At the gate she asked to see Captain Coulter.
‘Coulter?’ the guard paused, scratching his unshaven chin. ‘He’s gone north, hasn’t he, Sam?’
Sam nodded in agreement. ‘Gone these five months past.’
Perdita stared from one to the other. ‘Gone? But he sent no word…’
Why would he send word?
Adam Coulter owed nobody at Preswood any particular favour, except perhaps Joan and, indeed a note to his aunt would have been politic. But this was war and courtesies such as that were not part of the day-to-day life of a soldier. Or did the truth lie deeper? Had he stayed away thinking her wed to Simon?
The two soldiers looked at her, undisguised curiosity in their gazes.
‘Do you know where he has gone?’ Perdita enquired.
The first soldier shrugged. ‘Who’s to say? I tell ’ee what. The Colonel be in. He’ll be able to tell ’ee better than we.’
The governor of Warwick Castle, Colonel Purefoy, received her in the same elegant oak-panelled study last occupied by Adam. She remembered the concern in Adam’s eyes, his swift, sure hands, guiding her to a chair. His touch.
‘Mistress Gray.’ The Colonel’s brisk tone returned her to the present. ‘What business do you have with me?’
‘My business is with Adam Coulter. Your men tell me he has gone north.’
Purefoy nodded. ‘At his request, he left in the new year to join Fairfax. It seemed a sensible decision. He was not one for garrison life.’ The colonel pursed his lips as if remembering some incident that had illustrated Adam’s unsuitability to remain at the castle. ‘Do you mind me asking, what’s your business with him?’
Something in the flick of his eyebrow made Perdita wonder if Purefoy suspected that she had come to foist an unwanted pregnancy upon Adam.
‘I am his kinswoman,’ Perdita extended their relationship, ‘and I am, unhappily, the bearer of sad news concerning the death of a close member of his family.’
Purefoy almost looked disappointed. He shook his head. ‘Death is all around us, is it not, Mistress Gray? It seems to me my task is forever dealing with the death of somebody’s son or brother or father. However, if you wish to send on a letter, I have a supply convoy for the north leaving in the morning. The letter can be entrusted to Captain Burns.’
Perdita bit her lip, conscious that her disappointment must seem ill disguised. ‘It is not a matter I can entrust to someone else, Colonel.’
Purefoy spread his hands. ‘There it is, Mistress Gray. I am afraid Coulter is unlikely to return to Warwick and where exactly he is now, I am unable to say. Except that when last I heard news from the north, Fairfax was laying siege to York. The offer stands if you wish to send a missive with Captain Burns, ensure it is in his hands at first light tomorrow.’
Perdita took her leave of Colonel Purefoy and trudged back to the inn where Ludovic waited.
‘He’s not here, Ludovic. He’s gone north to be with Fairfax. I suppose there is nothing I can do but wait until he comes south again.’
Ludovic looked at her. ‘Forgive my speaking plain, Mistress Gray. What is there to hold you here? Go with the supply wagons yourself.’
Perdita stared at him. ‘I can’t leave Bess,’ she said.
Ludovic shrugged. ‘Mistress Clifford has Lieutenant Marchant and I to watch over her. You will be safe enough with the supply train,’ Ludovic said. ‘It would simply be a matter of delivering the letter and returning back with it. You will only be gone a short while.’
Perdita bit her lip as her mind worked through Ludovic’s suggestion. Did she dare? The worse that could happen was that Adam would hear her news and politely put her on the next transport south. At best? Perdita glanced up at the big man. Ludovic knew her better than she knew herself; nothing tied her to Warwickshire, at least nothing that couldn’t spare her for a few weeks.
‘Dare I?’ she asked aloud.
‘You know the answer to that question, Mistress Gray,’ Ludovic said. ‘Take a room for the night and pen a note to Mistress Clifford. I will take it and return with some coin and baggage for you.’
‘It’s a two hour ride.’
Ludovic shrugged. ‘I will stay and see you safely bestowed on the convoy in the morning.’
Perdita begged a pen and paper from the landlord of the inn and wrote a short note to Bess, explaining that Joan had entrusted the letter for her to deliver personally and she had no choice but to go north to try and find Adam and fulfil her promise to Joan. All being well, she would return within the month.
Alone in the bedchamber of the inn, Perdita watched Ludovic ride away and pondered the folly of the quest she was about to undertake.
