Page 75 of Feathers in the Wind
Marooned in the grief-stricken house, Perdita found Kate’s stoic silence almost too painful to bear as she recalled the last hours of Simon’s life with a frightening clarity, and with no word from Adam, busied herself with the wounded in the barn, providing some relief for Kate from her bedside vigil.
Death came as a mercy and the Ashleys laid Richard to rest beside his mother in the little churchyard in the village. The family returned to the house and Kate, surrendering now to her grief and spent from weeping, had been put to bed with a sleeping draught. Her sister returned to Barton Hall and Perdita busied herself with the household responsibilities that Kate had abrogated.
‘Mistress Coulter?’
Perdita looked up from the mending to see David Ashley, stooped and aged with grief, standing in the doorway to the parlour.
‘I’ve had word that York has been taken and I have orders to return to my duties,’ he said. ‘I intend to take those wounded who can be moved. Do you also wish to come with me to find your husband?’
Perdita set her needlework aside and stood up, hoping she did not sound too eager as she said, ‘Please, Colonel Ashley. I would be so grateful.’
He nodded. ‘York is something over half a day’s ride. It will be slower with the wounded. Do you have a horse?’
A brief smile flitted across Perdita’s face as she recalled Richard Ashley’s unfavourable view of her pony. ‘Of sorts. Your son was less than complimentary about him.’
He nodded. ‘Good. I’ll tell Dickon to ready him. We will leave in the morning.’
Before she left, Perdita sought out Kate. The young widow, pale-faced, her eyes red-rimmed, sat in a chair by the window of her bedchamber. She barely looked up as Perdita entered.
‘Kate?’ Perdita said. ‘I must leave today. I go with your father-in-law to York.’
Kate nodded. ‘I have been remiss. Have you news of your husband?’
‘Colonel Ashley tells me that he survived the battle and I hope… I pray… I will find him in York.’
Kate took her hand. ‘I will pray that you do.’
Perdita’s hand tightened on Kate’s. ‘I lost someone I love,’ she said. ‘The pain will ease and you may be blessed with a second chance.’
Kate released Perdita’s hand and rose to her feet. She stood for a long moment, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked out into the garden, bright with the summer roses. She shook her head. ‘No, Perdita. I think in this life we only have one chance at finding a true soul mate. I will never find another.’
Not given to impulse, Perdita threw her arms around the other woman and hugged her tight.
‘None of us know what the future will bring. God grant he will keep you and your son safe and bring you some happiness in the future.’
Kate turned to face her, and for the first time in days a small smile lifted the girl’s wan features. ‘And you, Perdita. Treasure your time with your husband. Now go, David hates to be kept waiting.’
Chapter 14
York, 17 July 1644
York had the look of a town that had endured a long siege. The walls and many of the buildings showed signs of damage by the great siege cannons Perdita passed on the way into the city, and the inhabitants, starved and wasted by disease, moved slowly through streets of boarded -up shops and homes.
Perdita accompanied Colonel Ashley to a building apparently designated for the care of the wounded. They had brought with them two wagonloads of men, mercifully the last of the wounded at Barton, and Perdita oversaw their disposition within the dark, fetid building, promising to return to see to them.
David Ashley’s shadow fell across her as she saw to the bandages of one of the men she had nursed over the past week.
‘I’ve made enquiries. They tell me your husband is lodged at the White Hart.’
She stood and straightened her skirts. ‘Thank you, Colonel.’
‘Perhaps it is I who should thank you. Your presence at Barton was God sent.’ He paused, his recent pain written raw in his eyes. ‘It’s Kate and young Tom I grieve for now. That I cannot be there to support them when they need me.’ He inclined his head. ‘Good day to you, mistress.’
Perdita gathered her small bundle of belongings and pushed her way through the crowded streets and the gathering dusk to the White Hart. The landlord indicated the room Major Coulter had appropriated, and gathering her skirts, Perdita climbed the stairs.
She knocked at the door, but as there was no reply she tried the latch and finding it unlocked, pushed open the door. Gauntlets, hat, boots, jacket, belt and a filthy blood stained shirt were strewn in a trail from the door to the bed, where Adam lay face down under the coverlet, wearing only breeches, his head buried in his arms.
Perdita closed the door and tiptoed across to the bed. She laid a hand on his bare shoulder but he didn’t stir and she had no wish to wake him. From his unshaven chin, she guessed that he had probably had precious little sleep since the battle. A dirty, bloodstained bandage circled his left forearm but otherwise he looked to have come through the battle without major injury.
