Page 14 of Feathers in the Wind
He bowed low over Bess’s hand, turned on his heel and disappeared into the press of people.
Bess sighed. ‘Do you think he likes me, Perdita?’
Perdita laughed. ‘I’m no judge of these matters, Bess.’ She looked at her cousin’s anxious eyes and smiled. ‘But since you ask, yes, I do think he likes you.’
And why should he not?Perdita asked herself as a faint flush of pleasure rose in her cousin’s face. Bess and Robin were both attractive people of the same age and station in life.
‘There you are.’ Simon, his face flushed and his collar askew, joined them. He fanned himself and huffed out a sigh. ‘Warm in here. It’s getting late and I must see you two safely home before dark.’ As they walked back to the place they had left the horses, he asked, ‘Have you had a pleasant afternoon?’
‘Wonderful,’ Bess said with feeling.
‘What about you, Simon?’ Perdita tucked her arm into his.
Simon turned a grave face to her. ‘I will be marching with Lord Northampton in the morning.’
‘So it begins?’ Perdita said quietly.
He looked down at her. ‘I fear so.’
Chapter 5
Edgehill. 23 October 1642
Bess leaned her elbows on the bench of the stillroom, half-heartedly plucking the leaves off a stem of rosemary as she gazed up at the faded murals on the wall.
‘Bess.’ Perdita chided. ‘Hurry up. I need those leaves.’
‘Can you make love potions, Perdita?’
‘Love potions? What nonsense are you talking? Would you have me burned as a witch?’
Bess sighed.
Perdita set down her pestle and regarded her friend. ‘If you’re thinking of Robin Marchant, I don’t see any need of love potions there.’
Bess turned to look at her and Perdita had to smile at the bright, lovelorn eyes.
‘Do you really think he likes me?’ Bess asked, yearning in the droop of her mouth and anxious blue eyes.
Perdita laughed and shook her head.
Robin had ridden by two days previously with talk of battle and a wild look in his eye. Bess had given him a ribbon to wear as a favour. A blind woman could have seen that love potions were quite unwarranted.
The news he had brought was not quite so welcome. After raising his standard at Nottingham in August and an unsuccessful attempt to garner support in the north, the king had made his base in Oxford. That much Perdita had gleaned from Simon’s regular, but brief missives.
‘With the king based at Oxford, surely that brings this part of the country into great danger?’ Perdita had asked Robin.
Robin shrugged. ‘It won’t be for long. The king intends to push through to London as soon as he can. Rest assured once he takes London that will be the end of it.’
‘And what is there to stop him?’ Bess had asked.
Robin shrugged, his eyes shining. ‘The only thing between the king and London are the rebels at Banbury, but the Earl of Essex is marching as fast as he can to stop him. We expect fighting any day now.’
With that he had gone.
That night Perdita had studied a map in Simon’s library. As her fingers traced the road to London and stopped on Banbury, she realised that their quiet corner of Warwickshire stood in the way. The fighting when it came would be on their doorstep.
Bess straightened, the rosemary falling to the table as she turned her attention to the open window. ‘What’s that noise? Can you hear it, Perdita?’
