Page 53 of Feathers in the Wind
‘Simon, you can’t say that.’ Her voice shook. ‘I do love you and I want nothing more than to be with you. The thought of life without you is more than I can bear.’
They were not empty words, meant to cheer a dying man. She knew as she spoke that they were the absolute truth. She may not have loved Simon as she loved Adam Coulter, but that did not make her feelings for Simon anything less than love.
His gaze held hers, seeking the veracity of her words. He knows me better than I thought, Perdita realised. He knows that my eyes would never lie.
‘I’m sorry, Perdita,’ he whispered. ‘I wanted the world for you.’ His fingers tightened on hers with a fierce urgency. ‘I’ll not leave you as you were left before. That is my last promise to you.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Perdita leaned over him, but he had already slipped into unconsciousness and she could no longer reach him. She bent over and kissed him gently on his ravaged cheek.
‘Simon. Believe me, I want nothing from you except that you live.’
The tears spilled from her eyes and fell onto Simon’s hand.
With a heavy heart she woke Bess and Joan to come and sit with her.
Simon’s death was, as his life had been, quiet and gentle. His soul slipped into the darkest hour just before dawn.
Bess wept copiously into Joan's arms, but Perdita had no more tears, only a dull and fearful emptiness filled her. After Bess had been put to bed with a sleeping draught, Perdita knelt by Simon's bed and prayed for the soul of the man who had loved her so dearly but whose love she could never return in full.
* * *
In the daysfollowing Simon's death, Joan and Bess wept, but not so Perdita. She had endured the funeral in dry-eyed silence. Now she stood at the window of the great parlour looking out but not seeing the cheerless, wintry landscape,
What am I, she thought,a widow who was never a wife? An unnatural creature who cannot weep for the man who was to be your husband, a man who loved you without condition. A man who never knew you loved another.
‘This is God’s punishment,’ she whispered, leaning her forehead against the cold, unforgiving glass.
‘Did you say something, Perdita?’
Perdita turned to look at Joan. ‘I should be the one who is dead, Joan.’
Joan rose to her feet, reaching for her stick. She hobbled across to Perdita. She stamped the edge of her cane on the wooden floor.
‘Enough of this maudlin self-pity, Perdita.’ Joan’s lips compressed in a tight line. ‘You are not the first woman to lose a loved-one to this accursed war. God is no more punishing you than you than any other woman. Until the men come to their senses, the killing will go on, the death will go on. We need you to be strong.’
The force of Joan’s anger caused Perdita to take a step back. She was tired of being strong. She needed someone to take the burden of responsibility from her, not heap more responsibilities on to her shoulders. She closed her eyes, acknowledging the deep longing she had been suppressing for months.
She needed—she wanted— Adam Coulter.
But she had no time to respond to Joan as Ludovic announced the arrival of the family lawyer from Stratford. Perdita drifted across to the fire and took a seat. As the lawyer droned in the background, his voice a monotone, she stared into the fire, drawn in to its cheerful crackling.
‘Perdita. Perdita aren’t you listening?’ Bess's insistent voice broke into her reverie.
‘Hmm?’ She looked up at the lawyer.
The man cleared his throat and repeated.
‘Master Clifford recently changed his will. He left a substantial dowry for his sister Elizabeth and of course the right of residence and an allowance to his stepmother, but he has left to Perdita Gray the entire estate of Preswood until death or marriage, after which the estate would revert to his sister, her heirs and successors.’
Perdita looked from the lawyer to Joan and Bess. ‘But we were never wed. I have no rights.’
‘The provisions were not conditional upon your wedding.’ The lawyer coughed. ‘Master Clifford was most insistent on that point.’ He rose to his feet and reached for his hat. ‘I will draw up all the necessary papers and bring them to you within the week. I bid you good day, ladies.’
After he had gone, accompanied by Joan, Bess and Perdita stared at each other.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Perdita faltered. ‘I can’t accept the terms of Simon's will. All of this should be yours by right, Bess.’
Bess wrinkled her nose. ‘And what use would I make of it? Simon has left me amply endowed, and God willing I will be wed.’ She knelt in front of Perdita and took her hands. ‘This is a secret, but Robin has asked me to marry him and I have accepted. Robin has lands and estates in his own right.’
