Page 59 of Feathers in the Wind
Peg nodded and looked around at the other. ‘Aye, we know your ’usband well.’
Red skirts winked. ‘There are several women who can say that.’
Appalled by the implication, Perdita stared at the women in horror, provoking a laugh.
‘No need to look like that, mistress,’ Peg said. ‘You can be assured that while many of us may have fancied a night or two in Adam Coulter's bed, none to my knowledge ever made it there. Didn’t I say, Hetty, that he was a faithful one?’
‘Aye, and a waste of his fine eyes, I did say.’
‘’Twas not his eyes I was thinking of.’ Red skirts gave her companions a lascivious grin. ‘So what’s he like in bed, love?’
The heat rose to her face and Perdita swallowed, saved from a response by a peal of laughter from the woman.
‘You’re right, Peg. We’ve got a real lady here.’
The matronly woman, Hetty, regarded her through narrow eyes. ‘So what brings you to this pass, Mistress Coulter? The soldiering life is no place for a lady such as yourself. What’s your business with him?’
‘My business is just that, my business,’ Perdita snapped.
The woman shrugged and turned to the other two, ignoring Perdita who settled herself as comfortably as she could and prepared herself for a long, uncomfortable journey. She had the uneasy feeling that she knew very little of the man whose wife she now professed to be. She’d been a fool to let the misunderstanding go unchallenged, to have allowed a myth to perpetuate, but now it seemed she had to live with it.
* * *
Captain Burns remainedpolite and deferential, even procuring a small, hardy pony for her to ride in preference to the wagons. The convoy made a slow, ponderous journey north. The days stretching into a second week before Burns rode up to her one morning.
‘Mistress,’ he said. ‘My orders are only to go as far as Leeds. You must make the rest of the way by yourself.’
Perdita’s heart skipped a beat. Leeds was still miles short of York, if that’s where Adam could be found.
‘How am I to find him?’
Burns looked at her and shrugged. He had the grace to look concerned. He had taken very good care of her and they had enjoyed several evening meals together.
He shook his head. ‘Those are my orders. Perhaps I can spare a man to take you on to the next garrison. After that you must find your own way.’
Relief flooded Perdita. ‘Thank you, Captain. That will be fine. I am sure to find someone who will take me further.’
‘I hope you find Coulter without too much trouble.’ The captain’s doubtful frown belied his smile. He stared off into the distance before bringing his gaze back to her, all trace of humour gone from his eyes.
‘Forgive me speaking plain, mistress, but once your business with your husband is done, I would suggest you turn for home. It is no gentle war we are fighting any more, but harsh and bloody. No place for you. I’ll be returning to Warwick by week’s end. If you can return before I leave, I will see you safely home.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ Perdita replied, her heart warmed by the offer. ‘You’re not the first to warn me of the dangers. Please do not trouble yourself about me.’
‘Very well, mistress.’ He still looked troubled as he bowed from the saddle, before turning his horse and cantering away.
At Leeds the next day a dour corporal presented himself. He said little to Perdita but every inch of his body was stiff with indignation. Evidently, he did not appreciate being nursemaid to a woman.
They rode in silence and toward evening encountered a body of infantry. The corporal rode up to the officer at their head and saluted sharply. They conducted a conversation out of Perdita’s earshot and she sat her plump little mare uncomfortably aware of the gesturing and sharp glances in her direction. Satisfied, the corporal turned and trotted back to her.
‘I'll leave you with these men,’ he said. ‘They're Lord Fairfax’s men and they can take you closer to York. Chances are your man's thereabouts.’
‘Thank you for your help, Corporal,’ Perdita said to the man's back as he gratefully put his spurs to his horse to return to Leeds. The officer fell in beside her.
‘Coulter? Is he with Black Tom?’
Perdita frowned. ‘If that’s what they call Sir Thomas Fairfax?’
The man grinned. ‘It is, mistress. Coulter? Aye, I recall the name. He was with us at Nantwich, was he not, Sergeant?’
