‘Ludovic, can you get Captain Coulter to the guest chamber?’
As Ludovic saw to Adam, Perdita went in search of the things she needed and by the time she joined Ludovic in the guest chamber, he had stripped Adam of his soaking clothes and boots, which lay in a sodden heap on the floor.
Perdita laid the basket of bandages and remedies she had gleaned from the stillroom on the table and crossed to the still figure on the bed. Ludovic had pulled a blanket over the naked man and turned to the fire, stoking it high and setting a pot to boil his instruments.
Perdita sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed her patient. Adam's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and ragged.
She turned the blanket aside to look at the wound. She had never really seen a man naked before. Samuel had always come to her bed in a nightgown, just raising it sufficiently to do what he had to do, his corpulent body hot and heavy on hers. Perdita shuddered at the memory of the nightly assault she had endured until a child had been conceived, and when she had lost the child she carried, a result of a ‘chastisement’ as Samuel had called it, he had returned, desperate for a son. Even now the bile rose in her throat.
By contrast the body beneath her hands was lean and well-muscled. The brown of his face ended abruptly at his collar line, forming a contrast to the lighter skin of his body. A smattering of dark hair curled on his chest and crept down his taut flat stomach toward his groin. Perdita took a breath, wondering for a moment what it would be like to be held against this hard, strong body. A vague memory of the ride back from Stratford crept unbidden into her memory—a scent of man and horse and a broad chest on which to lay her head…
She picked up his hand and turned it over, noting the scars and callouses that spoke of a hard life. Even by the light of the candles, visible beneath the tan of his wrist were other scars, lighter marks in the weather darkened skin.
She looked up to find Ludovic watching her.
‘Manacles,’ he said, pushing back his own cuff to show her similar scars. ‘He’s been a captive somewhere in his past. To work, Mistress Gray.’
Perdita gently eased the rough pad away from the wound and flinched as it started to bleed again.
Ludovic wiped the blood away and peered closer at the small neat hole which marked the pistol ball’s entrance. ‘I've seen worse, but there is no exit would so we must get the ball out, if it is not too deep.’
Perdita swallowed. She had also seen worse but it was easier to be dispassionate about a stranger, not a man she considered a friend. A friend? She pushed that uncertainty to the back of her mind as Adam moved beneath her hands and groaned.
‘Sorry to be such a confounded nuisance,’ he murmured.
‘How did this happen?’ she asked, more to distract him then out of curiosity.
‘Denzil ambushed my convoy.’
He grimaced as Ludovic began to clean around the wound, his hand seeking Perdita’s. The bones of her hand crunched as he grasped it tightly, hissing between his teeth.
‘Curse Denzil.’
‘Denzil?’
‘It’s his pistol ball,’ Adam grunted.
Perdita stared at him. ‘Your own brother shot you? Did he know it was you?’
Adam swallowed. ‘I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt. Are you done yet, Ludovic? It feels like you’re taking my leg off.’
‘I haven’t even started yet,’ Ludovic replied. He glanced up at Perdita. ‘We need help, Mistress Gray. If he’s conscious, he will need to be held down. Perhaps Master Robin?’
‘Rob’s done enough for one day. Just do what you must do, Ludovic,’ Adam muttered, ‘I’ll behave.’
Ludovic put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It will hurt.’
‘It hurts now. Just be quick about it.’
Ludovic took a roll of leather from his bag and pushed it between Adam’s teeth. ‘Now keep still,’ he ordered and began his work with brisk efficiency, producing the flattened lead projectile with a bloody flourish as Adam fell back on the bolsters in a faint.
As Ludovic tied the last of the bandages, he glanced across at Perdita who flexed her fingers with a grimace. ‘Is your hand all right, mistress?’ Ludovic asked.
‘It will be. What about Adam, will he be all right?’ Perdita asked.
Ludovic glanced at his patient and shrugged. ‘The wound itself is not so bad and he is strong enough to fight it. There is a strong risk of lung fever after that ride in the rain and if Lord Marchant is to insist on moving him tomorrow.’ He glanced toward the door at the sound of raised voices coming closer.
The door flung open and Denzil stood glaring at them. Behind him Perdita could make out the pale and determined face of his aunt.
‘Are you done, Mistress Gray?’ Denzil roared, addressing Perdita who quailed as he turned the full force of his rage on her. ‘If so I will take my prisoner and leave you. Robin? Where are you, dammit?’
Robin pushed past his brother, placing himself between Denzil and the bed. ‘No. He stays where he is, Denzil.’
A vein throbbed in Denzil’s temple. ‘I’ll not stay in this house to be lectured to by women.’ Denzil cast his aunt a fiery glance.
Perdita moved beside Robin, casting him a quick, nervous glance as she said, ‘You can’t take him. He’ll die if you move him.’
‘Pah.’ Denzil took a step toward her. ‘Adam is tough and if it’s rest he needs he will get ample in Oxford Castle.’
‘Haven’t you done enough already? He’s lost blood and has the risk of a fever. Move him and you’ll kill him.’
‘Well, that will save us all a lot of trouble.’ Denzil pushed past Perdita and in a couple of strides he crossed to the bed and leaned over Adam. ‘Can you hear me, Coulter?’
Adam's eyes flickered open. ‘Denzil.’ His voice was barely above a whisper.
‘Don’t make yourself comfortable, brother. You’re coming to Oxford to stand trial for the traitor that you are.’
‘For the love of God, Denzil, you’ve shot me, beaten me and dragged me through the rain. I can’t sit up, let alone sit a horse,’ Adam said.
‘You’ll come with me, even if it means throwing you in the back of a dung cart to get you there.’ Denzil gripped the bed clothes. ‘Now get up.’
Perdita laid her hand on his sleeve, her fury with this obdurate man seething to the surface.
‘You’ll not take him.’
Denzil shook off her hand, turning his ferocious gaze on her. He raised his hand. Instinctively she took a quick inward breath, bracing herself for the blow, knowing from bitter experience what was coming.
‘Denzil. Strike her and you’ll reckon with me,’ Adam pulled himself up in the bed, his face pale and his eyes burning.
Denzil lowered his hand and laughed. ‘And what will you do, Adam?’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘Perdita, would you be so good as to find me some dry clothes?’
Robin took his brother’s arm and steered him away from the bed. ‘Apart from the fact it is still pouring with rain, Denzil, it is the middle of the night and I for one would like something to eat and a dry bed. Mistress Gray is right, Adam will die if you try to move him. Look at him. You can see for yourself, he’ll not be fit for any sort of travel for days, if not weeks.’
Denzil glared at his younger brother and back at the man on the bed. Adam's gaze held his brother’s for a moment before he slumped back against the bolsters.
‘Denzil, I give you my parole,’ Adam said.
‘Your parole? Do you think your word means anything to me?’ Denzil snarled.
‘Then leave me here, Denzil. I’ll bring him on to Oxford when he can sit a horse,’ Robin said in a low even tone.
Denzil scrutinised his youngest brother through narrowed eyes.
‘You don’t trust me?’ Robin met his brother’s gaze, his face pale and taut, and it occurred to Perdita in that moment that if there was one person in the world who could control Denzil Marchant, it was this slight young man.
Denzil shook his head and
clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Of course I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.’ Denzil glared in Adam's direction and gave an impatient snort. ‘Very well, Coulter, it seems if I want you hale and hearty to stand trial for the traitor you are, I have no choice but to accept your parole and leave you in Robin's custody.’ Robin's shoulders visibly relaxed but stiffened again as Denzil rounded on him. ‘If you let him escape, Rob, then God help you.’
‘Leave the boy alone.’ Adam's voice was cold and hard. ‘I’ve given you my word Denzil. That should be enough.’
Denzil's moustache twitched as he turned back to Adam, leaning over him so close that his hair brushed Adam’s face. ‘Don't go and die on me, Coulter, it would be very disappointing.’
‘I don't doubt it.’ Adam glared back at him.
Denzil turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Robin crossed to Perdita and laid his hand on her shoulder. Now the drama had passed and with it the realisation of what facing down a man like Denzil Marchant meant, she began to shake.
‘I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Denzil like that,’ Robin said, unable to hide the admiration in his tone.
She looked up at him and said between clenched teeth. ‘You did well yourself.’
Joan, who had remained silent during the exchange sank on to a chair by the fire and rested her forehead on her hand.
‘It is as if the clock has been turned back twenty years,’ she said. ‘Denzil and Adam. Always Denzil and Adam.’
Robin crossed to the bed and looked down at his brother. ‘You look convincingly terrible,’ he said.
Adam gave a snort of laughter, his hand flying to his ribs. ‘I’ve felt better. Thank you, Robin. You didn’t need to take my part.’
Robin shrugged. ‘I’m sorry it has come to this, Adam.’
Adam frowned. ‘Sorry for what? My quarrel is with Denzil and Louise, never with you. Whatever our political differences, at least let us put our filial differences to one side. I gave Denzil my parole and you have my word I’ll not break it. Go and leave me to sleep, for God’s sake. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Robin said and glanced at the shuttered window. ‘I think it’s already tomorrow. God’s death, I crave a bed.’
Perdita stood aside to let Robin pass, telling him to seek out some food in the kitchens and she would see that a bed was prepared for him in one of the spare chambers.
Joan rose to her feet as the sound of Robin’s boots sounded on the stairs. She crossed to the bed and picked up Adam’s hand, pressing it to her lips.
‘I’m sorry to bring such strife to this house,’ Adam murmured.
‘Don’t fool yourself that Robin’s noble offer has anything to do with you,’ Joan said. ‘I’m quite sure that the longer you are indisposed, the happier Robin will be.’
‘What do you mean?’
Perdita smiled and caught Joan’s eye. ‘It seems that Robin and Bess have formed an attachment,’ she replied.
‘Ah,’ Adam said. ‘A woman. Always a woman.’
Perdita reached out to smooth the bolsters but Adam put a restraining hand on hers.
‘Don’t fuss Perdita. If I need anyone I’ll call for Ludovic.’
Perdita collected the sodden clothes and at the door turned back to glance at the bed. His eyes were closed and apparently unaware that Perdita watched her, Joan smoothed the hair away from his forehead in a maternal gesture. Left with the strange sensation of having seen something that was not hers to see, Perdita closed the door and crept away.
Chapter 8
Preswood Hall
June 1643
‘What are you reading?’ Robin asked.
Adam rolled over and hauled himself painfully up on the bolsters. He held up the battered leather-bound volume.
‘Joan lent me Geoffrey Clifford’s journal of his travels,’ he said. ‘I wish that I’d been able to visit even half the places Geoffrey did in his wanderings.’
Robin took the book from him and flicked through the pages. ‘You spent six years on the Continent; you must have tales of your own to tell.’
Adam’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘Several of those years were spent in Leipzig Castle. Anyway, I had no money for the indulgence of travel, Rob. I had to earn my living the only way I knew how, with my sword. What brings you up here?’
Robin shrugged and a rueful smile curled the corners of his mouth. ‘A need to escape the company of women for a while, no matter how delightful that company might be. Do you play cards?’
‘Of course. You know the rules of Penneech?’
Robin nodded. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and dealt the cards.
‘How’s the leg?’
‘I can’t put any weight on it yet, but it’s the damned ribs that hurt the most. Just don’t make me laugh.’
Robin looked up. ‘Now there’s a challenge.’
‘Speaking of the delightful company of women, do I gather it is in your interest to prolong my convalescence?’ Adam asked without meeting his brother’s eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
Adam looked up and caught the flush rising in Robin’s face. ‘A certain Elizabeth Clifford?’
Robin straightened his shoulders as if to deny the charge and then relaxed with a crooked smile. ‘Aye, there’s no doubt I fancy myself in love with the girl.’
They played in silence for a couple of minutes before Robin asked. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
Adam paused, apparently considering his hand. ‘I imagined myself in love once, but it was lust not love.’
‘Louise?’ Robin suggested.
‘Yes, Louise,’ Adam said with a heavy sigh. ‘Since then there have been women but no time for love.’
‘What really happened that night?’
Robin’s casual tone could not hide the curiosity that had probably plagued him all these years. He deserved the truth.
Adam closed his eyes. ‘I was your age, Rob and, gull that I was, fell for Louise the day that she and Denzil were betrothed. I worshipped her and she gave me every encouragement. When she summoned me to her bedchamber I went like an eager puppy, and there she was waiting for me, dressed only in a nightshift looking like a goddess.’
Robin snorted with bitter laughter. ‘I can imagine.’
‘Well you can also imagine what my thoughts were. My seduction had begun. She offered me wine and blandishments. I had stripped down to my breeches and was lying beside her on the bed when her brother burst in with sword drawn.’ Adam took a breath. ‘I had no alternative but to defend myself and I was ever the better swordsman than Philip. He ran on my sword. Louise started screaming rape and murder. She ripped her shift and scratched her own face. The rest you know.’
Robin sighed. ‘Father was summoned to deal with the mess?’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘He wouldn’t even hear my side of the story. All he saw was a beautiful woman claiming I had raped her, her brother dying in her arms. He told me I was to leave the country that night if a scandal was to be avoided and I did. I left, and by leaving confirmed my guilt.’
‘You were not the first, nor shall you be the last. Poor Denzil paid a heavy penance by marrying Louise,’ Robin observed.
Adam’s mouth twitched. ‘He went willingly, Robin.’
‘He did,’ Robin conceded. ‘And I think he still imagines he’s in love with her.’
‘They’ve no children?’
Robin shrugged. ‘No child of the marriage, but I know Denzil has at least one by-blow, so the fault must rest with Louise.’
Adam flinched. ‘Does he acknowledge the child?’
Robin looked up from his cards. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I forgot.’
Adam shrugged. ‘It’s no matter, Robin.’
‘The child and the mother are well provided for, I believe.’
‘My one regret,’ Adam said, ‘is that I never had a chance to make my peace with our father before he died.’
Robin appeared to be
considering his hand of cards. ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that once Louise’s nature became better known, father may have been more inclined to forgive you, but then we got the news that you were dead.’
The breath stopped in Adam’s throat. ‘He thought I was dead?’
‘Aye, we had word that you had fallen at,’ Robin frowned, ‘was it Vlotho?’
‘I was wounded and taken prisoner but I had no means to send word that I was alive. If you can call it that, but my captors told me they had sent word of my capture and were demanding a ransom so father must have known I still lived.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Maybe father was never told. Maybe the word came to Denzil first.’ He glanced away. ‘Maybe that was why the ransom was never paid.’
The cold, grey walls of Leipzig closed in on Adam once more. That made sense. Denzil had known his circumstances but chose neither to tell his father nor pay the ransom demanded for his release. Denzil had wanted him to die in the dungeons of Leipzig, forgotten and unmourned.
‘He must hate me very much,’ Adam said.
Robin shook his head. ‘No. It is Louise who would have had the last word. But if no ransom was paid, how were you released?’
Adam shook his head. ‘They must have wearied of me. I found myself cast out on to the streets with only the rags on my back in the middle of winter.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Then how did you get back to England?’
Adam turned his attention back to his cards. ‘That is a story for another time, Rob. Your move, I believe.’
He waited until Robin had played his cards and then said without looking up. ‘Did Father—did he—say anything when he heard of my death?’
‘No, but he shut himself in the library for days. When he did come out, he said, “He was the best of you.” and that was the last time you were ever mentioned in the house.’
Adam looked down at his hand and saw that it was shaking.
Perdita laid the paper and pens down on the table in front of Adam. ‘There you are, as requested.’
Adam picked up one of the pens and pulled a piece of paper in front of him.
‘If Denzil hears you’re on your feet...’ she began.
And Then Mine Enemy Page 8