Page 16 of It Happened in the Highlands
Wynne knew what those words meant to Jo. He felt the impact of them. Barton knew her mother. He saw her mother in her.
What she had to be going through was clear to Wynne. The flowing tide of emotion within her had been evident to him from the moment they’d walked into the ward. The prospect of answers looked to be within reach. But when Barton drifted away again, he felt her fear that all of this was coming to nothing. The possibility of a lifeline had been cast out to her and then snatched away.
Wynne had thought she meant nothing to him. He’d told himself it was only duty that drove him to do the right thing and arrange for her to come to the Abbey.
But it wasn’t true. He still cared for her.
The strange behavior of Barton’s family had caught him off guard and then angered him. Their lack of cooperation in Jo’s pursuit of a possible connection had driven Wynne to the edge of his patience. Years evaporated like a morning mist, and he was ready to go to battle on her behalf once again.
That was the moment he realized he needed to leave the ward.
As much as he worried about the outcome of the ensuing discussion with the Bartons, Wynne knew Dermot was entirely capable of handling them. And he was certain Jo would do better without an angry, unsolicited champion meddling in her affairs.
Before returning to his office, he stopped and spoke to Cameron and then went down the hallway to the suite of rooms he shared with his son. Cuffe was still lying on his bed, and he didn’t even turn his head when Wynne directed him to report to the bookkeeper. He was to spend the rest of the day and tomorrow and the next day with him. He was confined indoors. No riding, no fishing, no roaming free, no going out at all. Cameron would see that he caught up with his lessons and then would provide him with more.
And anytime Cuffe wanted to talk, Wynne told him, he would make himself available.
Settling into his orderly office, he turned his attention to his work. He’d done what he needed to do immediately with his son. Now he had to push away any thoughts of Jo Pennington. And he might have succeeded if it weren’t for Dermot coming in not an hour later.
“The Bartons have gone,” he announced.
The question of Jo’s whereabouts arose in Wynne’s mind. He wondered if she was downstairs with the patient, or if she’d continued her journey to her brother’s without saying goodbye.
“After you left, we nearly went to war down there,” Dermot said, taking a book off the shelf and glancing at the title before placing it on the corner of Wynne’s desk. “The mother became adamant about taking Barton back to Tilmory Castle. She continued to claim—in spite of what we all witnessed—that there has been no change in her son’s condition.”
“I assume you won that battle and Barton is still with us,” Wynne said.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Graham stepped up as the voice of reason. Said he’s far too occupied with running that estate. He has no wish to be responsible for his nephew’s care.”
In matters of inheritance, rich estates like Tilmory Castle were often the focus of investigations and court hearings after the passing of a laird or landowner. Wynne knew from speaking to the vicar that, as it stood now, Graham was next in line to inherit.
“And Mrs. Barton agreed?”
“She had no choice.” Dermot pulled another volume off the shelf and studied the spine. “For good or ill, Graham obviously wants no shadow cast on him. He wants to be seen as doing what’s best. He convinced Mrs. Barton, saying perhaps more frequent visits to the Abbey would put her mind at ease and they should allow Charles to stay.”
Again, Jo and her whereabouts pushed to the foreground of Wynne’s thoughts. Growing impatient, he glared at his friend placing the book on the wrong shelf and reaching for yet another volume.
“And Lady Jo?” he asked as casually as he could.
“Yes. There’s the matter of Lady Josephine,” Dermot responded, turning his back to the bookshelves. “Mrs. Barton was quite distressed by the sight of her when you escorted her in. I know I wasn’t alone in seeing it. You surely did too.”
The older woman clearly knew Jo—or someone of similar appearance. Whether the link was familial or social, Mrs. Barton was a poor liar. Her reaction was too sudden and too pronounced. She would have collapsed to the ground if that chair hadn’t been behind her. And even afterwards, it took her a great deal of time to regain her composure.
“I saw it.”
Dermot pulled another book from the shelf. “And then when Barton said—”
“Where is Lady Jo now?”
The doctor glanced over. “I believe she went out to the stables to speak with her driver and manservant.”
“Why? Is she leaving?”
“Leaving?” Dermot echoed vaguely, paging through the volume. “No. In fact, she asked if she could take us up on my aunt’s invitation to spend the night here at the Abbey. Told me she’d be grateful if she could visit with Barton without the distraction of his family. And I think that is an excellent idea, considering how positively he responded to her voice. He spoke—for the first time—and minor as it might seem, to me it was a monumental step.”
Jo was still here, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. After all this time, they’d met again. They’d spoken about Cuffe. Now he wanted another chance to see her. Perhaps they could both successfully close a door on the past.
“Why are you frowning like your ship just hit a sandbar? The recovery of our patients should make you happy.” Dermot dropped the book on a chair. “Unless your sour look is attributable to the fact that Lady Josephine is staying. Do you disapprove of her spending the night at the Abbey?”
