Page 60 of It Happened in the Highlands
Cuffe saw the two old people roll up in their ancient carriage. When, a few minutes later, a footman announced the arrival, Dr. McKendry’s sudden frown told him trouble had come knocking.
The doctor asked him to stay with Mr. Cameron while he took the guests up to the captain’s office to speak with them.
The bookkeeper was busy with his accounting books, so Cuffe went downstairs. Listening to the muttering between the attendants, he heard the name Barton mentioned. When he asked, one of the former sailors told him it was the mother and uncle, and he’d be “best off tacking well away of ’em, for a storm’s a-blowin’ in.”
Mr. Barton was the reason Lady Jo had come to the Abbey, and the sweet old man sketched her likeness every day.
Treading lightly on his way up the stairs, he heard the sound of loud voices coming from the captain’s office, and he edged toward the open door, pressing himself against the wall.
A woman’s harsh tone pierced the quiet of the hallway. “We didn’t give him into your care to put him at risk, Dr. McKendry.”
“Mrs. Barton, Graham,” the doctor said. “Taking him now would jeopardize the advances he’s made. The accidents that occurred—”
“Don’t try to pass off what’s happened asaccidents,” she hissed. “We’ve heard the truth, so don’t try lying about it. They were attacks, pure and simple. A madman going after Charles while he was sleeping. And now I hear the lunatic is still housed in the same room, free to attack again.”
“That patient was provoked by someone who has since run off,” the doctor explained.
Cuffe’s chin sank to his chest in shame.Hewas the person responsible for what happened to Mr. Barton, having allowed himself to be tricked by Abram. And now Dr. McKendry was being blamed.
“And then,” the grating voice scratched out, “we find out my son was nearly drowned, cast into the fish pond by yet another patient, as you call them.”
“Nothing of the kind happened,” Dr. McKendry asserted hotly. “Mr. Barton jumped into a waist-deep pond after someone who’d fallen in—”
“Two attacks and you can’t protect him.”
Cuffe remembered the chaos he and the captain came upon when they rode back from the village that morning. Mr. Barton had gone in after Lady Jo because he thought she might be drowning. He cared for her. He was worried. Since when was trying to save someone’s life considered an attack? These people knew nothing.
“The progress your son has made has been astounding,” the doctor asserted. “Not only has his health improved dramatically, his mind is—”
“Don’t you be talking of progress,” she barked, cutting him off. “We’ve had enough. We’re taking my son with us today. We shan’t be leaving him at the mercy of vultures. The asylum in Aberdeen is ready for him, and they have bona fide keepers there.”
“Sending him there would be a terrible mistake,” the doctor argued. “Do you know how they treat their patients?”
“We’ve made all the arrangements,” the woman announced in cold indifference.
“Charles will be beaten. Mutilated. Starved. Dunked in ice cold water,” the doctor exclaimed. “They’ll tie him to a chair that’s been hung from the ceiling, hoist him up and spin him until he vomits, wets himself, or defecates. And then they’ll beat him for that.”
Cuffe shivered, recalling the brutality on the plantations. He’d heard so many stories from the folk that escaped. He’d seen their scars. Their missing fingers and ears. It made him ill to see his own people exposed to such treatment, and he didn’t want Mr. Barton to be treated that way either.
“Graham, pray speak with Mrs. Barton,” Dr. McKendry pleaded. “Surelyyousee that moving him now is the wrong thing to do.”
“She is my nephew’s mother,” the old man said flatly. “Neither you nor I can say we know what’s best. She’s the one to decide.”
The doctor was not giving up. “Mrs. Barton, patients who are sent there rarely if ever recover enough to rejoin society and their families. Your son would be lost to you forever. Surely you don’t want that.”
“Save your breath,” Mrs. Barton ordered. “They’ve agreed to take him, and we mean to remove him from this place. The treatment my son has endured here cannot be referred to as anything but evil, and once he’s been saved from your . . .”
Cuffe had heard enough, and he backed away from the door. They were correct downstairs. Something horrible was going to happen, and Dr. McKendry was alone to face them. Lady Jo cared about Mr. Barton, and she wasn’t here. The captain wasn’t here either.
It was up to Cuffe to help.
* * *
Josephine Sellar.
The older gentleman’s unguarded exclamation affirmed what Jo had already come to accept in her heart. She now knew her mother’s family name, who her people were, where she came from.
Mr. Sellar was astonished, but he wanted to know more about her. Jo desired no public spectacle, however, and as the curate and the other families joined them, she asked Mr. Sellar to wait so they could discuss the matter further in private. None of the others appeared to recognize Jo or even understand what the curiosity was about.
