Page 67 of It Happened in the Highlands
Wynne was still standing at the window when the Bartons’ carriage rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. Graham stepped out and offered a hand to Mrs. Barton, who ignored him and hurried toward the door with agility that belied her age.
Dermot was to tell them that Wynne had found their son and was delivering him personally to Tilmory Castle, where he would await their return. He could only imagine how they must have received the message.
Only a moment later, the library door opened, and Mrs. Barton barreled into the room, with Graham on her heels.
She overlooked Wynne’s greeting, her eyes immediately finding her son sitting quietly at the desk near the door.
“I’ve never been faced with such appalling negligence and ill-treatment. If my son were not waiting for us here, we would have taken the Abbey down, stone by stone. And we may do that yet.” She went closer to Barton. “He looks pale as death. What kind of ordeal did you put him through? Why couldn’t you bring him back to the Abbey?”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Barton’s uncle. “Put him in the carriage. I want him taken directly to Aberdeen.”
“It’s far too late in the day,” Graham told her. “Tomorrow is time enough.”
Mrs. Barton glanced impatiently out the window at the late afternoon light, and then waved a hand imperiously in the air. “Call in the servants. Have him put to bed. Tomorrow at first light, Graham, you’ll take him.” She whirled toward Wynne. “We have nothing more to do with you, Captain. Our business is finished. Pray convey our dissatisfaction to Dr. McKendry regarding the management of what you claim to be an asylum. You’ll receive no favorable recommendation from us, I assure you. Now get out.”
When no one moved, she turned to Graham, who was staring across the room.
“Lady Josephine,” he said with a curt bow. “We were told you’d already gone north.”
Mrs. Barton swung around, her expression furious as Jo moved away from a bookcase.
“I did go north,” she said calmly, holding a volume to her chest. “But only to Garloch.”
“You!” the older woman breathed with a tone of accusation.
This was the way Jo wanted it, to stay in the shadows until these two were secure in their own lair.
“After all these years, I was glad to know where my mother was born and baptized. I had to see it with my own eyes. Captain Melfort was kind enough to help me find what I was looking for,” Jo said, nodding with gratitude in Wynne’s direction. “He’s been instrumental in going through the records at the rectory in Garloch and at the offices of the bishop in Aberdeen. Thank heaven we are such dedicated record keepers in our modern age. One cannot rely on rumor alone.”
Silence deadened the room. And then Graham closed the door as she continued.
“In Garloch I visited with some old friends of my mother’s, and I had the opportunity of speaking with her cousin Ezekiel Sellar. He sends his best wishes to you, sir. He was heartily sorry he hasn’t seen you since you sold Josephine Sellar’s property to him.”
There’d been a time when Jo would not stand up to her enemies or even allow anyone else to fight her battles. That time was long gone, Wynne thought proudly. A different woman stood in this room now.
“And we stopped at the grave. But we all know she’s not the one buried there.”
She was ignoring Mrs. Barton’s expression of scoffing disdain, but kept her gaze on Graham. And when she spoke again, her abhorrence spilled out with every word.
“Howcould you do that to her? She was your ward. The daughter of your own sister. She was your own blood. How could you not protect her, cherish her?”
“I—” Graham didn’t have a chance to say another word.
“Get out!” Mrs. Barton exploded. “Get out of this house now. This very moment.”
“Calm yourself,” Wynne ordered. “If you would allow Graham and Lady Josephine—”
“No. I’ll allow nothing of the kind.” She glared wildly at Jo and pointed at the door. “You’re no one. Do you hear? No one. No connection. Josephine Sellar drowned in a flood. She’s gone. There was no child. You’re an intruder in our lives. Remove her from our home, Graham.”
“Yourhome?” Jo asked sharply, looking from the irate woman back at Graham. “Look behind you. He is still here. Charles is alive. This ishishome.”
Neither moved. Their attention was on Jo’s flushed face.
“Or will you do the same thing to Charles that you did to my mother? Why not? You can save yourself the expense of sending him to his death in Aberdeen. Why not simply dig a grave here and fill it with the body of any poor soul?”
“You’re a devil,” Mrs. Barton fumed, her eyes spitting fire. “To say such a thing to a mother.”
Jo ignored her, keeping her attention on Graham. “Isn’t that what you did in Garloch? Isn’t it true that you identified the first available corpse as your ward, Josephine Sellar?”
