Page 70 of It Happened in the Highlands
“For myself,” Graham continued with a glance at the others, “I fear for my everlasting soul.”
Jo was stunned by the change in the man in such a short time. Since their first meeting a fortnight ago, his straight back was bent with age, and he favored one leg when he walked. The lines on his face were deeper. His eyes had lost their fire.
“For years you stayed away from Tilmory Castle, from your mother and me,” Graham said in a hushed tone. “I know you thought we drove Josephine away. And you were right. Your mother bullied and threatened her until she ran, but I’m as responsible for it. I stood by in silence, tending to my work overseeing the farms, even though I knew what the lass was suffering. I did nothing to stop it. I didn’t raise a finger to help her until it was too late.”
Charles would not look at Graham, and he said nothing.
“M’lady, your introduction to this family, to your own family has been . . .” The older man faltered and moved restlessly in his chair, searching for the right word to say to Jo. “Ghastly. But before I say another thing, I need to tell you how sorry I am for treating you as I did the day we met at the Abbey, and for wrongly holding my tongue since then.”
“What I have to forgive is nothing compared to what you did to my mother and my father. It was their futures that you destroyed.”
“I know,” he said grimly. “I know.”
More than apologies, she wanted answers. “Two brothers and a sister. My father has conveyed to me some of our family history. What he can recall.”
Perhaps it was the day Charles jumped into the pond hoping to save her. Or earlier, when Stevenson was released from his night restraints and dealt her father a blow as he slept. Perhaps it was the accumulation of many things, or even just the passage of time. There was no way to know, but a fog had cleared in her father’s mind and he was undoubtedly improving. And wanting to spend time with Jo, talking of the past, was his favorite pastime these days.
“You were the youngest,” she continued. “You’ve remained a bachelor your entire life, serving the family at Tilmory Castle. And I know that Mary, my grandmother, was the middle child. She was married and lived on a farm in Garloch, where she gave birth to Josephine.”
One day, she’d like to see that place. Ezekiel Sellar had invited them when they met, but there wasn’t time then.
“What I can’t understand is why Mrs. Barton hated my mother so,” she told him. “It can’t simply be she was jealous of the attention of other men in her family.”
The older man stared into the air for a long moment. Jo’s father had hinted to her that Graham never married because he’d always loved Leana Barton.
“It was . . .” Graham finally broke the silence. “You have to understand it was her need to be the center of things, to control everyone. That’s what drove her always. She was raised in the fashionable society of Edinburgh. She always threw it in Ainsley’s face that she married down in marrying a Highlander.”
How much pain in the world was caused by the religious belief in the superiority of the rich with its oblivious ignorance, its warped and misplaced values, and its tawdry fashions.
“Arriving here at Tilmory Castle, she saw all of us as a challenge. Her intention from the very first was to elevate the Bartons to a place that was deserving of her. And that’s where she immediately ran into trouble with Mary. She was set on marrying Sellar. He was a gentleman, but still a farmer. Leana had other plans. She saw our sister being sent off to Edinburgh and introduced into finer society. But Mary got what she wanted and married for love in the end.”
Jo had learned from her father that the first time he met Josephine was when she came to live at Tilmory Castle after her parents died. This explained the families’ estrangement.
“Ainsley and I thought the bad blood died with the passing of Josephine’s parents,” Graham told her. “But we soon learned different when your mother arrived here at Tilmory Castle. She had the temperament of an angel. Cheerful and kind. It was impossible not to love her. But of course, Leana saw nothing but our sister, Mary, in her, and she was after her from the very first day.”
Thirteen, a difficult age. Not a child and not completely a woman. Jo now knew that her mother lost both parents and came under this roof when she was thirteen years old. A year later, she lost Ainsley, her uncle and guardian.
Graham’s attention shifted back to Charles. “I knew about you two. I saw how your feelings for each other grew more with time. I lived in dread of the day your mother saw it too. For I knew Josephine would be facing so much more trouble.”
Charles started saying something but, overwhelmed with emotion, he couldn’t utter the words. Instead, he scribbled them on a sheet of paper.
“We married on her sixteenth birthday in Garloch,” Wynne read as he sat by Jo’s father.
He wrote more and passed it on again.
“I was to retire from the service. Return to Scotland,” Wynne read again.
Jo knew this already. Her father’s plan was to leave the navy. They wanted to settle as soon as her mother was old enough to control her own inheritance.
“War,” Charles said, his eyes pooling.
He’d also told her that they were planning to leave Tilmory Castle and live on the farm her parents had left to her. They wanted to raise a family in peace.
“You were off fighting the rebels in America when your mother found out that Josephine was with child,” Graham said. “Of course, the lass proudly told her the two of you were married, that it was your bairn she was carrying. But you knew all along that Leana had other plans for who you’d be marrying.”
“Her . . .plans,” Charles hissed. “Not mine.”
He wrote ferociously on the paper and handed it to Wynne.
