It Happened in the Highlands(25)

The wild shouts from the nearest man stunned her.

"Jo . . . Jo . . . save Jo." Charles Barton yelled, waving his arms in  desperation. Right behind him, Hamish was up to his waist and shouting  to the attendants to fetch blankets and help.

"Save Jo," Barton cried out, driving through the water to reach her.

He'd seen her. He was calling her name.

"I'm right here," she said, pushing hair and grass out of her face and  taking the man's hand. "Nothing has happened. I am with you. Right here  with you."

Hamish grabbed the older man from behind and tried to steer him toward other attendants rushing over to help.

Barton fought him and cried out in an anguished voice. "No . . . Jo! Garloch!"

She waded after him, not wanting to let him go. It broke her heart to see him so upset.

Hamish and an attendant dragged Charles toward a more gradual bank to  help him out of the water. All the while, the older man continued to cry  out and she struggled to get to him. Jo was about to climb out of the  pond herself when Wynne was there, splashing into the water and wrapping  a blanket around her shoulders.

In the distance, Jo could still hear Charles Barton shouting the same words over and over.

"Garloch! Garloch!"

* * *

"Captain Melfort is pacing the hall like a bear, m'lady," Anna said, not  even trying to hide her delight as she hurriedly braided Jo's wet hair.  "The man may take the door down if we don't hurry. And the doctor is  out there too, arguing that he should see you first, him being the  medical man and all."

They'd both have to wait, Jo thought. She was perfectly fine. A quick  dip in a fish pond in the month of May was no worse than swimming in the  chilly waters of the River Tweed, and she'd been doing that since she  was a child. She was made of hardier stock than these two gave her  credit for.                       
       
           



       

Dried and dressed and again presentable, she stepped out of her room a  few minutes later and found the two men still patrolling the corridor.  Dr. McKendry was the first to reach her.

"You look terribly pale, m'lady. This has been a shock. You should  undoubtedly be in bed. The last thing we want is this turning into brain  fever. Allow me to-"

"Brain fever? Now I am certain that Edinburgh medical college taught you  nothing about treating humans," Wynne barked, shouldering him out of  the way. "You can leave Lady Jo in my hands. She looks perfectly well.  But I believe one of those shaggy red cows wandering about may need  you."

"Being governor of the hospital hardly makes you a medical expert."

"And what kind of expertise allows you to jump from a dunking in a fish  pond to brain fever? Have you even spoken with the patient to ask how  she is?"

"There it is," Dermot crowed. "You admit she's a patient. In which case Lady Josephine is under my care."

The door behind her opened and Anna appeared with her arms full of Jo's  wet clothing. Seeing the gathering in the hallway, she quickly changed  her mind and disappeared inside again.

"If I may, gentlemen," Jo said, using the momentary pause in the men's  bickering to interject. "I'm in perfect health, Doctor, and I assure you  there is no need for medical treatment. But far more important, I'm  worried about Mr. Barton. How is he?"

Wynne stood next to Jo and glared at Dermot, as if demanding an answer on her behalf.

"Other than his frenzied concern for you, he appears to have weathered  the incident fairly well. Hamish brought him back to the ward and stayed  with him until he became calmer. As I was coming up here, one of the  attendants was helping Barton into dry clothing."

The door behind her opened a little, and her maid peeked out. Before Jo  could tell her that it was safe to go by, she popped her head back in  and closed the door again.

"Is there a more suitable place where we can speak?" she asked.

The change in Charles Barton's sketch this morning. The way he'd jumped  into the pond when he'd thought she was drowning. And the word he'd been  shouting. She had a number of questions for the doctor, but this was  not the place to pose them.

"Of course." Dermot motioned down the hall. "We can go to my office."

Wynne's muttering indicated that he didn't think of it as a good idea,  but he stayed close as they followed the doctor. Arriving at the  doorway, Jo watched the young man scurry around the office, trying to  clear some space on the floor for her to walk. The place looked as if a  tempest had recently blown through. Finding a chair free of parcels and  books and stacks of paper would be an entirely separate matter.

Wynne's voice over her shoulder was a curious mix of derision and triumph. "Never mind this scene of chaos. Come with me."

When he took her hand, Jo allowed him to lead her down the hall, assuming the doctor would follow.

Wynne's office was the epitome of neatness and order. She couldn't help  but smile at the contrast. Everything had a defined place in his work  area. The desk and chairs and bookshelves appeared to be exactly where  they were meant to be. A terrestrial globe stood in a corner with a  framed map of the world on the wall above it. Over his desk, a colorful  print depicted the Battle of Trafalgar being waged, and it was clear the  French were being badly beaten.

Jo was impressed but not surprised. She knew Wynne well enough to see  the orderliness of this room reflected his personality. He liked  planning. He enjoyed order. Satisfaction came only when the pieces of a  puzzle lined up and met his expectations. Even as a young man, he was  put off by unforeseen events. She recalled him telling her that the key  to a well-ordered ship depended on discipline and training. The sea was  often unpredictable, which made it the duty of a commanding officer to  control what he could by keeping his men and his equipment in top form.

Jo thought of his relationship with Cuffe. His son was already teaching  him a few lessons about the unpredictability of a growing child, and the  importance of flexibility.

Wynne offered her a seat near the desk, but she glanced back at the hallway.                       
       
           



       

"What happened to the doctor?" she asked. "Wasn't he going to join us here?"

"He's probably already forgotten we were there. I imagine right now he's  standing in his office, one book tucked under his arm as he reads  through another book he picked up from the floor." He sent a pained look  at the doorway. "And when he's finished with whatever passage caught  his eye, he'll see his logbook or ledger lying in a corner beneath a  ream of paper and recall that he intended to look up a journal article  having to do with melancholia or phrenology or some such thing. And  then, of course, he could just possibly find a parcel of letters he'd  intended to ask me to answer a month or so ago. The man is incapable of  keeping order."

Jo's mind flashed to her youngest sister, Millie, and her obsession with  creating order. Dr. McKendry would provide a worthwhile challenge for  her talents.

Wynne paused as Jo sat in the proffered chair.

"Pray don't let on that I told you this, but in spite of my badgering  and complaining, I know the man is as fine a doctor as you'll find  anywhere. Many a sailor owes McKendry his life."

"You don't think he'll join us?" Jo asked.

"I was only half jesting. He'll be down here shortly, I assure you."

They were odd friends, she thought, but they definitely complemented each other's strengths.

"How did your trip to the village with Cuffe go this morning?" she asked.

The crease in his brow disappeared as Wynne settled into a chair.  Satisfaction registered on his face. Jo already knew that look meant he  was pleased with his son.

"The vicar told Cuffe recently of an old widow who lives on the  outskirts of the village. He had a mind to purchase a few things to take  over to her." His blue eyes met hers across the room. "He's a good  lad."

In her mind she saw the father and son sitting together by the pond at  Knockburn Hall. She'd known it then and she knew it now. With Wynne's  commitment, their relationship would flourish.

The momentary silence in the room was broken by Dr. McKendry charging  in, carrying a parcel that he tossed on Wynne's desk. He drew a chair  close to Jo and threw himself into it.

"I'm quite relieved to find you here, m'lady," he said with a note of  apology that didn't match the mischievous glint in his eye. "I was  fearful this villain may have absconded with you."

"You can call off the search party, McKendry," Wynne responded. "The  only danger she faced was from some feral creature living in that  wilderness you call an office."