It Happened in the Highlands(26)

Ignoring his friend, Dermot focused solely on her. "Are you certain you're feeling well enough to be up and about?"

"I assure you, I am," Jo told him.

"What's this?" Wynne demanded, holding up the parcel.

"Inexplicably," the doctor replied, "it was somehow misplaced in my  office. I'm not certain when it arrived, but it's addressed to you."

Wynne sent Jo a conspiratorial look and inspected the packet before  putting it aside. "Yes. Golf balls I had sent from St. Andrews as a gift  for the Squire . . . about six months ago."

"But I am happy to see you're not any worse for your adventure this morning," Dermot said to her.

Coming out of the fish pond, Jo had been too agitated about Charles  Barton's welfare to be concerned about herself. Wynne had been there to  support her, immediately ordering the others to see that the patient was  taken to the ward and that Dr. McKendry was informed. As he escorted Jo  back to the house, he'd murmured words of assurance and stayed with her  until Anna had taken over.

"About that adventure," Wynne said, drawing his friend's attention, "Fyffe's actions-"

"Were completely unintentional," Jo broke in. "It was an accident and  largely my own fault. I was standing too close to the edge and paying no  attention."

"Fyffe is exuberant, but harmless," the doctor acknowledged. "That's why  we don't assign an attendant specifically to watch him. However,  considering today's events, we'll need to be more watchful."                       
       
           



       

"Of course, you must do what you think best, but he was hardly a  threat," Jo asserted, conveying exactly what happened and then going on  to tell them about the sketch she'd been holding when she fell into the  pond.

The doctor was particularly interested in her observation about the change in Charles Barton.

"No doubt, Mr. Barton is now accustomed to your company. And enough  people have been addressing you as Lady Josephine or Lady Jo in his  presence. It's possible your name has registered with him," Dermot  mused. "But the shift of sketching you instead of what he holds in his  memory is very exciting. More and more, the curtain separating the  remembered from the real appears to be falling away."

"But what is Garloch?" she asked, thinking of the words he shouted. "Barton kept saying ‘Garloch.'"

"Garloch?" Wynne repeated, looking at the doctor. "Isn't that the name of a village north of here?"

Dermot nodded. "Yes, about three hours by carriage if the weather is  good. The place isn't even half the size of Rayneford. Most of the farms  have given over to raising sheep, I believe. Haven't been there since I  was a lad. A fine river runs through it that my uncles used to fish in  before they were seized with their golfing fever. Beyond that, I don't  know much about the place. I can ask the vicar or the Squire; they may  know more."

"But why would Mr. Barton shout the name?"

The doctor shrugged. "Difficult to say. Garloch is quite a way from Tilmory Castle."

"You say it's about three hours north of here?"

"Indeed," Dermot answered. "Are you thinking of going there?"

Jo decided it was time to tell them of her decision to leave. "Since you  say this village is in the direction I'm traveling, I'll make a stop  there on Saturday while I resume my journey to Torrishbrae."

The doctor's protest was immediate and pronounced, but Wynne's darkening  expression was what Jo fixed on. He held her gaze. She imagined the  questions running through his mind. He abruptly stood and went to the  window.

"But you can't leave right now," Dermot exclaimed. "We need you here. Mr. Barton's progress clearly depends on your presence."

The doctor continued to protest. Watching Wynne's profile, she saw the clench of his jaw.

"My family expects me in Sutherland," she said in a reasonable tone, her  words directed at Wynne. "And I believe I've accomplished all I can  here."

"Hardly. We have finally broken through his silence. And another week's  delay in your departure could make substantial difference in Mr.  Barton's condition." Dermot turned to the captain as if he was noticing  his silence for the first time. "Talk to her, Melfort. Talk reason.  You're good at that sort of thing. Don't you want Lady Josephine to  stay?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. His penetrating blue eyes revealed his wishes before the words left his lips. "I do."

"There you have it," the doctor announced as if that were all she was waiting for.

Jo shook her head, still thinking it was wiser to put some distance between them. They were moving too fast.

Wynne turned from the window and joined the conversation. "That village  is not on your way. You'll still need to travel toward the coast to go  north to Sutherland. But if you stay, I'll go with you to Garloch and  return here. This will give you the opportunity to investigate and see  what connection exists between Barton and the village."

Wynne's offer to take her had its merits. An unknown Englishwoman  stopping at an out of the way village in the Highlands made less sense  than having him traveling with her, considering his connection to the  Abbey and the McKendrys.

"But what shall we do once we get there?" she asked him. "We don't even  know if there's a tavern or an inn where we can ask about Mr. Barton."

"Most every village in the Highlands has a church." Wynne looked at  Dermot, who nodded confirmation. "That will give us a place to start. We  can ask the vicar what he knows. Perhaps even get a letter of  introduction from him."                       
       
           



       

"I hate to think of you leaving your duties here," she persisted, her  pulse rising at the thought of being alone with him for a full day.

"She's quite right," Dermot agreed. "I'll take care of this. I can have  my uncle write a letter and I can escort Lady Josephine to Garloch."

Jo thought the captain's response most interesting, for he first sent  her a questioning look, as if seeking her approval, and she nodded.

"My dear McKendry. Over dinner recently, I heard you eloquently affirm  your commitment to this hospital. About your devotion to the patients  who need your care and attention. Lady Josephine would never allow you  to sacrifice your valuable time." Wynne turned his attention back to Jo.  "I happen to be at my leisure on Saturday, m'lady. We can leave at dawn  and plan on returning before dark, if that suits you."

Jo accepted the offer, somewhat astonished at how easily she'd been  persuaded to extend her stay once again. She'd need to send off another  set of letters to her family, inform them of her plans, and try to avoid  any reference to Captain Melfort.





Chapter 14


On Friday night, Wynne stopped in Cuffe's room to ask if he'd care to accompany them on their excursion in the morning.

"What does she hope to find in Garloch?"

Cuffe's astuteness constantly surprised him. In fact, the more time  Wynne spent with him, the more he saw how far advanced the lad was for  his ten years.

"She's hoping to find out who she is. It's possible someone in that  village can explain the linkage between her mother and Mr. Barton."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because she still needs to know where she came from. It matters greatly  to her, even though she was raised in a family that loves her deeply."  Wynne recalled his son's fear of forgetting his grandmother. "You and I  know where we came from and who our parents are. That knowledge anchors  us in some way. It gives us a bond with a certain place and certain  people. Lady Jo would be greatly heartened to have a portion of what you  and I have."

"She's a good person," Cuffe said. "I see how upset she gets sometimes  when she is sitting with Mr. Barton and he doesn't respond. She's always  trying, always asking questions. But he's in a world of his own."

He sat cross-legged on his bed, studying Wynne in silence. In recent  days, the difficulties of others had been injecting themselves into the  lad's life. He'd begun to help McDonnell with his letters, reading them  to the blacksmith at first. But he was now answering the mother on the  man's behalf, and that was no easy task. In addition, the vicar told  Wynne that his son had been asking about others who were in need in and  around the village. He seemed particularly keen on helping old women,  and young mothers who didn't have enough food to feed their families.

"Just the two of you should go to Garloch, Captain," Cuffe said finally.  "And maybe while you're there, you can convince her to stay at the  Abbey. I think that'd be good for her and for you. For all of us."