Chapter Twenty
Her eyes flashed wide. “But...how...how did you know,” she stammered.
“The likeness ye bear to yer father is uncanny.” Still keeping her face upturned, he gently tapped under her eye.
“One blue.” Then he tapped under the other.
“One brown, plus yer hair, yer features. Ye’re Laird Malcom Fergusson’s daughter.
If I were allowed to, I would bet my life on it.
” He cupped her cheek, his gaze intent. “I believe I may have some of the answers yer heart seeks. And my guess, my hope, is that ye might have some answers for me.”
“Wait a moment,” Ian burst out, coming to stand in front of them. “Before either of ye continue, I believe I am the one most in need of answers.”
An uncertain smile curved Jo’s lips. She stood up and pressed her hands to his chest. “Just remember to keep breathing. All right?” she said softly.
Ian nodded and she took a deep breath. “I may not have been entirely honest with ye about who I am,” she began, speaking for the first time in nearly two years using her Scottish brogue. “My name is Lady Josselyn Fergusson. ‘Tis nice to meet ye, Ian MacVie.”
Ian blew out a long breath and closed his eyes.
She gripped his tunic. “Are ye all right? Are ye mad? Please, look at me!”
Ian opened his eyes. “I’m not mad. I’m...well, I don’t ken what I am.” He turned her hand over and grazed his thumb across her palm. “That explains yer smooth skin and noble carriage. I was beginning to blame the latter on sheer stubbornness.”
The abbot drew closer and motioned to the chairs. “I think ‘tis probably best if ye sit down, Ian. In fact, let us all sit together, for there is much to discuss.”
After they had each taken a seat, Jo began by recounting the day she’d fled Toonan with her mother, leaving her father behind.
“And yer mother never told ye why ye left?” the abbot asked.
“Nay, she only said that we weren’t safe at Toonan.
Later, she told me that father was dead, and that his murderers were hunting for us.
There’s little more to tell. We made a life in Durham.
Mum’s illness worsened. She died. In my grief, I went to the Cathedral to pray where I met the bishop. And here I am.”
“Now, I understand,” Ian said to her surprise.
“Good,” Jo said dryly. “Because I understand nothing.”
“The bishop recognized ye as Laird Fergusson’s daughter. He sent ye here counting on the abbot drawing the same conclusion.”
The abbot nodded. “Their likeness in undeniable. In fact, I wonder, Ian, why ye did not see it?”
“Of course I knew Laird Fergusson by reputation, but I never actually met him.”
Jo took a deep breath before she asked Ian, “Are ye angry at me for lying to ye?”
He reached out and brought her hand to his lips. “Nay, of course not, ye were only protecting yerself, but there’s still something that I’m confused about.”
“Go on,” the abbot urged.
“I ken why the bishop wanted Jo to come here, knowing that ye’d recognize her and provide her with a safe haven. But why would he encourage her to travel here on her own, taking such a risk, if only to secure her safety. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“The bishop had another motive. He carried a hope in his heart, one that I share. Ye see, my lady, yer father was entrusted with the task of concealing a vast treasure, some of which was stolen by Ian’s brothers.
” The abbot smiled. “Yer lives are more connected than either of ye may realize, and judging by yer familiarity with each other,” he said, looking pointedly at Ian’s hand resting on Jo’s thigh.
“Ye’re more connected than I, at first, realized. ”
Jo blushed.
“But no matter,” the abbot said quickly.
“We will come back to that. Now, as I was saying, a few years ago, Ian’s brothers broke into Westminster Abbey and stole the King’s very own treasure, which had been stored in the Chapter House, jewels, foreign coin, solid gold platters—items of immeasurable wealth but also distinctly royal.
This meant that the items could not be easily traded or sold at market.
Only the bishop had the necessary connections to turn the wealth into usable coin, with which we funded Scotland’s army.
Only, he had to be careful not to move too much at once.
“And so, he divided the wealth in half and mixed each portion with other riches stolen by Scotland’s agents like yerself, Ian, and Ramsay, Nick, David and all the others.
One half, he slowly worked through; meanwhile the other half he gave to yer father, my lady, to conceal until the bishop was ready for it.
Now, ‘tis important to note that only the bishop and I knew that Laird Fergusson had been given the treasure, but neither of us knew where he’d hidden it...
and we still don’t. But, somehow, word had spread that he was the treasure’s keeper, and an army led by Baron Wharncliffe and Clan Fergusson’s neighbor, Laird Stewart, marched on Toonan to take it back. ”
Jo’s eyes flashed wide. “Then, that is why Father sent us away, because they were going to lay siege to Toonan.”
“I do not doubt that yer father sent ye and yer mother away, in part, to ensure yer safety.”
“What other reason might he have had,” Ian asked.
“When we questioned Toonan’s steward, he told us that yer father had already decided to surrender himself to avoid any bloodshed, but still insisted his wife and daughter be safeguarded away, despite Lady Clara’s questionable health.”
“Wait,” Jo exclaimed, hope swelling within her heart. “Thane is alive!”
The abbot smiled. “He is, indeed, although he suffered injury at the hands of the Stewart’s warriors, he survived and was eventually released by the baron when it was clear he did not have the information the English lord sought.”
“What about Captain William and Ruby and Cook and—”
The abbot reached over and patted Jo’s hand. “No one was hurt. Yer father ordered the gates to be opened and surrendered himself straightaway.”
Her chest tightened. “Then my father is dead.”
The abbot nodded softly.
Ian’s fist came down hard on the arm of his chair. “Was Clan Stewart brought to task?”
“When we questioned Laird Stewart, he said he had been coerced by the baron, who had threatened to march on Stewart Castle with the full might of King Edward’s army, if they did not back the baron’s men.”
Ian snorted. “So he claims.”
“Indeed,” the abbot answered dryly. “His loyalties change with the wind.”
“Did...did my father...did he...” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question plaguing her heart.
“Ye want to know if yer father revealed the treasure’s location,” the abbot said knowingly.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Nay, lass. Our sources tell us that bands of English soldiers are still out there, searching Scotland for both the treasure and for ye.”
She pressed her hand to her chest. “Me? But why?”
“Because there are some who believe yer father told ye and Lady Clara where it was hidden before ye fled so, that the secret did not die with him.”
“And this hope is one ye and the bishop share,” Ian said knowingly.
The abbot nodded, looking expectantly at Jo.
“I’m sorry to disappoint ye,” Jo began, “I never knew about the treasure, and if my father had confided the secret to my mother, it died with her.”
“Did ye and Lady Clara ever try to return to Toonan?” the abbot asked.
“Never, my mother told me it wasn’t safe. In fact, even on her death bed, she made me promise again never to return on my own.”
The abbot gave Jo a curious look.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Knowing Malcom as well as I did, he may have told ye without being explicit. What I mean to say is that he may have told ye without ye even realizing what he was saying.”
“Like a clue?” she asked.
The abbot nodded. “Mayhap, when he said goodbye, he revealed something.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. That day is a blur in my mind, but I remember his last words as though etched on my heart. They were words of love.”
A sad smile curved the abbot’s lips. “As well they should have been, for yer father loved ye and yer mother so very deeply.” He sat straighter, his voice brightening. “And ye’re alive and now ye’re safe, which is of the greatest importance.”
“Then the treasure is lost?” she asked.
The abbot lifted his shoulders. “It very well may be. Only God truly knows that answer. Now, tell me how yer paths crossed.”
Ian winked at her. “Shall I tell him, wife, or would ye prefer the honor?”
“Wife?” Abbot Matthew said, his eyes flashing wide.
“’Tis not what you think, Abbot,” Jo said, laughing. “Ian, tell him the truth.”
“Well, if ye remember, abbot, ye sent Ramsay and I to Durham to meet with Drummond. Well, he turned out to be Jo’s neighbor.”
“I see,” the abbot chimed in. “So then, Drummond introduced ye two?”
“Not exactly,” Ian began with a grimace. “When we were at Drummond’s, Ramsay and I had to make a break for it out Drummond’s second story window—”
“On to my roof,” Jo interjected. “There I was, abbot, working at my loom. I stood up and crossed the room for a drink, and an instant later, a giant blacksmith crashed through my roof and—”
“Flattened her loom with his arse,” Ian finished before turning to Jo. “I don’t mean to make light of it.”
She chuckled. “’Tis distant enough now that I can see the humor in it all.”
The abbot cleared his throat. “This is all very interesting, but when did ye get married?”
“We didn’t,” Jo replied. “Not really.”
Ian reached out and took her hand in his. “We encountered a band of exiles in the woods on our journey here. After robbing us, we were invited to a celebration of sorts. I naturally told them Jo was my wife to protect her virtue.”
The abbot raised his brow sternly. “And is her virtue still intact?”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, his face turning as crimson as his hair. “We may have gotten a wee bit carried away.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Jo looked down, unable to meet the abbot’s gaze.