Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (37 page)

Darcy yanked the letters out of his hand and opened them. There before her eyes was the lovely penmanship of Father Etienne. When she read the words
my little Pandora,
she gulped back tears. She had no idea that he had given her that name, and it broke her heart to read it. She read and reread the letters describing her life, as Jean Michel watched her. She shook her head and asked, "How can this be?"

She looked up into Jean Michel's eyes and saw the evidence she needed. There was the same look. “How could I have not known?" she blurted out. "So much makes sense now! Your brother being educated in
France
, your love of books, and both of you insisting on bathing!"

"He was the one to convince you to bathe regularly, wasn't he?" said Jean Michel.

She nodded her head. "That was so like him. He was on a personal mission to clean up
Europe
!"

Darcy couldn't take her eyes off Jean Michel. She studied him as if she had never seen him before. There was little physical resemblance, but he had the same dignity and sense of humor.

"We don't look alike, do we?" he said.

"Not really. You are younger for one thing."

"Yes, he is eight years my senior."

"If only I had known from the start who you were. It all could have been different."

"Didn't the name Lupe' give you a clue?"

"I never knew your brother's surname. To me he was always Father Etienne."

This connection with home was the best news Darcy had received since her arrival in the Colonies. She hadn't realized how homesick she had been. She shook her head and said, "Looking at you, Jean Michel is like having him alive again."

The smile dropped from his face. "What did you say?"

Darcy did not move.

"What did you say?" said Jean Michel again, and he grabbed Darcy and shook her. "Tell me!"

Darcy's eyes grew wide with horror, and she swallowed hard saying, "You--you didn’t know? Your brother slipped and fell on the cliffs of Kerry over a year ago. I thought you knew."

Jean Michel blinked then stood up abruptly, looking out over the river. Darcy was horrified. What had been a celebration a moment ago now turned to agony. They stood in silence for a long time. Darcy expected to see tears in Jean Michel's eyes, but his face was hard and cold. He reached down for his pack and mumbled, "We must move on now."

They resumed their journey following the
Kensington
River
northward. Silently he walked in front of her, inviting no conversation and asking no questions.

Mid afternoon they stopped on the shore to rest. When Darcy reached out to touch him he jerked away and barked, "Don't!"

Gone was the engaging companion from last night and left in his place was a cold shadow. Darcy wound her long, dark tresses back up into a knot and pinned them tightly. The intimacy had vanished between them.

As the day wore on Darcy became angry. It all seemed like a terrible twist of fate. She believed that Jean Michel blamed her for the death.
After all, if Father Etienne had not come to
Ireland
to help her and her people, he might still be alive
.

   
By late afternoon the warm sunshine gave way to dark thunderclouds, and rain. Drenched and tired, they followed the
Kensington
River
northward until evening. When the rain continued, Jean Michel chose a cave in which to spend the night.

  
The cavern was high above the river, and it was difficult traversing the slippery rocks with their packs. When they reached cave the Darcy felt short of breath and her heart started to pound. The palms of her hands began to perspire, and a sense of panic washed over her. She bolted to the mouth of the cave to gasp for air.
I must not allow him to see that something is wrong. He does not need to be comforting me tonight
. She squared her shoulders and built a fire near the opening.

  
She walked over to the pile of firewood to gather some kindling, but when she straightened up Jean Michel was gone. Instead two boys squatted near the fire. She rubbed her eyes and stared.
Who were these boys
?

She walked around the fire to see their faces, and her mouth dropped open in horror. Sitting on the floor of the cave, warming themselves by the fire were Liam and Bran. They were no more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Their bodies were thin and emaciated, and they were bald. They were oblivious to Darcy, and when she opened her mouth to speak, she was mute. The boys were busy cracking shells with bony shaky hands putting slimy bits of seafood into their mouths. Darcy noticed green stains on their fingers and lips from the kelp.

  
They were dirty, and their clothing hung on them like scarecrows. Overwhelmed by her memories and by her grief, she reached out to touch Liam. He crumbled instantly into a pile of rags. The bile rose in her throat, and she rushed to the mouth of the cave to retch. She stood up, pushed the hair from her face and looked back into the cave. Jean Michel stood in the firelight looking at her. "You're ill?"

  
Darcy wiped her mouth and straightened her gown. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath, and reentered the cave. He offered her some food, but she refused.

Realizing that her dress was wet and filthy, she stepped to the back of the cave to change clothes. It was a difficult task pulling the sodden material over her head, and as she stood in her white shift gathering up her wet gown, she heard someone call her name. Thinking it was Jean Michel, she looked out to the fire, but he was gone again. In his place was a little girl. The child walked over to the mouth of the cave and looked over the ledge expectantly as if someone had just called her name. When she turned around, Darcy recognized herself as a child.

She too was dressed in rags and what little hair she had was dirty and matted to the scalp. Her eyes seemed too large for her body, and her skin hung in loose folds over her small skeleton.

Darcy closed her eyes, trying to shut out the image. She thought that she had locked these memories away forever. Hot tears rolled down her face, as she choked back sobs. Years of anguish surfaced, and she stood alone at the back of the cave drowning in despair.

Suddenly, she felt someone hug her and stroke her hair. Jean Michel whispered, "I have been very selfish. I was so absorbed in my own pain that I didn't realize the agony you must be going through being in a cave again. I'm very sorry. I'm very sorry.”

The warmth of his embrace, and the kind words calmed her fears. At long last she had been able to cry, and some of the horror of the famine could now be left behind. Darcy stepped away from him, wiping her eyes. "How could I ask you for help, Jean Michel? You had your own grief to bear."

He led her to the ledge, and the cool breeze following the storm helped revive her. "You have many ghosts haunting you," said Jean Michel. "I see you drift off and go places I will never understand. Who visited you tonight?"

Darcy took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. "I saw my brother and Bran during The Hunger, and I saw myself. It was nothing more than my foolish imagination."

Darcy took a deep breath and said. "Please forgive me for the death of your brother."

Jean Michel frowned and he said, "What?"

"It's my fault that he is dead. If we hadn't been on the coast that foggy night he would still be alive."

He put his hands up. "Wait a minute. Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"After telling the British of our smuggling ring, Bran needed to clear his conscience, so he went to your brother to confess his treachery. Realizing that we would all be killed if he didn't warn us, Father Etienne set out that night in the dense fog. He lost his footing and fell to his death off the cliffs of Kerry trying to save our lives."

Jean Michel sighed. "There is nothing to forgive, Darcy. He died doing his life's work, and you are testimony that it did not go in vain."

She looked down and said, “Thank you.” Then she loosened the clasp of her necklace and placed the cross and charm into the palm of his hand.

"I want you to have this. The cross was given to me by my mother. It saw me safely through the famine. The charm of hope belonged to your brother, and it has seen me to you."

Jean Michel searched Darcy's eyes. He knew with this gesture she admitted there was a bond between them. As his fingers closed around the necklace he murmured, "You have forever changed the lives of the Lupe' men, Darcy McBride.”

*
    
*
    
*

The following morning they arrived at the abandoned settlement for the survey. It consisted of a trading post and the remains of five log cabins all in decay, most with roofs open to the sky. Nature was reclaiming the site, and every structure was covered with vines and moss.

Darcy thought the cabins looked lush and cool, and her romantic imagination had her speculating about what human dramas might have unfolded here. When she asked Jean Michel about the settlement, he told her that he had been here as a boy. At that time the settlement had shown promise, but two severe winters, and an outbreak of smallpox had driven the residents back to
Acadia
. "The settlers were French. I was here with my father. He was trying to buy the trading post."

He shrugged and said with a sly smile, "I paid little attention. I was more interested in the little girl with the big, brown eyes. It was over there by that oak tree where I received my first kiss.” He smirked and said, “She was completely taken with me."

"Arrogant!" said Darcy rolling her eyes.

She was pleased to see that Jean Michel was in better spirits today. She noticed that he was wearing her chain under his shirt.

"It may have been here that Etienne met Father Rale,” he said. “He was a Jesuit missionary in these parts. Some thought him fanatical, but he guided Etienne to his calling."

Jean Michel was lost in thought for a moment then said, "Come. We must get started."

He opened his pack and pulled out all kinds of technical-looking equipment for the survey. Darcy picked up a small brass instrument and examined it. It appeared to be a circle within a circle, and she carefully turned it over in her hands.

"What's this?"

"A ring dial, it's a timepiece similar to a sundial but very accurate."

Next he pulled out a mahogany box and opened it. Inside was another round brass object, with a glass face. Jean Michel told Darcy it was a vernier, also called a surveyor's compass. He showed her the tripod on which it rested, and after assembling a long pole, he handed it to her and said, "Here's a perch pole. Take that and those chains and follow me."

All day long he scribbled notes into a book about the land, the water and the vegetation, bending down to inspect rocks and trees as if he were looking for treasure. Occasionally he would have Darcy take notes for him or hold the perch pole. Earlier in the day, Jean Michel had set some snares for rabbits and when he needed her assistance no longer, she checked the traps. When she found them empty, she prepared another dried meat stew which by now was growing tedious.

Large white clouds sailed across the sky, and they were thankful the rain had passed. They sat on the grass and ate their meal outside one of the abandoned cabins.

Jean Michel said, "Tell me about my brother. He left home many years ago, and I imagine his appearance had changed."

Darcy put down her plate of food and sat back. "Well, he had some gray hair, but not much. He usually wore a long black cassock, but he never looked severe."

"Was he well-liked in Kilkerry?"

"Aye, he was worshiped. Your brother answered a need in each of us. He instinctively knew what spoke to our souls."

"You knew him well, didn't you?"

"I believe I was closer to him than anyone in Kilkerry," Darcy said, sighing. "We would talk for hours sitting on the cliffs or in the ruins of the abbey."

"Just as we did several nights ago," said Jean Michel.

"Oh no!" said Darcy. "It was more than that. Your brother was the only person on Earth who ever really knew me."

Jean Michel clenched his teeth and looked away. Darcy had shared the most intimate details of herself, the most private core of her being with his own brother. He had won the prize, years before him. He was furious with jealousy. He stood up abruptly and threw his plate of food into the fire.

Darcy watched in shock, as he walked up the hill to resume his work. She stood up to follow him. "Did I say something wrong?"

Jean Michel met her with cold silence. Why should he offer her any explanations? All she ever offered him was a locked door. From now on he would meet her in kind.

Darcy waited for an answer then picked up the perch pole. The remainder of the day they worked in strained silence. She could feel the fury emanating from him, and she knew that she should keep her distance. She went over their conversation, and all she could conclude was that Jean Michel resented her for sharing Etienne's final moments on earth. That evening as the silence continued, Darcy considered approaching him, but noticing the dark rings under his eyes and menacing attitude, she reconsidered.

Jean Michel went up river to bathe, in hopes that the water would cool his jealousy, but he returned still moody and sullen. He continued to brood throughout the evening, and when they finally laid out their bedrolls, he was so exhausted he fell into a deep sleep.

The sun woke them early, and Darcy hoped that she would be met with a better attitude, but when no eye contact was made over breakfast, she started to become frustrated. By afternoon the heat was oppressive. The air was thick, and Darcy's drenched gown clung heavily to her skin. She stood in the hot sun, holding chains and poles while Jean Michel took measurements and made calculations.

Even though her hair was pinned up off her skin, the perspiration rolled down her neck down and between her breasts, soaking her gown. Jean Michel fared no better, and as the afternoon warmed, so did his temper. At last the sun began to set, and he told Darcy that they would camp on the cliff top tonight to escape the heat and bugs.

She hated the thought of building a fire on such a hot night, but it was inevitable for cooking. As soon as supper was finished, she left the flames and the boiling temper of Jean Michel to look at the stars.

It was a relief to step into the cool darkness, as she walked over to the edge of the cliff to look out over the river valley in the moonlight.

The view took her breath away. Lighting the darkness were thousands of fireflies glowing and winking. They sailed across the night air magically animating the panorama. She heard Jean Michel step up behind her.

“Why did you try to seduce my brother?” he said.

Darcy’s jaw dropped, and she slapped him across the face with so much momentum, it knocked him back several steps. "How dare you make our friendship base!" she cried.

Before she could say anything else, he yanked her to his chest and jerked her chin up, "I know my brother too well. He took his vow of chastity seriously, and that was very convenient for you, wasn't it? He could satisfy your heart, but never take your body. Then along came Nathan Lawrence. He could win your body but never win your heart.
 
Jean Michel is here now. He will have both," and he kissed her.

All the jealousy and repressed desire he had been harboring bubbled to the surface, and he said hotly, "You had no right to share yourself with my brother. Understand this, Darcy McBride. You were mine then, and you are mine now."

Jean Michel kissed her again, running his lips over her neck and her hair. "I love you. From the moment I saw you, something moved in me. No woman has ever clouded my judgment and stolen my peace of mind so completely."

He had taken Darcy’s breath away. She felt the ache of desire pound within her, yet she said, pushing him away, "I don't want you in my life."

Jean Michel stepped back panting, perspiration soaking his shirt. "What is it? I know you desire me. I can feel it." He pulled her back to him and said, "Tell me why!"

Before Darcy could stop, she said, "Because I have been afraid to admit it to you—to myself.
 
I am in love with you."

Their eyes locked, and Jean Michel swallowed hard. Then scooping her into his arms, he carried her down the path into the valley. He smothered her face and neck with kisses running his lips down to where her gown met her breasts. He took her to a small lake bathed in moonlight and carried her fully clothed into the cool waters.

"I want to hear you say it," he demanded.

"I love you, Jean Michel. You are the
only
one I have ever loved.”

Chapter 28

Progress was slowed greatly on the survey because of the distracted lovers. Try as he might, Jean Michel could not concentrate. Darcy would brush past him or look at him a certain way, and he was upon her, pressing his body next to her, drowning in her scent, exploding with desire.

Jean Michel had known many women, but Darcy brought intensity to the act which he hadn't thought possible. He had guessed from the start, that the anger she bore from the years of repression made her blood boil, but he had no idea until now how deep her passion ran. He was beside himself with hunger for her, and he knew that she felt the same way. She had denied his advances for so long that now he felt himself losing control, taking her repeatedly throughout the day. Yet above all the single element which inflamed him the most was the fact that he was madly in love with her.

Never in his life had he felt a bond so great and a feeling so all-consuming. Jean Michel found himself losing sight of his boundaries, and it was no longer clear to him where Darcy left off and where he began. She could be completely out of his sight, and he could still feel her inside of him.

Darcy was equally as affected. For the first time in her life, she had someone to love--he did not own her, he did not feed his pride at her expense, and when he took her body, he touched her soul. The walls she had carefully erected, Jean Michel eroded, and Darcy felt her heart opening to him as if it were a gate to a fortress.

She told him things that she had told no one, and the more she unburdened herself, the more she loved him. At last she had found one person she could call her own, and he could banish her loneliness forever.

Darcy would watch Jean Michel and marvel at the soft glow in which he was bathed, and she knew that it had nothing to do with the light and everything to do with her feelings for him.

Never had she made love so intensely, and she sought his attentions continually. Darcy was well aware of the power she had over Jean Michel, and she actively seduced him away from his work and into her arms. She could at last put to rest her fears of being incapable of love.

In spite of being completely taken with Darcy, Jean Michel was not happy. He worried continually for her safety because of the French and Abenaki practice of ransoming prisoners. If they found out that Darcy was Colonel Lawrence's mistress, they would immediately take her hostage, and Jean Michel knew that in this regard his influence was limited. He did not share his anxiety with Darcy, feeling driven to finish the survey as soon as possible.

He elected to return by way of the coast, and even though it was a less direct route, it was safer. If their tracks had been discovered on the way up, there was a good chance there would be an ambush when they returned. He told Darcy he wanted to show her the coastline, and she did not question him further.

Darcy too was anxious on several counts. She could not forget that she had six years left of her indentured service and that tomorrow they would start their journey back to
Fort
Lawrence
. One night as they lay side by side staring at the stars, she pulled herself up on one elbow and said, "Jean Michel, I can bear it no longer. How can I ever return to Nathan Lawrence?"

"Don't you think that was my first thought? He shall never have you again, Darcy. The moment we return to the fort, I shall purchase your service and set you free."

"And are you indeed free yourself, Jean Michel?" she asked.

Jean Michel knew exactly what Darcy meant. He would have to return to his home and tell
Elizabeth
that he loved another, and the thought of hurting her was grueling to him. "I must see
Elizabeth
one last time Darcy and break with her."

"You will be down there alone with her again? She will recapture your heart." Darcy said, sitting up. "I know that she is beautiful, and you have had ten years together. She is practically your wife!"

Jean Michel pulled Darcy back down into his arms and said, "You are the only one. How can you doubt that? In ten years,
Elizabeth
never moved me the way you did that first night when I saw you crossing the parade ground at the fort."

He kissed her, and Darcy felt the warmth of security wash back over her. The great losses she had experienced made it necessary for Jean Michel to tell her over and over again that he would never leave her. He pointed up at the stars and said, "See up there, Darcy? That cluster of stars is Sagittarius, the great archer, and he is taking aim at Scorpio. He is successful in killing the demon, and so too shall I kill the demons that haunt you. If ever you are away from me, look up at those constellations and know that I am still your protector."

"How could I ever find them again?" she asked.

"That's not important," he said. "Just know that they are somewhere in the night sky just as I am somewhere loving you."

There was something in his tone which made her feel uneasy; her intuition told her that he was apprehensive about something. She said nothing and put her head down on his chest.

They left the next day and followed the
Kensington
River
east toward the coast. Per Jean Michel's request, Darcy left her hair down. He loved watching the dark tresses dance in the wind as he walked behind her. By late afternoon she began to smell the ocean, and she noticed the river drop below them as they followed the rocky riverbanks to the sea. Everything started to change. The winds picked up, and Darcy noticed that many of the trees looked gnarled, as if they could not grow upright in the incessant wind.

When they finally broke out of the woods onto the cliffs, the view took Darcy's breath away. She stared out at the ocean, as the wind snapped her skirts. Turning to Jean Michel, she shouted over the crashing of the waves, "This is it, Jean Michel! This is the landscape of my home!" She stood with her palms outstretched and drank in the energy and vitality of the sea once more.

*
    
*
    
*

They turned south and walked the coast until midday, and finding themselves at a point high above the crash of the surf, they sat down for something to eat. Jean Michel could tell Darcy had mixed feelings about being here. "You are homesick, aren't you?"

She nodded, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Being here again has made me miss home and people that are long gone. I remember the night your brother received the letter from you about your mother's death. We walked all night along cliffs like these."

Darcy looked at Jean Michel. "We never speak of your brother. We must do it sometime. He is the reason that we are together. If he hadn't helped me understand myself, I would be with Bran Moynahan right now and thoroughly miserable. I loved your brother as a friend--nothing more. Please believe me."