Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (38 page)

He looked out at the sea for a moment, back at Darcy and said, "I'm trying to believe it, but when you speak of him your voice, your face, everything changes."

 
She slid over, put her lips near his own and whispered, "Perhaps it is the allure of the Lupe' men."

Jean Michel leaned in to kiss her then stopped himself. He stood up abruptly pulling her to her feet. “There will be none of that now. You tempt me too much. We must move on, my little witch."

When they resumed their journey, he doubled their pace. This was the time of year the Abenaki saturated the area. By late afternoon large, black clouds began to form in the sky. The winds picked up, tossing the trees and churning the ocean. Jean Michel stopped and looked up at the clouds. They were filled with electricity.

"Darcy, this does not look good. We must seek shelter right away."

Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding white light followed by a deafening bang. Darcy felt Jean Michel grab her wrist, pulling her madly across the cliffs, searching for shelter. It was too dangerous to go in by the trees, and on the cliffs they were targets for lightning, so he searched frantically for a cave.

The wind blew Darcy's hair in her face and tangled her gown around her legs. They heard trees cracking and uprooting and debris tumbling past them.

Just as the rain began, Jean Michel found a spot along the edge of the cliff to lower himself to some caves. He climbed down the rock face with great care then jumped into the cave. He leaned out ready to catch Darcy’s hand to pull her inside too. She lowered herself down the rock face but froze when it was time to go into the cave.

The approach down the steep incline, the ledge over the ocean, even the size of the cave was identical to that of her previous home. The last cave had been large and over a river. This one was too similar to her famine sanctuary, and there was no question about it--she would not enter it.

"Darcy! Now!" shouted Jean Michel.

She shook her head and tried to say something, but no words would come. The rain pelted her in the face and soaked her gown, making it heavy and cumbersome. The wind and thunder were deafening, and Jean Michel knew that the rocks were becoming slippery.

"Come to me now!" he roared with his hand stretched out.

"I will not. They are all in there!"

As Darcy screamed her last word, she lost her grip and started to fall. Jean Michel lunged for her and caught her by one wrist and the bodice of her gown. She tumbled off the rock face, and as she fell the front of her gown ripped, which left Jean Michel holding onto only one slippery wrist, as she dangled from the ledge. She dared not look down, but she knew that she would be smashed on the jagged rocks below if he were to lose hold of her.

Jean Michel ground his teeth and dug his fingers into her slippery skin. Down below was the wild surf striking the sharp rocks.

Remembering his brother’s death, Jean Michel gave one hearty pull and stepped back, putting Darcy on to the ledge of the cave. He grabbed her and rocked her back and forth whispering words in French and English.

Darcy looked around the cave and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I thought if I came in here, they would all haunt me again."

Jean Michel pushed her wet hair back and sighed. "They won't be back because I am here in now.

*
          
*
          
*

Darcy and Jean Michel followed the coast for days. Sometimes the vegetation was so thick they were driven inland, but always they were near the sea. It was heaven for Darcy to breathe the salt air and hear the surf pounding again. She was falling in love with this new land, and although she longed to return to
Ireland
, she believed that here with Jean Michel is where she belonged.

One night by the fire, Darcy said, "I love my homeland, but I don’t know if the British will ever leave
Ireland
.”

“Maybe not, but someday we will drive the British from
this
land,” Jean Michel replied. “And the Nathan Lawrences will be banished forever."

"You speak treason so easily. I heard you at the dinner. You must be careful," Darcy said.

"I speak the truth."

"Maybe, but I remember the look on Nathan's face that night. He has not forgotten that comment."

"There are many who feel the way I do. The British will be gone in our lifetime, Darcy."

"I wish I could feel that optimistic about
Ireland
," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Here is where the Irish Catholics will find their freedom. They must call this home as you have." Jean Michel paused then said, "Are you calling this home, Darcy? Will I lose you someday to
Ireland
?"

The answer Jean Michel was looking for, Darcy could not give easily. She did not leave
Ireland
of her own volition and to say goodbye to it forever was too painful. She looked down while Jean Michel watched her anxiously.

"You are my home, Jean Michel. Let there be no question about that, but to say that I am banished forever from
Ireland
is like cutting my heart out. I will never be at peace if I don't return one more time. I told Adrianna before she left that one day I would stand on the abbey bluff, a free woman."

"And so you shall," he said taking her face in his hands. "You shall return to your home and together we shall stand on the cliffs of Kerry."

The route along the coast was more time-consuming, but Jean Michel was grateful that he had chosen it. They traveled without incident.

They were a short distance inland when they stopped by a stream to replenish their water and rest for a while. The day was warm; Darcy dipped a cloth in the stream, and Jean Michel watched her, as she trickled water over her arms and neck.

The sun had given her skin a rosy glow, but her light complexion never acquired the deep tan of Jean Michel. He loved the dramatic difference between her pale skin and dark hair. As he watched her stretch, a longing come over him to see her with child, and he called her over. She sat down beside him on the bank of the stream and hugged her knees, smiling at him. Jean Michel looked into her green eyes and said, "I want to see you carry our child."

The smile dropped from Darcy's face. “I believe that the famine came during the years when I should have been developing a suitable womb." Darcy bit her lip and said, "Because of this, one day you will leave me."

Whatever loss Jean Michel felt, he did not share with Darcy. He did remember the day they had received word that Etienne had been ordained, and his mother had made him promise to carry on the family name. Pushing it from his thoughts, he stroked Darcy's cheek and said, "I found the one I love, and I ask for nothing more."

He reached over and put his arm around her, easing her back onto the bank. He picked a blade of grass and ran it down her neck and across the tops of her breasts, and leaning down, kissed her gently.

After they made love in the warm afternoon sun, Jean Michel slept, and Darcy gathered up some clothes, heading upstream to find a suitable place to do laundry.

She squatted down in the shade, soaking one of her gowns in the water, and just as she was about to put soap on it, she was yanked off her feet and grabbed tightly around her waist. Before she could scream, a hand was clapped over her mouth and a large Indian held a knife to her throat.

Her heart was racing furiously, and she believed that before Jean Michel ever awakened, she would be scalped mercilessly.

Darcy gasped for air, but the Indian was holding her so tightly that she could not breathe. Several more Abenaki stepped out from the bushes. One Indian started to search her pack. He was dressed in nothing more than a breechclout, and his head was completely shaved except for one tuft of hair tied with rawhide. He was pulling out clothes, cooking utensils and tools, and when he reached the bottom he pulled out a rosary. He stood up and said something to the others, and they ran their fingers over the wooden beads.

The Indian who had been holding a knife to Darcy's throat stepped away from her, held up the rosary and asked her something in French, but all she could do was look back helplessly.

Suddenly, she heard Jean Michel shout, "Qu'y a-t-il!" and the party whirled around as he approached with a rifle in hand. He was frowning and addressing the Indians in French. She could tell by his demeanor that he demanded her release immediately. A tense moment passed as the group sized him up.

Darcy had never seen Jean Michel like this before. He showed absolutely no fear, acting offended that they had touched his woman. He looked challengingly from one to the other. Although he carried a rifle, she knew that it was his manner, not the firearm, which would win her release. Darcy felt the grip loosen around her waist, and she could now breathe.

The Indian who had the knife to her neck seemed to be the leader, and he spoke with Jean Michel rapidly in French.

Because of her limited abilities in the language, Darcy only caught a few words, but when Jean Michel said the name
Lupe
', the Indians looked at each other. They motioned for him to lift his shirt. He obliged showing them a large jagged scar that ran down his ribs. They looked from the scar to his face, and like magic all hostility dissolved, and they let her go.

The leader returned Darcy's rosary, but Jean Michel insisted that the Indian take it as a sign of friendship. The brave put the rosary around his neck, and as quickly as they had arrived, the Abenaki party was gone.

With wobbly legs, Darcy sank onto the grass as Jean Michel scanned the woods for any further threat. There was so much that she did not know or understand about him. He had told her that the Abenaki admired his father's name, but the fear and respect she read on the faces today was for Jean Michel.

Satisfied that there was no further threat, he held out his hand and pulled Darcy up, clamping his arm around her waist possessively. "Are you all right?" he asked.

When she nodded, he let her go and said, "We must move quickly, Darcy. Anything can happen now."

After the encounter with the Abenaki, they moved at a feverish pace. Darcy had hoped to have another day alone with Jean Michel before returning to
Fort
Lawrence
, but he would not hear of it.

Gone was the passionate lover who could not keep his hands off her, and in his place was a man dragging her through the wilderness with the ferocity of an animal. Not wishing any more encounters with the Indians, they slept without a fire on a high bluff overlooking the ocean that night.

Jean Michel told her that the fort was only a half day's journey up the
Windsor
River
and that they would sleep for only a few hours before setting off again.

When they lay down to sleep, she hugged his arm and asked, "That scar you showed them today. Why did they want to see it?"

"They use it to prove my identity. I received that when I was a boy visiting my father's post. I was a bit scrappy in those days, and I got into an argument with one of the young Abenaki braves. As you can see, the outcome was not in my favor."

Shortly after that, Darcy dropped off to sleep. After a few hours, Jean Michel was shaking her and telling her that it was time to go again. They set out at the same swift pace, and Darcy was exhausted. Judging from the dark circles under Jean Michel's eyes, he too was weary, but what drained his energy was his anxiety about Darcy's safety. If the Abenaki knew she was Colonel Lawrence's mistress, a rosary would not buy her freedom. He could not rest until he reached the fort and bought her indentured service.

At last
Fort
Lawrence
came into view, and Darcy was surprised at how happy she was to see the timbered walls again. She desperately needed to rest, and she was worried about Jean Michel. Ever since the encounter with the Abenaki, he had lost his peace of mind, and his face looked drawn and tired.