Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (6 page)

The famine had not been kind to Michael. Rickets had deformed his legs, and he walked with much pain and difficulty. Had his family moved to the ocean like the McBrides and existed on kelp and snails, he would never have been afflicted.

Like so many Irish Catholics, his home had been destroyed by the British troops, and having nowhere to go the family of nine moved into a scalp, a large hole roofed with sticks and turf. It offered little shelter from the elements, and pneumonia killed his father and six of the children. When the crops returned, Michael, his mother and the remaining children moved into a vacant cottage that faced the town square and resurrected the owling.

It was another rainy night, and Michael and Liam pulled up their collars as they returned from a meeting. They entered the McBride cottage, and Liam fully expected to see Darcy standing in front of the hearth preparing his evening meal, but instead he found the home cold and empty.

"Damn her hide!" he snarled and quickly looked out the window.

"I'd bet my life that she's with that empty-headed sister of mine going on and on with their silly prattle," said Michael, as he limped over and began to build a fire.

Liam was in a surly mood, and he sat at the table watching Michael work.

He grumbled, "She knows that I expect my supper to be ready for me when I get home. I can tell by the looks of things that she hasn't been here for hours."

"I don't know how my brother-in-law can stand it," chuckled Michael. "Their brainless notions and secrets would drive me to drink. Say there, now that I mention it, I am a bit dry."

Liam rose from his chair and walked to the cupboard, pouring them both a drink and said, "Sometimes I wonder if she's bedding one of the lads in town. She acts funny lately, like she's hiding something."

Liam was right. A change had come over Darcy these past months, but it wasn't because of a man. Ever since she had learned to read, she forgot to attend to the most basic of her chores. When she wasn't reading, she was thinking about reading. She became so absentminded that frequently she would overstay her lessons with Father Etienne and forget Liam's supper entirely.

Her brother viewed academics and education as a symbol of the landed gentry, and it was Darcy's greatest fear that he would find out and ruin her opportunity to learn. Liam believed that Irishmen needed only food, a cottage and freedom. Anything beyond that was a waste of time.

Liam was furious. Although forgetting her chores was unforgivable, what really angered him was the fact that she was acting like some damned independent female. She would use words that he didn't understand, and she would know what he was thinking before he said it. "Stupid wench," he thought. "Imagine
her
thinking she's smarter than me."

"Well, Liam," said Michael rising up from the fire with a sheepish grin on his face, "I don't know a thing about Darcy's love affairs, but I do know about my own, and I've asked Bridget McGill to marry me. Father Etienne has agreed to perform the ceremony right in town, in my own cottage."

Although Michael had grown up with Bridget McGill, he had never really noticed her until about a year ago when she was fetching some water for her mother one sunny afternoon. She was not a pretty girl and rather big-boned, but Michael saw a quality of beauty in her that the other young men in the village had missed. Their courtship had been quiet and Michael shared his private affairs with few, so Liam had no idea that he was interested in a young woman.

Michael was ecstatic when Bridget accepted his proposal, and he assumed Liam would feel the same way. Instead Liam stared at him then exploded into hearty laughter saying, "You fool! What do you want to marry that wench for? Why, she has the face of a horse's ass!"

Michael was thunderstruck. He blinked and asked, "What did you say?"

Liam took a long pull on his brandy and sneered, "You're a damn fool. That's what I'm saying, O'Hearn. Granted you are a gimp, but you must be pretty desperate to want to bed that creature."

Michael couldn't believe his ears. Liam had always been coarse and abrupt, but he had never been cruel. Rage boiled inside him as he started for the door. He turned and said, "Liam McBride, I don't know what's come over you lately. I should smash your face, but
you're
looking for an excuse to pummel me or anyone."

Michael slammed the door behind him as Liam sat staring straight ahead. He had been drinking more lately and boiling with hatred and resentment. The only person he cared about was pulling away from him and whether he admitted it or not, Darcy was important to him. She was not there to greet him at the end of day, and he resented that she no longer catered exclusively to him. He felt as if he was being left behind, so when Michael had news of his marriage, Liam felt a burning jealousy begrudging their happiness. Liam had little desire to find a wife, and even if a woman were attracted to his coarse appearance, his courting skills were nonexistent.

He sat at the table brooding for some time when he heard footsteps. The door opened and Darcy burst into the cottage announcing that she was home, tossing her shawl over the chair. Her cheeks were apple red from the cold, and she was in a good mood.

"You're late! Where have you been?" demanded Liam.

"I'm late? Oh Liam, I am sorry. I had no idea.”

"Where have you been?"

"With Teila, we spent the day carding wool," Darcy lied. She grabbed some potatoes from a bag in the corner, hoping Liam would press her no further. She hated having to lie to him about her lessons with Father Etienne, but if he knew the truth, they would end.

"You liar!” he snarled. “I want you home here every night with my supper ready, and that's an order!"

Darcy's eyes flashed, as she looked up from her cooking, but she decided to say nothing.

"Tell me. Who's the bastard giving it to you when you should be home cooking?"

Darcy took a breath ready to counter then decided to use his words to her advantage. "Liam, please don't be angry with me. Yes, I have been seeing someone, but please don't ask me who it is."

He grabbed her chin and yanked her face upward, examining her eyes, then let go. Liam did not want to know, so he pressed her no further, but Darcy knew eventually he would learn the truth and squash her dreams forever.

Chapter 5

 
For the first time in her life, Darcy was happy. Her days with Father Etienne had exacted a profound change on her. It seemed at first, that the reading lessons were not progressing fast enough, but eventually she began reading simple stories Father Etienne wrote for her, then moved quickly from simplistic compositions to great literature.

 
The first book he had her read was
The Arabian Nights
. She marveled at the cleverness of
Scheherazade
, thrilled at the adventures of
Sinbad
and was filled with wonder at
Aladdin
and his Genie. The priest thoroughly enjoyed watching her explore his boyhood favorites, and he vicariously relived those first precious moments of discovering good books.

 
In nine months, Darcy went from learning the alphabet to discussing Shakespeare and The Bible with Father Etienne. Her vocabulary changed too, and she found herself making a deliberate effort to hide her improved speech from Liam and the other villagers.

 
She matured from a one-dimensional female with few choices to a woman with new insights ready to expand her horizons. Until now her mental boundaries had been the green mountains of Kerry and the rugged coastline of the
Atlantic
, but now books carried her to the far reaches of the Orient or across the Seven Seas on a search deep within herself. Every moment she could find, she would steal upstairs to open the crate of books, drowning herself in other worlds. She realized there was a multitude of ways to look at life and a multitude of ways to live it.

 
Father Etienne felt transformed during this time as well. Darcy helped eliminate his intellectual isolation. He was not only fulfilling the Jesuit's supreme goal, to educate, but for the first time in his life he was close to a woman. There had been sexual encounters prior to taking vows, but he had never had a friendship with a woman. He delighted in the fresh perspectives a female brought to topics which he had discussed previously with men. They would debate for hours, delighting in the unique views each had to offer.

 
Their personal relationship changed as well, and they became best friends and confidants. Darcy no longer put Father Etienne on a pedestal. He, in turn, treated her as an equal, laying aside his professional distance, opening himself up.

 
In spite of the new friendship, Father Etienne still had misgivings regarding Darcy's education. He was afraid that after he had carefully designed and sculpted an intellectual equal, she would have no peer in Kilkerry. She adamantly wanted to stay in
Ireland
, but only the gentry had education.
Where in the village would she find someone with whom to share her new interests?
He felt that he had been selfish and imprudent, yet he could never have neglected her hungry mind.
Once a mind has been awakened, how do you tell it to go back to sleep?

He watched Darcy pull herself up the hill for another lesson. Today they were meeting at the abbey. It was a warm and peaceful day, and the priest sat partially concealed behind a wall observing the pastoral landscape which opened up below him. Cottages with thatched roofs were scattered across the landscape. Each homeowner put his or her own personal touch to his or her cottage, a red window sill and a container of flowers or a white picket fence. One quality all the homes had in common was their neatness. Father Etienne watched a small boy and his donkey carrying peat bricks in baskets, then an old man leaning on a wall smoking a pipe.

He realized that he had grown to love these simple people and their land of green fields and stone fences. He found beauty in the simplicity of their lives and the enormity of their faith. He ignored the fact that someday he would have to leave this village, or be expelled from it.

 
Darcy approached, and Father Etienne jumped to his feet. In the past months, she had grown more poised and self-confident, and although her outward appearance remained unchanged, he knew the emotional transformation was profound. He knew that some might be intimidated by her, especially Liam.

 
"There is a cool wind up here," she said smoothing her hair as they settled onto the stone floor of the abbey. She leaned over and looked at him. "Is your hair wet? Shame on you! You have been bathing in Glinnish Stream again!" Darcy shook her finger at him. "You will catch your death of cold and die. Where would we find a priest to give you Last Rites?"
  

 
"I stand a better chance of dying if I
don't
bathe, and you should too, Darcy. I'm surprised at you. You behave like a primitive. Most of the great civilizations bathed regularly and built elaborate bath houses. It's only now that people think it's unhealthy."

 
She pursed her lips and looked at him skeptically. "I'll consider it, but I'm far from convinced."

 
Darcy turned to a basket covered with a woolen cloth and produced several books. "Look, I have a surprise for you. Your new shipment of books arrived with the last French vessel, and I brought a few up for you. See, here are some plays by Shakespeare and a work by Chaucer."

Father Etienne was pleased, and he began to thumb through the books. He handed her one of the volumes and said, "This is
Don Quixote
by Cervantes. I think it will amuse you. Now you can go from
Arabian Nights
to Spanish windmills."

 
They sat together chattering back and forth, thumbing through the books engrossed in conversation. The waves crashed on the rocks below, and the wind howled, but they did not notice.

 
"Have you ever heard of a lending library, Darcy?"