Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (48 page)

Darcy stared at Jean Michel, her eyes wide with astonishment.
Had she heard him correctly? Did he say that she was free?
The words echoed in her ears, and she blinked as if waking up from a dream.

Father Cesaire approached and Jean Michel handed him the pouch containing the emerald necklace. The priest bowed and with the shadow of a smile said, "Watch yourselves, my fine New Englanders. You are in French territory during wartime. Anything can happen.”

Jean Michel watched him, as he disappeared into his church, then he turned to Darcy and said, "From this moment forward, you are free to do as you choose, Darcy. Where will you go?"

She didn't answer right away. Her thoughts raced as well as her heart.
For the first time in years she was free. Even in
Ireland
she had not been free, so for the first time ever, she was free.

Jean Michel searched her eyes and asked, "Will you come back to
Massachusetts
to live?"

"Oh, no," said Darcy shaking her head. "There is nothing there for me. I shall return to the coast of
Kerry
. This land has never been my home."

Jean Michel stared at her a moment then stepped back and mumbled, “I understand.”

Darcy was confused and searched his face. "But you are married--" Before she could finish her sentence, there was the report of a firearm and Jean Michel gasped clutching his side. He looked down at his waist, and when he removed his hand a bright spot of blood began to soak his shirt.

Jean Michel said breathlessly, "Run!"

Before Darcy could move, an Abenaki warrior began running towards them with his tomahawk raised. Jean Michel pulled the rifle from his shoulder, and with all his might slammed the butt of the gun into the stomach of the Indian, who doubled up.

Darcy bolted for the woods assuming that Jean Michel was behind her, but when she looked back, he had fallen to his knees. "No!" she screamed, dashing back to him.

Another Abenaki bolted from the woods toward them. Her heart pounding, Darcy raised Jean Michel's rifle, set her sights on the Indian and pulled the trigger. There was a loud blast, and when the smoke cleared, he had fallen. But the warrior struggled to his feet and began running again. He raised his tomahawk ready to smash Darcy’s skull when suddenly he dropped his weapon and staggered forward, slamming into her. Almost knocked from her feet Darcy realized, with horror that an arrow was protruding from his neck. Clinging to her, he slid down her body.

All at once, there was the cracking of muskets and war cries as Iroquois and English descended on the French and Abenaki village. Darcy bent down and put Jean Michel's arm around her neck. He roared, "Damn it! I told you to run!"

Ignoring him, Darcy straightened up bearing his weight on her shoulders. Jean Michel showered her with oaths in French, as she pulled him to the cover of the trees. When they reached the brush, she fell to the ground exhausted.

Panting, Darcy pulled Jean Michel's blood-soaked shirt up to examine his injury. A letter tumbled to the ground, and Darcy picked it up stuffing it in her bodice. The arrow had gone into his side and exited the back cleanly, but the blood was running out of him in a steady stream. She could tell that he was growing weak quickly.

"Please, listen to me, Darcy." he said with great effort. "Governor Shirley has offered a bounty of twenty pounds for scalps. Get to safety at Point Levi."

Ignoring him Darcy gave the hem of her dress a yank tearing the material into long strips. She wound them tightly around his torso then tied them off. Jean Michel grabbed her wrist and said, "Are you listening to me!"

Darcy's snapped, "All my life some man has been telling me where I can and can not go. I am a free woman now, Jean Michel Lupe', and I'm staying here with you!"

Jean Michel dropped back and closed his eyes. A few moments ago he would have given anything to hear those words, but now all wanted was for her to get away.

It was twilight, and blasts of light from gunfire lit the mission and the village around it. Most of the Abenaki warriors were conducting raids in the south, so the community was left defenseless against the Iroquois and English.

An Iroquois warrior and an aged Abenaki struggled close to where Darcy and Jean Michel were hiding in the brush. The younger Iroquois slammed his tomahawk into the old man’s skull then threw him face down onto the ground. After straddling him, he ran the blade of his hunting knife around the scalp. He placed his foot on the Abenaki's shoulder and yanked the scalp from back to front.

Darcy watched, paralyzed with fear as another scene unfolded before her eyes, this time involving a British regular. He was struggling roughly with a young Indian woman, and after knocking her unconscious with the butt of his gun, he scalped her as well.

Jean Michel grabbed Darcy‘s arm and whispered, "We've got to get away from here Darcy!" Slinging his arm over her neck, she whispered, "There is a cave near here on the river where we can hide, but first I must stop at the cabin."

They drove deep into the forest, stumbling blindly over brush and undergrowth in a frenzied hurry to safety. Several times the burden was too much for Darcy, and she lost her footing sending them both to the ground. Try as he might, each time they fell, Jean Michel could not suppress crying out in pain, and Darcy would crumble into a thousand apologies, cursing herself for her clumsiness.

Darcy was relieved when the cabin was finally in sight, and they approached it from the back cautiously. She guided him to Raoul's bed, but when he protested, she put him on a chair by the table instead.

Quickly Darcy lit a candle, covered the window and grabbed some fresh bandages and several blankets. Rolling them all into a bundle, she proceeded to tie it onto her back. Next she picked up Raoul's musket, loaded it and strapped on his shot pouch.

"Is there brandy?" asked Jean Michel. He lay slumped onto the table, dark rings under his eyes. His lips were white and his complexion grey. Darcy pulled down a bottle from the mantle, sat down and quickly poured them a drink.

Jean Michel looked at Darcy and said, "You're trembling,"

"No, I'm not," she argued. Darcy could not admit fear tonight. What she had witnessed at the mission struck terror into her heart, and if she were to admit her true feelings she may not find the courage to continue.

Jean Michel looked around the home of Monsieur and Madame LaRoche. He could picture Darcy making supper by the hearth or spinning at the wheel, but when his eyes rested on the bed, he felt the jealousy burn.

"Did you ever think of me when you made love to your husband?”

Darcy stopped with her drink in mid-air, and then slowly put it down. She paused and said, "I gave my body to him Jean Michel, but never my heart. You are the only man I have ever made love to."

They listened to the rain on the roof, and Darcy stood up, looking out the window. "When I needed to remember how good life can be, that is when I brought your memory up from my heart.”

Suddenly, violent screams came from the settlement, and Darcy jumped back from the window crying, "They're here! We must hurry!"

Jean Michel blew out the candle, and after slinging the musket over her shoulder, Darcy slid herself gently under his arm again. They stole quietly into the night, struggling together once more through the black wilderness. With the added burden of a musket, Darcy's shoulders were breaking, but she was determined to get them to safety.

They followed the
Chardiere
River
north, searching for a cave. Darcy was petrified they might meet someone on the well-traveled path to
Quebec
, so she urged the weakening Jean Michel to move even faster. He gave every ounce of strength he had left to double the pace. He could see that the blood had drenched his shirt and was starting to soak Darcy's gown too.

They found a cave, but it required that they climb up several large boulders to gain entrance, and Darcy feared that Jean Michel could not traverse the slippery rocks. They stood panting below the cave. Darcy shouted over the roar of the river, "Can you get up there?"

Weakly he nodded his head, and Darcy scrambled upon the first rock. She dropped her pack and her musket and sat down. With her legs apart and her hands outstretched, she grabbed Jean Michel by the wrists and pulled him with all her might. He managed to get a foothold and pushed himself up, falling heavily on top of her. They laid there sapped of strength, trying to catch their breath. They repeated this step one more time until they were inside the shelter of the cave.

Ignoring her fear of caves, Darcy went about the work of making a bed for Jean Michel. She lit a candle, put blankets down and pulled out a dry shirt that had belonged to Raoul. After easing him onto the bed, Darcy tore the filthy, mud-soaked shirt off of him. After cleaning and dressing his wound, she paused for moment to look at him. His dark hair was untied, and it fell loosely about the pillow. She remembered that the only time he wore it down was during sleep or their most private moments together. It was very painful to remember that these moments were now reserved for
Elizabeth
, and without thinking Darcy reached out and ran her fingers across his chest.

Instantly, Jean Michel opened his eyes and looked up at her. She leaned forward and murmured, "I must go to Point Levi and bring help for you. Promise me that you will live, Jean Michel."

So softly that she could barely hear him, he whispered, "Give me a reason to live, Darcy."

"I can give you many reasons," said Darcy, as she clutched his arm. "Live for your wife, Jean Michel. Live for your unborn children."

"Wife?"

Darcy's eyes grew wide. "You did not marry
Elizabeth
?'

"How could I when I loved another?" said Jean Michel.

As difficult as it was to speak, Jean Michel was afraid he might die and never tell her. He swallowed hard and said, "Don't go back to
Ireland
. If you do, I will die of loneliness. Stay with me and be my wife."

Tears welled up in Darcy’s eyes, and she pulled the necklace over her head, putting it around Jean Michel's neck once more. "You must fight. Fight and when I return, I will be your wife."

A smile flickered on his lips, and he closed his eyes. With no time to lose, Darcy covered him with a blanket, bent over and kissed his lips. They seemed so cool and his face so lifeless. Panic flooded over her, and she bit her lip so hard that it began to bleed.
What a cruel joke it would be if Jean Michel were given to her then taken, all in the same night. How could she live, knowing that he was waiting on the other side of the thin veil?

Reluctantly, Darcy slipped out of the cave and down the rocks. Tonight she would be fighting for Jean Michel's life
and
her own.

Chapter 35

Every fiber of Darcy's being was on alert. The forest seemed charged with energy, and added to the night's dangers was the fact that the sky had partially cleared. Clouds rolled swiftly across the moon, and without warning the forest could be flooded with light. She moved along the river, stopping to listen for danger, her ears and eyes straining.

Darcy knew that the English and French were clumsy in the woods, and there was a good chance that she would hear them before they were upon her, but the silent stealth of the Indian was what she feared. The encampment at Point Levi was not far, yet she was not sure how she could approach the English without surprising them into gunfire, and General Wolfe's marauders now saturated the area.

Darcy's mind returned to Jean Michel alone and possibly dying in the cave on the river. She wondered if the candle had burned out, and if he was there in the dark, watching the stars of the night sky, as the lifeblood drained out of him.