Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry

by Hughes, Amanda

  Father Cesaire said a few words in Algonquian and then in French blessing them all. As Darcy rose from her knees, she felt his cold eyes rest upon her, and he turned away to speak with one of the Abenaki leaders who explained that the prisoners were a gift to their Jesuit father.

  The priest looked at Faith and little Isaiah, smiled at them and looked back at Darcy with a look of distaste. She turned her back and looked around at the mission. On a hill behind the long houses was a European-looking structure she believed to be a church. It resembled a log cabin but was larger, and in front of it stood a tall wooden cross.

  Suddenly, she heard a smooth voice say in English, "I understand that you are a gift to the mission."

  Darcy turned around, faced the Jesuit missionary and nodded her head. She turned away, not encouraging conversation with the man. Father Cesaire was everything Father Etienne was not: cool, detached and judgmental. It was obvious that he ran this mission with an iron fist, and Darcy was not welcome here. When she looked over at Faith, she could see the girl was thoroughly intimidated by Cesaire.

  Raoul stood behind Darcy and listened quietly as the Jesuit addressed Faith. "You, my child, and the little one are welcome," and turning to Darcy, he said, "But you are not. They have told me who you are, and your sins are too great. We do not need your kind here corrupting our innocents."

  Darcy’s jaw dropped. Never had anyone passed judgment on her so quickly and so harshly. Words of anger and indignation bubbled to her lips, but Raoul jumped in and defended her. "Father Cesaire, you have only just met Mademoiselle McBride. She is not what you think."

  "I don't need to know more. This woman would be a distraction and divert too many from the paths of righteousness. I must pray now," said the priest, and he walked up the hill with Faith and Isaiah.

  LaRoche said to Darcy, "Is it a sin to dislike a priest, Mademoiselle McBride?"

  Darcy took a deep breath and said, "If it is, then I sin too, Mr. LaRoche. Why does he dislike me?"

  "I don't think he likes women, especially attractive ones. They are too painful a reminder that he has taken a vow of celibacy."

  Suddenly, it occurred to Darcy that she had nowhere to go. The Abenaki had brought her deep into the wilderness, over the mountains and now Father Cesaire had refused her a home. Darcy looked around at the tall pines surrounding her and the endless wilderness which divided her from the English Colonies. How would she get back? She could not travel alone, and no one was offering to take her home. Where could she sleep? The realization swept over her that she was a woman completely alone and vulnerable in the middle of the frontier without food or shelter.

  Raoul saw the terrified look on her face, and his heart began to pound. She had no place to go, no one to turn to for help, and like himself, was all alone. Perhaps, just perhaps, for the first time in his life, love would smile upon him.

  Gathering every ounce of courage, he swallowed hard and said, "I know that you have no one, and it would be my honor, Mademoiselle McBride," he stammered, twisting his cap in his hands, "if you would marry me and share my simple life."

  Darcy said nothing and stared at Raoul as if she didn't understand a word he said. A fine mist started to fall out of the gray sky, and she looked up, letting the soft water fall upon her face. She had always hoped to marry for love, but that was just a dream. She was standing in the middle of a vast wilderness and a kind gentle man was offering her love and protection.

  Without reservation, Darcy turned to him and said, "I accept, Mr. LaRoche, and thank you for your generosity."

  Raoul, who had been waiting anxiously for her reply, was completely astonished. This glorious woman consented to be his wife, and she would carry his name and maybe even his children! Just moments ago he was miserable, thinking he had to say good-bye to her, and now he would be near her forever. Life was indeed wonderful!

  He reached down, took her hand and kissed it tenderly saying,” We shall ask Father Cesaire to marry us immediately."

  They walked up the hill, and Darcy paused for a moment before entering the church, realizing that this was the first time she had been in an actual church. She found it ironic that on her first visit, she was not here to pray or to receive Holy Communion but to sin most grievously, callously taking vows that she didn't believe and marrying a man that she didn't love. Darcy stepped inside, ready to embark on living a lie. She knew she was not the first woman to do it, and she knew with certainty she would not be the last.

  Chapter 32

  The settlement to which Raoul brought his new bride was very small and very insular. They were suspicious of strangers especially those who came from the English Colonies, so Darcy spent most of her time alone. There were no more than twenty families residing in the community, and they all had some connection to the voyageurs. Most of the women were Abenaki or at the very least, part Abenaki, and they kept exclusively to themselves.

  The few men that were around this time of year were of middle age or older in years and all were retired voyageurs. They smoked together and reminisced, speculating on how far to the interior their sons and brothers may be going this season and when they would return.

  The home of Raoul LaRoche was part of the cluster of hewed timber cabins by the Chaudière River, north of the mission. Darcy found their cabin to be of adequate size, neat and clean. They had a plot of potatoes along with a garden of other root vegetables, and their diet consisted mainly of fish and game.

  Raoul enjoyed the way Darcy prepared food and kept house. Although the customs and traditions of the Irish were somewhat different from the French, he liked the novel ways she prepared meals, and only on occasion did he find something distasteful.

  Months had passed now since their wedding, and Darcy had developed a sincere affection for Raoul. His kindness never changed nor his moods and she found him to be a sweet and devoted husband. His sexual demands were few, and he was always gentle, never cruel.

  Their lives had taken a set routine beginning in the morning with chores, a large midday meal, then in the afternoon Raoul would leave the cabin to visit with the men while Darcy attended to her sewing or baking.

  Evening was the time reserved for the two of them, and they would visit by the fire while Darcy worked the loom, making fabric for herself and Faith. They had journeyed to New France with only the clothes on their backs, and Darcy worked night after night on clothing for them both.

  Raoul was delighted that Darcy could read, and she read to him from the Bible every night before bed. Up to this point Darcy had been able to use Nathan's small library, but now, for the first time since she had learned to read, she was completely without books. She found comfort in the Bible, but Darcy hungered for more and without friends or even the camaraderie of Shenanigan, Darcy began to feel terribly lonely.

  She would stand on the banks of the river and look across it, as if she were waiting for something. Since it was a thoroughfare to Quebec, there was canoe activity and travelers on foot to watch, but most of the time the river was empty, and she searched the waterway for no reason at all.

  Darcy chided herself for being ungrateful to Raoul. Many women had been happier with less, and they would give anything to have a kind husband who loved them, but try as she might, she could not convince herself that she was lucky. Darcy would look at her life stretching out before her and fight the urge to take a canoe and run, but she knew that she would be enslaved in Quebec or die in the wilderness trying to return to the English Colonies.

  How could she ever be buried here the rest of her life and devote herself to a man she did not love? With certainty Darcy knew that it was only a matter of time before she would die of loneliness.

  On Sunday the entire community would walk up to the mission for Mass with Father Cesaire, and although he remained aloof, he allowed Darcy to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion. She would visit with Faith when church was over, and they would sit together on the grass and exchange news.

  "How have your lessons in t
he Catholic faith been going with Father Cesaire?" asked Darcy one sunny day as they sat on the bank of the Chaudière.

  "Quite well," the young woman said, as she brushed back a lock of her chestnut hair. "But many things are different in your church, Darcy, and to be honest, I don't always agree."

  "That's all right, Faith. If you believed everything he said then you would think me a harlot."

  "Never!" gasped Faith. "But I fear for our visits. I don't think he will allow me to see you much longer. The only reason Father lets me speak with you now is to help me with my homesickness."

  "Are you terribly homesick, Faith?"

  "Yes,” and large tears began to roll down her cheeks. She brushed them off and said, "I miss my family so much, and I pray every night that Catherine is safe and happy living somewhere with Mr. Tinker."

  Darcy took her hand. "He will take good care of Catherine. Moses is a good man and needs someone to take care of. In a way this has been a blessing for him. What of Isaiah? How does he fare?"

  "I believe he adjusts better than us. He is truly loved by his new Abenaki family, and one day he will forget that he was born in the English Colonies."

  Raoul approached the women, signaling that it was time to go home. Faith caught Darcy by the wrist and said, "Does your husband know that you love another?"

  Darcy frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "It is written all over you. Any woman could see it."

  Darcy felt a lump in her throat and said nothing. It was a beautiful autumn day, and when they reached their cabin, Raoul said, "Come, Darcy, pack a basket, and I will take you in the canoe to enjoy this beautiful afternoon."

  Darcy's heart leaped. Bless Raoul for knowing that she needed a diversion. She ran into the house, gathered up some food and rushed back out to the canoe. They spent the entire day lazily exploring the river, and walking in the woods. At one point, they paddled down some rapids and shortly thereafter passed a wooden cross driven into the ground. When the water calmed, Raoul removed his cap, saying a prayer to St. Anne, the patron saint of voyageurs.

  "Why is the cross there?" Darcy asked.

  "That is where a voyageur lost his life. We always mark the spot, so all that pass will pray for his soul."

  Shortly after that they chose a spot on the riverbank to stop and eat their lunch. Darcy lay back and gazed up at the clear cloudless sky, relishing the aroma of the pines.

  Raoul kissed her and said, "You have made me the happiest man alive. I cannot believe that you are my wife."

  They returned home late in the day, and even though Darcy was grateful for the outing, the loneliness continued. She would stare up at the night sky, trying to find the constellations Jean Michel had told her about, but Sagittarius and Scorpio were lost in the vast multitude of the heavens. It mattered little, she told herself; Jean Michel was lost to her as well.

  The wind began to turn cold on All Hallows Eve; Darcy decided to warm the cabin doing her baking for the week. Early in the morning she lit a fire in the oven, allowing it to burn until the stones became hot. After sweeping out the coals, she put her bare arm inside to test the temperature. Picking up her peel, Darcy slid a crock of baked beans to the back of the oven, knowing that they would take all day, and then added her bread and rolls. Raoul had taught her many new ways to bake bread in the French fashion, and she found the experimentation amusing. Today she was trying baguettes.

  After she had completed her baking, Darcy walked outside and sat down by a sapling to make cornmeal. A large rock hung from a rope which was tied to a young tree, and with this rock she pounded the corn down to a coarse meal, using the flexible sapling to do the work for her on the upswing. Many of these chores had been new to Darcy when she first came to the New World, but now they had become second nature to her. Her days were full from beginning to end, but her heart remained empty. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, and she felt herself sliding into despondency.

  To amuse herself and observe All Hallows Eve, she lit a bonfire to ward off ghosts and wandering souls. It was twilight, and the wind sighed sadly as it passed through the pines, and the sky was a steely gray.

  Darcy shivered as she looked up at the ceiling of clouds. It was indeed an eerie evening, and back in Ireland they would have spoken of the Banshee walking. Raoul was late tonight, and Darcy knew that the conversation and tobacco must be entertaining.

  The bonfire crackled and popped on the banks of the Chaudière sending sparks flying high into the night sky. She gazed into the flames, thinking of the ghost stories she heard as a child and smiled to herself.

  A movement caught her eye, and she saw a figure coming toward her along the banks of the river. Many travelers came down from Quebec, following the river, and Darcy looked back at the fire, unconcerned. As the traveler came closer, she looked once more, and she could see in the twilight that it was a white man, but he was not in the dress of a voyageur. His clothing appeared to be that of a settler. Something was familiar about the figure, and it gave Darcy pause. She stood motionless and stared at him. The closer the man came, the more anxious Darcy felt, and fear began to wash over her. She thought perhaps it was a ghost. Suddenly, the specter dropped his pack and began to run. In an instant he was upon her, kissing her face and her hair. It was Jean Michel.

  "My God, you're alive! You're alive!" he kept repeating as he held her face and kissed her lips and her cheeks over and over again.

  Darcy was stunned. With her arms at her side she stared at him as if he were not real. This cannot be happening; Jean Michel would never be standing on the banks of the Chaudière, holding her. This is a cruel trick played on her by fairies.

  The brilliant light of the bonfire flooded them as Jean Michel brushed the hair away from her face. "I have come to take you back. You are safe now."

  At last, she put her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body, realizing that he was indeed flesh and blood. "How did you find me?" she asked, breathlessly.

  "The Abenaki told me that you had been taken to Quebec, and after searching there for months, I gave up and was returning to the English Colonies. It is purely by the grace of God that I find you now."

  He pulled her close to him and held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. "Tell me that you still love me, Darcy."

  She felt his strong legs against her. He bent her head back and kissed her deeply. Instantly she was drowning in desire. It had been so long since she had felt passion, and now, as he lavished his affection on her, she lost her head. His lips moved down her neck, as his fingers pressed into her back, and they embraced in the firelight until Darcy pushed him away and gasped, "No, you must not, Jean Michel!"

  “Why?" he said as he stepped back.

  "Because I am a married woman."

  He looked incredulous and searched her eyes for answers. Just as she was about to explain, a voice shouted, "Bon Soir!" They turned and saw Raoul walking down the hill with a smile on his face.

  "Welcome, wayfarer!" he said to Jean Michel in French. "I am Raoul LaRoche, and this is my wife, Madame LaRoche. May we help you?"

  Jean Michel turned and looked at Darcy, hurt in his eyes. She looked down at the ground. He swallowed hard then said politely, "Thank you, Monsieur LaRoche. I am an acquaintance of your wife. We had just been reminiscing when you arrived."

  Darcy was unsure how much Raoul had seen, but judging from his solicitous attitude, he had witnessed nothing. Her heart was thumping against her chest, and she knew that she appeared agitated. Her French had improved greatly since coming to New France, and she heard Raoul exclaim, "You know each other? What a surprise. Are you too, from Ireland, Monsieur?"

  “No, I am from the Colony of Massachusetts."

  "You are very brave to be up here during wartime."

  "My business here was of great importance," Jean Michel said, looking at Darcy.

  "As you can imagine, we are not fond of the British here, but since you are a friend of my wife, I will make an allowance. Please,
will you join us for supper?"

  "No, thank you, I must be on my way," returned Jean Michel feeling his stomach tie up in knots.

  "Please, Monsieur."

  Reluctantly Jean Michel walked up to the cabin by Raoul. Fighting back tears of outrage and sorrow Darcy made supper while the men smoked at the table. Just a few months ago, she had been dreaming of keeping house for Jean Michel, and here she was the wife of a retired French voyageur, cooking for her lover as if he were a stranger.

  Darcy watched Jean Michel closely, committing to memory every detail of his appearance. He was dressed in a white linen shirt of the highest quality, and he had on dark, brown britches with expensive leather boots. She realized what a fool she had been not to have guessed that he was a man of wealth and breeding. Nathan Lawrence was right. She would never fit into his life.