Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (36 page)

"No, I rode a horse."

"A harse!" he said, laughing about her accent.

Darcy put her chin up and said with a smile, "Well, at least we don't call beans
leather britches
."

"All right!" admitted Jean Michel, putting his palms up.

Darcy sat back down and watched the fire.

"You mentioned
thin places
earlier today,” he said. “I believe in these places. I have seen them. I have felt them."

"They have a way of transforming you," agreed Darcy, remembering the abbey.

Jean Michel looked at Darcy. She could feel his eyes on her, and she felt herself grow uneasy.

"So if you and I were together in a thin place, Darcy, would I be able to read what lies in your heart?"

"If you see anything in my heart, please let me know.” She stood up abruptly, realizing that she said too much. She wanted to get as far away from him as she could, but there was nowhere to go.

Jean Michel watched her look around frantically, and he felt pity for her. "Darcy, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. You'd better get some sleep.”

She nodded her head. Having a task made her feel better. She stepped away from the fire into the darkness to slip out of her gown, as Jean Michel untied his leggings and took his boots off.

He pulled his buckskin shirt over his head and lay down on his bedroll to stretch. He was beyond tired tonight and his legs were sore. He knew that he would be better tomorrow. The first day was always the hardest.

Darcy lay down not far from him.
How could he endure weeks alone with this woman? He was asking the impossible of himself, and he cursed Nathan Lawrence for putting him in this position.
Swallowing hard, Jean Michel rolled over with his back to Darcy.
He would find a way. He would simply have to find a way
.

The morning sun awoke them both, and after breaking camp they left the cliff top and resumed their journey. The day was warm and by mid-afternoon oppressively hot.

Jean Michel stopped in the shade of some spruce trees and said, "Do you hear that? It's a waterfall. We can get fresh water, and I can bathe. It's been too many days and the heat is stifling.

Darcy was surprised. Jean Michel saw her expression and said, "Does it surprise you? I know you like to bathe too. I smelled the freshness all over you the night we danced."

Jean Michel gave her a crooked smile and gathered his things, disappearing into the woods. Darcy reached into her pack, looking for her drinking gourd. She sat down heavily on a log and watched a tiny bird hop about eating seeds. She rubbed her forehead and thought about her outburst last night.
Why did she say that she didn't know what was in her heart? She knew that it was empty. It was hard and cold and incapable of love.

She stood up and started to pace. This heat was suffocating, and she wished Jean Michel would hurry back so she could cool her body and her feelings in the rushing waters.
Why did he continue to try to seduce her? She must never let him know that her resistance was wearing thin.
She wondered if he knew that her eyes were continually on him.

When Jean Michel returned, he pulled his damp hair back with a leather thong and rubbed his skin with pennyroyal to repel the bugs. Darcy grabbed her pack and headed for the waterfall, eager to wash the heat away. It was only a short distance through the trees, and she saw the little waterfall cascading down into the shallow river below.

Slipping her clothes off, she stepped onto the rocks and got under the crashing water. The pummeling of it helped clear her head, and after giving her hair and body a hearty scrubbing she dried off, dressed and returned to Jean Michel. He stood up when she came through the trees as if he had something to say to her, but stopped. When she started to pin up her hair he caught her wrist saying, "No, don't put your hair up. Please leave it down."

Darcy pulled her arm away from him and said, "Don't be absurd." Convention dictated a woman keep her hair up unless she were behind closed doors.

“We are alone. I am the only one who will see it.”

Darcy bit her lip, knowing that Jean Michel's request was very intimate. Hesitantly she dropped her arms. He sighed as if he had been holding his breath then picked up his pack to go.

They walked all afternoon, stopping only occasionally for water or a bit of food. Jean Michel told Darcy to eat steadily throughout the day, in small amounts, to keep her energy up and to save her appetite for a hot meal at night.

When the sun began to set, he traversed a steep hill, and Darcy followed, grateful to be going up to where the mosquitoes and flies would plague her no longer. The site was atop another cliff, and the beauty of the landscape was as lovely as the night before.

"We are very lucky that we have not had to journey in the rain," said Jean Michel, as he built a fire.

"And if it rains?" asked Darcy.

"We find a cave."

Darcy did not like the sound of that, but she decided she would not worry about it until the time came. After dinner Jean Michel opened his pack and took out a book.

The entire day he had struggled within himself as Darcy walked in front him on the trails. As he watched her dark tresses spill down her back, he wanted to pull her close a thousand times, but he could not risk rejection again. He needed no more reminders that she did not want him. He had revealed too much by asking her to leave her hair down earlier in the day.

Darcy watched Jean Michel as he lay on his side, reading a book, wondering why he had suddenly turned so cold and indifferent. She was angry with herself for wanting his attention, but she had looked forward to talking with him by the fire. It was also disappointing that she had left her hair down for him all day, and he never even acknowledged the gesture.

She walked over by him and took a peek at what he was reading. "Oh, you're reading
Othello
, Are you sympathetic to him or do you believe he was a fool?"

Jean Michel looked up from his book and said, "Hmmm? Oh, definitely sympathetic. He was a victim of Iago's treachery."

Suddenly he blinked, "You have read
Othello
?'

"I have," said Darcy matter-of-factly, as she poked the fire. He did not see the smirk on her face, as she stirred the ashes. She relished the amazement on Jean Michel's face. She knew now that she had his attention for the rest of the night.

He demanded, "How is it that you can read?"

"Oh, does it surprise you that an Irish convict has a mind?”

"No, but--well, what else have you read?"

"Many things," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "The Bible
,
of course, but my first work of fiction was
The Arabian Nights
. I've read most of Shakespeare's works and
Milton
, Dante--"

"Who taught you to read?"

"A priest."

Jean Michel was sitting up now cross-legged, staring at Darcy, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. He was simply astounded. He had met few women in his life who could read, but what was even more amazing was that she was well-educated. All his life he had longed to have a woman who could meet him on his own intellectual ground and it had been this mysterious Irish woman all along.

They talked late into the night. Jean Michel marveled at Darcy's ability to debate his opinions and offer her own impressions. He realized she had endured not only physical hunger but intellectual starvation.

Darcy was delighted as well. She had always found Nathan’s impressions of literature to be flat and uninteresting. They always reflected his narrow, elitist views, and when he did ask her opinion, which was seldom, he dismissed her ideas as pedestrian. She hadn't realized how much she had missed talking with someone who treated her as an intellectual equal.

Jean Michel watched Darcy's face, as she talked about Odysseus and Penelope, and suddenly he interrupted saying, "It is a cruel twist of fate that you are bound to another, Darcy."

Their eyes locked a moment, and then Darcy looked down. "I don't want to go back to Nathan, Jean Michel.”

She knew she had revealed too much, so she stood up abruptly and announced, “It’s late.”

As they took out their bedrolls for the night, Jean Michel asked, "You said that you were educated by a priest. I thought that they were not allowed in
Ireland
?"

"You're right. They are not, but we smuggled a Jesuit into our town. He befriended me shortly after he arrived and taught me how to read."

"What did you say the name of the town was in
Ireland
?"

"Kilkerry, it's in
County
Kerry
on the west coast."

Jean Michel frowned. He lay in front of the fire for a long time, staring at the flames until he was certain that Darcy was fast asleep. He stood up and went to his pack, pulling everything out and throwing it onto the ground.
 
When he reached the bottom of his bag, he yanked out a long leather pouch holding letters. His hands shook as he stood by the fire, reading the words. When he finished, he looked up and gasped, "It can't be!"

Jean Michel sat down heavily onto the ground, shaking his head.
It was too impossible. She couldn't be the same woman.
Ireland
was too large, and there must be hundreds of women like her living there.
But he knew in his heart that there was only one woman who could be described as Pandora. It was Darcy McBride.

Gradually and with complete astonishment, Jean Michel admitted to himself that the Jesuit who had educated Darcy was his own brother, Etienne Lupe'.

Chapter 27

Jean Michel kept the news from Darcy at least for the time being. It was too soon after making his own discovery, and he was still recovering from the shock of it himself. As the morning wore on, he found himself eager for news of Etienne, so he decided to tell her when they stopped to rest on the
Kensington
River
. As they approached the broad expanse of water, Jean Michel told Darcy that they would be headed north from here to an abandoned settlement, and it was there that he would begin the survey.

After climbing a large flat ledge overlooking the river, Jean Michel swung his pack onto the ground. He sat down on the edge of the rock letting his legs dangle freely over the water, and Darcy sat down beside him. They ate some biscuits and watched the water tumble across the rocks beneath their feet.

"This spot reminds me of a place where I sat with a friend a long time ago. In fact it was the man who taught me to read," said Darcy. She looked up at the sky, squinting in the sunlight, and took a deep breath. "Only it smells different. The last time was by the ocean. We sat on a ledge like this and ate strawberries in the sunshine."

Jean Michel saw his opportunity. "Etienne liked strawberries, didn't he?" asked Jean Michel.

“Yes, he--”
 
As if a lightning bolt had hit her, Darcy jumped to her feet and cried, "How do you know his name?"

He took her hand and said, “Sit down, Darcy. We must talk." Mechanically she sat down, her eyes on him. “Darcy, your friend Father Etienne is my brother."

She stared at him, struggling to comprehend the news when suddenly she cried out, "What! This is impossible. You shall not use my fondest memories for your sport! How did you find out about him?"

Jean Michel reached inside his shirt and pulled out Etienne's letters for her to read. "He referred to you as his little Pandora, but I knew it was you."