Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry Page 5

  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?"

  She shook her head.

  "There are libraries all over the world, but in the Colonies a man by the name of Franklin has established a somewhat different way of distributing knowledge. Every member of his library pays dues and with these dues he buys more books and allows the members to borrow these books whenever they choose. Imagine all that knowledge, right there at your fingertips. He's quite an amazing man. There are many men like him in America, men with new ideas and insights."

  "Tell me again about your childhood, Father. I shall always remember your story of the dark wilderness and how you and your brother felt eyes watching you from within the forest."

  "Oh yes," he said, leaning back against the abbey wall, looking wistfully out to sea. "It is beautiful and thrilling, but I am increasingly afraid for my family. War is escalating, and I fear for their lives."

  "War with the Indians?" questioned Darcy.

  "Well, they are involved, but it is the English and the French who are starting the hostilities. They are struggling for domination of the vast resources on the continent. It is a very precarious position for my mother and my brother since they bear French surnames and live in the English Colonies."

  "So your father was French?" asked Darcy.

  "Yes, a French Catholic which is not very popular in the English colonies, but my mother is of English birth."

  A look of worry passed over Father Etienne's face. "What concerns me are the Indian raiding parties sent by the French. I fear that there will be surprise attacks on the homesteads along the English frontier. They are a brutal and a bloody thing to witness, Darcy."

  "You have seen these raids?"

  Father Etienne made no reply. He reached down and picked up a book out of the basket. "My mother taught me how to read. She came from a highly educated family and chose to leave her privileged lifestyle behind and follow my father into the frontier. She's an amazing woman."

  Darcy smiled. "I can tell that you miss her."

  "It's been twenty-three years. I can still see her vividly, standing on the docks of Boston, waving goodbye to me, as I left for France. She was a much younger woman then, I imagine she looks quite different now," and suddenly he laughed. "Of course, I have not changed!"

  It was getting late, and Darcy was the first to stand up. She smoothed her apron, picked up her basket and said, "Do you know what a thin place is, Father?"

  "A thin place? What do you mean?"

  "The ancient Celts believed certain spots on Earth have thin boundaries between the natural and the supernatural world. I believe the monks felt that transparent quality here and for that reason chose this site for a monastery."

  "What a beautiful idea. I've never heard of such a thing."

  "Some think its romantic superstition. I prefer to think of it as evidence of eternity," and turning with a sigh she said, "I'd better not be late with Liam's supper tonight. A bit of the devil's been into him lately."

  He looked up at the abbey ruins. "I fancy sometimes that the ghosts of the monks listen to us here. I think it would appeal to them knowing that learning is still going on within these walls," and he looked into Darcy's green eyes. "Thank you for being my friend. I believe I was lonely before you came along."

  She smiled. "I too was lonely. It all fell into place when you said one can find God in many places, so you see I must thank you too."

  Darcy extended her hand, and he pressed it between his own. Carrying the new book in her basket, she hiked down the hill toward home. As she approached her cottage, she spied a figure waving cheerfully. It was Teila Mullin, Darcy’s best friend, and she felt a pang of guilt for neglecting her lately. She prepared herself with a hundred excuses.

  Teila was breathless when she met Darcy. An uphill walk was difficult because of her twisted left foot. She suffered from rickets like her brother, Michael O'Hearn. Teila was a slight wispy young woman now in the bloom of pregnancy. She had fine strawberry-blond hair and a light-hearted attitude. They embraced, and Teila said, "I just saw Liam. He looked confused and angry when I said I had seen you near the abbey with Father Etienne."

  "You saw us?" asked Darcy.

  "Yes, that's one of the reasons I came to see you. Father Etienne must be more careful. I could have been an informant."

  Teila saw the troubled look on Darcy's face and asked, "Why have you been seeing Father Etienne? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

  "No.”

  Teila looked searchingly at her friend. "I know you, Darcy, and I can tell when something is amiss. What is it? Are you ill? Are you going to have a baby?"

  "What? Oh, saints preserve us, no!" laughed Darcy. "But you're certainly showing your baby, Teila," said Darcy patting her friend's belly.

  Teila looked down and smiled. "I feel better with this baby than any of the others."

  They turned and started down the hill. Darcy decided to tell Teila the truth. She took her friend's thin wrist and said, "I have something to tell you, but no one else must know, especially Liam." She swallowed hard and said, "Father Etienne is teaching me to read."

  Teila‘s eyes grew wide. "To read? Why?"

  Darcy laughed and said, "So I can learn."

  Teila laughed. "Why, that sounds just like you, Darcy McBride. You've always wanted something different than the rest of us. I can't say that I understand you, but if it's what you want, then I'm happy for you."

  "Oh it is wonderful. Let me teach you to read, Teila."

  "No. Now what use would I have for books? They can't tend sheep or feed my babies. I'll leave that to you.”

  They chattered happily all the way down to the McBride cottage, excited to be in each other's company once more. When they arrived at the cottage, Teila said, "You have spent no time with me lately. Keenan and the wee ones are up in the pastures today. Come home with me. You can help with my baking, and we can talk some more.”

  Darcy opened her mouth to protest and Teila said, “There is no excuse. I have even prepared Liam's supper for you," and she handed Darcy the basket she carried. "Throw that
in your stew pot, and he'll never know the difference."

  Darcy laughed. The offer sounded tempting, but she hesitated by the door of the cottage. She had been away from home so much lately, and she felt guilty. "You’re right, Teila. He shouldn't expect more. After all, I'm not his wife."

  They giggled and Darcy disappeared inside the cottage to put the stew into her pot. She brought up the fire to warm it and grabbed a shawl. Thunder rumbled and they pulled their shawls on their heads walking briskly to the Mullin home. All evening the storm came in great waves off the ocean, but the Mullin cottage was warm and cozy as the two women baked bread and shared news.

  Keenan and the children returned to find the house filled with the aroma of breads and puddings being prepared. It felt good to be part of a family, thought Darcy. Teila and Darcy were as close as sisters, and for years they had shared almost everything. Teila knew there was a side to Darcy that she would never understand, but she accepted it and asked nothing more from Darcy than what she could give.

  "Well, if it isn't Miss McBride!" bellowed Keenan, as he hung up his jacket. "It's been far too quiet lately. We need some giggling and silly prattle from you two."

  "Oh, go on with you and wash your hands," ordered Teila.

  Keenan winked at Darcy as the children ran to hug her. They were fresh, rosy-cheeked little ones ranging in age from two to ten. Never experiencing a famine, they were strong, healthy and filled with life. Teila's husband, Keenan also appeared in robust good health. His energy and vitality were reflected in his good-nature. Even though his rumpled brown hair and pug nose made him look like a troll, his booming voice and generous nature endeared him to all. He was perpetually smoking a pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco surrounded him.

  He was grateful to Darcy because she made Teila happy, and he sat contentedly smoking his pipe while they discussed village news and prepared his supper. Keenan eased back in his chair and took a long draw, watching Darcy. She was different from Teila or any of the other women in town, and although he couldn't identify what was so extraordinary about her, the distinction became more apparent each year. He had known Darcy all his life, and she had never quite fit in with the others. Many of Kilkerry's young men found her mystery alluring, but Keenan was merely amused by it.

  After dinner Rowena, their ten-year-old daughter, played a tune on her tin whistle as Keenan carried the children to bed. Darcy clapped enthusiastically when the child was done then made her farewells for the night. She hugged Teila and said, "I didn't realize how much I missed you."

  "May God go with you, my girl,” Teila replied. “Now, quickly run between the raindrops!"

  When Darcy arrived home, the front door was open, swinging back and forth in the wind. She hesitated a moment then entered the dark room and lit a candle. Nothing seemed disturbed, a few embers remained in the fireplace, but when she bent down to resurrect the fire; she saw the charred remains of Father Etienne's copy of Don Quixote. She groaned and pulled it gingerly from the coals.

  Suddenly, the door crashed open, and there stood Liam, his large frame weaving back and forth in the shadows. He stumbled into the room and leaned heavily on the table, glaring at her. His greasy hair was plastered to his head, and his breath smelled of stale alcohol.

  She stood up holding the charred book in her hand and said, "Are you responsible for this blasphemy? Don't you ever burn a book!"

  Liam's attention went from the book to Darcy's face. His eyes narrowed, and he met her challenge with a snarl. "No, darlin', there won't be any more burning 'cause there will be no more reading!"

  She tossed her head and said, "If you want to waste your mind, Liam, that's your choice, but I'll not join you on the road to stupidity."

  Quick as lightning he smashed her across the face with the back of his hand, and she reeled onto the table sending the candlestick flying. Putting her hand to her face, Darcy looked at Liam in shock. There was a vacant, lifeless expression in his eyes which struck terror into her heart. She knew he equated education with the aristocracy, and tonight she represented the ruling classes. Lunging for the door, Liam caught her waist. She felt the iron grip of his huge hands as he slammed her against the plaster wall.

  As she slid down the wall dazed, Liam grabbed the back of her blouse. As he pulled her up, he snarled, "You think you're better than me, don't you?" and he vaulted her into the fireplace. She hit the mantle squarely across her shoulders, her legs crumpling beneath her. Darcy’s head hit the hearthstones like a melon. Liam rolled her over planting his knee on her chest. The last thing Darcy saw was his huge fist rising to smash her face. As the room moved farther and farther away, Darcy struggled to remember the prayer "Hail Mary, full of grace—

  Chapter 6

  It felt like fingers were tapping all over Darcy’s body. Her mind moved in a thick fog until she realized rain was pelting her as she lay in the mud. The earth felt cool on her burning face. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she rose to her hands and knees retching. A flash of lightning illuminated the McBride cottage, as she fell back down into the mud.

  Darcy couldn't understand why she was outside, and she tried to rise again but intense pain would not allow it. Her wet hair lay in long, muddy tangles, and her clothes were filthy and plastered to her skin. Gradually the details returned to her, and she shuddered to think of someone finding her out here, disgraced and humiliated. She remembered all the justifications for the thrashing of a woman such as, "I think she likes it," or "She must have done something to deserve it.” She couldn't bear the thought of anyone blaming her for Liam's shameful behavior.

  She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, shaking from pain and weakness and crawled like a hurt animal to the door of the cottage. Leaning heavily on a small bench, she gathered all her strength and hauled herself into a standing position. On wobbly legs, she entered the cottage, supporting herself on the walls and furniture until she struggled to the bed where she threw herself down. She slept for hours until sharp pains roused her, and she opened her eyes.

  Pushing herself up, she looked down at her blouse. "Oh sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed. It was covered with blood, vomit, and mud. The bed sheets too.

  She rose from the bed, managed to light a candle, searching for Liam. With every ounce of strength she pulled herself up the stairs to check his bed.

  The room was vacant, and she heaved a sigh of relief backing down the stairs. Darcy limped over to a small, cracked mirror and gazed into the glass. She gasped. She didn't recognize the monster with purple, swollen eyes. Caked blood had hardened around the cuts on her face, and her lips were swollen to double their ordinary size. Moaning, she fell back onto the bed.

  Darcy lay for a long time too exhausted to move, trying hard to ignore the throbbing in every part of her body. She turned her head and noticed that streaks of light were breaking across the dark sky. There was not enough water in the house to clean the blood and filth from her body. The town well would be surrounded by women at this time of day, so Darcy lay helplessly in bed trying to think of what to do. Suddenly, it occurred to her that Father Etienne bathed in Glinnish stream. The spot was secluded and offered lots of fresh running water.

  She moved to the cupboard, removed a crock of soft soap, and then turned to her linen chest gathering a towel, clean clothes and rags for bandages. Clamping the top down tightly on the crock of soap, she rolled all the articles into a bundle and sat down to rest before starting her strenuous hike up the hill.

  She cracked the cottage door to search for villagers, but many still slumbered in the half-light of dawn. As Darcy stepped out the door into the fresh air, another wave of nausea overtook her, and she fell to her knees, retching once more. Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she turned toward the bluff and began her painful ascent. She hobbled and stumbled her way up the incline, hunched over with the pack under her arm, and when she at last reached the summit, Darcy turned toward a cluster of trees behind the abbey where Glinnish Stream was concealed.


  She could hear the brook bubbling, as she plunged into the brush and was grateful to be under the cover of darkness once more.

  She spied a small clearing where the stream broadened out between the rocks into a deep pool and began to peel off her soiled clothing. Her skirt dropped easily to the ground, but her blouse was painful to remove. The blood had dried the material to her wounds, and she clenched her teeth pulling the garment from her skin. At last Darcy stood naked by the water, her body covered with purple bruises and open wounds.

  Setting her soap and wash rag on a rock, she eased herself down into the running water. At any other time, this stream would have felt icy, but her body was so inflamed with injuries that the cold water was an anesthetic.

  Darcy felt it rush over her skin, floating her black tresses around her head, as she lay almost completely submerged. The stream gurgled in her ears, and she listened to the comforting rush as hot tears welled into her eyes. Feeling frightened and betrayed, Darcy knew that she would never trust Liam again. It was apparent that her worth did not extend beyond that of housekeeper, and she realized that all her years of loyalty had been misguided.