Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (11 page)

He rubbed his brow and said with a sigh, "As you know, there is a shipment arriving. But special precautions must be taken starting tonight. I have news that we are scheduled for an encampment.”

There was silence in the room. Michael continued. "It's likely ten or fifteen soldiers will be posted in our homes. I have been informed that they will be coming tomorrow."

A collective groan went through the room. Jerry Joyce, a man of later years who had worked under Michael's father asked, "Ya think they know of us?"

Michael shook his head. "From what I've gathered, they know nothing of us, but it is common knowledge that smuggling exists on this coastline. The point of my meeting is this," said Michael, as his bride watched him nervously. "We must be on the alert. As of tonight, we return to the old ways and use all the old precautions, and there is one more thing we must take into account. We must limit interactions with Father Etienne. Meetings with him must be for the sacraments only," said Michael looking directly at Darcy. "He has been told that a red candle burning in a window is a summons to him. There must be no mistakes. We can not endanger him."

In conclusion, Michael stood up and pulled Bran to his feet saying cheerfully, "Some of you may remember Bran Moynihan."

There were exclamations of surprise and recognition. "Well, he is back now from his transportation, and we welcome him into our operation." Several of the men applauded, as others slapped him on the back.

Michael signaled that it was time for them to go to their posts. When Darcy moved toward the door to get her lantern, she felt someone catch her wrist. "Will you be at the abbey tonight?" Bran whispered.

Darcy nodded, feeling intoxicated at being so close to him again. She smiled then reluctantly pulled away to retrieve her lantern. She watched Bran go down the road with Liam to grease the donkeys and hitch them to the carts. His presence warmed her blood.

Returning to the cottage, Darcy walked over to the fireplace to light the candle for her lantern. Bridget was still sitting by the hearth sewing.

“You must be very happy, Bridget," said Darcy.

The girl tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears instead. Darcy was astounded, and slid onto a chair beside her.

Dabbing her eyes with her apron, Bridget said, "There's so much I didn't understand about marriage."

Darcy knew Bridget was referring to her wedding night, and she patted her hand. "Men certainly take great stock in it, don't they?” said Darcy. “I thought the whole thing sounded disgusting when I first heard about it."

Bridget snickered. Darcy continued, "If you love him, it will someday be an expression of affection for you."

"It was all such a surprise, and I just had to tell someone," said Bridget, heaving a sigh.

Darcy jumped up suddenly, lighting her lantern. "I must not wait any longer. The ship will be here soon. Teila is a wonderful person to talk to about these things, Bridget. Please come and see us.”

The drizzle made Darcy’s skirt heavy as she pulled herself up the bluff. It was curious, but the abbey didn't look ominous to her anymore. The walls once again served as a seat of enlightenment, at least for her. But then she remembered there would be no more visits with Father Etienne. No lesson was worth endangering his life. She would have to wait until the encampment moved on.

She entered the abbey and stood in a spot where she was visible to the French vessel. She lifted her lantern into the air, stretching to her full height. The rain made it impossible for her to see a ship off the coast tonight, so pacing back and forth; she swung the lantern in front of her. Her arms ached, but still she continued her march.

Just as she turned around, she crashed into Bran. His hand shot up to stifle her cry and whispered, "I'm sorry I scared you, but the ship has dropped anchor. You can rest now."

"Where are the others?" she asked, catching her breath.

"They're still unloading. I'm a wee bit early cause I was hoping to find you here alone," he said with a grin.

He took her hand and led her to the shelter of an ancient oak tree. He took her by the waist and swung her around pinning her against the trunk. "I won't be taking 'no' for an answer tonight, girl."

Darcy struggled. “No, Bran. Not here--” but Bran's lips bore down on her own as she felt a wave of passion wash over her. He pressed her against the tree and ran his hands up and down her body. Her blood began to run hot, as he lifted her skirt. Before Darcy could move, he was taking her. He moved quickly and mechanically, moaning in her ear and slobbering on her neck. An impatient lover, he was eager to satisfy his lust as quickly as it had surged. In moments, Bran was finished.

He stepped away from her, wiping his brow and said, "You'll be enjoying that from me the rest of your life, my girl."

Darcy nodded her head and said nothing. He pulled her back into his arms and demanded, "I want to hear you say that you love me.”

Darcy took a breath and wiped his saliva from her lips and neck. The whirlwind lovemaking had left her breathless.

"Say it," Bran repeated. "That you love me."

"Give me a moment, Bran.” she said, feeling irritable. She stepped back and straightened her skirt, pushing the hair from her face. “You know that I've waited for you all these years,” Darcy said. “Would someone do that if they weren't in love?"

Bran scowled. He was not satisfied with her answer. He thought his skills as a lover would thaw her icy demeanor, but she held herself back, giving nothing.
Maybe Liam was right--she had become an uppity bitch.

In the eight years he had been gone, Bran learned that he must take what he wanted in life. Darcy was the best-looking woman he had ever seen, and he was entitled to possess the finest. He knew that he was handsome and to have anything less would be unthinkable.
Darcy could not help but submit to his charms soon.

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*

As predicted, the soldiers arrived in Kilkerry and life became severely restricted. Women did not gather at the well, children did not run through the streets, and everyone stayed inside fearing an encounter with the troops. The town, which had finally recovered from disease and starvation, slid back down into depression and despondency.

Major Russell had been in Kilkerry for six months. He set up headquarters in the O'Hearn cottage and requisitioned several other homes for his regulars. When in residence, the British soldiers reigned supreme, and they viewed the Irish Catholic as subhuman.

They dismissed the famine as a blessing on the ignorant peasants and saw it as a way to reduce their pitiful numbers. It enabled the British to make more room for the large plantations they were populating with Scots. They saw the Irish Catholics as a belligerent and troublesome lot clinging fanatically to their pagan relics and saints. They boldly took the housing and food supply, requisitioning whatever they chose, including the women. Any disturbance from a villager would mean transportation or death, so fear and trepidation walked among all.

Darcy was concerned about Father Etienne. He boldly passed through the village at night, disobeying the curfew and ministered to the spiritually hungry. He believed more than ever his flock needed him, and single-mindedly he ignored his own welfare to meet their needs. Father Etienne did take one precaution though. He dressed in lay clothes. It had been many years since he had worn secular garments, and in truth, he found it amusing.

He appeared at the door of the Mullin cottage one night, as Darcy sat at the spinning wheel. There was a sharp knock on the door and everyone jumped. A hush fell over the room as Keenan opened the door.

There stood a rather sheepish Father Etienne dressed in a linen shirt and breeches. Casey Mulligan insisted that the priest wear his famous wedding boots so Father Etienne even had the look of a gentleman. At first no one recognized him. He shut the door, as they all stared at him trying to put a name to the face. With wide eyes, Darcy finally said, "Oh, Heaven and Earth! It's Father Etienne!"

Collectively they gasped then everyone laughed. Keenan shook the priest's hand and ushered him to a chair saying, "We heard that you were no longer dressing in robes, Father. Still we did not recognize you. You look very different!"

"It has been many years since I have dressed in lay clothes. It's rather novel," he confessed.

"If you are caught being out after curfew, you must not say a word, Father Etienne," Teila warned. "If they hear your accent, they will take you."

Darcy sat at the spinning wheel, still in shock, as she studied her friend's transformation. She began to realize Father Etienne had been at one time simply, Etienne a man like any other, laughing, perhaps drinking in a tavern with other men. It occurred to her that she didn't even know his full name.

He could feel her eyes burning into him. "Surprised to see that I am a man, Darcy?"

She knew that he had guessed her thoughts, and to cover her embarrassment she said, "I think it's disgraceful."

Stifling a smile, he said, "It has been a long time since I have heard confessions here. Who would like to go first? You perhaps, Darcy?"

Father Etienne may have taken the vow of chastity, but he was not naive, and he guessed that in the six months since Bran had returned, Darcy had done more than hold hands. Wedding plans must be discussed, and he suspected that her terse attitude toward him tonight may have something to do with a guilty conscience.

He heard confessions from the Mullins then signaled to Darcy to come over to the fireside corner where he had pushed two chairs off privately to one side. Darcy froze. She could not tell Father Etienne the sins she had been committing with Bran.

"Darcy," he said firmly, "It has been months since I have heard your confession. You must relieve your mind and your soul."

Reluctantly, she walked over to him and sitting on the edge of the chair, said quietly, "I cannot."

"Why are you uncomfortable telling me your sins?"

"Because I refuse to 'go and sin no more.' "

Father Etienne nodded. "It is for this reason, Darcy, that I think we should discuss wedding plans for you and Bran."

Father Etienne read the panic in her face. She took a breath and nodded. "I am in agreement, Father. Bran told me that there must be a wedding soon because we will be leaving on the next vessel for
France
. I suppose a wedding would be in order."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not exactly spoken like an eager, blushing bride."

"How would you have me act? Like some lovesick girl?” she said sharply. Realizing her tone had been harsh; she shifted in her seat and softened her voice. “I am well aware that true love is not remotely similar to the silly musings of the poets or the lyrics of the troubadours.”

Father Etienne raised an eyebrow and sat back. It had never occurred to him that maybe she was not in love with Bran, and he suspected that maybe she had not admitted it to herself yet.

"If there is ever anything, Darcy, anything at all, just put a red candle in the window, and I shall come."

He rose from his chair to leave. After saying good night to the Mullins he looked at Darcy one last time. She had not moved. She was still sitting on the edge of the chair staring straight ahead.

Chapter 9

Major Jeffrey Russell sat up in bed and stretched. After pulling on his britches and boots, he pulled the covers back and with a resounding crack, slapped the bare buttocks of the plump redhead sleeping next to him. She yelped and jumped up, looking at him with surprise and then started to laugh. She pressed her breast against his arm and said, "Come back to bed. It's too early."