Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (47 page)

As she was leaving, Father Cesaire emerged from his rooms behind the altar. The somber figure approached her, and she turned her back on him not wishing any communication.

As she placed her hand on the door to leave, he said coldly, "You have been here for six months, and you have never given me your confession, Madame LaRoche. Your sins are many. I think that it is time you make peace with God."

At these words Darcy whirled around and exclaimed, "
My
sins are many? How dare you judge me. I have no proof, but I have an idea of what you did to that innocent child in there, and you had better attend to your own conscience, Father Cesaire, not mine!"

Darcy walked out of the church and slammed the door behind her. From that day forward, she never set foot in the mission church again.

*
  
*
  
*

Slowly the woods came back to life, as the snow melted, and the river opened up. At first large chunks of ice sailed down the blue waters of the Chaudiere then gradually the ice melted and canoe traffic resumed again. Migrating birds returned, and the trees and floor of the forest were alive with chipmunks and squirrels scurrying about gathering food. Darcy loved the way they chattered and scolded her as she walked out to gather saplings to weave baskets. This skill was new to Darcy, and she knew that her work paled in comparison to the beautifully crafted baskets of the Abenaki women, but she made the attempt out of necessity and after a while came to enjoy the weaving.

Raoul continued to suffer from his cough, and then one day he took a turn for the worse. He could no longer get out of bed, and he laid wheezing and gasping for air. He coughed up large quantities of blood, and Darcy was scared. He no longer asked for his pipe, and his diet consisted only of liquids.

She worried constantly about him and never strayed far from his bedside. Her days were filled with loads of bedding and soiled clothing from Raoul, and her hands grew red and chapped from continual wash.

Friends of Raoul came by to visit, and Darcy knew that they were really there to say good-bye. They never stayed long, and although they were cordial to her, they never extended themselves with words of comfort or any small talk. She knew that they hated her because she had come from the English Colonies.

Raoul asked Darcy to read to him from the Bible every evening. If he hadn't asked, she would never have opened the book again. She had turned her back on God. She believed the Creator had abandoned her, and she decided to meet Him in kind.

One afternoon, when she was working in the garden, she saw the dark figure of Father Cesaire sweep into the cabin. She knew that he was there to give Raoul his Last Rites. The priest did not come looking for Darcy, and that was fine with her.

One warm spring evening before the mosquitoes hatched, Darcy threw open the windows of the cabin to allow Raoul some fresh air. A breeze on his face seemed to help him breathe easier. She sat on the corner of his bed and began to comb his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes and said to her weakly, "You have been very good to me, Darcy. You are too young and full of life to be buried here in this settlement, taking care of a dying man."

"I have done nothing out of the ordinary," she said gently.

"I must ask your forgiveness for something, my dear wife."

"Raoul, you have always been so kind to me. How can there be anything to forgive?”

He searched her face then said, "I know that you have always loved another,” he said breathlessly. “And I deliberately kept you here because I was too selfish to live without you."

"What nonsense you talk of, Raoul," she exclaimed starting to feel her body tense.

"I saw you on All Hallows Eve, Darcy, that night by the bonfire, kissing the man from
Massachusetts
. It is he you love.” He paused to catch his breath. “I should have released you then, but I was too selfish, and I held you prisoner here. I knew that I was going to die soon, and I wanted your lovely face to be the last thing that I gazed upon before I went to God."

Darcy pressed her eyes shut.
So Raoul had suffered in silence all this time. Never a cross word, never an accusation.
She looked down at him again. “There is nothing to forgive, Raoul. I should be asking
you
for forgiveness."

Raoul smiled weakly, closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Late that night, he had a fit of coughing which was too much for his weak body. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and with Darcy holding him in her arms, he died. Raoul LaRoche was granted his final wish. The last thing he saw before he departed was the face of his wife, Madame LaRoche.

All by herself, Darcy cleaned and prepared the body for burial. At sunrise she sat in a chair, staring straight ahead. She dreaded going to the mission to inform Father Cesaire of Raoul's death. The cheerful spring day didn't lure her outside, and well into the afternoon Darcy continued to sit in the chair, not moving.

She was so tired--tired of fighting to survive, tired of uncertainties and tired of loving someone that she could never have. Darcy examined all her options, but more and more the escape which Faith had chosen seemed the most appealing choice.

She stood up and opened the door of the cabin gazing out at the cold rushing waters of the
Chardiere
River
. The current was swift and likely to sweep her away quickly, and the icy waters would numb any pain that might occur once she submerged herself. Yes, this was the best avenue to oblivion.

She took a step forward, and suddenly she heard a voice from the past whispering in her ear. At first Darcy couldn't identify it. Then the words became clearer, and she could hear Teila say, "How dare you speak indifferently of your life especially when we risk our lives for you! Father Etienne gave his life trying to save you and the others, and now you repay him with this blasphemy!"

Darcy reached up and touched her cheek. She could almost feel the slap Teila had given her so long ago. She closed her eyes and said, "But I'm so tired, I'm so very tired."

Again she heard Teila say angrily, "And now you repay him with this blasphemy!" Over and over she listened to the words. Finally, she walked over to the small cracked mirror on the wall, pinned her hair up and started for the mission to inform Father Cesaire of her husband's death.

No matter how arduous the task, no matter how much suffering she had to endure, Darcy knew in her heart that she must continue living. Taking her life would never be an option again. Across the vast expanses, the spirit of Teila had pulled her from the pit of desperation once more, and Darcy found the strength to go on.

Chapter 34

The entire community attended the funeral of Raoul LaRoche. They were all polite to Darcy, but she knew that they would not welcome her permanently into their community. She had been endured for Raoul's sake only, and she knew now she would have to go.

After the burial, Father Cesaire approached Darcy. She watched with apprehension, as his dark figure approached. He was a peculiar-looking man with his wild shock of jet-black hair falling down in tangles around his face. Darcy thought that he had a maniacal look to him. He approached with his thin lips pursed, then said, "You must realize, Madame that you are not welcome here, and I am in agreement with the community. I sent a courier this morning to inform your English Colonel Lawrence that you are once again available for ransom, if he is interested. I will allow you to await his reply in Monsieur LaRoche's cabin. If he does not respond, you will be sold in
Quebec
in the autumn."

Darcy had the feeling that Cesaire was expecting her to be grateful, but she simply turned and walked away. The cabin was empty and quiet when she returned that afternoon, and Darcy realized how badly she missed Raoul. Over the months she had grown to love him in her own way. She picked up his pipe and held it in her hand, turning it over and over, and thinking of him. Darcy hoped sincerely that she had brought him a bit of happiness in his final days.

The loneliness lessened as the days went on, and when the sun grew warmer, Darcy would sit by the river and watch the eagles circling in the sky.

She wondered if Jean Michel was married yet, and she speculated that Elizabeth Campbell may be already carrying their first child.

Weeks turned to months, and the possibility of Nathan sending someone grew more and more remote. She knew that any day the priest would send her to
Quebec
to be sold as a servant. For all of the uncertainties, Darcy made the most of every day. Since she was leaving before winter, there was no need to fuss over crops or the garden, and with Raoul being gone, there was no one for whom she had to cook or clean, so every day she took long leisurely walks, bathed or lay on the grass.

One sultry evening as Darcy was preparing supper, large thunderheads gathered in the sky. The winds picked up and brought a hard, driving rain upon the settlement. She had just finished her meal, when there was a knock on the door, and her heart leaped into her throat. Darcy knew that the time had come for her to go to
Quebec
.

She opened the door encountering a small Abenaki boy who told her in French that Father Cesaire would like to see her immediately. Taking a deep breath, Darcy squared her shoulders and started out the door. Suddenly, she remembered something and stopped. She re-entered the cabin and put the cross and charm necklace around her neck. As angry as she had been with God, he had granted her these few months of peace and the gift did not fall on an ungrateful heart.

The pouring rain soaked Darcy to the bone as she followed the silent child through the woods to the mission. The wind ceased, and they walked in a downpour, punctuated only occasionally by claps of thunder. Her gown felt heavy and sodden, and her dark hair hung in wet strands about her face.

As she started up the hill toward the mission church, she could see the outline of Father Cesaire, standing next to someone. She could tell they were watching her. The rain blurred her vision, and when she reached up to wipe the water from her eyes, she realized that the figure standing with the priest was Jean Michel.

Suddenly, her heart jumped. Darcy tried to calm herself, remembering that by now he was probably a married man and maybe even a father. Nevertheless, she took long strides up the hill, stopping so close in front of Jean Michel that their garments touched. The rain rolled down their faces, as they looked into each others eyes.

Father Cesaire watched them with disdain and demanded, "I will take the Colonel's donation to our mission now, Monsieur."

Jean Michel dragged his eyes from Darcy, stepped back and reached inside his shirt, producing a small leather pouch. When Father Cesaire reached out for it, Jean Michel pulled it away. He warned, "Not so fast, I have instructions to interview the prisoner alone before I make the payment."

The Jesuit's eyes narrowed, but he bowed politely and said, "As you wish, Monsieur." Father Cesaire retreated to the shelter of his church to await payment.

Jean Michel looked down at Darcy and asked, "Are you well?"

"They have not harmed me. Why was Nathan so slow in responding?"

"He has been very busy with other matters, and only now had time to contact me regarding your ransom."

Jean Michel looked furtively at the heavily wooded area surrounding them, and taking Darcy by the shoulders, he said with urgency, "You must listen to me carefully, Darcy. We are in grave danger. General Wolfe has taken Point Levi just north of here. He has given instructions to saturate this area with British regulars and Iroquois. They will not care who we are. Once they have the taste of blood, all reason will be washed from their minds. You must be prepared to run for your life."

Darcy heard what he said, but she did not feel afraid.

"Next there is the business of your ransom. Colonel Lawrence has asked me to tell you that he cannot overturn the Crown's punishment, but as far as he is concerned from this day forward you are a free woman."