She looked at Jean Michel several times, and each time he appeared to be sleeping. At one point she grew concerned and sent a nurse to see if he needed help. The woman returned reporting he was resting peacefully.
The gunfire slowed but did not stop entirely that evening and when the last patient was settled in, Darcy went to find Shenanigan. Since the beginning of the attack, she had not seen the dog, and she was worried.
Spattered with blood from head to toe, she went to her room to clean up, and the minute she entered the room Shenanigan crawled out from under the bed, his tail wagging. She laughed and bent down to hug him. "There's my brave hero!" she cooed, as he licked her face.
After washing up and changing her dress, she decided to get some air in the parade ground. The assault had stopped, and the air was clear and quiet. She glanced in the surgery, only a few candles were lit, one of which was by Jean Michel's bed. He spied her as she walked by and motioned to her.
Reluctantly, Darcy went in to his bed. She told herself she would not let her guard down this time. He ran his eyes over her face and hair as if he were memorizing everything then said, "I want you to know that I was teasing you when I said you were responsible for my injury. There was nothing you could have done to stop those gunshots."
Darcy nodded and mumbled her thanks. She hoped this would be the extent of their conversation, but he continued, “Adrianna was here to see me today. I gave her the rabbit's foot for Nan. I hope it brings her luck."
There was a long pause as Jean Michel searched her face then he asked, "It's been a long time since anyone's been kind to you, hasn't it?"
The conversation was taking a personal turn, and she stood up asking, "May I get anything else for you tonight?"
"Sit down, Darcy," he said softly.
She swallowed hard and sat down. Slowly he reached up and pulled a pin out of her hair, and a long tress tumbled down onto her shoulder.
She closed her eyes, fighting the desire. One by one he removed each pin until her hair fell softly around her face.
"I must go,” she murmured.
His hand moved to her chin, and he urged her down to meet his lips, but she pulled back. "No, this cannot be. I don't know you. I don't want to know you!"
Shaken, Darcy turned and left the surgery.
Chapter 22
The siege continued into the next day, but with fewer casualties. By late afternoon the gunfire had stopped, and there were rumors of an outbreak of smallpox in the enemy camp. There was widespread relief, but no celebration. The mention of smallpox struck terror into the hearts of settler, soldier and Indian on both sides.
Darcy did not return to Jean Michel's bedside. She continued to work in the surgery but invited no contact with him. She made up her mind to return her complete attention to Nathan. She believed that he might be tiring of her, and the thought of being sold to someone else terrified her. This was reason enough not to become involved with Jean Michel.
As the days passed and the enemy retreated north, life gradually returned to normal. Jean Michel's strength returned, and he was released permanently from the surgery. He made little attempt to converse with Darcy. He believed now that she was in love with Nathan and that it had been nothing more than a foolish infatuation on his part.
He stole glances at her though, chiding himself for being a silly schoolboy, yet he could not keep his eyes from following her. He was growing ever more angry and resentful of Darcy for stealing his peace of mind, and when the meetings resumed with Colonel Lawrence, it was difficult for him to be civil.
In keeping with the mood of victory, Nathan invited his officers and their wives to dine with him and toast the outcome of the siege.
"I want you to wear your loveliest gown tonight, Darcy," said Nathan. "I believe the blue taffeta with the green stomacher would be suitable for the occasion. The few provincials in attendance will be impressed."
He looked in the mirror and straightened his cravat, then adjusted a powdered wig carefully on his head. Darcy hated the dandified fashion and much preferred men looking natural.
Nathan donned his finest dress uniform for tonight's festivities. His red coat was decorated with rich gold braid running down each lapel and cuff. Under it he wore a matching waistcoat with a crisp white shirt. His britches were also red, and his tall black boots were polished to a high shine.
Darcy cut an equally elegant picture in her royal-blue taffeta. Per Nathan's request she had chosen the green stomacher decorated with tiny blue flowers, and around her neck she tied a green ribbon holding a little gold locket he had given her before they left Providence. The dress was cut very low, and Darcy suspected that was why Nathan had chosen it. She believed he wanted to flaunt his possession and make the officers envy him.
She caught him looking at her, as she was applying some powdered sage to make her eyelids green, and she smiled.
He nodded his head. "You look perfect."
Darcy sensed that she was back in Nathan's good graces. She had worked hard at flattering him lately, and she had expended a lot of energy giving him pleasure. This had not been particularly difficult since she had been frustrated after the several encounters with Jean Michel.
Darcy and Nathan greeted guests as they arrived, and everyone was offered a drink. Although she had little experience as hostess, Nathan marveled at how adept Darcy was putting everyone at their ease.
As if she were a woman of refinement and breeding, she moved around the drawing room making conversation and attending to the guests. She was determined to make Nathan proud of her and prove to him that she had abandoned her headstrong ways.
With her rich taffeta gown rustling, Darcy moved over to Nathan's side and whispered, "Are all of the guests here, Nathan? Shall we move into supper?"
"I believe so," he said, looking around the room. Then he looked over her shoulder and said, “Oh, thank you for joining us.”
Turning to greet their latest guest, Darcy saw Jean Michel. Her smile dropped, and she said without thinking, "Nathan, I thought you were only inviting officers."
Lawrence chuckled uncomfortably and said, "Darcy, I'm surprised at you! Jean Michel Lupe' is the finest surveyor in the provinces. Please apologize."
"That won't be necessary," Jean Michel said, coolly.
He did not like encountering Darcy any more than she liked encountering him. He too had dressed for the occasion but in somewhat simpler attire. His black hair was not powdered, but tied back neatly in a pigtail. He wore an ink-bottle blue topcoat with tails which dropped to his knees and a matching waistcoat. The white linen shirt he had chosen was of the finest quality, and his britches were dark brown. His boots too were polished to a high shine, and under his arm he carried a tri-corn hat.
"Allow me to take your hat, Mr. Lupe'," said Darcy trying to be civil. She couldn't help but notice that his coat color matched his icy-blue eyes. When she returned, she heard Nathan say, "I am in your debt, Mr. Lupe’ for protecting Miss McBride on her foolish expedition to rescue the McDermott family several nights back."
Jean Michel said, "Miss McBride did a fine job of protecting herself. In fact she doesn't need anyone's help.”
Nathan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked from one to the other. The animosity was obvious. Determined to learn more he said, "Mr. Lupe’, we have been working together all this time, and I am afraid that I know nothing of you personally. Please join Miss McBride and me at the head of the table this evening."
Darcy looked down and swallowed. As they walked into the dining room Jean Michel scrutinized her. He noticed the low-cut gown and heavy makeup. He believed that Nathan was parading her tonight as his courtesan. Although she looked elegant and seductive, he much preferred the woman in the cabin that stormy night during the siege--the illusive Irishwoman with the curious blend of femininity and fierce independence.
Tonight she was masquerading as a china doll for the benefit of Lawrence's pride. "She's a fool to love that lecherous old man," he thought as he
stepped into the dining room. The long table looked beautiful covered with a white linen table cloth and two shimmering candelabras. For practical purposes no china had been brought to Fort Lawrence, but twenty pewter plates lined the table, each one topped with a white linen napkin. A lovely pyramid of apples, nuts and wild berries comprised the centerpiece, and once they were seated, each guest's wineglass was immediately filled.
Before dinner was served, Nathan stood up and proposed a toast, "To our success putting down the French and the Abenaki, and to the health of His Majesty King George the Second."
Reluctantly, Darcy took a sip of her wine. She found the toast to be rather grandiose considering that smallpox had ended the siege, but she drank anyway.
Steaming leg of lamb and tongue were brought in and set on elevated dish crosses. There were fresh green beans and corn and a beautiful raspberry flummery topped with candied flowers. Nathan was determined to make the British officers feel at home and impress these provincials with the elegance of English entertaining.
The evening that had started out so enjoyable for Darcy dissolved into torture. She lost her spontaneity, and all she could think about was Jean Michel sitting across from her. She thought falling back into Nathan's arms would cool her feelings toward this man, but the encounter tonight brought everything back in a rush.
Her heart pounded, and she ate very little of the meal she had so looked forward to tasting. Nathan and Jean Michel were chatting cordially, when suddenly Lawrence turned to Darcy and said, "You are very quiet this evening, my dear. Are you well?"
Darcy nodded, and Colonel Lawrence decided it was time to explore the nature of the relationship between these two uncomfortable dinner guests.
"Tell me, Jean Michel," Nathan said smiling, "Are you married?"
"I am not," Jean Michel stated flatly, and he offered no further information.
Nathan continued, "Oh come now. Surely there must be someone close to your heart?"
"I assure you, Colonel Lawrence, there is no one," he returned, looking irritated.
"Why ever not?"
Jean Michel looked directly at Darcy and said in a voice heavy with sarcasm. "Because men don't love women; they only need them. Don't you agree, Miss McBride?"
Darcy was furious, not only because Lupe’ was mocking her, but because Nathan would recognize those words. One of the women seated next to her, interrupted her thoughts and complemented her necklace.
"Thank you, Mrs. Williams. I received this locket from my dearest Nathan during our time together in Providence." Darcy smiled at him, reached up and stroked his cheek.
"But there is nothing in it,” she said, showing the empty locket to the woman. Darcy turned back to Nathan and said, “Would you consider sitting for a miniature, so I may have your likeness with me always?"
"Of course, my dear," he said searching her eyes. She seemed so sincere; Nathan thought maybe he had imagined everything. He realized now that it was foolish to think that she might be smitten with that provincial of French blood, and he felt confident of her affection once more. Darcy leaned close to his ear, whispered something suggestive, and they chuckled.
Jean Michel went white with rage. He saw Lawrence’s eyes run over Darcy's shoulders and breasts, and he fought the urge to stand up and smash his face. With victory in her eyes, Darcy looked over at Jean Michel. She was determined to end this infatuation here and now. She would show him that she was completely taken with Lawrence. The evening had taken a turn for the better after all, she thought.
Nathan was feeling magnanimous now toward Jean Michel and asked, "I do wish you would consider a commission in His Majesty's service. I know you prefer the militia, but your skills and quick mind would take you far. Forgive me for saying so, but it is your duty as a subject to serve the Crown.
Darcy stopped eating her dessert and looked at Jean Michel, waiting for his reaction. She thought she detected a glint of anger in his eyes, but outwardly he appeared cool.
"Thank you, but as you know, I am not interested."
Nathan chuckled indignantly, "After everything we do for you provincials, your lack of gratitude amazes me.”
Jean Michel sat up straight and said hotly, "Gratitude, gratitude for what!"
"Well, for one thing,” Nathan said haughtily. “We are over here defending your hearth and home.”
"That certainly was not apparent when you invited only militia to the fort during the siege, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves.” Jean Michel slid his chair back and put his napkin on his plate. “We owe you nothing. In fact we 'Provincials,' as you call us would be better off without King George the Second and his meddlesome army!"
"Sir, I find your skills in the field above reproach, but your belligerent attitude smacks of rebellion!" said Nathan.
Nathan stood up abruptly inviting the guests into the main room for port. When the company had assembled in the other room Darcy looked for Jean Michel, but he gone.
He had left in a rage grabbing his hat and crossing the parade ground to his room. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he came back outside to a table in front of his quarters. He slammed the bottle down on the table and straddled a chair. Jean Michel poured himself a stiff drink and knocked it back in one gulp. The whiskey burned, but he knew that it would dissolve his rage.
He looked across at Colonel Lawrence's quarters. From where he was sitting he could just see inside the drawing room. He watched the guests move about, talking and laughing. It appeared as if the soiree was coming to a close. Jean Michel poured himself another drink, ran his hands through his hair and stewed.
Tom English was the first to leave Lawrence's gathering. He approached Jean Michel sat down and said, "What the devil's wrong with you? You look like you could tear somebody to pieces."
"Nothing is wrong. Here have a drink," he said, pouring Tom a whiskey. They watched the party break up, and Tom did most of the talking, relaying bits of gossip he learned at the supper.
When the last guest said good night, John Michel could see Nathan take off his coat and stretch in the front room as Darcy collected empty wine glasses. They seemed to be ignoring one another, when suddenly Nathan caught her by the hand, pulled her over and kissed her. Holding Darcy in one arm he reached over to unfasten the drapes, and the last thing Jean Michel saw was Darcy reaching up, putting her arms around Nathan's neck.
"What's wrong with you tonight? You haven't heard a word I've said," complained Tom.
Jean Michel was staring at the curtain, smothering his rage. "I'm leaving tomorrow,” he announced. “The Abenaki and the French are gone, and we are done consulting with Lawrence. I have no further interest here."
He poured himself another drink and one for Tom.
"You're determined to start your journey with a headache, aren't you?" laughed Tom, pushing his drink away. “As for me, I am done for tonight." He stood up, bade Jean Michel a safe journey and retired to his quarters leaving Jean Michel alone to fume.
* * *
It was a cloudless night, and a full moon lit up the parade ground as Darcy stepped out to take some night air. She had tried to get some sleep, but it eluded her. There had been too much tension at the dinner, and she needed to clear her mind. After Nathan had fallen asleep, she rose from his large four-poster bed and put on one of her everyday gowns.
She left Nathan sleeping peacefully. He had ended the night feeling satisfied with his celebration supper--his mistress and himself.
Darcy took a deep breath of night air. Except for the few guards on duty, the parade ground was empty, and she stretched deeply. Unaware that she was being observed, she adjusted the shoulder on her gown and started to the well for a drink of water.
As she crossed in front of the officers' quarters, Jean Michel stepped out in front of her and said in an exaggerated Irish accent, "Well, bless me soul! If it isn't the Irish princess herself!" and he swept down into a low courtly bow, mocking her.
Darcy made a large circle around him and kept walk
ing. With her chin in the air, she said with disdain, "Go to bed. You're drunk."
The next thing she heard was a long string of French exclamations which she guessed were curses, and startled, she swung around to look at him. Jean Michel changed to English and said, "You really think that you love that old man, don't you?"
"Yes, Colonel Lawrence gives me great pleasure," said Darcy.
"Pleasure, pleasure!" he laughed. "What would you know about pleasure when you take a wizened old Englishman to your bed? I know now for a fact that you are afraid of your own desire."
"Don't be absurd."
"Then try a man in the prime of his life with French blood coursing through his veins."
Darcy turned to go. She walked a short way, when suddenly she felt him grab her wrist and swing her around.
Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry Page 20
