A Place Called Freedom (1995)

16

JAY JAMISSON’S WEDDING DAY WAS COLD AND DAMP. From his bedroom in Grosvenor Square he could see Hyde Park, where his regiment was bivouacked. A low mist covered the ground, and the soldiers’ tents looked like ships’ sails on a swirling gray sea. Dull fires smoked here and there, adding to the fug. The men would be miserable, but soldiers were always miserable.

He turned from the window. Chip Marlborough, his brideman, was holding Jay’s new coat. Jay shrugged into it with a grunt of thanks. Chip was a captain in the Third Foot Guards, like Jay. His father was Lord Arebury, who had business dealings with Jay’s father. Jay was flattered that such an aristocratic scion had agreed to stand beside him on his wedding day.

“Have you seen to the horses?” Jay asked anxiously.

“Of course,” said Chip.

Although the Third Foot was an infantry regiment, officers always went mounted, and Jay’s responsibility was to supervise the men who looked after the horses. He was good with horses: he understood them instinctively. He had two days’ leave for his wedding but he still worried whether the beasts were being looked after properly.

His leave was so short because the regiment was on active service. There was no war: the last war the British army had fought was the Seven Years’ War, against the French in America, and that had ended while Jay and Chip were schoolboys. But the people of London were so restless and turbulent that the troops were standing by to suppress riots. Every few days some group of angry craftsmen went on strike or marched on Parliament or ran through the streets breaking windows. Only this week silk weavers, outraged by a reduction in their rate of pay, had destroyed three of the new engine looms in Spitalfields.

“I hope the regiment isn’t called out while I’m on leave,” Jay said. “It would be just my luck to miss the action.”

“Stop worrying!” Chip poured brandy from a decanter into two glasses. He was a great brandy drinker. “To love!” he said.

“To love,” Jay repeated.

He did not know much about love, he reflected. He had lost his virginity five years ago with Arabella, one of his father’s housemaids. He thought at the time that he was seducing her but, looking back, he could see that it had been the other way around. After he had shared her bed three times she said she was pregnant. He had paid her thirty pounds—which he had borrowed from a moneylender—to disappear. He now suspected she had never been pregnant and the whole thing was a deliberate swindle.

Since then he had flirted with dozens of girls, kissed many of them, and bedded a few. He found it easy to charm a girl: it was mainly a matter of pretending to be interested in everything she said, although good looks and good manners helped. He bowled them over without much effort. But now for the first time he had suffered the same treatment. When he was with Lizzie he always felt slightly breathless, and he knew that he stared at her as if she were the only person in the room, the way a girl stared at him when he was being fascinating. Was that love? He thought it must be.

His father had mellowed toward the marriage because of the possibility of getting at Lizzie’s coal. That was why he was having Lizzie and her mother staying in the guest house, and paying the rent on the Chapel Street house where Jay and Lizzie would live after the wedding. They had not made any firm promises to Father, but neither had they told him that Lizzie was dead set against mining in High Glen. Jay just hoped it would work out all right in the end.

The door opened and a footman said: “Will you see a Mr. Lennox, sir?”

Jay’s heart sank. He owed Sidney Lennox money: gambling losses. He would have sent the man away—he was only a tavern keeper—but then Lennox might turn nasty about the debt. “You’d better show him in,” Jay said. “I’m sorry about this,” he said to Chip.

“I know Lennox,” Chip said. “I’ve lost money to him myself.” Lennox walked in, and Jay noticed the distinctive sweet-sour smell of the man, like something fermenting. Chip greeted him. “How are you, you damned rogue?”

Lennox gave him a cool look. “You don’t call me a damned rogue when you win, I notice.”

Jay regarded him nervously. Lennox wore a yellow suit and silk stockings with buckled shoes, but he looked like a jackal dressed as a man: there was an air of menace about him that fancy clothes could not conceal. However, Jay could not quite bring himself to break with Lennox. He was a very useful acquaintance: he always knew where there was a cockfìght, a gladiatorial combat or a horse race, and if all else failed he would start a card school or a dice game himself.

He was also willing to give credit to young officers who ran out of cash but wanted to continue gambling; and that was the trouble. Jay owed Lennox a hundred and fifty pounds. It would be embarrassing if Lennox insisted on collecting the debt now.

“You know I’m getting married today, Lennox,” Jay said.

“Yes, I know that,” Lennox said. “I came to drink your health.”

“By all means, by all means. Chip—a tot for our friend.”

Chip poured three generous measures of brandy.

Lennox said: “To you and your bride.”

“Thank you,” said Jay, and the three men drank.

Lennox addressed Chip. “There’ll be a big faro game tomorrow night, at Lord Archer’s coffeehouse, Captain Marlborough.”

“It sounds good to me,” said Chip.

“I’ll hope to see you there. No doubt you’ll be too busy, Captain Jamisson.”

“I expect so,” Jay replied. Anyway, I can’t afford it, he thought to himself.

Lennox put down his glass. “I wish you a good day and hope the fog lifts,” he said, and he went out.

Jay concealed his relief. Nothing had been said about the money. Lennox knew that Jay’s father had paid the last debt, and perhaps he felt confident that Sir George would do the same again. Jay wondered why Lennox had come: surely not just to cadge a free glass of brandy? He had an unpleasant feeling that Lennox had been making some kind of point. There was an unspoken threat in the air. But what could a tavern keeper do to the son of a wealthy merchant, in the end?

From the street Jay heard the sound of carriages drawing up in front of the house. He put Lennox out of his mind. “Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

The drawing room was a grand space with expensive furniture made by Thomas Chippendale, it smelled of wax polish. Jay’s mother, father and brother were there, all dressed for church. Alicia kissed Jay. Sir George and Robert greeted him awkwardly: they had never been an affectionate family, and the row over the twenty-first birthday gift was still fresh in their memories.

A footman was pouring coffee. Jay and Chip each took a cup. Before they could sip it the door flew open and Lizzie came in like a hurricane. “How dare you?” she stormed. “How dare you?”

Jay’s heart missed a beat. What was the matter now? Lizzie was pink with indignation, her eyes flashing, her bosom heaving. She was wearing her bridal outfit, a simple white dress with a white cap, but she looked ravishing. “What have I done?” Jay asked plaintively.

“The wedding is off!” she replied.

“No!” Jay cried. Surely she was not to be snatched from him at the last moment? The thought was unbearable.

Lady Hallim hurried in after her, looking distraught. “Lizzie, please stop this,” she said.

Jay’s mother took charge. “Lizzie dear, what on earth is the trouble? Please tell us what has made you so distressed.”

“This!” she said, and she fluttered a sheaf of papers.

Lady Hallim was wringing her hands. “It’s a letter from my head keeper,” she said.

Lizzie said: “It says that surveyors employed by the Jamissons have been sinking boreholes on the Hallim estate.”

“Boreholes?” Jay said, mystified. He looked at Robert and saw a furtive expression on his face.

Lizzie said impatiently: “They’re looking for coal, of course.”

“Oh, no!” Jay protested. He understood what had happened. His impatient father had jumped the gun. He was so eager to get at Lizzie’s coal that he had not been able to wait until the wedding.

But Father’s impatience might have lost Jay his bride. That thought made Jay angry enough to shout at his father. “You damn fool!” he said recklessly. “Look what you’ve done!”

It was a shocking thing for a son to say, and Sir George was not used to opposition from anyone. He went red in the face and his eyes bulged. “Call off the damned wedding, then!” he roared. “What do I care?”

Alicia intervened. “Calm down, Jay, and you too, Lizzie,” she said; and she meant Sir George as well, though she tactfully did not say so. “There has obviously been a mistake. No doubt Sir George’s surveyors misunderstood some instructions. Lady Hallim, please take Lizzie back to the guest house and allow us to sort this out. I feel sure we do not need to do anything so drastic as to call off the wedding.”

Chip Marlborough coughed. Jay had forgotten he was there. “If you’ll excuse me …,” Chip said. He went to the door.

“Don’t leave the house,” Jay pleaded. “Wait upstairs.”

“Certainly,” Chip said, although his face showed that he would rather be anywhere else in the world.

Alicia gently ushered Lizzie and Lady Hallim toward the door behind Chip. “Please, just give me a few minutes and I will come and see you and everything will be all right.”

As Lizzie went out she was looking more doubtful than angry, and Jay hoped she realized he had not known about the boreholes. His mother closed the door and turned around. Jay prayed she could do something to save the wedding. Did she have a plan? She was so clever. It was his only hope.

She did not remonstrate with his father. Instead she said: “If there’s no wedding you won’t get your coal.”

“High Glen is bankrupt!” Sir George replied.

“But Lady Hallim could renew her mortgages with another lender.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Someone will tell her.”

There was a pause while that threat sank in. Jay was afraid his father would explode. But Mother was a good judge of how far he could be pushed, and in the end he said resignedly: “What do you want, Alicia?”

Jay breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps his wedding might be saved after all.

Mother said: “First of all, Jay must speak to Lizzie and convince her that he did not know about the surveyors.”

“It’s true,” Jay interjected.

“Shut up and listen,” his father said brutally.

Mother went on: “If he can do that, they can get married as planned.”

“Then what?”

“Then be patient. In time, Jay and I can talk Lizzie around. She’s against coal mining now, but she will change her mind, or at least become less passionate about it—especially when she has a home and a baby and begins to understand the importance of money.”

Sir George shook his head. “It’s not good enough, Alicia—I can’t wait.”

“Whyever not?”

He paused and looked at Robert, who shrugged. “I suppose I might as well tell you,” Father said. “I’ve got debts of my own. You know we have always run on borrowed money—most of it from Lord Arebury. In the past we’ve made profits for ourselves and for him. But our trade with America has fallen very low since the trouble started in the colonies. And it’s almost impossible to get paid for what little business we do—our biggest debtor has gone bust, leaving me with a tobacco plantation in Virginia that I can’t sell.”

Jay was stunned. It had never occurred to him that the family enterprises were risky and that the wealth he had always known might not last forever. He began to see why his father had been so enraged at having to pay his gambling debts.

Father went on: “The coal has been keeping us going, but it’s not enough. Lord Arebury wants his money. So I have to have the Hallim estate. Otherwise I could lose my entire business.”

There was a silence. Both Jay and his mother were too shocked to speak.

Eventually Alicia said: “Then there is only one solution. High Glen will have to be mined without Lizzie’s knowledge.”

Jay frowned anxiously. That proposal frightened him. But he decided not to say anything just yet.

“How could it be done?” said Sir George.

“Send her and Jay to another country.”

Jay was startled. What a clever idea! “But Lady Hallim would know,” he said. “And she’ll be sure to tell Lizzie.”

Alicia shook her head. “No, she won’t. She’ll do anything to make this marriage happen. She’ll keep quiet if we tell her to.”

Jay said: “But where would we go? What country?”

“Barbados,” said his mother.

“No!” Robert interjected. “Jay can’t have the sugar plantation.”

Alicia said quietly: “I think your father will give it up if the survival of the entire family enterprise depends upon it.”

Robert’s face wore a triumphant look. “Father can’t, even if he wants to. The plantation already belongs to me.”

Alicia looked inquiringly at Sir George. “Is that true? Is it his?”

Sir George nodded. “I made it over to him.”

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

That was another shock. Jay had no idea. He felt wounded. “That’s why you wouldn’t give it to me for my birthday,” he said sadly. “You had already given it to Robert.”

Alicia said: “But, Robert, surely you’d give it back to save the entire business?”

“No!” Robert said hotly. “This is only the beginning—you’ll start by stealing the plantation, and in the end you’ll get everything! I know you’ve always wanted to take the business from me and give it to that little bastard.”

“All I want for Jay is a fair share,” she replied.

Sir George said: “Robert, if you don’t do this it could mean bankruptcy for all of us.”

“Not for me,” he said triumphantly. “I’ll still have a plantation.”

“But you could have so much more,” said Sir George.

Robert looked sly. “All right, I’ll do it—on one condition: that you sign over the rest of the business to me, I mean everything. And you retire.”

“No!” Sir George shouted. “I won’t retire—I’m not yet fifty years old!”

They glared at one another, Robert and Sir George, and Jay thought how similar they were. Neither would give in over this, he knew, and his heart sank.

It was an impasse. The two stubborn men were deadlocked and between them they would ruin everything: the wedding, the business, and the family’s future.

But Alicia was not ready to give up. “What’s this Virginia property, George?”

“Mockjack Hall—it’s a tobacco plantation, about a thousand acres and fifty slaves.… What are you thinking?”

“You could give that to Jay.”

Jay’s heart leaped. Virginia! It would be the fresh start he had longed for, away from his father and brother, with a place of his own to manage and cultivate. And Lizzie would jump at the chance.

Sir George’s eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t give him any money,” he said. “He’d have to borrow what he needed to get the place going.”

Jay said quickly: “I don’t care about that.”

Alicia put in: “But you’d have to pay the interest on Lady Hallim’s mortgages—otherwise she could lose High Glen.”

“I can do that out of the income from the coal.” Father went on thinking out the details. “They’ll have to leave for Virginia immediately, within a few weeks.”

“They can’t do that,” Alicia protested. “They have to make preparations. Give them three months, at least.”

He shook his head. “I need the coal sooner than that.”

“That’s all right. Lizzie won’t want to make the journey back to Scotland—she’ll be too busy preparing for her new life.”

All this talk of deceiving Lizzie filled Jay with trepidation. He was the one who would suffer her wrath if she found out. “What if someone writes to her?” he said.

Alicia looked thoughtful. “We need to know which of the servants at High Glen House might do that—you can find that out, Jay.”

“How will we stop them?”

“We’ll send someone up there to dismiss them.”

Sir George said: “That could work. All right—we’ll do it.”

Alicia turned to Jay and smiled triumphantly. She had got him his patrimony after all. She put her arms around him and kissed him. “Bless you, my dear son,” she said. “Now go to her and tell her that you and your family are desperately sorry about this mistake, and that your father has given you Mockjack Hall as a wedding present.”

Jay hugged her and whispered: “Well done, Mother—thank you.”

He went out. As he walked across the garden he felt jubilant and apprehensive at the same time. He had got what he had always wanted. He wished it could have been done without deceiving his bride—but there was no other way. If he had refused he would have lost the property and he might have lost her as well.

He went into the little guest house adjoining the stables. Lady Hallim and Lizzie were in the modest drawing room sitting by a smoky coal fire. They had both been crying.

Jay felt a sudden dangerous impulse to tell Lizzie the truth. If he revealed the deception planned by the parents, and asked her to marry him and live in poverty, she might say yes.

But the risk scared him. And their dream of going to a new country would die. Sometimes, he told himself, a lie was kinder.

But would she believe it?

He knelt in front of her. Her wedding dress smelled of lavender. “My father is very sorry,” he said. “He sent in the surveyors as a surprise for me—he thought we’d be pleased to know if there was coal on your land. He didn’t know how strongly you felt about mining.”

She looked skeptical. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “He never asked.” She still looked stubborn, but he had another card up his sleeve. “And there’s something else. Our wedding present.”

She frowned. “What is it?”

“Mockjack Hall—a tobacco plantation in Virginia. We can go there as soon as we like.”

She stared at him in surprise.

“It’s what we always wanted, isn’t it?” he said. “A fresh start in a new country—an adventure!”

Slowly her face broke into a smile. “Really? Virginia? Can it really be true?”

He could hardly believe she would consent. “Will you accept it, then?” he said fearfully.

She smiled. Tears came to her eyes and she could not speak. She nodded dumbly.

Jay realized he had won. He had got everything he wanted. The feeling was like winning a big hand at cards. It was time to rake in his profits.

He stood up. He drew her out of her chair and gave her his arm. “Come with me, then,” he said. “Let’s get married.”