A Place Called Freedom (1995)

33

MACK HATED LIZZIE FOR THAT SLAP. EVERY TIME HE thought of it he felt enraged. She gave him false signals then punished him when he responded. She was a bitch, he told himself; a heartless upper-class flirt who toyed with his feelings.

But he knew it was not true, and after a while he changed his view. Reflection led him to realize that she was at the mercy of conflicting emotions. She was attracted to him, but she was married to someone else. She had a well-developed sense of duty, and she felt scared because it was being undermined. In desperation she tried to put an end to the dilemma by quarreling with him.

He had longed to tell her that her loyalty to Jay was misplaced. All the slaves had known for months that Jay was spending his nights in a cottage with Felia, a beautiful and willing girl from Senegal. But he had felt sure Lizzie would find out for herself sooner or later, and sure enough she had, two nights ago. Her reaction had been characteristically extreme: she had locked her bedroom door and armed herself with pistols.

How long would she keep that up? How would it all end? “Run away to the frontier with some ne’er-do-well,” he had said, thinking of himself. But she had not responded to the suggestion. Of course it would never occur to her to spend her life with Mack. No doubt she liked him; he had been more than a servant to her; he had delivered her baby; and she enjoyed it when he em braced her. But all that was a long way from leaving her husband and running off with him.

He was lying restlessly in his bed before daybreak, turning these things over in his mind, when he heard a horse whinny softly outside.

Who could it be at this time of night? Frowning, he slipped off his bunk and went to the cabin door in his breeches and shirt.

The air outside was cold and he shivered when he opened the door. It was a misty morning with a fine rain, but dawn was breaking and he could see, in the silver light, two women entering the compound, one leading a pony.

A moment later he recognized the taller woman as Cora. Why had she ridden through the night to come here? Bad news seemed likely.

Then he recognized the other one.

“Peg!” he cried delightedly.

She saw him and came running to him. She had grown up, he thought: she was inches taller and a different shape. But her face was the same and she threw herself into his arms. “Mack!” she said. “Oh, Mack, I’ve been so frightened!”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said. “What happened?”

Cora answered his question. “She’s in trouble. She was bought by a hill farmer called Burgo Marler. He tried to rape her and she stabbed him with a kitchen knife.”

“Poor Peg,” said Mack, and he hugged her. “Is the man dead?”

Peg nodded.

Cora said: “The story has been in the Virginia Gazette and now every sheriff in the colony is looking for Peg.”

Mack was aghast. If Peg were caught she would certainly be hanged.

The other slaves were woken by their conversation. Some of the convicts came out and recognized Peg and Cora, and there were happy reunions.

Mack said to Peg: “How did you get to Fredericksburg?”

“Walked,” she said with a laconic touch of her old defiant personality. “I knew I had to go east and find the Rappahannock River. I traveled in the dark and got directions from people who are out at night—slaves, runaways, army deserters, Indians.”

Cora said: “I hid her in my house for a few days—my husband’s in Williamsburg on business. But then I heard that the local sheriff was about to raid everyone who was on the Rosebud.”

“But that means he’ll come here!” Mack said.

“Yes—he’s not far behind me.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s on his way now—he was mustering a search party when I left town.”

“So why did you bring her here?”

Cora’s face hardened. “Because she’s your problem. I’ve got a rich husband and a nice house and my own pew in the church, and I don’t want the sheriff to find a murderer in my damn stable loft!”

The other convicts muttered their disapproval. Mack stared at her in dismay. He had once thought of spending his life with this woman. “By God, you’re hardhearted,” he said angrily.

“I saved her, didn’t I?” Cora said indignantly. “Now I’ve got to save myself!”

Peg said: “Thank you for everything, Cora. You did save me.”

Kobe had been watching the proceedings silently. Now Mack turned to him automatically to discuss the problem. “We could hide her over at the Thumson place,” he said.

“That’s all right, so long as the sheriff doesn’t search there too,” Kobe said.

“Damn. I never thought of that.” Where could she hide? “They’ll search every inch of the quarters, the stables, the tobacco sheds.…”

Cora said: “Have you fucked Lizzie Jamisson yet?”

Mack was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean, ‘yet’? Of course I haven’t.”

“Don’t act stupid. I bet she wants you to.”

Mack resented Cora’s unromantic attitude but he could not act innocent. “What if she does?”

“Would she hide Peg—for your sake?”

Mack was not sure. How can I even ask the question? he thought. He could not love a woman who would refuse to protect a child in this situation. Yet there was a doubt in his mind as to whether Lizzie would agree to do it. For some reason this made him feel angry. “She might do it out of the kindness of her heart,” he said pointedly.

“She might. But selfish lust is a more reliable motive.”

Mack heard dogs barking. It sounded like the deer-hounds on the porch of the big house. What had disquieted them? Then there was an answering bark from down by the river.

“Strange dogs in the neighborhood,” Kobe said. “That’s what disturbed Roy and Rex.”

“Could it be the search party already?” Mack said with heightened anxiety.

“I think so,” said Kobe.

“I was hoping for time to figure out a plan!”

Cora turned away and mounted her pony. “I’m getting out of here before I’m seen.” She walked the pony out of the compound. “Good luck,” she called softly. Then she disappeared into the misty woods like a ghostly messenger.

Mack turned to Peg. “We’re running out of time. Come with me to the house. It’s our best chance.”

She looked scared. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Kobe said: “I’ll go and see who the visitors are. If it’s the search party, I’ll try to slow them down.”

Peg held Mack’s hand as they hurried through the cold fields and across the damp lawns in the gray light. The dogs came loping down from the porch to meet them. Roy licked Mack’s hand and Rex. sniffed curiously at Peg, but they made no noise.

Doors were never locked here, and Mack led Peg in through the back entrance. They crept up the stairs. Mack looked out of the landing window and saw, in the black-and-white tones of dawn, five or six men and some dogs coming up from the direction of the river. As he watched, the party split: two men headed for the house and the rest turned toward the slave quarters with the dogs.

Mack went to Lizzie’s bedroom door. Don’t let me down now, he thought. He tried the door.

It was locked.

He tapped gently, fearful of waking Jay in the next room.

Nothing happened.

He tapped harder.

He heard soft footsteps, then Lizzie’s voice came clearly through the door: “Who’s there?”

“Hush! It’s Mack!” he whispered.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“It’s not what you think—open the door!”

He heard a key turn, and the door opened. In the gloom he could hardly see her. She turned back into the room, and he stepped inside, drawing Peg behind him. The room was in darkness.

Her footsteps crossed the room and a blind was raised. In the pale light he saw her, wearing some kind of dressing gown, looking deliciously tousled. “Explain yourself, fast,” she said. “And it had better be good.” Then she saw Peg, and her attitude changed. “You’re not alone.”

“Peg Knapp,” he said.

“I remember,” Lizzie said. “How are you, Peggy?”

“I’m in trouble again,” Peg said.

Mack explained. “She was sold to a hill farmer who tried to rape her.”

“Oh, dear God.”

“She killed the man.”

“You poor child,” Lizzie said. She put her arms around Peg. “You poor child.”

“The sheriff is looking for her. He’s outside now, searching the slave quarters.” Mack looked at Peg’s thin face and saw in his mind the gallows in Fredericksburg. “We have to hide her!” he said.

Lizzie said: “You just leave the sheriff to me.”

“What do you mean?” Mack said. He got nervous when she tried to take charge.

“I’ll explain to him that Peg was defending herself against rape.”

When Lizzie was sure of something she often imagined that no one could disagree with her. It was a vexing trait. Mack shook his head impatiently. “That’s no good, Lizzie. The sheriff will say the court has to decide whether she’s guilty, not you.”

“Then she can stay here until her trial.”

Lizzie’s ideas were so maddeningly airy that Mack had to force himself to speak calmly and reasonably. “You can’t stop a sheriff arresting someone accused of murder, no matter what you think of the rights and wrongs of the case.”

“Perhaps she should just stand trial. If she’s innocent they can’t convict her—”

“Lizzie, be realistic!” Mack said in exasperation. “What Virginian court is going to acquit a convict who kills her owner? They’re all terrified of being attacked by their slaves. Even if they believe her story they’ll hang her, just to frighten the rest.”

She looked angry, and she was about to make some retort when Peg started to cry. That made Lizzie hesitate. She bit her lip then said: “What do you think we should do?”

One of the dogs growled outside, and Mack heard the voice of a man talking to it and calming it. “I want you to hide Peg in here while they search the place,” he said to Lizzie. “Will you do it?”

He watched her face. If you say no, he thought, I’m in love with the wrong woman.

“Of course I’ll do it,” she said. “What do you think I am?”

He smiled happily, flooded with relief. He loved her so much he had to fight back tears. He swallowed hard. “I think you’re wonderful,” he said huskily.

They had been talking in low voices, and now Mack heard a sound from Jay’s bedroom on the other side of the wall. He had a lot more to do before Peg was safe. “I must get out of here,” he said. “Good luck!” He left.

He stepped across the landing and ran lightly down the stairs. As he reached the hall he thought he heard Jay’s bedroom door open, but he did not look back.

He stopped in the hall and took a deep breath. I’m a house servant here and I have no idea what the sheriff might want, he told himself. He pasted a polite smile to his face and opened the door.

Two men were on the porch. They wore the dress of prosperous Virginians: riding boots, long waistcoats and three-cornered hats. Both carried pistols in leather cases with shoulder straps. They smelled of rum: they had been fortifying themselves against the cold night air.

Mack stood squarely in the doorway, to discourage them from entering the house. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. He found his heart was beating fast. He struggled to keep his voice relaxed and calm. “This looks like a search party.”

The taller of the two said: “I’m the sheriff of Spotsylvania County, and I’m looking for a girl by die name of Peggy Knapp.”

“I saw the dogs. Have you sent them down to the slave quarters?”

“Yes.”

“Good thinking, Sheriff. That way you’ll catch the niggers asleep and they won’t be able to conceal the fugitive.”

“I’m glad you approve,” the sheriff said with a touch of sarcasm. “We’ll just step inside.”

A convict had no choice when given orders by a free man, and Mack had to stand aside and let them into the hall. He still hoped they would not think it necessary to search the house.

“How come you’re up?” the sheriff said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. “We expected to have to wake everyone.”

“I’m an early riser.”

The man grunted noncommittally. “Is your master at home?”

“Yes.”

“Take us to him.”

Mack did not want them to go upstairs—they would be uncomfortably close to Peg. “I believe I heard Mr. Jamisson moving around,” he said. “Shall I ask him to come down?”

“No—I don’t want to put him to the trouble of getting dressed.”

Mack cursed under his breath. Evidently the sheriff was determined to take everyone by surprise if possible. But he could not argue. He said, “This way, please,” and led them up the stairs.

He knocked on Jay’s door. A moment later Jay opened it, wearing a wrap over his nightshirt. “What the devil is all this?” he said irritably.

“I’m Sheriff Abraham Barton, Mr. Jamisson. I apologize for disturbing you, but we’re searching for the murderer of Burgo Marler. Does the name Peggy Knapp mean anything to you?”

Jay looked hard at Mack. “It certainly does. The girl was always a thief and I’m not surprised she’s turned into a killer. Have you asked McAsh here if he knows where she is?”

Barton looked at Mack in surprise. “So you’re McAsh! You didn’t mention it.”

“You didn’t ask,” Mack said.

Barton was not satisfied with that. “Did you know I was coming here this morning?”

“No.”

Jay said suspiciously: “Then why are you up so early?”

“When I worked in your father’s coal mine I used to start at two o’clock in the morning. Now I always wake early.”

“I’ve never noticed.”

“You’re never up.”

“Less of your damned insolence.”

Barton said to Mack: “When did you last see Peggy Knapp?”

“When I disembarked from the Rosebud half a year ago.”

The sheriff turned back to Jay. “The niggers may be concealing her. We’ve brought dogs.”

Jay waved a generous hand. “Go ahead and do whatever you need to.”

“We should search the house, too.”

Mack caught his breath. He had been hoping they would not think that necessary.

Jay frowned. “It’s not likely the child is in here.”

“Still, for the sake of thoroughness …”

Jay hesitated, and Mack hoped he would get on his high horse and tell the sheriff to go to hell. But after a moment he shrugged and said: “Of course.”

Mack’s heart sank.

Jay went on: “There’s only my wife and me in residence. The rest of the place is empty. But search everywhere, by all means. I’ll leave you to it.” He closed his door.

Barton said to Mack: “Which is Mrs. Jamisson’s room?”

Mack swallowed. “Next door.” He stepped along the landing and knocked gently. With his heart in his mouth he said: “Mrs. Jamisson? Are you awake?”

There was a pause, then Lizzie opened the door. Feigning sleepiness, she said: “What on earth do you want at this hour?”

“The sheriff is looking for a fugitive.”

Lizzie opened the door wide. “Well, I haven’t got one in here.”

Mack looked into the room, wondering where Peg was hiding.

Barton said: “May we step inside for a moment?”

There was an almost imperceptible flash of fear in Lizzie’s eyes, and Mack wondered whether Barton had seen it. Lizzie shrugged with a semblance of apathy and said: “Feel free.”

The two men stepped inside, looking awkward. Lizzie let her dressing gown sag open a little, as if by accident. Mack could not help looking at the way the nightdress draped her rounded breasts. The other two men reacted with the same reflex. Lizzie looked the sheriff in the eye and he turned away guiltily. She was deliberately making them feel uncomfortable so that they would search hastily.

The sheriff lay on the floor and looked under the bed while his assistant opened the wardrobe. Lizzie sat on the bed. With a hasty gesture she picked up a corner of the bedspread and tugged it. Mack glimpsed a small, dirty foot for a split second before it was covered up.

Peg was in the bed.

She was so thin that she hardly made a bulge in the piled-up covers.

The sheriff opened a blanket chest and the other man looked behind a screen. There were not many places to check. Would they pull the covers off the bed?

The same thought must have gone through Lizzie’s mind, for she said, “Now, if you’re done, I’m going back to sleep,” and she got into bed.

Barton looked hard at Lizzie and the bed. Did he have the nerve to demand that Lizzie get out again? But he did not really think the master and mistress of the house were concealing the murderess—he was searching the place only to be comfortable about eliminating the possibility. After a moment’s hesitation he said: “Thank you, Mrs. Jamisson. We’re sorry to have disturbed your rest. We’ll carry on and search the slave quarters.”

Mack felt weak with relief. He held the door for them, hiding his jubilation.

“Good luck,” Lizzie said. “And, Sheriff—when you’ve finished your work, bring your men back here to the house and have some breakfast!”