A Place Called Freedom (31 page)

“I don’t know that he talked to anyone, directly. But I’d say he isn’t coming back at all.”

“Why?”

“He owes money to Sidney Lennox, a lot of money, and he can’t pay.”

Lizzie felt indignant. “And I suppose Lennox has been acting as overseer ever since.”

“It’s only been one working day … but yes, he has.”

“I don’t want that brute taking over the plantation!” she said hotly.

“Amen to that,” Mack said with feeling. “None of the hands want it either.”

Lizzie frowned suspiciously. Sowerby was owed a lot in wages. Jay had told him he would be paid when the first tobacco crop was sold. Why had he not simply waited? He could have paid his debts eventually. He must have been frightened. Lennox had threatened him, she felt sure. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. “I believe Lennox has forced Sowerby out,” she said.

Mack nodded. “I don’t know much about it but that’s my guess too. I’ve done battle with Lennox, and look what happened to me.”

There was no self-pity in his tone, just a bitter practicality, but her heart went out to him. She touched his arm and said: “You should be proud. You’re brave and honorable.”

“And Lennox is corrupt and savage, and what happens? He’ll become overseer here, then he’ll steal enough from you, one way and another, to open a tavern in Fredericksburg; and soon he’ll be living much as he did in London.”

“Not if I can help it,” Lizzie said determinedly “I’m going to speak to him right away.” Lennox had a small two-room house down by the tobacco sheds, near Sowerby’s house. “I hope he’s at home.”

“He’s not there now. At this time on a Sunday he’ll be at the Ferry House—that’s an ordinary three or four miles upriver from here. He’ll stay there until late tonight”

Lizzie could not wait until tomorrow: she had no patience when there was something like this on her mind. “I’ll go to the Ferry House. I can’t ride—I’ll take the pony trap.”

Mack frowned. “Wouldn’t it be better to have it out with him here, where you’re the mistress of the house? He’s a rough man.”

Lizzie felt a pang of fear. Mack was right. Lennox was dangerous. But she could not bear to postpone the confrontation. Mack could protect her. “Will you come with me?” she said. “I’d feel safe if you were there.”

“Of course.”

“You can drive the trap.”

“You’ll have to teach me.”

“There’s nothing to it.”

They walked up from the river to the house. The stable boy, Jimmy, was watering the horses. Mack and he got the trap out and put a pony in the traces while Lizzie went into the house to put on a hat.

They drove out of the estate onto the riverside road and followed it upstream to the ferry crossing. The Ferry House was a wood-frame building not much bigger than the two-room houses lived in by Sowerby and Lennox. Lizzie let Mack help her down from the trap and hold open the door of the tavern for her.

It was gloomy and smoky inside. Ten or twelve people sat on benches and wooden chairs drinking from tankards and pottery cups. Some were playing cards and dice, others smoking pipes. The click of billiard balls came from the back room.

There were no women and no blacks.

Mack followed her in but stood back, by the door, his face in shadow.

A man came through a doorway from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel, and said: “What can I bring you, sir—Oh! A lady!”

“Nothing, thank you,” Lizzie said in a clear voice, and the room went quiet.

She looked around at the upturned faces. Lennox was in the corner, bent over a shaker and a pair of dice. The little table in front of him had several piles of small coins. His face showed resentment at being interrupted.

He carefully scooped up his coins, taking his time, before he stood up and took off his hat. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Jamisson?”

“I didn’t come to play dice, obviously,” she said crisply. “Where is Mr. Sowerby?”

She heard one or two approving murmurs, as if others in the place would like to know what had happened to Sowerby; and she saw a gray-haired man turn in his chair and look at her.

“He’s run off, it seems,” Lennox answered.

“Why haven’t you reported this to me?”

Lennox shrugged. “Because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I want to know about such things, all the same. Don’t do it again. Is that clear?”

Lennox made no reply.

“Why did Sowerby leave?”

“How should I know?”

The gray-haired man piped up: “He owed money.”

Lizzie turned to him. “Who to?”

The man jerked a thumb. “Lennox, that’s who.”

She turned back to Lennox. “Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why did he borrow money from you?”

“He didn’t, exactìy. He lost it to me.”

“Gambling.”

“Yes.”

“And did you threaten him?”

The gray-haired man gave a sarcastic laugh. “Did he? I’ll swear.”

“I asked for my money,” Lennox said coolly.

“And that drove him away.”

“I tell you I don’t know why he left.”

“I believe he was frightened of you.”

A nasty smile crossed Lennox’s face. “Many people are,” he said, and the threat in his voice was hardly veiled.

Lizzie felt scared as well as angry. “Let’s get something clear,” she said. There was a tremor in her voice and she swallowed to get it under control. “I am the mistress of the plantation and you will do what I say. I shall now take charge of the place until my husband returns. Then he will decide how to replace Mr. Sowerby.”

Lennox shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said. “I’m Sowerby’s deputy. Mr. Jamisson has told me quite particularly that I’m in charge if Sowerby should fall ill or anything. Besides, what do you know about tobacco growing?”

“As much as a London tavern keeper, at least.”

“Well, that’s not how Mr. Jamisson sees it, and I take my orders from him.”

Lizzie could have screamed with frustration. She would not let this man give orders on her plantation! “I’m warning you, Lennox, you’d better obey me!”

“And if I don’t?” He took a step toward her, grinning, and she smelled his characteristic ripe odor. She was forced to step backward. The other customers in the tavern sat frozen to their seats. “What will you do, Mrs. Jamisson?” he said, still coming toward her. “Knock me down?” As he said this he lifted his hand over his head, in a gesture that might have been an illustration of what he was saying but could just as easily have been a threat.

Lizzie gave a cry of fear and jumped back. Her legs came up against the seat of a chair and she sat down with a bump.

Suddenly Mack was there, standing between Lennox and her. “You’ve raised your hand to a woman, Lennox,” he said. “Now let’s see you raise it to a man.”

“You!” Lennox said. “I didn’t know it was you, standing in the corner like a nigger.”

“And now that you know, what are you going to do?”

“You’re a damn fool, McAsh. You always take the losing side.”

“You’ve just insulted the wife of the man who owns you—I don’t call that clever.”

“I didn’t come here to argue. I came to play dice.” Lennox turned and went back to his table.

Lizzie felt as angry and frustrated as she had when she arrived. She stood up. “Let’s go,” she said to Mack.

He opened the door and she went out.

She had to know more about tobacco growing, she decided when she had calmed down. Lennox was going to try to take over, and the only way she could defeat him was by persuading Jay that she would do a better job. She already knew a good deal about the running of the plantation but she did not really understand the plant itself.

Next day she got out the pony and trap again and went over to Colonel Thumson’s place, with Jimmy driving her.

In the weeks since the party, the neighbors had been cool to Lizzie and Jay, particularly to Jay. They had been invited to big social occasions, a ball and a grand wedding reception, but no one had asked them to a small celebration or an intimate dinner. However, when Jay left for Williamsburg they seemed to know, for since then Mrs. Thumson had called and Suzy Delahaye had invited Lizzie to tea. It distressed her that they preferred her on her own, but Jay had offended everyone with his opinions.

As she drove through the Thumson plantation she was struck by how prosperous it looked. There were rows of hogsheads on the jetty; the slaves looked active and fit; the sheds were painted and the fields were neat. She saw the colonel across a meadow, talking to a small group of hands, pointing to show them something. Jay never stood in the fields giving instructions.

Mrs. Thumson was a fat and kindly woman past fifty. The Thumson children, two boys, were both grown-up and living elsewhere. She poured tea and asked about the pregnancy. Lizzie confessed that she had occasional backache and constant heartburn, and was relieved to hear that Mrs. Thumson had suffered exactly the same. She had also noticed slight bleeding once or twice, and Mrs. Thumson frowned and said that had not happened to her, but it was not uncommon, and she should rest more.

But she had not come to talk about pregnancy, and she was glad when the colonel came in for tea. He was in his fifties, tall and white haired, and vigorous for his age. He shook her hand stiffly but she softened him with a smile and a compliment. “Why does your plantation look so much more impressive than anyone else’s?”

“Well, it’s kind of you to say so,” he replied. “I’d say the main factor is that I’m here. You see, Bill Delahaye is always going away to horse races and cockfights. John Armstead would rather drink than work, and his brother spends every afternoon playing billiards and throwing dice at the Ferry House.” He said nothing about Mockjack Hall.

“Why do your slaves look so energetic?”

“Now, that depends what you feed them.” He was obviously enjoying sharing his expertise with this attractive young woman. “They can live on hominy and corn pone, but they’ll work better if you give them salt fish every day and meat once a week. It’s expensive, but not as bad as buying new slaves every few years.”

“Why have so many plantations gone bankrupt recently?”

“You have to understand the tobacco plant. It exhausts the soil. After four or five years the quality deteriorates. You have to switch the field to wheat or Indian corn and find new land for your tobacco.”

“Why, you must be constantly clearing ground.”

“Indeed. Every winter I clear woodland and open up new fields for cultivation.”

“But you’re fortunate—you have so much land.”

“There’s woodland aplenty on your place. And when that runs out you should buy or rent more. The only way to grow tobacco is to keep moving.”

“Does everyone do that?”

“No. Some get credit from merchants, and hope the price of tobacco will go up to save them. Dick Richards, the previous owner of your place, followed that road, which is how come your father-in-law ended up owning the place.”

Lizzie did not tell him that Jay had gone to Williamsburg to borrow money. “We could clear Stafford Park in time for next spring.” Stafford Park was a piece of rough land separate from the main estate, ten miles upriver. Because of the distance it was neglected, and Jay had tried to lease or sell it, but there had been no takers.

“Why not start with Pond Copse?” said the colonel. “It’s close to your curing sheds and the soil is right. Which reminds me.” He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I have to visit my sheds before it gets dark.”

Lizzie stood up. “I must get back and speak to my overseer.”

Mrs. Thumson said: “Don’t do too much, Mrs. Jamisson—remember your baby.”

Lizzie smiled. “I’m going to take plenty of rest too, I promise.”

Colonel Thumson kissed his wife then walked out with Lizzie. He helped her onto the seat of the trap, then rode with her as far as his sheds. “If you’ll forgive my making a personal comment, you’re a remarkable young lady, Mrs. Jamisson.”

“Why, thank you,” she said.

“I hope we’ll see more of you.” He smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. He took her hand, and as he lifted it to kiss it his arm brushed her breast, as if by accident. “Please send for me any time I can help you in
any
way.”

She drove off. I do believe I have just received my first adulterous proposition, she thought. And me six months pregnant. The wicked old man! She supposed she ought to be outraged, but in fact she was pleased. Of course she would never take him up on his offer. Indeed, she would be careful to avoid the colonel from now on. But it was flattering to be thought desirable.

“Let’s go faster, Jimmy,” she said. “I want my supper.”

Next morning she sent Jimmy to summon Lennox to her drawing room. She had not spoken to him since the incident in the Ferry House. She was more than a little afraid of him, and she considered sending for Mack as protection. But she refused to believe she needed a bodyguard in her own house.

She sat in a big carved chair that must have been brought from Britain a century ago. Lennox arrived two hours later, with mud on his boots. She knew the delay was his way of showing he was not obliged to jump when she whistled. If she challenged him he was sure to have some excuse, so she decided to act as if he had come immediately.

“We’re going to clear Pond Copse ready for tobacco planting next spring,” she said. “I want you to begin today.”

For once he was taken by surprise. “Why?” he said.

“Tobacco farmers must clear new land every winter. It’s the only way to maintain high yields. I’ve looked around, and Pond Copse seems the most promising. Colonel Thumson agrees with me.”

“Bill Sowerby never did that.”

“Bill Sowerby never made any money.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the old fields.”

“Tobacco cultivation exhausts the land.”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “But we manure heavily.”

She frowned. Thumson had not mentioned manuring. “I don’t know.…”

Her hesitation was fatal. “These things are best left to men,” he said.

“Never mind the homilies,” she snapped. “Tell me about the manuring.”

“We pen the cattle in the tobacco fields at night, for the manure. It refreshes the land for the next season.”