A Place Called Freedom (1995)

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.”