A Place Called Freedom (1995)

Fredericksburg was ten miles away, but Kobe knew the road, and he was back two hours later.

When he walked into the drawing room his face was like thunder. Mack had never seen him so angry.

“Where’s the doctor?” Lizzie said.

“Dr. Finch won’t come out at this time of night for no nigger girl,” said Kobe in a shaky voice.

“Curse the damn fool,” Lizzie said furiously.

They all looked at Bess. Her skin was beaded with perspiration and her breathing had become ragged. Now and again she moaned, but she did not open her eyes. The yellow silk sofa was red with her blood. She was obviously dying.

“We can’t stand here and do nothing,” Lizzie said. “She could be saved!”

Kobe said: “I don’t think she has long to live.”

“If the doctor won’t come, we’ll just have to take her to him,” Lizzie said. “We’ll put her in the buggy.”

Mack said: “It’s not good to move her.”

“If we don’t she’ll die anyway!” Lizzie shouted.

“All right, all right. I’ll get the buggy out.”

“Kobe, take the mattress from my bed and put it in the back for her to lie on. And some blankets.”

Mack hurried to the stables. The stable boys had all gone to the quarters but it did not take him long to put Stripe, the pony, in the traces. He got a taper from the kitchen fire and lit the carriage lamps on the buggy. When he pulled around to the front Kobe was waiting.

While Kobe arranged the bedding Mack went into the house. Lizzie was putting on her coat. “Are you coming?” Mack said.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you should, in your condition?”

“I’m afraid that damned doctor will refuse to treat her if I don’t.”

Mack knew better than to argue with her in this mood. He picked Bess up gently and carried her outside. He laid her carefully on the mattress and Kobe covered her with the blankets. Lizzie climbed up and settled herself beside Bess, cradling the girl’s head in her arms.

Mack got up in front and picked up the reins. Three people was a lot for the pony to haul so Kobe gave the buggy a shove to get it started. Mack drove down to the road and turned toward Fredericksburg.

There was no moon, but starlight enabled him to see where he was going. The trail was rocky and rutted, and the buggy bounced along. Mack was worried about jolting Bess, but Lizzie kept saying: “Go faster! Go faster!” The road wound along the riverbank, through rough woodland and the fringes of plantations just like the Jamisson place. They saw nobody: people did not travel after dark if they could help it.

With Lizzie’s urging Mack made good speed and they reached Fredericksburg around suppertime. There were people on the streets and lights in the houses. He drew up the buggy outside Dr. Finch’s home. Lizzie went to the door while Mack wrapped Bess in the blankets and carefully lifted her up. She was unconscious but alive.

The door was opened by Mrs. Finch, a mousy woman in her forties. She showed Lizzie into the parlor and Mack followed with Bess. The doctor, a thickset man with a bullying manner, looked distinctly guilty when he realized he had forced a pregnant woman to drive through the night to bring him a patient. He covered his embarrassment by bustling about and giving his wife abrupt orders.

When he had looked at the wound he asked Lizzie to make herself comfortable in the other room. Mack went with her and Mrs. Finch stayed to help her husband.

The remains of a supper were on the table. Lizzie eased herself gingerly into a chair. “What’s the matter?” Mack said.

“That ride has given me the most awful backache. Do you think Bess will be all right?”

“I don’t know. She’s not very robust.”

A maid came in and offered Lizzie tea and cake, and Lizzie accepted. The maid looked Mack up and down, identified him as a servant, and said: “If you want some tea you can come in the kitchen.”

“I need to see to the horse first,” he said.

He went outside and led the pony around to Dr. Finch’s stable, where he gave it water and some grain; then he waited in the kitchen. The house was small, and he could hear the doctor and his wife talking as they worked. The maid, a middle-aged black woman, cleared the dining room and brought out Lizzie’s teacup. Mack decided it was stupid for him to sit in the kitchen and Lizzie in the dining room, so he went and sat with her, despite the frowns of the maid. Lizzie looked pale, and he resolved to get her home as soon as possible.

At last Dr. Finch came in, drying his hands. “It’s a nasty wound but I believe I have done everything possible,” he said. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, sewn up the gash and given her a drink. She’s young and she will heal.”

“Thank goodness,” Lizzie said.

The doctor nodded. “I’m sure she’s a valuable slave. She shouldn’t travel far tonight. She can stay here and sleep in my maid’s quarters, and you can send for her tomorrow or the day after. When the wound closes I’ll take out the stitches—she should do no heavy work until then.”

“Of course.”

“Have you had supper, Mrs. Jamisson? May I offer you something?”

“No, thank you, I’d just like to get home and go to bed.”