A Place Called Freedom (1995)

She and Jay ran ahead of the two mothers and the old caretaker, and when they reached the attic floor they were alone. They stepped into one of several small bedrooms designed for servants. Lizzie put her arms around Jay and kissed him hungrily. They had only a minute or so. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. He stroked them gently. “Squeeze harder,” she whispered between kisses. She wanted the pressure of his hands to linger after their embrace. Her nipples stiffened and his fingertips found them through the fabric of her dress. “Pinch them,” she said, and as he did so the pang of mingled pain and pleasure made her gasp. Then she heard footsteps on the landing and they broke apart, panting.

Lizzie turned and looked out of a little dormer window, catching her breath. There was a long back garden. The caretaker was showing the two mothers all the little bedrooms. “What’s the significance of the number forty-five?” she asked.

“It’s all to do with that traitor John Wilkes,” Jay replied. “He used to edit a journal called the North Briton, and the government charged him with seditious libel over issue number forty-five, in which he as good as called the king a liar. He ran away to Paris, but now he’s come back to stir up more trouble among ignorant common people.”

“Is it true they can’t afford bread?”

“There’s a shortage of grain all over Europe, so it’s inevitable that the price of bread should go up. And the unemployment is caused by the American boycott of British goods.”

She turned back to Jay. “I don’t suppose that’s much consolation to the hatters and tailors.”

A frown crossed his face: he did not seem to like her sympathizing with the discontented. “I’m not sure you realize how dangerous all this talk of liberty is,” he said.

“I’m not sure I do.”

“For example, the rum distillers of Boston would like the freedom to buy their molasses anywhere. But the law says they must buy from British plantations, such as ours. Give them freedom and they’ll buy cheaper, from the French—and then we won’t be able to afford a house like this.”

“I see.” That did not make it right, she thought; but she decided not to say so.

“All sorts of riffraff might want freedom, from coal miners in Scotland to Negroes in Barbados. But God has set people like me in authority over common men.”

That was true, of course. “But do you ever wonder why?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Why God should have set you in authority over coal miners and Negroes.”

He shook his head irritably, and she realized she had overstepped the mark again. “I don’t think women can understand these things,” he said.

She took his arm. “I love this house, Jay,” she said, trying to mollify him. She could still feel her nipples where he had pinched them. She lowered her voice. “I can’t wait to move in here with you and sleep together every night.”

He smiled. “Nor can I.”

Lady Hallim and Lady Jamisson came into the room. Lizzie’s mother’s gaze dropped to Lizzie’s bosom, and Lizzie realized her nipples were showing through her dress. Mother obviously guessed what had been going on. She frowned with disapproval. Lizzie did not care. She would be married soon.

Alicia said: “Well, Lizzie, do you like the house?”

“I adore it!”

“Then you shall have it.”

Lizzie beamed and Jay squeezed her arm.

Lizzie’s mother said: “Sir George is so kind, I don’t know how to thank him.”

“Thank my mother,” Jay said. “She’s the one who’s made him behave decently.”

Alicia gave him a reproving look, but Lizzie could tell she did not really mind. She and Jay were very fond of one another, it was obvious. Lizzie felt a pang of jealousy, and told herself it was silly: anyone would be fond of Jay.

They left the room. The caretaker was hovering outside. Jay said to him: “I’ll see the owner’s attorney tomorrow and have the lease drawn up.”

“Very good, sir.”

As they went down the stairs, Lizzie remembered something. “Oh, I must show you this!” she said to Jay. She had picked up a handbill in the street and saved it for him. She took it from her pocket and gave it to him to read. It read:

AT THE SIGN OF THE PELICAN

NEAR SHAD-WELL

GENTLEMEN AND GAMESTERS TAKE NOTE

A GENERAL DAY OF SPORT

A MAD BULL TO BE LET LOOSE WITH FIREWORKS ALL

OVER HIM, AND DOGS AFTER HIM

A MATCH FOUGHT OUT BETWEEN TWO COCKS

OF WESTMINSTER,

AND TWO OF EAST CHEAP, FOR FIVE POUNDS

A GENERAL COMBAT WITH CUDGELS BETWEEN SEVEN

WOMEN

AND

A FIST FIGHT—FOR TWENTY POUNDS!

REES PREECE, THE WELSH MOUNTAIN

VERSUS

MACK MCASH, THE KILLER COLLIER

SATURDAY NEXT

BEGINNING AT THREE A CLOCK

“What do you think?” she said impatiently. “It must be Malachi McAsh from Heugh, mustn’t it?”

“So that’s what’s become of him,” said Jay. “He’s a prizefighter. He was better off working in my father’s coal pit.”

“I’ve never seen a prizefight,” Lizzie said wistfully.

Jay laughed. “I should think not! It’s no place for a lady.”

“Nor is a coal mine, but you took me there.”

“So I did, and you nearly got killed in an explosion.”