A Place Called Freedom (1995)

The Sessions Yard was crammed with people. Lizzie was confused and lost, and neither York nor her mother was any help. She pushed through the crowd, searching for Gordonson or Mack. She came to a low wall that enclosed an inner yard and at last saw Mack and Caspar Gordonson through the railings. When she called, Gordonson came out through a gate.

At the same time Sir George and Jay appeared.

Jay said in a reproving tone: “Lizzie, why are you here?”

She ignored him and spoke to Gordonson: “This is the Reverend Mr. York, from our village in Scotland. He’s come to plead for Mack’s life.”

Sir George wagged a finger at York. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll turn around and go straight back to Scotland.”

Lizzie said: “And I’m going to plead for his life, too.”

“Thank you,” Gordonson said fervently. “It’s the best thing you could possibly do.”

Lady Hallim said: “I tried to stop her, Sir George.”

Jay flushed with anger and grabbed Lizzie by the arm, squeezing hard. “How dare you humiliate me like this?” he spat. “I absolutely forbid you to speak!”

“Are you intimidating this witness?” said Gordonson.

Jay looked cowed and let go. A lawyer with a bundle of papers pushed through the middle of their little group. Jay said: “Do we have to have this discussion here where the whole world can see?”

“Yes,” said Gordonson. “We can’t leave the court.”

Sir George said to Lizzie: “What the devil do you mean by this, my girl?”

The arrogant tone maddened Lizzie. “You know damn well what I mean by it,” she said. The men were all startled to hear her swear, and two or three people standing nearby turned and looked at her. She ignored their reactions. “You all planned this riot to trap McAsh. I’m not going to stand by and see you hang him.”

Sir George reddened. “Remember that you’re my daughter-in-law and—”

“Shut up, George,” she interrupted. “I won’t be bullied.”

He was thunderstruck. No one ever told him to shut up, she was sure.

Jay took up the cudgels. “You can’t go against your own husband,” he stormed. “It’s disloyal!”

“Disloyal?” she repeated scornfully. “Who the hell are you to talk to me about loyalty? You swore to me that you would not mine coal on my land—then went ahead and did exactly that. You betrayed me on our wedding day!”

They all went quiet, and for a moment Lizzie could hear a witness giving evidence loudly on the other side of the wall. “You know about the accident, then,” said Jay.

She took a deep breath. “I might as well say now that Jay and I will be leading separate lives from today. We’ll be married in name only. I shall return to my house in Scotland, and none of the Jamisson family will be welcomed there. As for my speaking up for McAsh: I’m not going to help you hang my friend, and you can both—both—kiss my arse.”

Sir George was too stupefied to say anything. No one had spoken to him this way for years. He was beetroot red, his eyes bulged, and he spluttered, but no words came out.

Caspar Gordonson addressed Jay. “May I make a suggestion?”

Jay gave him a hostile glare but said curtly: “Go on, go on.”

“Mrs. Jamisson might be persuaded not to testify—on one condition.”

“What?”

“You, Jay, should plead for Mack’s life.”

“Absolutely not,” said Jay.

Gordonson went on: “It would be just as effective. But it would save the family the embarrassment of a wife going against her husband in open court.” He suddenly looked sly. “Instead, you would look magnanimous. You could say that Mack was a miner in the Jamisson pits and for that reason the family wishes to be merciful.”

Lizzie’s heart leaped with hope. A plea for mercy from Jay, the officer who had quelled the riot, would be much more effective.

She could see hesitation flicker across Jay’s face as he weighed the consequences. Then he said sulkily: “I suppose I have to accept this.”

Before Lizzie had time to feel exultant, Sir George intervened. “There’s one condition, which I know Jay will insist upon.”

Lizzie had a bad feeling that she knew what was coming.

Sir George looked at her. “You must forget all this nonsense about separate lives. You are to be a proper wife to Jay in every way.”

“No!” she cried. “He has betrayed me—how can I trust him? I won’t do it.”

Sir George said: “Then Jay will not plead for McAsh’s life.”

Gordonson said: “I must tell you, Lizzie, that Jay’s plea will be more effective than yours, because he’s the prosecutor.”

Lizzie felt bewildered. It was not fair—she was being forced to choose between Mack’s life and her own. How could she decide such a thing? She was pulled both ways, and it hurt.

They were all staring at her: Jay, Sir George, Gordonson, her mother, and York. She knew she should give in, but something inside would not let her. “No,” she said defiantly. “I will not trade my own life for Mack’s.”

Gordonson said: “Think again.”

Then her mother said: “You have to.”

Lizzie looked at her. Of course her mother would urge her to do the conventional thing. But Mother was on the verge of tears. “What is it?”

She began to cry. “You have to be a proper wife to Jay.”

“Why?”