A Place Called Freedom (1995)

To his disappointment he found she had gone out early. He was tense, too tense to wait around the house for her to return. He went out to the stables and looked at the white stallion his father had given him for his birthday. The horse’s name was Blizzard. Jay had vowed never to ride him, but he could not resist the temptation. He took Blizzard up to High Glen and galloped him along the springy turf beside the stream. It was worth breaking his vow. He felt as if he were on the back of an eagle, soaring through the air, borne up by the wind.

Blizzard was at his best when galloping. Walking or trotting he was skittish, unsure of his footing, discontented and bad tempered. But it was easy to forgive a horse for being a poor trotter when he could run like a bullet.

As Jay rode home he indulged himself in thoughts of Lizzie. She had always been exceptional, even as a girl: pretty and rebellious and beguiling. Now she was unique. She could shoot better than anyone Jay knew, she had beaten him in a horse race, she was not afraid to go down a coal mine, she could disguise herself and fool everyone at a dinner table—he had never met a woman like her.

She was difficult to deal with, of course: willful, opinionated and self-centered. She was more ready than most women to challenge what men said. But Jay and everyone else forgave her because she was so charming, tilting her pert little face this way and that, smiling and frowning even as she contradicted every word you said.

He reached the stable yard at the same time as his brother. Robert was in a bad mood. When angry he became even more like Father, red faced and pompous. Jay said: “What the devil is the matter with you?” but Robert threw his reins to a groom and stomped indoors.

While Jay was stabling Blizzard, Lizzie rode up. She, too, was upset, but the flush of anger on her cheeks and the glint in her eyes made her even prettier. Jay stared at her, enraptured. I want this girl, he thought; I want her for myself. He was ready to propose right then and there. But before he could speak she jumped off her horse and said: “I know that people who misbehave must be punished, but I don’t believe in torture, do you?”

He saw nothing wrong in torturing criminals but he was not going to tell her that, not when she was in this mood. “Of course I don’t,” he said. “Have you come from the pithead?”

“It was awful. I told Robert to let the man go but he refused.”

So she had quarreled with Robert. Jay concealed his delight. “You haven’t seen a man go the round before? It’s not so rare.”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t know how I’ve remained so wretchedly ignorant about the lives of miners. I suppose people protected me from the grim truth because I was a girl.”

“Robert seemed angry about something,” Jay probed.

“All the miners sang a hymn and they wouldn’t shut up when he ordered them to.”

Jay was pleased. It sounded as if she had seen Robert at his worst. My chances of success are improving by the minute, he thought exultantly.

A groom took her horse and they walked across the yard into the castle. Robert was talking to Sir George in the hall. “It was a piece of brazen defiance,” Robert was saying. “Whatever happens, we must make sure McAsh doesn’t get away with this.”

Lizzie made an exasperated noise and Jay saw a chance to score points with her. “I think we should consider letting McAsh go,” he said to his father.

Robert said: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Jay recalled Harry Ratchett’s argument. “The man is a troublemaker—we’d be better off without him.”

“He has defied us openly,” Robert protested. “He can’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“He hasn’t got away with it!” Lizzie declared. “He’s suffered the most savage punishment!”

Sir George said: “It’s not savage, Elizabeth—you have to understand that they don’t feel pain as we do.” Before she could expostulate he turned to Robert. “But it’s true that he hasn’t got away with it. The miners now know they can’t leave at the age of twenty-one: we’ve proved our point. I wonder if we shouldn’t discreetly let him vanish.”

Robert was not satisfied. “Jimmy Lee is a troublemaker but we brought him back.”

“Different case,” Father argued. “Lee is all heart and no brains—he’ll never be a leader, we have nothing to fear from him. McAsh is made of finer material.”

“I’m not afraid of McAsh,” Robert said.

“He could be dangerous,” Father said. “He can read and write. He’s the fireman, which means they look up to him. And to judge by the scene you’ve just described to me, he’s halfway to becoming a hero already. If we make him stay here, he’ll cause trouble all his godforsaken life.”

Reluctantly Robert nodded. “I still think it looks bad,” he said.

“Then make it look better,” Father said. “Leave the guard on the bridge. McAsh will go over the mountain, probably: we just won’t chase him. I don’t mind them thinking he’s escaped—so long as they know he did not have the right to leave.”

“Very well,” said Robert.