A Place Called Freedom - Ken Follett [146]
Doors were never locked here, and Mack led Peg in through the back entrance. They crept up the stairs. Mack looked out of the landing window and saw, in the black-and-white tones of dawn, five or six men and some dogs coming up from the direction of the river. As he watched, the party split: two men headed for the house and the rest turned toward the slave quarters with the dogs.
Mack went to Lizzie’s bedroom door. Don’t let me down now, he thought. He tried the door.
It was locked.
He tapped gently, fearful of waking Jay in the next room.
Nothing happened.
He tapped harder.
He heard soft footsteps, then Lizzie’s voice came clearly through the door: “Who’s there?”
“Hush! It’s Mack!” he whispered.
“What the devil are you doing?”
“It’s not what you think—open the door!”
He heard a key turn, and the door opened. In the gloom he could hardly see her. She turned back into the room, and he stepped inside, drawing Peg behind him. The room was in darkness.
Her footsteps crossed the room and a blind was raised. In the pale light he saw her, wearing some kind of dressing gown, looking deliciously tousled. “Explain yourself, fast,” she said. “And it had better be good.” Then she saw Peg, and her attitude changed. “You’re not alone.”
“Peg Knapp,” he said.
“I remember,” Lizzie said. “How are you, Peggy?”
“I’m in trouble again,” Peg said.
Mack explained. “She was sold to a hill farmer who tried to rape her.”
“Oh, dear God.”
“She killed the man.”
“You poor child,” Lizzie said. She put her arms around Peg. “You poor child.”
“The sheriff is looking for her. He’s outside now, searching the slave quarters.” Mack looked at Peg’s thin face and saw in his mind the gallows in Fredericksburg. “We have to hide her!” he said.
Lizzie said: “You just leave the sheriff to me.”
“What do you mean?” Mack said. He got nervous when she tried to take charge.
“I’ll explain to him that Peg was defending herself against rape.”
When Lizzie was sure of something she often imagined that no one could disagree with her. It was a vexing trait. Mack shook his head impatiently. “That’s no good, Lizzie. The sheriff will say the court has to decide whether she’s guilty, not you.”
“Then she can stay here until her trial.”
Lizzie’s ideas were so maddeningly airy that Mack had to force himself to speak calmly and reasonably. “You can’t stop a sheriff arresting someone accused of murder, no matter what you think of the rights and wrongs of the case.”
“Perhaps she should just stand trial. If she’s innocent they can’t convict her—”
“Lizzie, be realistic!” Mack said in exasperation. “What Virginian court is going to acquit a convict who kills her owner? They’re all terrified of being attacked by their slaves. Even if they believe her story they’ll hang her, just to frighten the rest.”
She looked angry, and she was about to make some retort when Peg started to cry. That made Lizzie hesitate. She bit her lip then said: “What do you think we should do?”
One of the dogs growled outside, and Mack heard the voice of a man talking to it and calming it. “I want you to hide Peg in here while they search the place,” he said to Lizzie. “Will you do it?”
He watched her face. If you say no, he thought, I’m in love with the wrong woman.
“Of course I’ll do it,” she said. “What do you think I am?”
He smiled happily, flooded with relief. He loved her so much he had to fight back tears. He swallowed hard. “I think you’re wonderful,” he said huskily.
They had been talking in low voices, and now Mack heard a sound from Jay’s bedroom on the other side of the wall. He had a lot more to do before Peg was safe. “I must get out of here,” he said. “Good luck!” He left.
He stepped across the landing and ran lightly down the stairs. As he reached the hall he thought he heard Jay’s bedroom door open, but he did not look back.
He stopped in the hall and took a deep breath. I’m a house servant here and I have no idea what the sheriff might want, he told himself.