Jay felt foolish and angry. He had thought he could take those men with impunity. He should have known better than to underestimate his father.I will keep nagging your father over this. In time I’m sure he will give in.

“Bless you, Mother,” said Jay. She was still working hard in his interests even though he was so far away he might never see her again.

Having dealt with important matters she went on to write about herself, relatives and friends, and London social life. Then at the end she returned to business.Robert has now gone to Barbados. I’m not sure why. My instincts tell me he is plotting against you. I can’t imagine how he could do you harm but he is resourceful and ruthless. Be always on your guard, my son.

Your loving mother,

Alicia Jamisson

Jay put the letter down thoughtfully. He had the deepest respect for his mother’s intuition but all the same he thought she was being overly fearful. Barbados was a long way away. And even if Robert came to Virginia, there was nothing he could do to harm Jay now—was there?

31

IN THE OLD NURSERY WING, MACK FOUND A MAP.

He had redecorated two of the three rooms and he was clearing out the schoolroom. It was the end of the afternoon and he would start work properly tomorrow. There was a chest full of moldy books and empty ink bottles, and he sorted through the contents, wondering what was worth saving. The map was there, folded carefully in a leather case. He opened it up and studied it.

It was a map of Virginia.

At first he wanted to jump for joy, but his elation faded as he realized he could not make head or tail of it.

The names puzzled him until he understood they were in a foreign language—he guessed French. Virginia was spelled “Virginie,” the territory to the northeast was labeled “Partie de New Jersey,” and everything west of the mountains was called Louisiane, although that part of the map was otherwise blank.

Slowly he began to understand it better. Thin lines were rivers, thicker lines were the borders between one colony and the next, and the very thick lines were mountain ranges. He pored over it, fascinated and thrilled: this was his passport to freedom.

He discovered that the Rappahannock was one of several rivers running across Virginia from the mountains in the west to the Bay of Chesapeake in the east. He found Fredericksburg on the south bank of the Rappahannock. There was no way to tell distances, but Pepper Jones had said it was a hundred miles to the mountains. If the map was right, it was the same distance again to the other side of the range. But there was no indication of a route across.

He felt a mixture of exhilaration and frustration. He knew where he was, at last, but the map seemed to say there was no escape.

The mountain range narrowed to the south, and Mack studied that part, tracing rivers to their source, looking for a way through. Far to the south he came across what looked like a pass, where the Cumberland River rose.

He remembered Whitey talking about the Cumberland Gap.

That was it: that was the way out.

It was a long journey. Mack guessed it must be four hundred miles, as far as from Edinburgh to London. That journey took two weeks by stagecoach, longer for a man with one horse. And it would take even longer on the rough roads and hunting trails of Virginia.

But on the far side of those mountains a man could be free.

He folded the map carefully and restored it to its case, then went on with his work. He would look at it again.

If only he could find Peg, he thought as he swept the room. He had to know whether she was all right before he ran away. If she was happy he would leave her, but if she had a cruel owner he would have to take her with him.

It became too dark to work.

He left the nursery and went down the stairs. He took his old fur cloak off a hook by the back door and wrapped it around him; it was cold outside. As he went out a knot of excited slaves came toward him. In the middle of the group was Kobe, and he was carrying a woman: after a moment Mack recognized Bess, the young slave girl who had fainted in the field a few weeks ago. Her eyes were closed and there was blood on her smock. The girl was accident prone.

Mack held the door open then followed Kobe inside. The Jamissons would be in the dining room, finishing their afternoon dinner. “Put her in the drawing room and I’ll fetch Mrs. Jamisson,” he said.

“The drawing room?” Kobe said dubiously.

It was the only room where the fire was Ut, apart from the dining room. “Trust me—it’s what Mrs. Jamisson would prefer,” Mack said.

Kobe nodded.

Mack knocked on the dining room door and entered.

Lizzie and Jay were sitting at a small round table, their faces lit by a candelabra in the center. Lizzie looked plump and beautiful in a low-necked gown that revealed the swell of her breasts then spread like a tent over her bulging abdomen. She was eating raisins while Jay cracked nuts. Mildred, a tall maid with perfect tobacco-colored skin, was pouring wine for Jay. A fire blazed in the hearth. It was a tranquil domestic scene and for a moment Mack was taken aback to be reminded so forcefully that they were man and wife.

Then he looked again. Jay was sitting at an angle to the table, his body averted from Lizzie: he was looking out of the window, watching night fall over the river. Lizzie was turned the other way, looking at Mildred as she poured. Neither Jay nor Lizzie was smiling. They might have been strangers in a tavern, forced to share a table but having no interest in one another.

Jay saw Mack and said: “What the devil do you want?”

Mack addressed Lizzie. “Bess has had an accident—Kobe’s put her in the drawing room.”

“I’ll come at once,” Lizzie said, pushing back her chair.

Jay said: “Don’t let her bleed on that yellow silk upholstery!”

Mack held the door and followed Lizzie out.

Kobe was lighting candles. Lizzie bent over the injured girl. Bess’s dark skin had gone paler and her lips were bloodless. Her eyes were closed and her breathing seemed shallow. “What happened?” said Lizzie.

“She cut herself,” Kobe answered. He was still panting from the exertion of carrying her. “She was hacking at a rope with a machete. The blade slipped off the rope and sliced her belly.”

Mack winced. He watched as Lizzie enlarged the tear in Bess’s smock and gazed at the wound beneath. It looked bad. There was a lot of blood and the cut seemed deep.

“Go to the kitchen, one of you, and get me some clean rags and a bowl of warm water.”

Mack admired her decisiveness. “I’ll do it,” he said.

He hurried to the outhouse kitchen. Sarah and Mildred were washing up the dinner dishes. Sarah, sweating as always, said: “Is she all right?”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Jamisson asked for clean rags and warm water.”

Sarah passed him a bowl. “Here, take some water off the fire. I’ll get you the rags.”

A few moments later he was back in the drawing room. Lizzie had cut away Bess’s dress around the wound. Now she dipped a rag in the water and washed the skin. As the wound became more clearly visible it looked worse. Mack feared she might have damaged her internal organs.

Lizzie felt the same. “I can’t deal with this,” she said. “She needs a doctor.”

Jay came into the room, took one look, and paled.

Lizzie said to him: “I’ll have to send for Dr. Finch.”

“As you wish,” he said. “I’m going to the Ferry House—there’s a cockfight.” He went out.

Good riddance, Mack thought contemptuously.

Lizzie looked at Kobe and Mack. “One of you has to ride into Fredericksburg in the dark.”