Triallaire

The Red Rose Is As Sweet As The White

18 March, 1767

Kingston, Jamaica

CAOIMHE POV

Already for a few days, Caoimhe had been in Jamaica and had been taken under the wing of Governor Grey, who had gladly stepped into his position as the Governor of the colony of Jamaica. That particular night, he was having a small dinner with government officials and military captains, and invited Caoimhe along to join him for dinner. She was intrigued, but she wasn't overly fond of the fact that she had to dress more formally than she ever had. One of the servants, a woman with darker skin than Caoimhe had ever seen (she was almost shocked when she saw dark-skinned people for the first time, having only heard of them in books) brought in a formal dress, then was followed by a white English girl who was also a servant.

"Thank you, Hepzibah, I'll take it from here. Go, you filthy ape," said the servant girl to the darker-skinned woman, who was a slave.

"Yes, Miss Judith," said Hepzibah, and then she left.

"Ye should be kinder. Ye serve people, same as she does," Caoimhe told her.

"I serve you, the darkies serve everyone, including the white servants," said Judith, helping Caoimhe into the nice dress. "This dress looks so lovely on you, Miss Fowlis. I'll bet you've never worn something so nice in your life."

"As a matter of fact, I have," Caoimhe said to her a bit firmly, glaring at Judith in the mirror. "Though it's none of yer business, I am the daughter of a Laird - tha's a Scottish term fer a Lord. I'll thank ye te mind yer business in the future and not assume things aboot me. I can dress myself, thanks, Judith. Will ye send Hepzibah back in? She does hair verra nicely." Judith froze, her eyes wide in her reflection, and then she narrowed her eyes and huffed quietly.

"Yes, Miss Fowlis," she spat at Caoimhe, curtsying to her before leaving the room. Caoimhe smiled to herself - be a bitch, you get a bitch in return. When Hepzibah returned, Caoimhe explained that she wanted her to do her hair, which Hepzibah did obediently.

"How long have ye been here, Hepzibah?" Caoimhe asked her.

"Since I was a child, Miss Fowlis," replied Hepzibah with a subtle foreign accent that must have come from Africa.

"Poor lass," Caoimhe told her. "I couldnae imagine bein' ripped away from my home or my family as a child. Ye came from Africa, aye? Where in Africa?"

"I am of the Oron people. I was taken from my tribe and sold to white men," Hepzibah told her. "You do not sound like Master Grey or other white women like Miss Judith."

"They come from England, I'm from Scotland," Caoimhe replied. "I sort of... snuck away from home te come here wi' my aunt and uncle."

"Does your Mama know where you are at least, Miss Fowlis?" Hepzibah asked me, and for a moment, Caoimhe was silent.

"She's dead, Hepzibah. Has been fer ten years now," she replied quietly.

"Oh, I am sorry, honey," said Hepzibah as she finished with Caoimhe's hair.

"Thank ye, Hepzibah," Caoimhe told her, smiling softly at the middle-aged woman's reflection. "Ye did a beautiful job wi' my hair. Thank ye verra much." Hepzibah gave her a soft smile.

"You're safe with Master Grey. He's a kind man, much kinder than any other man who's come through here," Hepzibah told her, and then she curtsied to Caoimhe and left. Caoimhe let out a soft sigh once she was alone again. How could anyone condone the ownership of another person, even if they were as kind as Governor Grey was said to be? He did seem uncommonly kind, from what little Caoimhe had seen of him, but how kind could someone who owned other people be? He had been quite busy since he arrived in Jamaica and took over as Governor, leaving Caoimhe to freely wander the house and explore Kingston accompanied by a servant.