The day was hard. I worked on a case, but since I couldn’t figure out its ins and outs, I put it aside. My head is heavy, my limbs are numb, and my back hurts. Spending hours in front of a typewriter and a pile of documents certainly doesn’t help.
I’m hungry, no time to cook, I’ll faint. Eggs, a slice of bacon, half a potato, and herbs—all I need to make a good omelette. No sooner said than done. I sit at the dining table and savor my meal. A slice of apple pie completes my dinner. I push my plate away, rest my elbows on the table, face in my hands, and ponder. I think of all the women who had to share their husbands with mistresses. How did they bear it? Approving the wise advice of one’s mother and aunts, yet facing the undeniable fact of adultery; how do you reconcile family life with a spouse’s escapades? I brush these thoughts from my mind, get up, clear the table, and wash dishes from the past two days. And yes! I head to the living room, the fire’s dying out. I add a log and some kindling to stoke the flames. Sitting in an armchair facing the fireplace, I listen to the crackling of dry wood licked by the flames, adjusting the shawl on my shoulders. Outside, an owl’s hooting is muffled by the groan of an old oak, tormented by a fierce wind. The sounds fade, becoming almost non-existent…
I find myself sitting not in my apartment but in a garden chair, shaded by a veranda. I open my eyes, and a lovely young woman in her thirties smiles at me. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me there; she was expecting me.
« Hello, Miss Rose, I am Elizabeth Mary WINT, and I am pleased to welcome you to my estate in Ryde. »
« Hello, Mrs. WINT, I’m honored to meet a Lady. »
« Call me Elizabeth; we are among friends. It’s almost 4 o’clock, Henrietta will serve us tea. »
A little boy, about two, plays with his nanny. She whispers in his ear, he smiles, nods, and runs towards us, snuggling into his mother’s arms.
« This is John Pusey, my son. John, go say hello to Miss Rose! »
A bit hesitant, the child doesn’t dare approach me. After some encouragement from his mother and nanny, he comes closer, takes my hand, and kisses it warmly. His mother, half embarrassed, half amused, tells him:
« Your father still has things to teach you, my dear boy! »
« Mabella! Take the little one away, we have things to discuss. »
Henrietta, followed by a girl of about 14, serves us tea with exotic fruits and English pastries. Refreshed, Elizabeth looks at me.
« Ask me your questions, Rose. I will answer frankly. »
« You’ve been married to Samuel WINT since 1774. Was it a love match? »
« Not at all. My father had me marry Samuel, a wealthy import-export merchant between England and the Caribbean Islands, and owner of this plantation. But this is common. We marry out of duty and interest. My father, Benjamin PUSEY, was married for 21 years to my mother’s sister. Upon her death, he married my mother, the widow of Temple LAWES, one of the sons of the Governor of Jamaica. So, I am both sister and cousin to my aunt Charity’s children. »
« It seems you also have stepchildren? »
« In a way. My husband has a mulatto concubine he still sees. »
« Isn’t that hard for you? »
« I don’t ask myself that. Men are free to choose mistresses. In confidence, yes, I’d like to be the only one, but I’m a woman, and I don’t have a choice. »
« Your father passed away years ago. How is your mother? »
« Yes, my father died in 1765, 18 years ago. My mother returned to England, to Wiltshire, where her family originates. We correspond. I eagerly await the next ship and her letters. I was born on this island, but I long to see England, our motherland. »
« What’s your life like here? »
« Idle! Luncheons here or there, family parties, the governor’s ball. Parties leading to other parties where men discuss sugar, money, slaves. Women talk about dresses, jewelry, their children, and their staff’s antics. You must’ve noticed, Rose, I’m tired of this aimless life. »
« Thank you for receiving me so kindly. I feel the languor taking over again. I sincerely hope you get to visit the country of your ancestors. »
As usual, I wake up in this armchair by the fireplace. It’s very late, or rather, very early. I’ll write a few lines until sleep knocks at the door again. The wind remains fierce; nature and all else writhes in its grasp. I cover the fire, leaving only the embers to nibble at the wood.
Samuel WINT passed away in 1790. That same year, Elizabeth Mary married Andrew WRIGHT. The couple returned to England. Andrew died in London in 1808. She passed away in 1831. Her son was still living in Jamaica at that time.
A rebrousse temps généalogie 