The Fear of Becoming a Stepmother: Eliza Avoids a Widowers Proposal
Her stepmother saw plainly that Eliza had no wish to marry the widower, not because he had a young daughter or was older, but because she feared him deeply. His cold stare pierced to the very depths of her heart, making it pound as though defending itself from the arrows of his gaze. Eliza kept her eyes fixed on the ground, unwilling to lift them, and when she did, everyone noticed they were brimming with tears.
Those tears rolled down her cheeks, flushed with shame. Her hands trembled, small fists clenched as if to shield herself from her stepmother and the suitor she had brought. Yet her treacherous tongue, cursed thing, spoke: “I will marry him.”
“Then its settled. To refuse such a man and such a home would be sinful! Why, he treated his first wife like royaltygentle as clay, frail and thin, always coughing and ill. They walked together, he three steps ahead, she one behind, stopping to catch her breath like an old steam engine. And he would embrace her, soothing her without protestnot like your fool of a father.”
When she was with child, she was scarcely seen walking. She lay abed, and after the birth, he rose at night to tend the babe while she grew weaker still. So his mother said.
“But youyoure strong as an ox! Hell seat you in the finest chair. Youre clever with your handsscythe and needle, spinning and weaving. A sin it would be to waste you on some callow youth still wet behind the ears. This man is steady, known to all. What luck youve had!”
House and home are in order, a small gathering will dono need for a widows wedding feast, lest we trouble the dead with dancing. Hes forbidden the dowry collection, saying the house lacks for nothing.
James had married his first wife for love, knowing Audrey was often ailing, delicate. His mother insisted a strong man like him needed a woman, not a girl, but neither sense nor counsel swayed himAudrey was all he wanted.
The village whispered she had bewitched him, for only a cursed fool would turn his life into a sickroom of suffering. The doctor warned her lungs were weak, that even a chill could bring on pneumonia, asthmaor worse.
James believed his love would hold death at bay, that care and devotion would drive illness away. At first, all was well. The newlyweds rejoiced in their happiness.
Then Audrey fell pregnant, and her body turned against herconstant weakness, dizziness, exhaustion leaving her unable to wash, milk the cows, or even comb her long, lovely hair.
The doctor said it was the sickness of childbearing, that shed recover after the birth. James tended her without complaint. His mother scorned him day and night for bringing a burden, not a helpmeet, into the house. He defended his wife like a starving eagle guards its nest and begged his mother to stay away.
Audrey bore a daughter, and James hoped strength and joy would return to the family. Happiness didbut briefly. A simple chill left her fading before his eyes.
They took her to the hospital, where the doctor spoke plainly:
“Her lungs wont last.”
Audrey knew her time was short, hiding it at first. A forced smile, more like a wince, masked the pain and fear in her eyesfear for tomorrow, for her daughter.
Her gaze seemed to bid farewell, pleading to be remembered happy. The sharp angles of her ribs, the sunken chest, her fingers like brittle twigs spoke silently of deaths nearness, waiting for her last breath.
Feeling the end, she begged her husband to hear her wish.
“No man can barter with Gods will. Our love has fought death too longIve no strength left. Forgive me, and forgive our daughter. I was born to suffer, and Ive made you suffer with me.”
James clasped her fevered hands, kissing them. Her ragged breath told him time was short.
She spoke of her love, her worry for their child, gasping before finally whispering:
“Marry Eliza. Shell be a good wifea good mother. Shes suffered too, with stepmothers and cruel kin. Her life moves me. My own mother befriends her familysharp-eyed as a hawk, she sees all. Eliza is kind, hardworking, patient. Shell love our girl and, in time, love you. Treat her as you did me. Forgive me for saying so, but my heart is as dark as my lungs from worry. Your fate is Gods to decide, but rememberif you hurt our daughter, Ill curse you from beyond the grave.”
Her last words were slow, deliberate. With her final strength, she squeezed his hand.
James wept, tears spilling onto her face as he felt her slipping away. Her angelic face, smiling, stared at nothing. Her grip lingered.
He kissed her from head to toe, murmuring promises to honour her wish. And so, a year after her death, he came to court Eliza.
His late wifes mother had arranged it, wanting a good mother for her grandchild. Ailing herself, fearing her own end, she wished them settled.
Knowing what her son-in-law had endured, she would have kissed his feet for the kindness hed shown her daughter.
The courtship passed like mist. Seeing his childs loneliness and his own need for a wife, he resolved to fulfil Audreys wish. He had watched Elizameek, dutiful, lovely, even resembling his lost love. The same hair, the same smile, the same walk.
Sometimes he longed to embrace her tightly, silently, to summon Audreys ghost. Eliza herself could not say why she agreed. Tired of being her stepmothers drudge? Weary of shielding her drunken father from blame? Pity for Jamess motherless child?
Whatever the reason, she said yesand now faced the trial of learning to love him.
After the engagement, James brought her to meet his daughter.
Little Emmeline seldom left the house, always with her grandmother. Every second, James marvelled at her. Sometimes, waking at night, he saw his mother-in-law bending over the child, whispering advice for a life without her.
Emmeline was a true home-child, shy with strangers, knowing only her father, grandmother, and a cross old aunt.
James brought Eliza to meet her, away from his stepmothers crowinglike a cow led to market, dried up and useless.
Eliza stayed quiet, surprised to find him not stern but gentle, attentive. He asked plainly if she loved anotherif so, hed step aside. Of Audreys plea, he said nothing.
The house enchanted herfine hand-carved furniture, paintings in polished frames, bright and spacious rooms. Emmeline, seeing Eliza, behaved oddlynot afraid, but coquettish.
She fetched her dolls, begging Eliza to play, reaching for her hand with shy curiosity, smiling now and then. Eliza hugged her, smoothing her curls.
“I could plait your hairmake you look a princess.”
James watched them, his heart swelling.
He had feared remarryingEmmeline still asked for her mother, still peered from windows as if searching the street. Every visitor raised hopes: Had she returned?
He tried explaining, but a childs heart needs no wordsonly a mothers touch.
No matter his love, it could never replace hers.
And yet, seeing Emmeline pout, near tears at Elizas leaving, peace settled over him.
The girl took Elizas hand, leading her to her room, fluffing pillows like a little hostess, jumping for joy.
Eliza remembered her own stepmotherthe hidden bread, the sweets given only to her daughters, the slaps for imperfect chores, the fine dresses sewn for them while she mended her fathers drunken sprawls with her own blanket. The curses, the threatsall rushed back.
She hugged Emmeline fiercely, lying beside her until the girl slept, content.
James, overjoyed, scarcely knew how to act. They drank tea, smiling silently. He did not let her leave.
A wife belongs with her husband, not where she is unwelcome.
