It still troubles me now, the way it all unfolded back then. I’d married a man with a daughter from his first marriage, never dreaming how it would fray my nerves. The girl’s mother had run off abroad with another man, leaving the child behind, and suddenly I found myself living in misery with this stranger’s daughter in our cottage in Grasmere. I’d longed for a happy family, but instead, I was saddled with a spoiled, ill-mannered girl who made my life wretched. When I fell pregnant, I knew—she had to go to her grandmother’s. But how to make her *want* to leave?
When Robert and I first courted, his daughter Elsie lived mostly with her gran. I barely saw her, and foolishly, I thought I could accept her as part of Robert’s life. After the wedding, everything changed. His mother declared it too much to manage the girl and sent her to us. I tried to be kind, but Elsie met every effort with cold indifference or outright cheek. She ignored me as if I were air, left messes everywhere, and ran whinging to her father or grandmother over every little thing.
His mother’s lectures rang in my ears: *”Patience, Clara—try harder!”* Robert pleaded for leniency, but why should I tolerate a twelve-year-old’s insolence? She wasn’t mine, and I refused to play nursemaid. With my own child coming, I wouldn’t endure her tantrums. Why did no one discipline her? Robert and his mother coddled her, blind to her laziness and sharp tongue. Left unchecked, she’d grow into a selfish, ungrateful woman.
Elsie was a sloven. Dishes piled up, clothes strewn about—all left for me to tidy. Worse, she was cunning, winding me up deliberately. Robert worked late, leaving us alone, though they insisted she couldn’t be left unsupervised. Must I sacrifice my peace for her? I had dreams too—work, rest, a life of my own!
Gran visited for tea, cooing over Elsie before turning on me: *”Why don’t you play with her? Guide her?”* As if I owed her every moment. The pressure choked me. If they’d not demanded the impossible, perhaps I’d have borne it. But I grew to resent tying myself to a man with baggage. Elsie would never be family, and I refused to pretend.
Then—the final twist. My pregnancy made everything worse. I craved peace, to prepare for my baby, not waste nerves on another’s child. Elsie belonged to Robert’s past, not my future. Her mother rang once a year, sent trinkets, but never took her. The girl’s heartache showed, yet she took it out on me—sullen, snapping.
I dreamed of sending her to Gran’s. A neat solution. Gran doted on her, lived nearby. But Elsie clung to Robert, and he wouldn’t push her away. I’d tried sweetness, hinting she might prefer Gran’s, but she’d only scoffed. Perhaps harshness would drive her off? Or could Robert persuade his mother? I teetered on the edge—one more straw, and I’d snap.
All I wanted was quiet. A home ready for my child. Elsie’s presence was a storm I couldn’t weather. How to make her go without tearing us apart? Even now, the memory knots my stomach. I was desperate—and out of choices.
