**The Fear of Becoming a Stepmother: Eliza Avoids a Widowers Proposal**
My stepmother saw plainly that Eliza had no wish to marry the widowernot because he had a young daughter, nor because he was older, but because she feared him deeply. His cold stare pierced her to the core, and her heart pounded as if defending itself from arrows shot by his gaze. Eliza kept her eyes lowered, refusing to lift them, and when she finally did, all could see they brimmed with tears.
Those tears rolled like an avalanche down her cheeks, red with shame. Her hands trembled, small fists clenching as if bracing against the stepmother and the suitor she had thrust upon her. Yet her traitorous lips, cursed be they, spoke: “I will marry.”
“Then its settled,” declared the stepmother. “To refuse such a home, such a mantwould be a sin! Why, he treated his first wife like a lady of the manorgentle as clay, frail and sickly, always coughing. Theyd walk three paces apart, her breath rattling like a steam engine, and hed embrace her without protest, not like your fool of a father.
When she was with child, she scarcely left her bed. After the birth, he rose at night to tend the babe while she faded. His own mother told me so.
But youyoure strong as an oak! Hell seat you in the best chair by the fire. Skilled you arewith scythe and sickle, spinning and sewing. A sin it is to waste you on some untested lad, still green in his ways. This mans character is known, his heart open. Lucky you are!
Well have a fine gathering, though widowers need no weddingno dancing to vex the dead. Hes forbidden a trousseau, says the house lacks for nothing.”
Jacob had wed his first wife for love, knowing Audrey was often ill, weak as a reed. His mother argued a man so strong and handsome needed a wife, not a girl, but neither sense nor persuasion swayed himAudrey was all he ever wanted.
Village whispers claimed shed bewitched him, for only a cursed man would chain his life to a sickroom, to suffering. The doctor warned Audreys lungs were fraila chill led to fever, fever to asthma, and from there, who could say?
Jacob believed love could ward death from his wife, that care would heal her. And for a time, after the wedding, all was well. The newlyweds rejoiced in their happiness.
Then Audrey fell pregnant, and her body turned against her. Weakness clung like a shadow; dizziness and exhaustion left her unable to wash, milk the cows, or even comb her own long hair.
The doctor called it morning sicknessbirth would restore her. Jacob tended her without complaint, while his mother railed day and night, calling his wife a burden, not a helpmeet. He defended her like a hawk his nest, until at last he barred his mother from their door.
Audrey bore a daughter, and Jacob hoped strength and joy would return to their home. They didbriefly. A winter chill settled in Audreys chest and never left. She withered before his eyes.
Hospital-bound, the physician spoke plain: “Her lungs wont hold.”
Audrey knew her time was short. At first, she hid ither smile strained, her eyes betraying fear for the morrow, for her child.
Her thin frame, ribs stark beneath her skin, hollow chest, and brittle fingers spoke silently of deaths approach. Sensing the end, she begged her husband a final favor.
“None can alter Gods will,” she whispered. “Our love fought death too longIve no strength left. Forgive me, for I was born to suffering and have passed it to you and our girl.”
Jacob kissed her burning hands. Her labored breath told him time was short.
She spoke of her love, her fears for their daughter, gasping until, with one last breath, she said:
“Marry Eliza. Shell be a good wife, a good mother. Shes endured muchstepparents, cruel kin. Her life moves me. My own mother knows her family well; her eyes are sharp as a hawks.
Eliza is kind, hardworking, patientshell love our girl in time. Be to her as you were to me. Forgive me, but my soul dims with worry. God will guide your choiceonly swear youll never hurt our child, or Ill curse you from beyond.”
Her last words were slow, deliberate. Then, with fading strength, she squeezed his hand.
Jacob wept, tears blurring her face as he felt her slip away. Her angelic smile lingered, her hand still clutching his. He kissed her from head to toe, whispering promises to obey her wishes.
Thus, a year after her death, he came to court Eliza.
His mother-in-law had arranged it, fearing for her grandchild. Sickly herself, she wished them settled before her own end. She knew his grief, his steadfast care for her daughter, and would have kissed his feet for his kindness.
The proposal passed like mist. Seeing his daughters loneliness and his own need for a helpmeet, he resolved to honor Audreys plea. Hed watched Elizameek, obedient, lovely, even resembling his late wife in hair, smile, and gait.
Sometimes he ached to embrace her, to hold tight and remember. Eliza herself couldnt say why she agreed. Was it to escape her stepmothers tyranny? Her drunken fathers shame? Her stepsisters mockery? Or pity for Jacobs child?
Regardless, in accepting, she faced a trial: to love, and be loved by, Jacob.
After the betrothal, he brought Eliza to meet his daughter.
Violet seldom left the house, clinging to her grandmother. Every second she doted on little Roseher father, grandmother, and one cross old aunt her whole world.
At night, Jacob sometimes saw his wife bend over Rose, whispering advice for when shed be gone.
Rose was a true family childwary of strangers, content with her small circle. Jacob brought Eliza so she might see the girl, free of the stepmothers crowing glee, like a barren cow finally sold off.
Eliza stayed quiet, noting Jacob was 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 herhand-carved furniture, paintings in lacquered frames, bright rooms. Rose, upon seeing Eliza, acted strangely. Not fearful, but curious, even playful.
She fetched her toys, begging Eliza to play. She touched the strangers hand, studied her with wide eyes, and smiled.
During games, Eliza hugged her, smoothing hair like her mothers.
“Shall I plait your hair? Youll look a princess.”
Jacob watched, his heart swelling.
Hed feared remarryingRose still asked for her mother, still peered from windows hoping to see her. Explanations meant nothing to her four-year-old heart. She needed a mothers soft hands, her love, her warmth.
Jacob knew no embrace of his could replace that. Yet seeing Rose pout when Eliza rose to leave, peace settled over him.
Rose took Elizas hand, leading her to her room. She patted pillows, leaped on the bed, bouncing with joy.
Eliza remembered her own stepmotherthe hidden bread, the beatings, the fine dresses given to her own daughters. She recalled her father drunk on the floor, her heart breaking as she covered him with her own blanket. She remembered curses, being called useless cattle.
With a lump in her throat, she drew Rose close, hugging her fiercely before lying beside her. The child slept, content.
Jacob, overjoyed, scarcely knew how to act. They drank tea, smiling at one another. He did not let Eliza leave.
Nor would he.
A wife belongs with her husband, not where shes unwelcome.
