The Fear of Becoming a Stepmother: Alice Shies from a Widowers Proposal
The stepmother could plainly see that Alice did not wish to marry the widower, and not because he had a small daughter or was older than she, but simply because Alice feared him terribly. His cold glance seemed to pierce right through to the heart, and out of dread her heart would thump harder, as though fighting off invisible arrows flying at her with his eyes. Alice would lower her gaze to the floor and keep it there, too timid to look up, and on the rare occasion she did, all could witness the welling tears in her eyes.
And those tears would come rushing down, like a torrent over cheeks flushed with the heat of shame. Her hands would shake, her little fists clenching as if to push away the stepmother and the suitor she brought. But, traitor tongue, may it be damned, finally betrayed her: I will marry him, Alice said.
So its settled, then, declared the stepmother. It would be a sin to refuse a man of such standing, in such a fine house! Remember how he treated his first wifelike a proper lady. She was gentle as clay, frail, thin, and always poorly; he would walk ahead, three paces to her one. Shed pause for breath like an exhausted steamer, and he would comfort her, unlike your hot-tempered father.
When his first wife was expecting, hardly anyone saw her outside. She was always in bed, and once the child arrived, he himself would get up at night to tend to the baby. His wife weakened more and more with every passing week, or so his mother said.
But you, Alice, youre as healthy as a May morning. Hell set you at the place of honour. Youre bright, skilled, clever with a sickle or a loom. Youd be wasted on some young lad whose head has barely settled. This man is an open bookeveryone knows about him. Youre lucky, you are!
Well make some proper English cider, have a small gathering, but a widower needs no grand wedding; we shan’t slight the departed with dancing. Hes said to leave off gathering trousseau, for his home is full with everything already.
Jacob had married his first wife for love, fully aware that Audrey had always been delicate, sickly, but his mother insisted the man deserved a woman of substance, not a slip of a girl. Yet neither neighbours nor any amount of common sense could sway himonly Audrey would do.
In the village, whispers went round that perhaps shed bewitched him, for only a bewitched man, unknown to lifes full measure, would choose to turn his home into a place of suffering. The village doctor used to say Audreys lungs were weak as dried leaves, that the gentlest chill could bring on inflammation, asthma, or worse.
Jacob believed he could shield her from death itself by loving her fiercely, that his care would nurse her into strength. Thus, early days after their marriage were goldenhappy, radiant newlyweds, full of thanks for their good fortunes.
But as Audreys pregnancy took hold, she languished, wracked with weariness and dizziness. She could neither launder nor milk the cows, or even brush her fine hair without help. A touch of the vapours, the doctor said, Shell recover her strength after her child arrives. Jacob looked after her with all the devotion of a true English husband. Meanwhile, Jacobs mother would accuse him, day and night, of bringing not a mistress of the house, but a burden. Yet Jacob defended her as fiercely as a hawk its nest, and politely asked his mother for peace.
When Audrey bore a daughter, Jacobs hopes soaredsurely their happiness and health would finally return. For a fleeting time, joy filled their home once more. Yet one winter, after catching a chill, Audrey never fully recovered, fading fast before them all.
She was sent to the infirmary, and the country doctor did not sugar-coat his words:
Her lungs wont carry her much longer.
He spoke plainly, in the old country way. Audrey understoodthe end was near. At first, she put on a brave face, but even through the faint smile on her lips, her eyes betrayed pain and fear for what tomorrow would bring for her little girl.
Her frailness spoke volumes: the bones showing through her back, caved chest, withered fingertips, her thin shoulders brought lowall too clearly, death was close by, waiting for the final sigh.
Knowing her time was short, Audrey called Jacob to her side with a last request.
No one can change what God intends, Jacob. Our love is spent from fighting death, and Ive no fight left in me. I am so tiredfrom pain, from sorrowful worry. Forgive me, and forgive our daughter too. My life was meant for suffering, and in loving me you too have suffered.
Jacob gripped her blazing hands and kissed them. From her laboured breathing he knew she was hurrying to speak before time ran out.
She spoke of her love for them, her fears for their daughters future, and then with a heavy sigh, whispered,
Marry Alice. Shell be a good wife, and youre a good man, a fine father, and shell be a loving mother. Shes known hardship, much as I have, with stepmothers and a difficult father. Theres something about her life that draws me, and my mother is fond of her family. Her eyes, sharp as a hawks, miss nothing.
Alice is affectionate, industrious, patientshe wont harm our little one, and shell come to love you. Treat her as kindly as you treated me. Imagine me by your side in her form. Pardon me for such talk, but not only are my lungs shadowed, my soul has grown weary with worry for our girl. Yet your fate, like all fates, lies with Goddo as you see fit. But promise me, do not let our daughter be pained; for if you do, my curse from the beyond will find you. Her words, though slow and halting, were resolute.
Using what strength she had, she squeezed his hand for the last time.
Jacob wept, tears wetting his wifes face, and by her shallow breaths, he understood her spirit was departing. Her face, angelic and serene, smiled at some distant place. Her hand clasped his till the very end.
He kissed herher brow, her hair, her hands, whispering solemn promises to obey her wishes. That is why, little more than a year later, he came to Alice with a proposal.
It was Jacobs mother-in-law who prepared Alice for her new role; she too wanted her granddaughter to have a loving stepmother. Being of fragile health herself, she feared her days were short and wanted security for her grandchild and son-in-law.
She alone knew what her beloved son-in-law had endured and, for his gentle treatment of her daughter, was ever ready to kiss his feet in gratitude and pray for Jacobs happiness.
The proposal itself passed like a dream in mist. Seeing how their daughter struggled for want of a mothers touch, and how he himself missed a mistress of the house, Jacob resolved to honour his late wifes final request. He began to observe Alice, discovering she was gentle, obedient, lovely, even resembling his late wifea similar braid, a similar smile, a similar walk.
At times, Jacob longed to approach and hold her fast in silence, longing for the memory of his wife to remain near. As for Alice, even she could not rightly explain why she agreed to Jacobs offer. Maybe she tired of being the handmaid to the stepmother, the scold of her drunken father, or perhaps grew weary of her sisters mockeryor perhaps she pitied Jacobs little girl.
One way or another, by accepting, Alice sensed she faced a new challengeto learn to love and be loved by Jacob.
After the engagement, Jacob resolved to introduce Alice to his daughter.
Winifredaffectionately called Winnierarely ventured into the garden, spending every moment at her mothers side. Even at night, Jacob would wake to find his late wife murmuring advice into their daughters ear, as if preparing her for life without her.
Jacob could not recall his wifes words to their child without tears, and Winifred was so attached to home that she shrank from strangers, seeking comfort only with her father, her mother, her grandmother and, last of all, the surly, sour step-granny.
Jacob brought Alice to meet his daughter, hoping they might grow used to each other, without the boisterous stepmother bustling about as if a milkless cow had finally left the yard.
Alice, mostly quiet, quickly saw Jacob was far from grimrather, he was most polite and considerate. He candidly asked if she had someone else in her affectionsif so, he would step aside. He said not a word of his late wifes dying wish.
The beauty of his home dazzled Aliceexquisite English furniture, fine paintings in carved wooden frames, polished and shining. The rooms were large and light-filled. When Winifred saw Alice, she surprised everyoneno shyness, but instead cheerful curiosity.
She fetched her toys and asked Alice to play, keen to touch her guests hand and gazing up with inquisitive eyes, smiling now and then. During their play, Alice occasionally embraced her and gently fixed her splendid hair.
Oh, let me sit and do your hair; youll look like a princess.
Jacob watched their games, their easy laughter, and his heart wept for sheer joy.
Hed dreaded bringing Alice into his house, for Winifred was always asking after her mother, gazing out the window as if she might spot her, hurrying to the door with every knock, hoping her mother had returned.
Jacob tried to explain, but four-year-old Winifred needed no explanations; she only yearned for the soft embrace of a loving mother.
Jacob realised that no matter his efforts, his affection and paternal arms could never compensate for a mothers gentle touch, her special warmth, her unique love.
He feared mistaking his hopes in Alice, but when little Winifred began to pout, near tears at the thought of Alice leaving, a great peace came over him.
Winifred clasped Alices hand and led her into her own room, pulled up the quilt, patted the pillows with tiny hands, hopped onto the bed and began to bounce, almost touching the low English ceiling.
Alice remembered her own childhood, the arrival of her stepmotherhow shed be blamed for every lost loaf, how the stepmother would hide sweets for her own daughters, how shed smack Alice for failing difficult tasks, how she wore patched-up dresses after her stepsisters cast-offs, how shed put drunk parents to bed and been wracked by pity, covering her father with quilts. She remembered the stepmother saying shed be sent away like unwanted cattle, all her cruel curses, and with her throat thick with emotion, she approached Winifred.
She hugged her tightly and laid down beside her. The child fell asleep at once, in the deep peace of happiness. Jacob was beside himself with gratitude and wonder towards Alice. They drank tea together, gazing at one another, smiling. He would not let Alice leave for her own home.
He would not, and that was all!
A wifes place is with her husband, not off where shes unwelcome.
