Ella

Unimaginable. Surely this had to be a dream – well a nightmare to be more accurate. Inconceivable that I would be twice widowed in less than four years. Surely, I must have done something, in this life or a past life, to bring about such heartache.

“It’s all your fault!” she screamed, hurling herself towards me and pounding her fists at my chest. A scene that had become all too familiar lately.

“Ella, you must stop child,” I said calmly, trying to grab her wrists as gently as I could. “Come here,” I pleaded as I tried to pull her in for a hug, although she continued her tantrum. “It’s no one’s fault your father died.”

“He was leaving to trade because we needed money. Because you and your nasty daughters demand too much-“

“Hold your tongue!” I said curtly, cutting off this exhausting rant she had been on for the past two months. As a child, she was not privy to everything that happened behind closed doors. She did not know, nor had I, that her late father was nearly penniless at the time he began courting me. She did not know that he had already squandered almost half of the money I had brought with me to this marriage, a secret I had not uncovered until I was tending to his affairs after his funeral. Ella had assumed, incorrectly, that the gowns and trinkets that had arrived for my girls a month after our arrival were gifts from her father, but they were not. One of our trunks had fallen from the carriage in route to our new home, and when my girls had tried to explain it to her, Ella became agitated and stormed out of the room, believing only what she wanted to believe.

Ella’s dramatics became a talking point soon after my daughters and I moved into the manor. With her father’s return and the introduction of a new stepmother, the servants who had been pandering to her and doting on her began to withdraw and leave the “nurturing” as they called it to my husband and I. When it was clear that her behavior was not simply a matter of her adjusting to a new routine, I pleaded with my husband for some assistance and suggestions, only to be met with “You’re her stepmother now, figure it out.” My mind snapped out of those memories and into the present tantrum.

“Ella, I know you are hurting but these outbursts must stop. It does not change the past, only keeps us living in it. Please, come join us for supper and we can decide on a family outing for all of us this weekend.”

“You’re not my family,” she hissed. “You’re just my stepmother.” The final words were dripping with disdain and loathing. Anger flared across my face and I opened my mouth to speak but was met instantly with nails raking across my cheek. “The witch who married my father.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving me clutching my cheek. I was accustomed to her outbursts, but she had never struck me or injured me before.

It was nearly a decade before she would strike me again.

***************

“Mother, why don’t we just leave?” It was a question that had been posed a number of times in recent years. One that I continued to answer in the same way, but that way was becoming less and less compelling each time I said it.

“She’s your sister-“

“Stepsister,” she quickly interjected.

“We are Ella’s only remaining family, Genevieve.”

“And yet she treats us with disrespect and contempt at every turn. Every effort is met with hostility. Every kindness is met with indifference.”

“How we treat her speaks to our character. How she responds speaks to hers.” I had become adept over the years at maintaining my composure and resolve to peaceful interactions with Ella, although truth be told, I tired of the constant attitude and antagonism. For many years, I had hoped and prayed that her behavior would subside as she came to terms with her father’s death, but it became increasingly clearer over the years that her actions and temperament were ingrained in her and there was little that we could do to reverse these effects.

“Mother, you have tried to weave the four of us together as a family, but it’s painfully clear that Ella does not want that. She’s driven away suitors for you and her stubborn pride of holding onto this land has forced you to sell your possessions, and ours, to pay the taxes. Please don’t sacrifice our future to keep the peace with her. She knows no peace, and has no desire to find it.”

Louise was right, but I was not ready to admit that to her or to Genevieve. Admitting that would be letting go of the dream I had so many years ago of creating a new and happy family with the man I thought I loved. Even though he had passed, I clung to that dream for so many years that the four of us could still have that happy life I had pictured.

“Girls, give me a bit longer to see if I can reason with her.”

They didn’t agree with me, but they did not protest either, just a single nod before leaving the room. I went to find Ella to discuss the tax situation. I squared my shoulders as I knocked and entered her room.

“Ella, I have something to discuss with you. The taxes will be due in two months and it is more than what we will be able to bring in at the market over the coming months.”

“I suppose you’ll have to sell something then, won’t you?” she hardly glanced up from the cross stitch she was working on, clearly unphased by my comment.

“No Ella, I’ve already sold your father’s things that would fetch a decent price. It’s time to discuss selling some of the back acres.”

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, slapping her work down on the table and rising to her feet. “This is my land. My father left it to me, so you cannot sell it without my permission. Sell those paintings in the upstairs hall instead.”

“No, those have been in my family for three generations.”

“Well then you’ll have to sell something else.”

“There’s nothing left that would cover the taxes. The money we bring in at market pays for the servants, not much more. If you don’t agree to the sale of part of the land, they will come and take it for much less than it’s worth. The choice is yours,” I said with a cool tone. I had been trying to avoid this for the last two seasons, but she would not see our predicament clearly. She had always managed to convince me to take from my own pocket, from my family’s heirlooms, to make up the difference, but Louise was right. I could no longer allow that.

“Or perhaps I let them take the house. Then you and your two daughters will be sleeping on the streets.” The devilish twinkle in her eye when she said this sent a wave of disgust rippling through me.

“And you’ll be sent to the alms house, as you are not yet of age.” I promptly left, closing the door loudly behind me.

In the nearly ten years since her father died, she had become increasingly more defiant, arrogant, and cruel. Given what I had discovered about her father after his passing, it made me wonder if this was an inherited trait. Regardless, I needed to protect my girls and myself.

I awoke early to the sound of the rooster, but I laid in bed for a spell longer. It had been three days since my uncomfortable conversation with Ella and there had been no resolution to our dilemma. With each passing day, my anxiety grew. I was not specifically concerned with losing the land or the house as there was no rich history for my family in this place, rather I did not relish the idea of needing to search for a new home. I rose wearily, dressed, and made my way downstairs for breakfast.

As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed there was no fire in the kitchen fireplace and none of the servants were moving about the main floor. I glanced outside and found no one working out in the garden either. A few moments later, Ella walked in.

“Have you seen the servants this morning?”

“Yes, when I took them to town and sold them,” she replied smugly.

“You did what?” I was taken aback by her admission, but even more so at the lack of any sense of conflict in her voice.

“I sold them. If the choice was between them or my land, I choose my land.”

“How do you intend on caring for our home, and for tending to our produce that we sell?” While she was not a small child, she clearly had not thought this through. Without servants or some sort of hired help to tend to the manor, we would be facing the same situation next season, only with no source of income by that point in time.

“There were three of them, but Louise and Genevieve are younger and much more intelligent, so I’m confident they will be able to work faster.”

“I beg your pardon.” I was completely shocked by the gall of her suggestion.

“Yes, well they are getting to live here free of charge, essentially, so why would they not help keep the manor afloat?”

“No,” I answered sternly, “I refuse to put my daughters to work in the fields on account of your selfishness and refusal to sell part of the land. I forbid it! If you insist on keeping all of this land, then you will be responsible for tending to it.”

I could see her shifting as I said this, taken aback by the coldness in my tone. In a flash of anger, she exploded, shouting “I will NOT,” and slapped me across the face, leaving a biting sting on my cheek. I stood taller, not reacting in anger as she had. In its place, I found a void of any emotion whatsoever.

“I have tolerated your childishness and pompousness for far too long, but no more. YOU will be responsible for the chores and duties that the servants you so recklessly sold were responsible for. YOU and you alone will be tending to the farm, and if you do not, then my daughters and I will leave, you will be taken to an alms house, and this land will be turned over to the tax collectors. Do you understand me, Ella?”

The look of horror that was rising up on her face told me the only answer I needed. She was beginning to tremble and looked as if she was about to come at me for a second time. I raised my finger in front of us.

“One more outburst like that and all of this disappears. Are we clear?”

“How dare you!”

“Are we clear?” I asked louder.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, stepmother.”