The news that Michael Peterson had decided to wed his only daughter sent ripples through the entire village. And no wonderthe bride was not just plain but downright unfortunate in appearance. With a pronounced nose, a slight squint, and legs of uneven length, suitors had never lined up for poor Evelyn. Even a simple walk to the village shop and back usually drew mocking whispers that followed her like shadows.
*»Must you lumber about like Evelyn the crooked?»* scolded mothers whenever their children mimicked her uneven gait in jest.
But Michael Peterson adored his daughter. As a man of some meansbeing the village magistratehe promised a handsome dowry. Soon, hushed murmurs spread. *»For such a dowry, one might overlook the girls looks,»* they whispered. *»Hardworking, mild-temperedwhat more could a man want?»*
Two suitors emerged: Thomas and Peter. Thomas, the schoolmasters son, was educatedthough his family was far from wealthy, he already owned a cottage on the village outskirts, ready for a bride to move in. His parents, too, were eager to align themselves with Michael Petersons standing.
*»Thomas, prepare to wed,»* his father declared without preamble. *»Ive settled on Evelyn, Michael Petersons girl. Shell make you a fine wife.»*
*»What? Crooked and homely? Id rather have Marianne,»* the reluctant groom-to-be scowled.
*»No, son. Marry Evelyn. Her familys well-offjust think of the horses they own. Beauty fades, but wealth endures,»* his father countered.
The second suitor, Peter, was neither destitute nor prosperous. Raised by his widowed mother, he had no home of his own.
*»Wheres your sense, Peter?»* his mother fretted as he urged her to prepare for the betrothal. *»Theyll laugh you out of the village! A beggar at a lords feast And the girls no beauty, either.»*
*»No beauty? Mother, her eyes are blue as cornflowers, and her braid shines like firelong and sharp. And what if she limps? It matters not to me. Fetch your shawlwere paying a call.»*
Sighing, she relented. Perhaps, she thought, her Peter had a heart large enough to see beyond the surface.
Michael Peterson, seasoned by years, was astonished to have two suitors. Knowing Evelyns looks would deter most, he weighed his options carefully and chose Thomas.
*»But Father, I prefer Peter,»* Evelyn murmured, eyes downcast. *»We met by the lake bridge the other daymy yoke broke, and he helped me straight away. He was kind, his gaze warm. Thomas looks at me as though sizing up a ledger.»*
*»I dont know,»* Michael shook his grizzled head. *»Peters never known comforthed squander your dowry in a season. Thomas will keep you secure. His familys respectable.»*
Evelyn yielded, though her heart leaned toward Peter.
The wedding was hastenedlest the groom reconsiderand within a month, the couple settled into their cottage. Evelyn, despite her flaws, was diligent; chores thrived under her care. Thomas, however, spent days abed, lost in books. Raised among scholars, hed always prized learning.
*»Have you read Austen, Evelyn? Or perhaps Dickens?»* hed sigh. *»Good Lord, youre dull. What is there even to discuss?»*
*»The pigpen needs mending, and the troughs too narrowthe swine spill their slops,»* shed reply.
*»Always pigs and fences,»* hed wave her off. *»Your father gave us horsestend them yourself.»*
So it went. Evelyn toiled from dawn to dusk, while Thomas idled and lamented her simplicity. When she sought his parents intervention, their response chilled her:
*»Let him read,»* her mother-in-law shrugged. *»Women are strongyoull manage. Or hell find a prettier one.»*
And he did. By autumn, Thomas was slipping through the orchard to meet Mariannea willing accomplice. Soon, the village buzzed with the scandal. By winter, he made no secret of it.
*»At least Marianne can converse,»* he sneered. *»And you? You cant even give me an heir.»*
The words cut deepest. An heir was expectedby his family, hers, and herself. Yet no child came. Perhaps the ceaseless labor had stolen her chance.
She often wondered of Peterhow life mightve been had she followed her heart. A chance meeting with his mother stirred old longings. The old woman confessed that Peter, heartbroken, had left for the city, trained as a veterinarian, yet remained unwed.
*»He was crushed when your father refused him,»* she admitted, scrubbing a rug by the lake. *»I urged him toward Marianneforgive me. I didnt know your goodness then.»*
*»Hes returning,»* she added, oblivious to Evelyns trembling hands. *»Assigned to our districtplans to fix up the cottage.»*
*»If only I could see him once more,»* Evelyn thought, then flushed at her own daring. Such thoughts were treason to a living husband.
But fate soon twisted. Marianne quickened with Thomass child, and the villages pitying stares dogged Evelyns steps.
*»Dont take it hard,»* Thomas shrugged. *»A man needs heirs. Youve failed. Pack your thingsreturn to your father.»*
Choking back tears, she crept home at dusk. Michael Peterson, though furious, could not undo the disgrace. By dawn, he reclaimed the horses, only to find Marianne lounging in Evelyns shawl, surveying her new domain. He spat and left.
The village clucked, then forgotuntil Peter returned. Clad in a city-tailored coat and hat, he seemed a world apart, his cane drawing both envy and scorn.
*»Im home, Mother,»* he embraced her.
*»For good?»* she wept.
*»For good. Ive secured funds for a veterinary stationwell restore the cottage too. Now, what news?»*
Respected yet unspoiled, Peter mended roofs by day and treated livestock by evening.
*»You need a good wife,»* his mother prodded.
*»City girls are hollowall polish, no soul,»* he sighed.
*»Thomas cast his off, claiming the same,»* she muttered.
Peter froze. *»Thomas? Cast Evelyn out?»*
*»Aye. Moved Marianne inshes with child. Poor Evelyns back with her father.»*
*»Then Ill wed her myself.»*
*»God save us! Shes barren!»*
*»Never speak of her so. If Thomas discarded her, shes mine.»*
The next day, Peter called on Michael Peterson. This time, as a man of standing, he hoped for favorand Evelyn, now deemed «spoiled goods,» might voice her choice.
Received warmly, Peter stated his purpose. Michael, rarely moved, near wept.
*»Ah, Peter Had I let her choose you then»* he muttered around his pipe. *»Call Evelyn.»*
*»Ive no house yet, but the districts building one»*
*»Wed by Saturday if she agrees. Whod take her now? Ill furnish the costs. Evelyn, Peters here for you.»*
She swayed in the doorway, then nodded fiercely.
*»Done!»* Michael clapped. *»Fetch the elderberry wine!»*
Soon, Evelyn settled into Peters home. The village murmured, then hushedwhod scorn the vet theyd need for ailing livestock? Even Evelyns flaws faded when he gifted her spectacles and a fashionable bonnet.
Before long, she conceivednot one child, but twins. Peter prattled of medical explanations, but she cared only for her hard-won joy. At last, through thorny paths, shed found her happiness.
