The news that Michael Peterson had decided to marry off his only daughter sent ripples through the entire village. And no wonderthe bride was not just plain but downright homely, with a large nose, a slight squint, and legs of uneven length. No queue of suitors stood for little Barbara. Even a simple trip to the shops and back usually ended in sniggers trailing behind her.
«Mimicking Barbara the Crooked, are you?» scolded mothers when their children playfully dragged a foot behind them.
But Michael Peterson adored his daughter. And being far from poorafter all, he was the village chairmanhe promised a handsome dowry. The village soon buzzed with whispers. For such a dowry, perhaps the girl was worth a second glance. Hardworking, they said, and of a gentle disposition.
In the end, two suitors emerged: William and Peter. William, the son of the village schoolmaster, was a man of learning, though his family wasnt wealthy. Still, he already owned a cottage on the outskirts of the village, ready to move into. His parents, too, were eager to ally with Michael Peterson.
«William, prepare to wed,» his father declared bluntly. «Ive chosen Barbara, Michaels daughter, for you. Shell make the finest wife.»
«What? Shes crooked and ugly! Id rather marry Marianne,» the reluctant groom-to-be grumbled.
«No son, youll marry Barbara. Their familys well-offjust think of the horses they own. Beauty fades, but wealth remains,» his father retorted.
The other suitor, Peter, wasnt destitute but far from prosperous. Raised by his elderly mother alone, he had no home of his own.
«Wheres your sense, Peter?» his mother fretted when he told her to ready his best clothes for courting. «Theyll laugh you out of the village. And the girls no beauty.»
«No beauty? Mother, her eyes are blue as cornflowers, and her braids like firelong and sharp. And what if she limps? I dont care.»
Sighing, his mother began preparations. Clearly, she thought, her Peter had a heart too large and eyes that saw beyond the surface.
Michael Peterson was astonished to have two suitors. Wise with years, he knew his daughters looks werent for everyone. After speaking with both families, he settled on William.
«But Father, I prefer Peter,» Barbara murmured, eyes downcast. «We met by the lake bridge the other daymy yoke broke, and he helped me straight away. He seemed kind, with warm eyes. Williams gaze feels cold, somehow sly.»
«I dont know,» Michael shook his grey head. «Peterd squander your dowry in no time. Never known comfort, and suddenly its thrown at him. Williams the steadier choice. Good family, too.»
Barbara had no choice but to agree. Though her heart leaned toward Peter, she wouldnt defy her father.
The wedding was swiftlest the groom change his mind. Within a month, the newlyweds moved into their cottage. Barbara, despite her flaws, was hardworking; everything thrived under her hands. William, however, spent days lounging in bed with books. Raised in a house full of them, hed long been addicted to reading.
«Barbara, have you ever read Austen? Or Dickens?»
«How simple you are,» he lamented. «What is there even to talk about with you?»
«What about? The fence needs mending, and the pigs need a wider troughthey keep spilling their slop,» shed list the days chores.
«Always the same,» William would wave her off. «Pigs and fences. Your father gave us horsessee to them yourself.»
So it went. Barbara toiled from dawn to dusk, tending livestock and garden, while William buried himself in books, sneering at her ignorance. Once, she appealed to her in-laws, hoping theyd rein in their son. But to her shock, their household was no different.
«Let him read,» her mother-in-law shrugged. «Women are strongyoull manage. Or hell find a prettier one soon enough.»
And William did. Nights, hed sneak through the garden to meet Marianne. Soon, the whole village knew. Eventually, he stopped hiding it.
«At least Mariannes someone to talk to, unlike you. And you cant even give me an heiruseless.»
That cut deepest. An heir was all anyone wantedhis parents, hers, William, even Barbara herself. But time passed, and no child came. Perhaps it was the endless labourshe did both mens and womens work.
Often, she thought of Peter, wondering how life mightve been had she followed her heart. And then, a chance meeting with Peters mother stirred old feelings. The old woman shared that after the failed courtship, Peter had left for the city, trained as a vet, yet remained unmarried.
«He was heartbroken, Barbara. And Ill admit, I was against you toopushed him toward Marianne. But I didnt know then what a good soul you are.»
«He wrote hes being assigned to our districtpromised to fix up the cottage,» she prattled on, oblivious to Barbaras trembling.
*If only I could see Peter, just once* Barbara flushed at the thought. How could she, a married woman, entertain such ideas?
Then life spiralled. First, Marianne fell pregnant with Williams child. The village gossiped relentlesslyBarbara scarcely dared step outside, met with mocking or pitying stares.
«Dont take it hard, Barbara,» William shrugged. «A man needs a son, and you cant give me one. Ive every right to send you back to your father.»
«But Williamweve built a life! What will the village say?»
«Not my concern. Pack your things and go.»
Choking back tears, she waited till dusk to slip through back lanes to her fathers house. Michael was furious but resignedBarbara *had* failed to conceive. Next morning, he went to reclaim the horses and confront his son-in-law, only to find Marianne strutting about in Barbaras dressing gown, surveying her new domain. Spitting in disgust, Michael left.
The village clucked, then moved on. Until, a month later, news brokePeter had returned. In a city-cut coat and hat, with a polished cane, he seemed from another world. The villagers mocked it as a «dandys stick» but envied his style.
«Im home, Mother,» he embraced her.
«For good?» she wiped joyful tears.
«For good. Theyre opening a veterinary station hereI volunteered. Well fix up your cottage too,» he smiled. «Now, whats the village news?»
Respected as he was, Peter hadnt forgotten manual labour. By day, villagers brought livestock; evenings, he repaired roofs, fences, and orchards.
«You need a good wife,» his mother mused as he fitted a bathroom latch. «No one in the city?»
«None. Pretty and educated, but empty inside. Nothing to talk about.»
His mother pursed her lips. «Men! William said the same before tossing Barbara out.»
«Which William? The teachers son? But his wife died.»
«NoStepans boy. The one you both courted Barbara with.»
Peter froze, nearly dropping his hammer. «He cast her out?»
«Completely. Moved Marianne inshes expecting. Michael took Barbara back. Wheres she to go, lame and barren?»
«Dont call her that! If William doesnt want her, Ill marry her myself.»
«Lord, boy! She cant bear childrenwhat use is she? But its your life» his mother bit her lip, regretting her words.
***
Next day, Peternow a man of standingcalled on Michael Peterson. This time, he hoped not to be refused. And Barbara, now a «spinster,» could voice her choice.
They welcomed him warmly. When his purpose became clear, even stoic Michael nearly wept.
«Peter, Peter» he muttered, lighting his pipe. «I kept her from you. Who knows how her life mightve gone? Wife! Fetch Barbara.»
«Ive no house yet, but the clinics being builta home too, soon,» Peter explained.
«If Barbara agrees, wed by Saturday. Think theres a queue for flawed girls? Ill help with fundsshes my only child. Barbara, Peters here for your hand.»
In the doorway, Barbara nearly faintedthen blushed and nodded eagerly.
«Settled!» Michael rubbed his hands. «Wife! Bring the cherry cordial.»
**
Days later, Barbara was settled in Peters cottage. The village murmured, then quietedwhod scorn the local vet when their livestock needed him? Even Barbaras flaws faded from notice, especially when Peter gifted her city spectacles and a fashionable hat. Soon, even the worst gossips addressed her as «Mrs. Peterson.»
Not long after, Barbara conceivednot one child, but twins! Peter tried explaining the science, but she didnt care. After years of hardship, shed found happiness at last.
