The news that Michael Whitcombe intended to marry off his only daughter sent ripples through the village. And no wonderthe bride was not just plain but downright homely. With a prominent nose, a slight squint, and legs of uneven length, no suitors had ever lined up for young Emily. Even her simple walks to the village shop and back were often met with jeers that followed her everywhere.
“Mimicking Emily the limper, are you?” scolded mothers when their children playfully dragged a foot in imitation.
But Michael doted on his daughter. As the village chairman and a man of means, he promised a generous dowry. Soon, whispers spread through the cottagesperhaps such a dowry made the girl worth a second glance. She was hardworking, after all, and mild-tempered.
Two suitors emerged. William and Peter. William, the schoolmasters son, was educated, though his family was far from wealthy. Still, he already owned a cottage on the village outskirts, ready to move into. His parents, too, were eager to align themselves with Michael Whitcombe.
“William, best prepare for wedlock,” his father announced bluntly. “Ive settled on Emily, Michaels daughter. Shell make you a fine wife.”
“Her? Squint-eyed and homely? Id rather have Marianne,” the groom-to-be grumbled.
“No arguments, son. Marry Emily. Their familys well-offjust think of the horses. Beauty fades; wealth doesnt,” his father retorted.
The other suitor, Peter, was neither destitute nor prosperous. Raised by his elderly mother alone, he had no home of his own.
“Wheres your sense, Peter?” she fretted as he instructed her to prepare his best clothes for courting. “Youll be a laughingstock. A beggar at a banquet! And the girlhardly a beauty.”
“Not beautiful, Mother? Her eyes are blue as cornflowers, and her braid shines like firelong and bright. The limp means nothing to me. Now, ready yourselfwere paying a visit.”
Sighing, his mother obliged. Perhaps, she thought, her Peter saw deeper than the surface.
Naturally, Michael was stunned to have two suitors. Wise with years, he knew Emilys looks werent for everyone. After hearing both families offers, he leaned toward William.
“But Father, I prefer Peter,” Emily murmured, eyes downcast. “We met by the lake bridge the other daymy yoke snapped, and he helped me straight away. He seemed kind, warm. Williams gaze feels cunning. Cold.”
Michael stroked his grey beard. “Peters never known comfort. A sudden windfall might scatter your dowry to the winds. Williams family is steadier. Youd fare better with him.”
Emily yielded. Though her heart belonged to Peter, she dared not defy her father.
The wedding was swiftlest the groom reconsider. Within a month, the newlyweds settled into their cottage. Emily, despite her flaws, was diligent; everything thrived under her care. William, however, lay abed all day, lost in booksa habit from his book-filled upbringing.
“Have you ever read Austen, Emily? Or Dickens?”
“How simple you are,” he lamented. “What is there even to discuss with you?”
“Whats to discuss? The calf pen needs mending, and the pigs trough is too narrowthey spill half their slop.”
“Always the same,” William waved her off. “Pigs and pens. Your father gifted us horsestend them yourself.”
So it went. Emily labored from dawn to dusk, managing livestock and garden, while William read and scorned her lack of education. Once, she sought his parents interventionwas it right for the roof slates to rot while the master idled? But to her shock, their household ran no differently.
“Let him read,” her mother-in-law shrugged. “Women are strong. Work hard, or hell find a prettier one.”
And William did. By twilight, he stole through the orchard to Marianne, whose charms were no secret. Soon, the village buzzed with his infidelity. Before long, he made no effort to hide it.
“At least Marianne and I can converseunlike you. And youve failed even in bearing me an heir.”
That cut deepest. An heir was expectedby his family, hers, and herself. Yet, month after month, nothing. Perhaps the endless toil left no room for motherhood.
Increasingly, Emily thought of Peter. What if shed followed her heart? A recent encounter with his mother stirred old longings. The old woman shared that Peter, heartbroken after the rejection, had left for the city, trained as a vet, yet remained unwed.
“He was crushed, Emily. And IGod forgive mepushed him toward Marianne. Had I known your kindness Ah, but he was wiser.”
“He writes hes being assigned here. Promised to fix up the cottage,” she prattled on, oblivious to Emilys trembling hands.
*Just to see Peter once* Emily flushed at the thought. How could she, a married woman, entertain such notions?
Then life twisted sharply. Marianne fell pregnant by William. The village gossiped ceaselessly, leaving Emily afraid to step outside under their mocking, pitying stares.
“Dont take it hard,” William shrugged. “A man needs heirs. Youve failed. Ive every right to return you to your father.”
“But Williamweve a proper home! Id be a laughingstock!”
“Not my concern. Pack your things.”
Choking back tears, Emily slipped through back lanes to her fathers house. Furious, Michael stormed to reclaim his horsesonly to find Marianne lounging in Emilys dressing gown, surveying her new domain. Spitting in disgust, he left.
The village clucked, then moved onuntil Peter returned. Clad in a city overcoat and hat, wielding a polished cane, he seemed from another world. Envy tinged their nicknames for his “fancy stick.”
“Welcome home, Mother,” he embraced her.
“For good?” she wiped joyful tears.
“For good. Theyre opening a veterinary station here. I volunteered. Well fix up your cottage first. Nowwhats the village news?”
Respected as he was, Peter still worked with his hands. By day, villagers brought livestock; evenings, he repaired roofs, fences, and orchards.
“You need a good wife,” his mother hinted as he fitted a new latch on the shed.
“The city girls? Pretty and educated, but empty. No soulnothing to talk about.”
“Men! William said the same before casting Emily aside.”
“William who?”
“Stevensons boythe teachers son. You courted Emily alongside him.”
Peter nearly dropped his hammer. “Cast her out?”
“Completely. Moved Marianne in, big with child. Michael took Emily backwhere else would a barren, lame girl go?”
“Never call her that again! If William doesnt want her, Ill marry her myself.”
“Son, think! She cant even bear children! But its your choice.”
The next day, Peternow a man of standingknocked at Michaels door. To ask for Emilys hand. This time, he hoped not to be refused. And Emily, now “on the shelf,” might finally choose for herself.
Michael, usually stoic, nearly wept when he understood the visit.
“Peter had I let her choose you then” He called for Emily.
“Ive no house yet,” Peter admitted. “But the clinics being builta home for me too.”
“Marry her Saturday if shell have you. Whod line up for a spoilt girl now? Ill cover the costs. Emily?”
In the doorway, Emily swayed, thenblushing fiercelynodded again and again.
“Settled!” Michael clapped. “Mother! Fetch the blackberry wine.”
Soon, Emily was installed in Peters cottage. The village murmured, then quietedwho slighted the local vet when their livestock might need him? Even Emilys flaws faded from notice. And when Peter gifted her spectacles and a fashionable hat, the sharpest tongues bit back, addressing her only as “Mrs. Whitcombe.”
Not long after, Emily conceived. Twins, no less! Peter rambled about medical explanations, but she cared little. After years of hardship, shed found happinesscrooked path and all.
