**Diary Entry A Lesson in Love and Judgement**
The news that Michael Whitmore intended to marry off his only daughter sent ripples through the village. And no wonderthe bride was not merely plain but outright homely. With a large nose, a crooked gait, and legs of uneven length, Emily had no suitors lining up. Even her simple walk to the village shop and back usually drew snickers that followed her like shadows.
“Dont drag your foot like Emily the Limp!” scolded mothers when their children mimicked her walk in jest.
But Michael Whitmore adored his daughter. A man of meansbeing the local magistratehe promised a handsome dowry. The village buzzed at once. For such a sum, perhaps the girl was worth a second glance. She was hardworking, after all, and mild-tempered.
Soon, two suitors emerged. Thomas and William. Thomas was the schoolmasters soneducated, though his family wasnt wealthy. Still, he owned a cottage on the village outskirts, ready to move into. His parents, too, were eager to ally with Michael.
“Thomas, prepare to wed,” his father declared. “Ive chosen Emily Whitmore for you. Shell make a fine wife.”
“What? Shes crooked and plain! Id rather have Marianne,” the reluctant groom-to-be grumbled.
“No arguments, son. Marry Emily. Their familys well-offjust look at their horses. Beauty fades, but wealth stays,” his father retorted.
The other suitor, William, was far from rich. Raised by his elderly mother, he had no house of his own.
“William, love, wheres your sense?” she fretted when he asked for clean clothes to call on the Whitmores. “And the girls no beauty.”
“Not beautiful, Mother? Her eyes are blue as cornflowers, and her braid shines like fire. Whats a limp to me? Get readywere paying a visit.”
Sighing, she obeyed. Clearly, her William had a heart big enough to see past appearances.
Michael, surprised by two suitors, knew his daughters looks werent for everyone. After careful thought, he chose Thomas.
“But Father, I prefer William,” Emily murmured, eyes downcast. “We met by the millpondmy yoke broke, and he helped me. Hes kind, and his eyes are warm. Thomas looks at me sly-like, cold.”
Michael shook his greying head. “Williams never known comfort. Hed squander your dowry. Thomas will give you a better life. His familys respectable.”
Emily yielded. Though her heart leaned toward William, she wouldnt defy her father.
The wedding was swiftlest the groom reconsider. Within a month, the couple settled into their cottage. Emily, despite her flaws, was diligent, while Thomas lazed abed, reading.
“Have you read Austen, Emily? Or Dickens?” hed sigh. “Youre so dull. What is there to discuss?”
“The pigsty needs mending, and the troughs too narrowthe swine spill their slop,” shed reply.
“Always pigs and fences,” hed wave her off. “Your father gave us horsestend them yourself.”
So it went. Emily toiled dawn till dusk while Thomas read and scorned her simplicity. When she complained to his parents, they shrugged.
“Let him read,” said his mother. “Women are strongyou work. Or hell find a prettier wife.”
And he did. By autumn, Thomas was sneaking through the back fields to meet Marianne. Soon, the village whispered. Then Thomas stopped hiding it.
“At least Mariannes good companyunlike you. And you cant even bear me an heir.”
That cut deepest. An heir was expectedby his family, hers, and herself. But none came. Perhaps the endless labour was to blame.
Emily often wondered of William. Had she followed her heart, how different life mightve been. Then, by chance, she met his mother at the village well.
“William was heartbroken when Michael refused him,” the old woman admitted, scrubbing linens. “I even pushed him toward Marianne. But he saw your worth. Hes a vet nowreturning soon. Still unwed.”
Emilys breath caught. To see William againeven a glimpse! But such thoughts shamed her.
Then life crumbled. Marianne bore Thomass child. The village gossiped mercilessly.
“Emily, dont take it hard,” Thomas said. “A man needs heirs. Youre barren. Go back to your father.”
“How can you? Weve built a life! Theyll laugh me out of the village!”
“Not my concern. Pack your things.”
Weeping, Emily slipped home at dusk. Michael, though displeased, saw no choiceespecially since shed failed as a wife. Next morning, he reclaimed the horses and confronted Thomasonly to find Marianne lounging in Emilys shawl, surveying her new domain. Spitting in disgust, Michael left.
The village buzzed, then forgot. Until William returned.
Clad in a city-tailored coat and hat, he seemed from another world. The villagers mocked his cane but envied his style.
“Im home, Mother,” he said, embracing her.
“For good?” she asked, tearful.
“Aye. Theyre opening a veterinary practice here. Well fix the cottage. Nowwhat news?”
Despite his status, William worked hard. By day, he treated livestock; by evening, he repaired roofs, fences, and orchards.
“You need a good wife,” his mother mused.
“City girls are empty. Pretty, educatedbut soulless.”
She pursed her lips. “Thomas Whitmore threw his outsaid she was dull.”
“Thomas? Emilys husband?”
“Aye. Replaced her with Marianne, big with child. Michael took Emily back. Poor limping thing”
“Dont speak of her so! If Thomas cast her off, Ill wed her myself.”
“Son! Shes barren! What use is she?”
“To me? Every bit.”
Next day, William called on Michael.
“Peterforgive me,” Michael muttered, lighting his pipe. “Had I let her choose you Well. Fetch Emily.”
“If shell have me, well wed by Saturday,” William said. “The surgerys building my house too.”
Emily, lingering in the doorway, nearly faintedthen nodded fervently.
“Settled!” Michael clapped. “Fetch the elderberry wine!”
Soon, Emily joined Williams household. The village clucked, then quieted. Few would scorn the local vetnot when their livestock needed him. Even Emilys limp faded from notice, especially after William gifted her spectacles and a fashionable bonnet.
Before long, Emily was with childtwins, no less. William rambled about medical explanations, but she cared little. After years of hardship, shed found happinessproving that true worth lies not in beauty, but in being seen for who you are.
**Lesson learned: Love often comes where least expected, and the heart sees clearer than the eye.**
