The news that Michael Peterson had decided to marry off his only daughter sent ripples through the entire village. And no wonderthe bride was far from beautiful, even outright plain. With a prominent nose, a slight limp, and uneven legs, no suitors were lining up for poor Mary. Even a simple walk to the village shop and back usually drew snickers that followed her wherever she went.
“Mimicking Mary the limper, are you?” mothers would scold their children if they playfully dragged a foot.
But Michael Peterson adored his daughter. Being a man of some meansafter all, he was the village chairmanhe promised a handsome dowry. Soon, whispers spread through the village. For such a dowry, perhaps the girl was worth a second glance. Hardworking, they said, and mild-mannered too.
Two suitors emerged: William and Peter. William, the schoolmasters son, was educatedthough his family wasnt wealthy, he already had a cottage built on the edge of the village. Move in anytime. His parents were also keen to ally with Michael Peterson.
“Will, prepare to wed,” his father declared. “Ive settled on Mary, Michaels daughter. Shell make you a fine wife.”
“What? Plain and lame? I dont want her. Id rather have Marianne,” the reluctant groom protested.
“No arguments. Mary it is. Her familys well-offjust think of the horses. Beauty fades, son,” his father replied.
The other suitor, Peter, wasnt destitute, but far from wealthy. Raised by his ageing mother, he had no home of his own.
“Wheres your head at, Peter?” his mother fretted as he asked for clean clothes to call on Mary. “Village tongues will wag. And the girls hardly a beauty.”
“Not beautiful? Her eyes are blue as cornflowers, and her braids like firelong and bright. The limp doesnt matter. Get ready, were calling on her.”
Sighing, his mother obeyed. Clearly, she thought, her Peter had a generous heart and eyes that saw beyond appearances.
Michael was surprised to have two suitors. Wise with years, he knew his daughters looks werent for everyone. After speaking to both families, he favoured William.
“But Father, I prefer Peter,” Mary murmured, eyes downcast. “We met by the lake bridge last weekmy yoke broke, and he helped me straight away. He seemed kind, warm. Williams gaze feels sly, cold.”
“I dont know,” Michael shook his greying head. “Peter might squander your dowry. Never known comfortsudden wealth could ruin him. Williams steadier. Good family, too.”
Mary had no choice but to agree. Though her heart leaned toward Peter, she wouldnt defy her father.
The wedding was swiftbetter not risk the groom changing his mind. Within a month, the couple settled into their cottage. Mary, despite her flaws, was hardworking; everything thrived under her care. William, however, spent days lounging with books. Raised in a house full of them, hed loved reading since childhood.
“Mary, have you ever read Austen? Or Dickens?”
“How dull you are,” he lamented. “What is there to discuss with you?”
“Well, the pig pen needs mending, and the troughs too narrowthe swine spill their feed,” shed list chores.
“Always the same,” hed wave her off. “Pigs and pens. Your father gave us horsestend them yourself.”
So it went. Mary worked dawn to dusk, managing livestock and garden. William read, mocking her lack of learning. Once, she appealed to his parentswas it right, the roof damaged, the pen collapsing, while her husband did nothing? To her shock, his family was no different.
“Let him read,” her mother-in-law shrugged. “Women are strongyou manage. Or hell find a prettier one.”
And William did. By night, he stole through the fields to Marianne, whose willingness soon had the village abuzz. Before long, he made no secret of it.
“At least Mariannes someone to talk to, unlike you. And you cant even give me an heir.”
That cut deepest. An heir was expectedby his parents, him, even her. But time passed, and no child came. Perhaps it was the endless labourshe did mens and womens work alike.
Often, she thought of Peter. What if shed followed her heart? A recent encounter with his mother stirred long-buried feelings. The old woman shared that after the failed courtship, Peter had left for the city, trained as a vet, yet remained unwed.
“He was heartbroken, Mary. And Ill admit, I was against you too,” she confessed, scrubbing rugs with lake water. “Didnt know then what a good soul you are. I pushed him toward Marianne. But he was wiser.”
“Oh,” Mary breathed, steadying herself on the slippery dock.
“He wroteassigned to our district. Promised to fix up the cottage,” the woman prattled on, oblivious to Marys distress.
*If only I could see Peter, just once…* Mary flushed at the thought. How could she, a married woman, entertain such notions?
Soon, life spiralled. Marianne was carrying Williams child. The village buzzed day and night, leaving Mary afraid to step outside, facing pitying smirks.
“Dont take it hard,” William shrugged. “A man needs heirs. You cant provide. Ive every right to send you back.”
“But William… Weve a life together! The village will mock me!”
“Not my concern. Should I suffer? Pack your things.”
Choking back tears, Mary waited for dusk to slip through back lanes to her father. He was furious but resignedwhat use was a barren daughter? Next morning, he reclaimed the horses and confronted his son-in-law, only to find… Marianne. Smug in Marys dressing gown, she surveyed her new domain. Michael spat in disgust and left.
The village clucked, then moved on. A month later, fresh newsPeter had returned. In a city-cut coat and hat, with a walking stick, he seemed from another world. Envy simmered behind the villagers mocking “dandy” jibes.
“Welcome home, Mother,” Peter hugged her.
“For good, son?” she wept.
“For good. Theyre opening a veterinary stationI volunteered. Funds for a house, too. Yours comes first,” he smiled. “Now, whats the village gossip?”
Respected as he was, Peter hadnt forgotten manual labour. By day, villagers brought animals; by evening, he repaired roofs, fences, the apple orchardanything needing strong hands.
“You need a good wife,” his mother mused as he fixed the bathhouse latch. “No city girls suited?”
“None. Pretty and educated, but empty. Nothing to say.”
She tightened her shawl. “Men! William just cast his outsaid the same.”
“William? The teachers boy? I thought his wife had died.”
“No,” she waved. “Stepson of the schoolmaster. You both courted Mary, remember?”
Peter froze, nearly dropping his hammer.
“Cast her out? For good?”
“Aye. Moved Marianne in, big with child. Michael took Mary backcrooked leg and all.”
“Dont call her that! If William doesnt want her, Ill marry her myself.”
“God forbid! Shes barren! But… its your choice.” She bit her lip, regretting the conversation.
Next day, Peter called on Michaelto ask for Marys hand. Now a man of standing, he hoped for approval. And Mary, as a “spinster,” could voice her choice.
Michael welcomed him warmly. Learning his purpose, the usually stern man near wept.
“Peter, Peter… Had I let her choose you years ago…” He lit his pipe. “Wife! Fetch Mary.”
“Dont mind the lack of a house yet,” Peter said quickly. “The stations being builta home with it.”
“If Mary agrees, wed by Saturday. Think any want damaged goods? Ill help with funds. Mary, Peters asking for you.”
In the doorway, Mary swayed, stunnedthen blushed and nodded fast.
“Done,” Michael rubbed his hands. “Wife! The blackberry wine.”
Soon, Mary was settled with Peter and his mother. The village murmured, then let it liewhod slight the vet they needed for their livestock? Even Marys flaws faded from notice, especially when Peter brought her stylish glasses and a hat from town. Soon, she was “Mrs. Peterson,” no snickers left.
Before long, Mary was expectingnot one child, but twins! Peter tried explaining the science, but she didnt care. At last, through twists and turns, shed found her happiness.
