Cursed by Love: A Tale of Heartbreak and Destiny

What will happen now? Evelyn asked, her voice trembling more for herself than for the man she loved.

What? Richard replied calmly. Ill send a matchmaker to you. Just wait.

Evelyn returned from the evening that would turn her whole world upside down brighteyed and full of mystery. She told her two younger sisters every detail of her meeting with Richard. The sisters knew how fiercely Evelyn loved him. He had promised to wed her in the autumn, after the important work on the farm was finished.

Now, with the wheat already cut, the harvest stored in the barns and the New Year fast approaching, no matchmaker had appeared.

Mrs. Hart, Evelyns mother, and her sister Aunt Margaret began to notice a change in the eldest daughter. Usually cheerful, Evelyn had grown sullen and her figure had become uneven. After a long hearttoheart, Evelyn confessed her bitterness, and Aunt Margaret insisted on looking the prospective soninlaw straight in the eye and on finding out whether the matchmakers had simply vanished.

Without hesitation she set off for the neighbouring village of Brookfield, where Richard lived. There she was greeted by Richards mother, a woman who knew nothing of her sons private affairs. Aunt Margaret laid out all her suspicions, and the two women turned on Richard together. He answered coldly:

How am I to know which child will be mine? There are plenty of lads in this parish. I cant claim every child as my own.

Aunt Margarets fury boiled over. As she left the house forever, she cursed him:

May you spend the rest of your days marrying a new woman every year!

The words seemed to reach the heavens, for Richard later married four times.

From the look on Aunt Margarets face, Evelyn guessed the grim outcome of the two mothers confrontation. Aunt Margaret warned all her daughters sternly:

Never mention this to any father. Well sort it out ourselves.

She instructed Evelyn to travel to Canterbury to stay with relatives. When the baby arrived, she should leave the child in the hospital; otherwise the village women would gossip forever, and she would never escape their tongues.

Aunt Margarets husband, Thomas Hart, was a respected schoolmaster in the village, known simply as Mr. Hart. He taught with a firm but fair hand, and everyone sought his counsel.

When Evelyns sister brought a newborn into the cottage, the whole parish was shamed. Aunt Margaret, unable to tolerate the scandal, sent her wayward daughter away to work in town. She told her husband:

Let Evelyn earn her keep in the city. Shes twentyfour now, not a child.

The younger sisters, both bright and eager, were soon sent away by the schoolboard one to a training college in Reading, the other to a teachers college in London.

Soon the rumours reached Mr. Hart. He learned from his own pupils that trouble brewed within his household. Enraged, he confronted his wife:

How could you think of sending our child to an orphanage? She is our first granddaughter! I want to see her at home, right now!

The blow stunned Aunt Margaret, who had spent the past year fearing the childs fate and fearing the blood that ran through her veins.

In the end, Aunt Margaret and Evelyn brought the baby back to the village and named her Annie. For a year Annie knew nothing of her family. The guilt of that hidden past would stay with Evelyn forever, but she accepted it without protest.

Annie was raised by Thomas, Aunt Margaret and Evelyn together. Evelyn often recalled that intoxicating evening in the hayloft the drygrass scent, the sweet, lingering moments of reckless love. She still loved Richard, despite his disgrace and the scar he left on her soul. Love is a curse, she would mutter, you cant toss it out the window like a potato.

Life forced Evelyn into singleparenthood. When she looked at Annie she saw Richards sharp cheekbones and his stubborn streak. It was as if the very fire that had drawn her to him now lived in her daughter.

At twentyfive a familiar face reappeared: Frederick Blake, a boy who had grown up alongside her as a cousinbrother. His mother, a widowed landowner with three children, had taken him in years earlier. Frederick, now a steady, kind man, asked Evelyns hand. Though she hesitated she was still young, and she worried for Annie the thought of a solid partner and a proper family swayed her.

They married in a modest village hall, then moved to a modest terraced house in London to escape prying eyes. Frederick welcomed Annie as his own, and soon their own daughter, Lucy, was born. He treated both girls as equals, never drawing a line between them.

Evelyn blossomed into a capable housewife, a devoted mother and a loving wife. Frederick breathed new life into her, mending the cracks of her broken heart. Their home became a haven of peace and understanding.

Ten years later, the three grandchildren spent a summer holiday at Aunt Margarets cottage. While exploring a dusty attic, Lucy found an old notebook tucked between yellowed newspapers and her grandfathers school notes. She read the frantic entries and gasped each page mentioned Richards name, confessing his secret affairs and the hidden child. It was clearly Evelyns diary.

Lucy ran to her cousin Annie, showed her the notebook and they hurried to Aunt Margaret for explanations. The old woman, tears in her eyes, admitted she had never destroyed the damning pages. She could not comprehend the shock that now flooded her grandchildren.

The next day they travelled to Brookfield to the house of Richards mother. There, the teenage girls were greeted by a woman who recognized Lucy instantly as her granddaughter. The womans eyes filled with tears, and she whispered that she had always remembered Lucys mother, but her son had forbidden any contact.

At that moment Richard himself stepped out of the sitting room. He stared at the two girls, his expression hardening.

Who among you is my daughter? he asked.

Lucy, daring, replied, I could be.

Richard motioned her outside. She stepped into the garden, then returned a minute later, furious.

Richards mother, sensing the tension, invited everyone to the kitchen table and poured them a generous measure of homemade cider. The girls laughed, Were too young to drink anything stronger! and the cider slipped down their throats.

On the walk home, Lucy pressed, What did you talk about with our father?

Nothing, Richard muttered. He offered me money to keep quiet. I turned it down. Im not interested in you, youre just a copy of me.

Aunt Margaret, ever nosy, demanded details of the meeting and the gift. Lucy answered bluntly:

I have no other fathers but Frederick.

From that day onward Lucy held a quiet resentment toward her mother for the silence that had shrouded her birth. She blamed Evelyn for fearing the village gossip, for handing her over to an orphanage.

Evelyn spent the rest of her life apologising:

Forgive me, my dear, for the mistakes of my youth.

Years passed. Lucy and Lucys sister grew up, married, and had children of their own. Lucy bore two sons; the elder bore a striking resemblance to Richard in his youth.

What of Richard? He never truly let go of Evelyn. Occasionally he visited her in London, where she lived comfortably, surrounded by love, no longer needing his affection.

Evelyn never told Richard that Lucy had barred him from seeing his grandchildren for ten long years. She bore the pain in silence, finding solace only in Fredericks steady presence. He often joked at their wedding, A worm in a red apple is still a worm, but it doesnt spoil the fruit. He meant that minor flaws should not ruin a good thing.

Frederick became Evelyns sun, and she could never help but love him. They celebrated their golden anniversary surrounded by children, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren.

During the celebration, Lucy pulled Evelyn aside, tears streaming, and whispered, Im sorry, Mother. I had no right to judge you.

Richard called to wish the family well, his voice shaking on the phone. I wont live to see another golden wedding. Ive been with my fourth wife ten years now. Forgive me, Evelyn, for turning away from you.

Evelyn cut him off:

Stop. You gave up, so you never truly loved me. Im happy now, with Frederick and our family. Ive paid for my youthful errors, but Ive also been blessed with what truly matters.

She added, Goodby, Richard.

The story ends not with bitterness, but with a simple truth: the wounds of the past can shape us, but they need not define us. Love, responsibility and forgiveness are the foundations upon which a life of peace is built.