36. Epilogue
Matilda Jessica Vandervult would not allow William to return to anything less than perfection.
She raised her boys to be more than needy and demanding lords.
They could sweep and dust alongside everyone else.
She toiled away in William’s room, ensuring all of his books sat neatly on the shelves, and all the new titles waited on the bedside table.
Arthur took the carriage to retrieve William from the port.
Matilda wanted to join, but Arthur convinced her to stay home and ensure everything was perfect for William’s return.
Richard and Henry took a trip into town days ago to purchase clothes for William, enough for him to rest before they took the trip themselves.
Oh, Matilda had a list of all the places they would visit.
A new amphitheater had been built near town square, where the local theater and musicians put on plays and shows every week.
A bookstore was built a whole three stories high with a small cafe that William could spend his afternoons in.
A string of restaurants opened over the years that became family favorites, but the family had never been whole.
Even dinners at home were a cold reminder because the Vandervults always set the table for William, too.
Sniffling, Matilda wiped the stray tears from her cheeks.
They had consumed her since Robert dashed out of his office a month ago.
She lectured him about running.
His knee went bad over a decade ago, but he hadn’t heard a word.
Robert swooped her up in his arms and declared the war was over.
Fearworn was dead, but most important of all, their baby would board the first ship home. They fell to the floor together and wept.
A month of worry passed.
The sea was treacherous, but none dared speak of the potential hazards.
William could not be lost when he was so close to coming home.
And finally, the day had come.
Arthur stayed at a hotel near the port for a week, and a good thing, too.
The ship arrived a day early. Arthur sent a letter that he and William would take the evening at the hotel to rest, then come the following day, so the estate had time to prepare.
In truth, preparations started the moment William left.
Asiatic lilies overtook the garden, William’s favorite, and Matilda would not have any other flower planted.
She enjoyed having tea out there, pretending William sat across from her with his nose in a book or toiling over the stitching of his clothes.
Robert didn’t enjoy sitting in the garden.
He mourned differently, in avoidance.
His actions initially infuriated her, but as the weeks, then months, and years went by, she understood why.
If Robert looked into William’s room, if he entered the library or the garden, he withered.
He became a shell of his former self, overridden by guilt, then rage.
He drank when he wasn’t a drinker and it was unpleasant, so she made sure William’s bedroom door was closed and the staff got books Robert needed from the library.
He did better working, waiting, preparing for William’s return rather than lingering on him being gone.
Matilda halted outside Robert’s office at the sound of voices. Inside, he spoke with Richard and Henry.
“I worry about her,”
Richard said. The heels of his shoes clicked across the floor in a regular pacing pattern. “Mother is excited to have William back. We all are, but he will not be as we remembered. Henry has told us as such.”
Matilda wrung her hands together, recalling Henry’s return from the front lines.
She was desperate to hear from him because William had been silent for too long.
The army stopped sending personal letters once they went into the Deadlands, into the most hostile territory, and gave little more than updates to a few families.
Robert wrote to the king, but they received nothing more than a statement that William was alive. Henry had seen him, had spoken to him, and assured Matilda that he was doing well. She was not foolish enough to believe Henry didn’t carefully choose the best words to reassure her.
Richard continued, “We can’t expect our lives to return to what they were once. He has been gone for so long and been through more than we’ll ever know, and none of us are certain of what he needs.”
“Your mother is more than capable of understanding that,”
Robert countered.
“Of course she is. We all are, but that means very little. We’re all excited to see him and we’re likely to make mistakes.”
“Which we will fix,”
Henry said. “And we will ask William what he needs and he will answer when he is ready. He’s tough, Rickie, tougher than all of us.”
Richard’s pacing escalated. “Maybe we should see him one at a time so as to not overwhelm him.”
Robert laughed. “I am beginning to think you are worrying most of all.”
“For now, our best option is to give William an ardent welcome, and let him rest,”
Henry said. “Now that he’s home, we’ll be able to work at this little by little.”
Richard groaned. He hated not knowing what to do because he normally always had a path forward, especially in social situations. Matilda couldn’t fault him for that. She worried, too. She thought of all this, hoped that she could restrain her own overbearing emotions so as to not smother her son the moment he arrived.
“My lady,”
Marshall, their head butler, announced. “The carriage is approaching.”
Matilda clutched the hem of her skirts. “Good. Tell Robert and the boys to meet us outside. We should all be there to greet him.”
She hadn’t considered opening the door to the office because she was already hurrying downstairs.
Her baby, finally home.
She hadn’t dashed down the steps so swiftly since she was a little girl.
Even then, her parents scolded her for being improper.
She believed they would let this moment slide.
Two maids waited at the door, throwing them open for Matilda to sprint into the afternoon sun.
They could not have returned on a more perfect day, warm and light.
The Vandervults never had vast land.
Matilda and Robert disliked being so far away from others.
An iron gate surrounded the estate, primarily to protect against monsters, and a short drive led from the entrance to the street. The carriage moved slowly across the gravel, each second ticking into an eternity.
Henry, Richard, and Robert stepped outside.
They agreed William would meet the newest additions to their family another day.
The girls thought that may be too much for William and believed they should visit after he settled.
And so the four stood together.
Matilda’s arms rested at her waist, where a single finger tapped anxiously against her glove.
Richard took her hand when the carriage lurched closer, closer, and finally pulled to a stop.
The thick curtains concealed the interior.
All she wanted was to rip them aside, to throw open the door and drag William inside, where she would keep him safe.
Marshall opened the door.
Arthur exited first, all charm and kind greetings.
He approached her for a brief hug and kiss, then stepped aside in time to view William coming home.
William stood tall as she when he left.
He had full flushed cheeks, thin limbs, and a natural smile.
The moment he entered a room, the world shined a little brighter.
He trembled when the carriage came to take him away.
She clung to his cheeks, peering into eyes, shedding streams of tears.
She still saw her baby, a precious little thing that had barely begun to understand the world, but that was not the William in front of them.
He stood as tall as his father now, if not a little more.
Once full cheeks had sharpened, and thin limbs grew muscular.
Though he smiled, the kindness did not reach his eyes.
There was a coldness to his gaze, an overgrown chill.
He stood perfectly still, gloved hands placing themselves swiftly at his back in a military stance.
Matilda cursed the king and Fearworn, and every war ever started.
Her precious baby came to understand the world in the most violent of ways.
She saw in the way he held himself, in the careful way he approached, how his gaze swept around them like he expected the worst to befall them, but he was here, he was home, and she would never let go.
Matilda hugged her youngest who had grown far too much in the time that passed.
William flinched.
By the Holy Soul, she wanted to scream, but then his arms took hold of her and held so tight she might have broken if she hadn’t wanted this moment for so long.
“Welcome home, sweetie,”
she whimpered.
“I’m glad to be home, Mother,”
William replied.
Deep down, everyone knew William hadn’t really come home.