Epilogue
SEVEN MONTHS LATER…
Alaric stood by the window in his office, doing as he so often did these days, watching his wife.
She was down in the back garden, walking about as she kept an eye on the gardeners who were tending to the verdant grounds with a sense of care and an eye toward perfection that his wife had instilled into them. He laughed softly at the thought.
The gardens themselves were bright and colorful, like he had never seen them.
Or rather, like he had not seen them in years.
Now, to see the rainbow of colors that grew from the dark brown earth under his window was as natural a sight as the sun in the sky, and just as welcoming.
She has worked so hard to make this castle into a home, and I could not be happier for it.
Technically, Alaric was meant to be working on this day. He had estate reports to finish. Bills from parliament he needed to read. Invitations to write and send, for he and Clara would be hosting a dinner party next week, and she would be loath if he forgot to send them on time. And yet…
Alaric found himself walking from his office because on a day as glorious as this one, it just felt wrong to be cooped up indoors.
He walked the halls of his castle, which were lit bright by the natural sunlight that shone through the open windows.
Every door was open, and in every room the curtains were drawn back so that there would be no hidden shadows.
And in those rooms, and through those halls, he heard the familiar sound of feet scurrying and servants chatting merrily as they walked.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” an elderly staff member said as she passed by. She had a stack of sheets folded under her arm, clean by the looks of it.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” another smiled as he passed them,
“Morning,” Alaric said without hesitation. “Hope all is well.”
“It is, Your Grace! Many thanks for asking.”
Once, he had despised the idea of engaging in small talk with the staff.
In fact, he had taken a sort of pleasure from the fear they held him in.
There had once been just a dozen who worked here, none he knew by name, and most he rarely saw, save for when he needed something.
Now, there were two score living in this castle, and he knew the names of about half.
“Ah, Mr. Winters…” As Alaric reached the foyer, he found the head of staff making his way lazily across its breadth. “Do me a favor, will you, check on Lady Marwood. See if she needs anything.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” He went to walk away, but paused. “Ah, and where exactly is Lady Marwood?”
“The music room,” he said. “Unless she has gone exploring.”
Lady Alicia Marwood was Clara’s best friend and often visited them.
Even when Clara and Alaric were busy or out, she would come by, treating the castle as her own.
She loved the pianoforte the most, and had since become somewhat of an expert at the instrument, even promising to host a performance for them and guests when she was ready.
Perhaps at the dinner party, Alaric thought to himself with a chuckle. She will not want to, but a threat of locking her out for once will see her mind changed.
He continued to chuckle at the thought as he walked through the castle and into the back garden. There, his wife looked up and beamed when she saw him coming. He waved, and she waved back, before turning and offering some sharp instructions to one of the gardeners, before hurrying to meet him.
“And how are things out here?” he asked her.
“What are you doing down here?” she chastised. When she reached him, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“I am starting to wonder that myself…” He pretended to look offended. “With a greeting that warm, I should come and visit you more often.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Please tell me you have finished with the invitations…” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Of course I have,” he lied. “What? Do you really think I would leave something that important to the last minute?”
“You know I do.”
He laughed. “Curse me for wanting to see my wife.” He kissed her again.
“And curse me a second time for wanting to make sure that she has everything she needs to be comfortable…” As he spoke, his hand moved to cup her swollen belly.
“You know, it’s almost time that you stopped spending every day on your feet. ”
“Oh, I am fine.”
“The doctors all say –”
“What they think they must,” she spoke over him. Both her hands moved to her belly, and she hugged it as if holding it up. “But my back aches a little. My feet are yet to swell. And until I wake one day and cannot bring myself to stand, I will keep doing as I always do.”
“Making life a misery for the gardeners, you mean?” he joked.
She looked at him flatly. “I liked you better, you know, when you were miserable.”
Clara was six months pregnant now, and her stomach seemed to grow larger every day.
Funny that with its swelling, Alaric thought that she grew more beautiful also.
Or maybe he was simply that in love, and that excited for the arrival of their first child that it seemed that way?
Or maybe it is all true? For my wife is truly a thing of beauty.
He still could not believe how nervous he had been when Clara had first suggested that they try for a child.
It made sense, he supposed, when considering his own upbringing.
A truly miserable affair, no happiness to be found, a torturous life made all the more so by a father utterly devoid of warmth.
Alaric had worried that he would be the same sort of father and that his child would turn out like him.
Then he came to realize that his child turning out like him would not be nearly as bad as he thought.
For his entire life, Alaric had thought himself to be a monster.
A cruel, evil man not deserving of love or happiness in a life to be proud of.
So convinced was he that when Clara came along, he had spurned the idea of falling in love with her, as he had felt she deserved better than him.
I still think she does, truth be told. I just hope she doesn’t realize it any time soon.
She had changed him. Or rather, she had seen the real him.
That was what made her so special and why he loved her the way he did.
She saw through the pain and forced the light to shine.
She reminded him of who he could be and gave him a reason to smile – to want to wake each day as if it were his last on earth.
She loved him simply because of who he was, and he loved her for the same reason.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked him warily, noting the smile that was forming on his lips.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into him. “Do I need an excuse?”
“I suppose not…”
From the eastern wing of the castle, the sound of Alicia playing the pianoforte could be heard drifting through the windows and filling the garden with song.
Through the windows, Alaric could see the members of staff moving about as they worked and tidied.
Laughter came from across the garden, as some of the workers enjoyed the sun and joked with one another.
And with his hand back on his wife’s belly, Alaric felt his child move.
How has my life come to this? What did I do to deserve such happiness? I still do not know.
Happiness was what he had found. And happiness was what he would hold on to for the rest of his days.
A lifetime spent in misery and isolation and loneliness, it was still strange to him how much life now abounded everywhere he looked.
But he did not begrudge it. He did not shy away.
Rather, Alaric embraced it, relishing the way his life had changed while looking forward to the changes sure to come.
Clara had once called him her hero, but it was the other way around. She was the one who had saved him, and for that, he would love her forever.
The End?