The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart – Extended Epilogue

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Ten years. It would be ten years the following day, during this particularly blustery month of March, since Peter and Ella had brought Thomas Holloway into the world.

Their eldest son now stood tall and firm, his jawline cutting prominently from his previously soft, child-like face. Ella found herself peering at it for far too long, frequently trying to count the years across it, as though one could do that with time. Rather, time seemed to slip through her fingers, marching her evermore towards her mid-30s. She felt 40 like a mountain up ahead. Peter often joked about it, as he was a great deal older than she. “I’m an ancient man. I can’t imagine how you still love me,” he’d often sigh.

Ella felt certain he only put on this show because she so often followed it up with a kiss, batting her eyelashes. “You know I like older men.”

In the years after Thomas’ birth, she and Peter had had two additional children — a girl and a younger boy. They’d called them Marie and Frank. After a rather difficult birth with Frank, Ella and Peter had decided, quietly, to stop having children. Their family had felt complete, anyway, with two squabbling toddlers and a red-faced baby. Of course, Ella adored her children, but those first few years — of nappies, of endless nights of ear infections, of hailing the doctor when any small thing went awry — were difficult in ways that tested Ella’s faith in herself. Of course, Peter was her constant guiding force, the last whisper at the end of the night that assured her she was doing everything she could for them. That they needed no other mother but her.

Tatiana and Frederick had decided to stop after two — a girl and a boy. They were frequent guests at the Holloway estate, scampering across the fields alongside Ella’s girl and boys. Tatiana stood in the garden with her sister, marvelling at them. “Did we ever move so quickly? I can’t imagine it.”

Ella had plotted a birthday party for Thomas for the following afternoon, yet it was becoming increasingly clear that Thomas wanted nothing to do with it. She’d asked him near-constant questions regarding what sort of cake he wanted, who he wished to invite. To each, he shrugged his shoulders, his eyes growing shadowed. No — he’d never been the most social of children. And although Ella hadn’t been, either, this fact ached within her, as though she could have done something else to fix it. Something to make him less alone.

During the late afternoon prior to Thomas’ birthday, Ella found herself wrapped up in blankets alongside Marie, a girl who seemed to match Ella in personality, in beauty. Her red curls swung past her ears as she whispered out the words of her book, reading to Ella. This had been their afternoon habit over the previous years — a fact that pleased Ella a great deal.

“Mother,” Marie murmured once, a few months before. “I believe reading to be a kind of magic.”

“Do you, my darling?” Ella asked.

“I do,” Marie continued. “They are just dots and symbols on the page, but they make you realise an entire world. Perhaps one day I will write my own stories, Mother. I have a million ideas in my head.”

Ella draped her arm across her daughter’s shoulder. In another room on the opposite side of the estate, she could hear Peter plucking away on the piano alongside Frank, who had a flair for music. Although Frank was only six, already he’d begun to practice his scales and arpeggios, darting his little fingers across the keys.

Peter talked about it endlessly when they were alone in their bedroom, his eyes glowing. “He’s going to be brilliant,” he murmured, regarding Frank. “He hears things in the chords that most children never hear, let alone adults. His natural abilities are sent directly from God himself.”

“And perhaps a bit of influence from his father,” Ella returned.

Now, in the midst of reading the book with Marie, Ella turned her eyes towards the window, watching as Thomas scampered through the fields. Mud kicked up behind him. Dogs bit at his heels, drawing him in a circle back towards them, moving his arms wildly to excite them. His black hair was mussed and wild; it seemed he’d streaked dirt across his cheeks, perhaps purposefully. When he’d been younger — especially as Thomas had been her first child — she’d tried endlessly to plop him in front of the fire with a good book. When he’d been resistant, Peter had shrugged, trying to draw him to the side of the arts, of music.

But eternally, Thomas had found ways to escape into the gardens and fields, choosing to muck himself to bits, to shred his pants and shirts, to become a wild man. Ella knew that Tatiana and Frederick spoke of him with worry on their lips, wondering if Thomas would ever be “fit for society.” This wasn’t a conversation Ella wanted to have.

“He’s only nine!” she’d been able to say, thus far. Until tomorrow, of course. When he turned ten.

That night, Ella collapsed at the edge of the bed. Tears welled in her eyes. Down the hall, she heard the muffled voices of her children, calling goodnight to one another.

“What is it?” Peter asked, drawing his face towards hers. He blinked several times, giving her a look that demanded her answer.

“It’s Thomas,” Ella murmured.

“Worrying about your age again?” Peter asked, lending a soft laugh. He toyed with the red curls along her ears, waving across her cheeks. “You know, you look precisely the way you did when I married you. You shouldn’t bother with it.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Ella sighed. She scrubbed her fingers into her eyes. “It’s just that, it’s growing increasingly clear to me that he has nothing in common with either of us. The moment he picks up a book, he tosses it to the cushion. And he hardly knows we own a pianoforte, let alone plucks away at it. Once, I set him up with paints — and when I returned, he’d smeared it across his cheeks.”

Although the story was ridiculous, it caused Ella to squeeze up her face with panic. “As he turns ten, it forces me to think about the next ten years of his life. And I’m really not sure what on earth he’s going to do with himself.”

“Come now, Ella. Thomas is very clever. Perhaps our most clever child,” Peter said, arching his brow. He began to unbutton his shirt, performing the ritual of their everyday night.

“Yes, certainly. I know Marie would love to have his brain,” Ella said, feeling regret in her voice. “Yet, he doesn’t wish to use it. He’s not interested in history or books. I don’t see him becoming any sort of scholar. And he’s not suited to the clergy. He’s far too wild.”

“Ha. Imagine him in the clergy,” Peter said, trying to stifle a laugh. His eyes turned towards the black window. He was still every bit as handsome as he’d been when she’d fallen in love with him — perhaps more so. She’d looked upon his face every single day for nearly eleven years. It felt like an impossible length of time — and yet she never wanted it to end, not for a moment.

“And what about friends?” Ella continued, recognising that she sounded manic, now. “He’s far too solitary. He doesn’t have any interest in playing with his cousins. Frank attempts to scamper after him, but he can’t keep up. And Thomas won’t let him, either.”

“Darling, he likes his private time,” Peter offered, lending a shrug. “I think that has more in relation to you, to your childhood, than you’d like to admit.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Ella murmured.

Peter swept a firm hand across Ella’s back. He began to rub at her stiff muscles. Slowly, her mind found peace, easing away from her anxious thoughts. She swallowed hard, reaching to unbutton her dress.

“Let’s go to bed, darling,” Peter whispered. He began to assist her with her buttons, helping her slowly slip beneath the covers. He placed a gentle kiss upon her lips, then leaned her back against the pillows. She felt she was being delivered to a cloud, given over to slumber.

“You’ve given me no real response,” Ella said, her voice soft and far away.

Peter chuckled. “Don’t you remember how we met?”

“Of course,” Ella whispered.

“Perhaps not in relation to this.” Peter placed his finger against her nose. “You and I were entirely different. And we pined for those who were similar to us.”

Ella hadn’t given thought to it in ages — the fact that she’d once ached to marry Frederick. It seemed like such a lunatic idea, now that they’d rushed so far into a separate future. She blinked back at the memory, feeling it hazy, at the back of her mind.

“What are you saying?” Ella asked.

“I’m saying that the way we related to one another made us stronger, not weaker. And it’s all due to the fact that we were so different. Wouldn’t you agree?” Peter asked. “So, Thomas isn’t a reader. He’s not a musician. What is he, then? Isn’t it up to us to figure that out?”

Ella hadn’t a response after that. Peter slipped from the bed and blew out the candle with a whoosh, before slipping in beside her. Slowly, he shifted into slumber. His breath became deep, falling into a rhythm. But Ella remained wide awake, her eyes burning towards the impossible darkness above them. Outside, early spring wind blasted at the side of the estate.

It reminded her of that day, ten years before, when she’d first felt the contractions. The pain had rocketed up and down her spine. She’d gripped the staircase railing, letting out a yelp. Immediately, Peter had raced to her side, abandoning all business prospects, all London meetings he’d arranged for the day. “I only want to be here. With my family,” he’d told her, his eyes glowing.

When Thomas had been placed upon her breast, she’d felt he was far heavier than any other baby she’d ever held. It wasn’t his mass, nor his weight — that was all rather similar to any other infant. Rather, Ella felt the weight of their future together, of years in which she was meant to mould him into a son and brother and man in the world. It had felt like an impossible task. She’d been unable to sleep for days, gaping at the little baby in his cradle, so ripe with promise.

The following day, prior to the birthday party, Thomas requested that the family go for a walk in the woods. He said it with his eyebrows furrowed, scrubbing his fingers through his mangy black hair. As it was his birthday, Ella and the others hadn’t a single reason to say no. “Whatever you wish,” she told him.

A soft rain pattered over the tree tops as they eased through the woods. Ella took up residence next to Marie, while Peter and Frank walked after them. Thomas remained about ten feet ahead, always, his feet gliding easily over the stones and rugged tree limbs. Ella imagined he knew the forest, the trees, the water like the back of his hand. Perhaps he related to it the way she’d related to books — a perpetual escape. Something that reminded her she was her own person, outside the confines of the world.

As the family rounded a bend in the woods, Marie caught her foot on a tree root and pitched forward, collapsing into the mud. Immediately, she let out a shriek. Ella knelt, fear permeating her body. Marie blinked up at her, mud and dirt caking her perfect chin and cheeks. It snaked over her red hair, making her look like a wild witch.

“THOMAS! COME BACK!” Ella cried, not wanting her eldest to get too far ahead.

Thomas cut back from the trees. His face changed completely when he spotted Marie on the ground. With three enormous stretches of his legs, he arrived, dropping to his knees beside Marie. When he spoke, his voice was doting, soft.

“Marie, are you all right? Did you break anything?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Marie murmured. Immediately, with all the trust of a younger sister, she slipped her hand into his.

Thomas helped her sit upon the ground, coaxing her as she stood. Ella stood back, watching in awe. He gripped her elbow, her shoulder, ensuring that with every movement, she didn’t strain with pain. Finally, Marie stood, quivering a bit, her face serene. She flung her face into Thomas’ chest, murmuring, “I don’t know what happened, Tommy. I just fell. It all happened so fast.”

Thomas gazed at Ella, sweeping his hand across Marie’s red curls. The moment simmered with tenderness. Ella had never seen Thomas have such compassion for his siblings. Perhaps she hadn’t been paying attention — had, instead, been overly worried about where on the earth he would find peace. Where he would fit.

The family marched on a little longer until they reached the edge of the stream. Peter gripped Marie’s hand, his eyes burning with apprehension. “I don’t want another one of you to fall down,” he said, trying to force a smile.

“Come on!” Thomas cried. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants, giving Ella a devilish smile. Remarkably, the smile looked so much like Tatiana’s — reminding Ella of the long-lost days when Tatiana had strained to get Ella to break some sort of house rule.

Within Thomas, there was so much of Ella, so much of Tatiana, so much of Peter. Even, if she looked hard enough, she could see droplets of Frederick — his distant cousin. Yet he was also entirely himself, learning all the time what that meant.

Ella reached down and began to undo her boots. Peter gaped at her, saying, “I don’t suppose you’re stepping into the river, are you?”

Ella shrugged, tossing her boots to the side. Her feet oozed in the chilly mud. Already, Thomas scampered into the chilly water.

“You’re going to catch a deathly cold!” Ella hollered, feeling her smile snake between her cheeks.

“It really isn’t so bad, Mother,” Thomas said. His fingers swept through the water, splashing it skyward. The sun glinted down upon it, casting little rainbows towards the rushing stream. “Come along!”

Ella took a slight step towards the edge. Already, her feet were caked with mud. She approached a line of moss-covered stones, upon which a frog sat, its neck bulging out. She marveled at it.

“You don’t see many wild animals out here on your journeys, do you, Thomas?” she asked him, hating the worry that hung around her words.

“Oh, occasionally. Foxes. Squirrels. I want to see a wolf, but I haven’t yet!” Thomas said.

Ella cast her eyes back towards Peter, who gave her a shrug. Ella’s heart hammered with what she now understood was fear.

“Thomas, you’re ten years old now,” Ella said, taking a first, impossibly chilly step into the water. Her cheeks drew themselves inward sharply, becoming hollow.

“What does it mean to be ten?” Thomas asked. He took delicate steps across the slippery rocks, drawing himself towards his mother.

Ella took another step into the water, careful to ensure her skirts didn’t ease into the water. She beamed at her son.

“It means that you have to begin thinking what sort of man you want to be,” she said.

“Really?” Thomas asked. He cast his eyes towards his father, seemingly filled with doubt.

“Not so fast,” Peter offered.

“But it’s good to think about,” Ella continued. “It’s good to imagine where you see yourself.”

“I see myself in the woods,” Thomas affirmed, drawing his fists on either side of his waist. He looked confident, like a world explorer.

For the first time, Ella felt she could see an image of him in the future — perhaps poised at the front of a ship, his eyes searching the horizon line. He had the bravery, the strength, the inner confidence of a boy twice his age. Ella shivered at it, unable to comprehend that she and Peter had created such a life.

And now, that life was a full ten years old.

After a few minutes of scampering through the water, Ella gathered her children together, scraped off what she could of the mud and gunk and chilly water, and led them back towards the estate. Only a select few children and family members would arrive for the party that evening — as she’d decided not to torment Thomas with over-socialisation.

As Thomas blew out his cake candles later that evening, Ella felt tears drizzle down her cheeks. She dotted a kiss atop Thomas’ black curls, marveling at the fact that he’d never truly belonged to her — not really. And more and more, he would drift away. The process of knowing him would require questions, answers. It would require meeting him and re-meeting him, every day, into eternity. She had to give her children the ability to change.

When she carried the plates back towards the kitchen, she stumbled into Peter, her eyes hazy. His gentle lips found hers immediately. His eyes closed. When they parted, he whispered words that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

“I love you. And I love that you’ve always given me the freedom to be myself. Now, you’re giving that to our children. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

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