Chapter 1.
"Almost there," Georg muttered to himself. He'd guided submarines along the ocean floor, miles deep in the ink-dark, frigid sea. It should be no challenge at all, to navigate the last few kilometers of the country lane that led to the villa, even in this wretched late-night storm.
The foul weather matched his mood. He had planned to stay in Vienna for at least a month. But he'd been there barely a week when the telephone call came from Frau Schmidt, advising him that the latest governess had stormed out of the house, so furious about some prank involving toothpaste that she didn't even wait for her wages. He wasn't surprised, having suspected from the beginning that Fraulein Josephine – or was it Fraulein Helga? - didn't appreciate the role of discipline in managing his children, just like her predecessors. All nine of them.
He was forced to drive slowly, since the slapping wipers could barely keep up with the deluge. Rain drummed relentlessly on the car's roof. The occasional flash of lightning showed the way, but it also revealed stately trees swaying like grass against the force of the wind.
Georg growled in frustration as the car crept along the narrow road. He'd foolishly promised Elsa he'd return to Vienna within three days, even though he suspected it might well take longer than that to find another governess and get her situated. Then again, after the way the two of them had argued earlier today, it might be just as well that they'd been forced to take a short break from each other.
"Elsa, we've been through all of this before. Even though we're both inclined to make things official, we can't finalize anything until-"
"You make it sound like one of your business deals, Georg."
"Look, Elsa, we're not children. We've both been married before. We enjoy each other's company, we make each other laugh, and neither one of us expects to feel the way we did when – be reasonable, Elsa. You can't agree to marry me until you come to Salzburg and meet my children. You'll be their stepmother, for heaven's sake."
She winced. "At least when it comes to the older ones, I'd prefer to think of myself as some kind of - confidant. Or mentor, maybe. And you ought to be considering boarding school for them, in any event. As for the younger ones, I'm sure they're charming, certainly more charming than you make them sound, but they have a governess, don't they?"
"Yes, Elsa, but still, they are children. Children who lost a mother that most of them can remember. They need time to get to know you."
"Georg. I promise you, I will come to Salzburg to meet them. As soon as my sister's baby is born. I can't possibly leave now, what with her in her eighth month."
As though Elsa Schrader's services as a midwife were required, he grimaced. He had more experience with childbirth than she'd ever have! In the year since they'd started discussing marriage, it seemed like she'd come up with one excuse after another. First her sister's wedding, then she was chairing the Opera Ball, then the weather had been too cold, and now this latest excuse.
He hated being put in this position, having to coax Elsa into to take steps toward a marriage he was only lukewarm about himself. Under no circumstances would he beg her to come to Salzburg, that much was certain.
"Anyway, Georg, I don't see what the rush is to seal the deal. As you say, we're not children. We've both been married before. We could be doing much more to enjoy each other's company in the meantime," Elsa said. She paused to blow two perfect smoke rings before adding boldly, "in bed."
They'd had this argument before as well. The irony was inescapable: he'd been an unrepentant rake in his bachelor days, and half of Vienna probably assumed that he and Elsa were lovers. But the truth was, the prospect of their wedding night filled him with dread. He was fond of Elsa, and grateful for everything she'd done to bring some meaning back into his life. But if he didn't want her that way now, what would it be like later? A wedding ceremony wouldn't make a difference. He'd tried to put her off with talk of honor and respect, but she was having none of it.
Their argument had been interrupted by the call from Frau Schmidt, and their parting a few hours later had been more than a little awkward.
"Come back to me soon," Elsa murmured in a low, smoky voice, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's terribly lonely around here without you, you know."
He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and when she turned and offered her mouth to him, he acquiesced, wanting to make things right between them. After a moment or two, though, when she began to melt against him, he found himself abruptly pulling away.
"I'm sorry, Elsa. It's not your fault, it's only that I've got a lot on my mind. And I've got to get on the road before the weather turns."
She was staring at the floor, but he could see the red flush creep up her neck.
"I know it's not my fault, Georg," she said in a low voice. "Because I've never had a man refuse an invitation to my bed. When two people talk of marriage…"
"Let's give it some time, darling," he said, wanting to believe it himself. In many ways, Elsa had been an answer to his prayers: a bearable way to move forward with his life, without disturbing Agathe's place in his heart, without forcing him to confront the memory of the only woman he'd ever love.
But in drifting toward marriage to Elsa Schrader, he'd somehow neglected to consider certain realities. In the four years since Agathe's death, it had taken only a few forced, empty encounters to confirm that he'd lost all interest in women, at least that way.
Elsa offered him a tight-lipped smile. "You will be back for the party, Georg, won't you?"
He'd forgotten all about the coming weekend, and his promise to be her guest of honor at a "grand and glorious party. So you can meet my friends, Georg, and they can meet you." Well, he could hardly deny her that when she was being patient about the other.
"Yes, Elsa darling. Of course. I'll be back in three days' time. I promise."
His thoughts were interrupted when, out of nowhere, an enormous tree branch flew straight at him, borne on a gust of wind. It spun wildly through the air until it came to rest with a thud against his windscreen, completely blocking his view. Cursing, he slammed on the brakes, set his shoulders against the cold, gusty deluge, and got out to drag the branch over to the side of the road. Then, he circled the car quickly, straining in the gloom to satisfy himself that it could still be driven safely.
Halfway around the car, he sensed some movement by the side of the road, a quick, flickering glow, just outside his field of vision. Had the night had been fine, it could have been a small patch of moonlight, but of course that wasn't possible. Georg shrugged it off, whatever it was, probably just the way his headlights were reflecting off the puddles and sheets of rain that surrounded him. He was cold, thoroughly soaked and miserable, and the thought of a warm fire and a brandy or two distracted him from any other concern.
He had finished his circuit and was halfway inside the car when he heard it: a low moan that reminded him of an injured man's cries under the roar of battle. Although he knew it was ridiculous, the very idea that anyone would be out in this weather, the memory was enough to force him to haul himself out of the car again, and to make a more careful survey of his surroundings.
It didn't take long to locate her, crumpled on the floor of the bus shelter that stood by the side of the road. A girl, not much older than his daughters. Short hair plastered wetly against her face, thickly lashed eyes closed like dark smudges against her pale, luminous face. The freckles stood out against her skin like shavings on snow. Despite the weather, she was clad in a gossamer-thin pink dress, littered with pleats and bows that lay in wet drifts around her, although her feet were incongruously shod in clumsy, worn black boots. No bag, no hat, no jewelry.
"Fraulein?"
The girl was trembling with fear or cold, or both, and she only muttered incoherently when he shook her shoulder and attempted to rouse her.
There was no choice: he simply did what needed to be done, scooping her up, as easily if she were a bag of feathers, and depositing her in a dripping, ungainly heap in the front seat of his car. And then he drove on into the night, casting sideways glances at his cargo. But she barely stirred, only emitting the occasional murmur.
Fifteen minutes later, he was sprinting from the car to the villa's front door, leaning on the bell until Franz appeared. "Leave it open," Georg shouted against the howling wind, and went back to retrieve her. She was limp in his arms, but when he got her into the foyer, surrounded by light, warmth and a bustling flurry of children and servants, she startled awake with a wild-eyed cry of alarm.
"Come, now," he said, "there's nothing to be afraid of." He tried to set her on her feet, but she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him with surprising strength.
What had he gotten himself into?
"Fraulein," he said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen to you here. You are safe. You need only tell us your name."
Around him, the chaos slowly subsided and the foyer grew quiet. Frau Schmidt, Franz, a housemaid or two. Liesl, Friedrich and Louisa, though they should have been in bed by now. They surrounded him as he stood, helpless, water dripping everywhere. All eyes were on the young woman in a muddy pink dress who huddled against his chest, refusing to let go of him.
She turned her wide-eyed gaze on him. Her eyes were a startling blue, the blue of skies and lakes. There was fear there, but an odd emptiness, too.
"Your name, Fraulein?" Georg demanded.
But she had no answer for him.
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Welcome to my new story! It's dedicated to all the fabulous TSOM fanfic writers whose stories I haven't reviewed in months because I've been obsessing over this story. It would take an awful lot of nerve for me to ask you for a review (but I will anyway). There are lots more chapters ahead! Parts of this story are based on the "real" M&G story told in The Story of the Trapp Family Singers. And parts of it are pure AU. I don't own anything about TSOM, this is all for love.