Georg relaxed in his chair and sipped his glass of water. He had decided to forego his morning coffee after the cup of tea he'd had less than an hour ago during his unexpected encounter with the governess.

He glanced up at her, sipping her own drink as she smiled at something his youngest daughter had said that he hadn't caught. His mind went back to the thoughts he'd had earlier; how much the household had changed since her arrival.

Other than him, Fraulein Maria was the only adult present at the table. Neither of his guests were early risers. Max still jokingly declared he needed to catch up on the sleep he never got during his Navy days, even though that had been over twenty years ago; and Elsa had been shocked when, on the night before their departure from Vienna, Georg suggested they leave at eight o'clock in the morning to avoid too much traffic, and less than half an hour after the children had sung to her, had disappeared to her room for a nap.

The children.

The children were chattering happily, either to their governess, or simply amongst themselves. The sight made Georg smile. The scene in front of him wasn't that dissimilar from breakfast time when Agathe had been alive. He hadn't realised until his return home how much he had missed moments like these. As he caught a glimpse of Fraulein Maria once again, his smile grew wider. She was the sole reason for the change, and he would never be able to thank her enough.

Georg's smile vanished when Franz entered the room. The old butler seemed to be in a constantly sour mood. A mood that, however minimal or brief, appeared to carry on to anyone in the room. He had worked for the family for as long as Frau Schmidt; since the earliest days of his marriage; and Georg didn't think he'd seen the man smile even once.

"The mail sir," he announced, abrupt as always, shoving a pile of letters in front of Georg's face.

"Thank you Franz," he took the letters and flipped through them as the butler left the dining room. Some bills and bank statements. A couple things for Max and Elsa. A letter from Agathe's parents.

But, at the very bottom of the pile was something most unexpected.

"Uh, Fraulein?" he called.

"Captain?" the young governess looked up; quizzical. She was clearly at a loss as to why her employer would be calling her name while looking at the mail.

"There's a letter for you."

"For me sir?"

"Maria Rainer," he stated, reading the name on the envelope. "That is you, is it not?"

"Yes sir," she rose from her seat and began making her way across the room. "Who is it from?"

Maria couldn't think of anyone who would be sending her letters. She didn't have any relatives aside from her uncle; who hadn't wanted her to begin with, and certainly wouldn't want her now, and contact with the few friends she had had in her past had ceased when she became a postulant.

Outside these walls, she had no one except the Sisters at the Abbey.

"Um, the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg," the Captain reported, turning the envelope over in his hand and reading the return address.

He turned the envelope over once more and held it out for Maria to take. She turned it over herself, still puzzled, as she walked back to the other end of the room.

Indeed it was addressed to Maria Rainer, care of Villa von Trapp, 53 Hellbrunner Allee, Aigen. And the back clearly showed the letter had come from Nonnberg Abbey.

Sitting back down in her seat at the end of the table, she opened the envelope. Inside was another envelope and a single sheet of paper.

She pulled that out first. It was brief, barely longer than a telegram, but seeing that it was from the Reverend Mother eased Maria's worries somewhat.

Dear Maria,

This letter was delivered for you yesterday. Given you will be with the von Trapps until September I decided to forward it to you, in case it needed your attention.

God be with you,

The Reverend Mother

Upon reading the letter Maria only felt more confused. The Reverend Mother had not disclosed any information about who had delivered the letter or given any indication whatsoever about what it could be.

While she knew the Reverend Mother would not breach her privacy and open the letter, the fact that it had been passed on to her at all carried with it an unspoken sense of urgency, or at least importance. She knew the letter may have been passed on to her for no other reason than she wouldn't be back at the Abbey until September, just as the Reverend Mother had said; but there was the feeling of something more that wouldn't leave her.

So she turned her attention to the second envelope; inside the first, addressed to the Abbey. She drew it out and opened it.

Dear Fraulein Rainer,

As the head of The Orphanage of St. Hedwig I am contacting you in regards Sebastian Dreschner. As the next of kin of Hans Kutschera, the boy's father, you

She didn't get any further.

Next of kin…Hans Kutschera…father…

The words rattled around in her brain like ping-pong balls. The dining room, the children and the Captain all disappeared from view as her vision became foggy.

"Fraulein? Fraulein Maria?"

She felt a hand grab her wrist, and Louisa's voice floated through her mind, bringing her, slowly but surely, back to the present moment.

"Y-yes?" she stammered; her voice a whisper.

"Are you alright?" the thirteen year old asked. She looked worried, and her expression was mirrored by the other seven people seated around the table, but Maria didn't really notice. She could barely concentrate. Her head was swimming and her vision was still hazy.

"M-may I be excused?"

"Of course Fraulein," the Captain answered.

"Thank you," her voice was still barely audible as she flew from the room; vaguely aware of the Captain announcing to the children that Liesl was in charge of the lessons that morning.

Maria stared at the piece of paper in her hands, which at long last, had stopped trembling.

It had taken her over ten minutes and multiple attempts, but she had finally managed to read the letter in its entirety.

Some things were a little unclear, and she was still too shocked to process everything completely, but the one thing she did know is that she was being contacted because of her uncle.

Hans Kutschera was her mother's elder brother; the monster she had lived with for ten years after her father had died. She had never known him to have any children, and given the way he had treated her, that was for the best.

And yet, an orphanage was contacting her over a boy they said was her uncle's son. A boy that was… her cousin?

According to the letter, Sebastian was about eleven years old. His mother had died less than a month ago, and the orphanage, unable to accommodate many more children, had attempted to contact the boy's father and when that failed, his niece.

Maria couldn't take in anything more, and was relieved when she heard the knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in,"

The Captain opened the door and stepped inside.

"Liesl's taking care of the other children," he said. "Are you alright, Fraulein?"

"Thank you," Maria murmured. "Yes, I'm alright."

"May I ask what the Reverend Mother wanted?"

"It wasn't the Reverend Mother sir," Maria's voice was still very quiet. "She was simply passing on a message."

"Who was it from?"

"St. Hedwig's," she replied. "It's an orphanage in Tyrol."

"An orphanage?" the Captain's eyebrow rose in surprise. "What did they want?"

"It's about my… my cousin sir."

"I didn't know you had a cousin, Fraulein."

Georg had certainly not expected this. The Reverend Mother had outlined Fraulein Maria's past for him briefly before she had arrived at his home; no siblings, orphaned as young child and lived with a close relative until she was seventeen, when she went to teacher's college. A cousin had never been mentioned, and if there was something else about her life that would result in anything of this nature, he didn't know about it.

"Neither did I," her tone indicated disbelief, but she couldn't help a small smile as she replied. "His mother just passed away and his father, my uncle, has been a difficulty to contact."

"The boy doesn't live with his father?"

"No," she continued. Georg detected a hint of sadness and a forced sense of calm in her voice. "My uncle never married. I don't think he even knows about his son. In any case, they contacted me. The orphanage is very short on space. Of course I can't take him, being a postulant. But I-"

"Perhaps you could find your uncle?"

"No!" she cried, her voice rising. She took a deep breath, collecting herself before continuing. "I'm sorry sir, but that is not an option."

"Fraulein, he can't be worse than I was."

Georg regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He had treated his children terribly for the past five years; and he would spend the rest of his life repenting for it. But he also knew it could have been so much worse.

And from the spark that appeared in the Fraulein's eyes; anger, and could it be, hurt? Georg could tell that she too knew that to be the case.

"Captain," she said through gritted teeth, her voice forcibly even. "You pushed the children away because you were grieving. And not once during that time did you ever stop loving them, correct?"

"Yes."

"My uncle was enduring no such ordeal," she was nearly spitting. "And I would pray for the days when he ignored me. They were the-"

Feeling her hand on her upper back Maria stopped, aware of what she had just revealed. Underneath her dress rested the one permanent reminder of her uncle.

For the past five years, she would involuntarily touch her scars when she thought of him.

"Forgive me, Fraulein," Georg sputtered, noticing her unease. "I did not know."

"It's alright," she whispered.

"Where is he?" Georg asked, eager to change the subject. "Your cousin?"

"Innsbruck," she replied, her voice still soft and vulnerable. "The orphanage is in Innsbruck."

Georg nodded absently, his mind working out what would need to happen. He knew what Fraulein Maria's next request would be.

"Captain I-I need to see him."

"Of course," he replied, his suspicions confirmed. He had denied his own children the love they needed and deserved so desperately for the past five years, and it was because of her and her alone that he wasn't still doing that. If Fraulein Maria was the only person this boy had, then, despite her post as governess in his home, he would not stand in the way. After all, he had asked her that very morning if there was anything he could do for.

"I believe Max is going to Innsbruck the day after tomorrow," he continued. "I'm sure he could give you a lift."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"That's alright, Fraulein," Georg responded. "Remember what I said this morning."

Maria gave him the tiniest of nods.

"The children will be fine until lunch," he announced. "Please, take some time for yourself."

For a moment, Maria wanted to refute, but the Captain's expression gave no room for argument, so she nodded again as he left the room.

She slumped down on her bed, deep in thought.

As angry as she had been with the Captain at his treatment of his children, she hadn't thought for one minute he would ever intentionally hurt them, especially physically. Her childhood, on the other hand, had been filled with broken bones, bruises and misery. Whistles, orders and marching were positively wonderful compared to that.

She touched her scars again and her hand balled into a fist. She knew, there and then, she would do everything in her power, limited though it may be, to protect Sebastian from his father.

Whatever happened, she would not let this boy face the wrath of her uncle. She couldn't.

Yeah, I know I said it would be an update once a week. But that will take forever. So the updates will now be every four days. I hope you enjoyed. Next installment on the 1st June. Still hoping the latest chapter will be done by the time the final pre-written one is posted.
St. Hedwig's is entirely my own creation, and if such a place really exists it is pure coincidence.