Chapter 4: Recollection
As the days went by, Maria's thoughts still returned frequently to their most intimate moments, but now, she knew she was not alone. At the oddest times – as the conductor dropped his baton for the opening notes of a symphony, when the maître d' bowed them to a table, as they stopped to admire a sidewalk artist's sketches – he would catch her eye and wink casually. Her eyes would drop to her lap, and her cheeks turned rosy, but she was secretly delighted.
It became like a game to her, a grown-up version of dress-up or pretend – in which she played the part of the demure baroness, alongside her distinguished husband, the two of them rarely touching in public, their conversation warm but with a certain restraint. She took a secret pleasure in the widening gap between the dignified façade they presented to the world and the reckless abandon, the complete loss of control, that distinguished their private times together.
There was one golden afternoon she would remember the rest of her life. They were ending their day, as they usually did, at a small café in a quiet square near their hotel. She watched a squirrel emerge from a fall into the stone fountain, shaking the water from his coat and chattering furiously at the other squirrels, and she turned to Georg, smiling, ready to reminisce about the rowboat incident. But the words died on her lips when her eyes met his burning gaze.
Not a word passed between them, nor did it need to - she knew what would happen next. Her heart pounding, her skin already prickling with desire, she watched as he dropped a few bills on the table and motioned her out of her seat. His hand barely touching her back, he guided her through the streets to their hotel; her eyes never left the pavement, fearing that passers-by would read on her face the nature of their errand, and trusting him to get them safely to their destination. He smoothly deflected the lift boy: "My wife is not well, I'll take her upstairs." His lips were on her neck the moment the lift door closed behind them.
Later, after night had fallen, she lay, utterly relaxed, and smiled as he ran an idle finger down her back.
"Excuse me madam, but what have you done with my governess?"
Maria laughed. "Don' t you think it is time to lay the governess fancy to rest? It's quite indecent, you know, Jane Eyre notwithstanding."
"My baroness, then. In any event, you were torturing me all day in that dress, did you know that? I simply could not bear it a moment longer."
She looked at him, puzzled. "That dress? It's perfectly modest, you know I don't like to wear things that are too . . ."
"Ah, my dear, that's just the point. That's why I sent you to Madame Dubel for your trousseau. She is the master of making everything even more alluring by covering it up. I told you, no? Hidden is better."
She rolled her eyes. "Yet another of your many unsung talents, I suppose? I had no idea you were such a fashion expert."
The days flew by happily. They visited museums and churches, heard music of every sort, drove into the countryside, shopped for gifts for the children, walked in the Luxembourg Gardens. One day, thinking that she might be tired of being surrounded by a language she could not speak, that she might resent relying on him to translate her every request, he took her to a foreign language bookshop for some reading material in their native language.
But she surprised him by choosing two children's books in English. "I'm going to start with these, and learn to read English, Georg, I really am. I've read about it – there are so many interesting American authors."
They talked endlessly. He regaled her with tales of his travels around the world, the sights, the people. And he told her, in detail, the story of each child's birth, as though passing along a treasure he knew she would cherish forever.
One night, they ventured into a smoky basement café where patrons huddled over tiny tables in the dark while an exotic chanteuse and a musical trio were Maria's introduction to jazz. "Did you like it?" Georg asked her, afterward.
"Well," she pondered a moment. "It's rather like what Kurt said the first time he had an oyster. 'I'm not sure if I like it, but I'm glad I tried it.'"
Maria had a great deal to share with him as well. In the one, harsh conversation he had with Agathe's mother, when he broke the news of his engagement to Maria, the Baroness Whitehead had sneered – among many other things – "and what kind of conversation do you think you'll have with her, Georg, after the – ah - honeymoon is over?"
But the truth was, that Georg was much more interested in what Maria had to say than the gossipy chatter of his peers in the Austrian aristocracy. She was extremely well read. She matched him poet for poet, at least in German. She had less formal musical training but a much better ear, he had to admit.
And while she might never before have traveled farther than Vienna, her childhood troubles had left her blessed with a remarkable imagination. She saw a story in everything around her. They spent entire afternoons seated at their café while she entertained him, weaving stories about the people passing by. He only hoped that no one around them spoke German, for fear that they would be able to understand her dangerously spot-on impressions of them.
One afternoon, she stopped in mid-story, distracted by a particularly enticing slice of tarte tatin the waiter placed in front of her.
"Is that all?" he asked, disappointed. " Keep going! Please!"
"There was a time, was there not, Captain," Maria teased, "when you complained bitterly about my tendency to chatter on about everything! And now you want me to keep talking? Of course, back then, I was terrified of you. I'm afraid you have lost your power over me, at least when you are competing with dessert. Sorry." She returned to her plate.
"Do you know," he chuckled, opening his newspaper and glancing it for confirmation, "I have lost track of the days entirely, but it's six months to the day, I think, since we first laid eyes on each other. I think I fell in love with you that very first night at the dinner table, when you sat on that ridiculous pine cone."
She grimaced. "The only thing that's ridiculous about that, Georg, is your version of events. You are completely rewriting history. As I recall, you barked at me nearly every day for weeks thereafter, not to mention firing me once. That's hardly the behavior of a man in love. I might just as well try to convince you that I fell in love with you when you blew that silly whistle!"
"Well," he defended himself, "Perhaps it was not exactly love at first sight, but from the very beginning, I was impressed by how you stuck up for them. And I thought it promising that you weren't the least bit afraid of me – I hoped that meant you'd be able to handle them, too. If nothing else, I knew things were going to turn out differently with you."
"And when I came back from Vienna," – he shot her a gaze that made her blush – "well, I've already told you how utterly tempting you were. I'm not sure how I resisted you for as long as I did."
They smiled fondly at each other before he challenged her: "So then how did it start for you? And don't tell me it was the whistle." He signaled the waiter for another cup of coffee.
"Well – you made a terrible first impression, of course, Georg, we don't have to talk about that anymore. But while you were in Vienna, the children's stories convinced me that there was more to you than I'd seen the first day. They worshipped you! So I was curious. And when you returned – well, I thought that a man who would be open-minded enough to consider the ranting of an insubordinate governess, who would apologize and try to set things right – I suppose that's when I started to – er – admire you."
"You admired me?" he raised an eyebrow. "How very virtuous of you!"
" Well, all right, I adored you," she confessed. "And almost immediately, I felt guilty about it. Of course, I tried to tell myself it was just some kind of schoolgirl crush."
Maria shook her head. "What was I thinking? Did I really think I was going to be able to put the genie back in the bottle, to take my vows, after dancing in your arms? I couldn't really admit to loving you, you know, until Reverend Mother forced me to. That's what made it so hard when . . ." Her voice trailed off.
"Oh, my love," he said, regretfully. "I will never forgive myself for causing you even those few hours of pain. I was completely besotted with you, of course, but I took you at your word that you intended to return to the Abbey. Although judging by the way your eyes followed me everywhere, and the positively heated looks you gave me all summer . . ."
"Heated looks?" She batted at his arm, playfully. " The way you looked at me when we danced together, I felt as though I was standing there in my knickers! You knew perfectly well that I had a hopeless crush on you."
"I did indeed," Georg replied, making a mocking little bow in her direction. " But I was not certain that my advances would be welcome, darling, not even when you came back."
"You were such a mystery," Maria chided him. Even I knew there was something between us after that dance – and yet five minutes later, you treated me so . . ."
"Coldly," he admitted. "I was, er, strategizing."
"Is that what you call it?" she pushed on, "Is that the reason, when I came back, and you came out to the gazebo, to talk to me- is that why you interrogated me? You, after all, knew that you were a free man, but I did not! Yet you fired questions at me like I was an enemy combatant. Why had I left? Why had I returned? Did you really think I would confess to being in love with you, when you were planning to marry someone else? "
He squinted at the sky. "You know, when I took my first submarine command, my family thought I'd lost my mind. The von Trapps are sailors, and sailors navigate using the sun, the moon, the stars, even the way the wind feels on our faces. Why would a sailor choose to be underwater, to muffle the very senses that keep him alive? But I loved the challenge of stalking the enemy through the dark waters. I seemed to be able to know exactly where I was; I never felt out of control or lost."
Georg turned to her, a wry smile crossing his face. "But when it came to you – during the ball, and the night you returned – and really, all summer, at every turn, I was lost. Out of my depths, for heaven's sake! And I did not like the loss of control at all. I knew I'd made a mess of things, thoroughly and completely. I think I knew, all along, that the engagement would be a mistake, in fact, somehow I just assumed you knew that too. I thought, perhaps, that you had come back for – uh, to me, but I was not sure anymore."
He shook his head, and went on, his tone serious. "And I did not want to – to compromise you. I wanted to be very sure, that I was not pressuring you, or frightening you, that you were coming to me of your own free will. The Baron and the governess – we joke about it, but it is not an – er – entirely honorable situation to be in. I never thought you were a very good fit for the convent, but it was not my place to take it from you."
"Yes, Georg, and it wasn't my place to question your engagement, even though I did think it was a horrible mistake. No," Maria went on, firmly, "You should have just said what was on your mind instead of trying to figure out what was going on in mine. I was terrified! I adored you. I could not bear to leave the children. And yet how could I stay and watch you . . ."
There was a long silence, both of them lost of their memories, and then, suddenly, she rose briskly from the table. "I need to stop reliving it. It's all in the past, and that's where it should remain, although it would make a fine romance novel, wouldn't it? Or a play! Whether or not we should have, we did, and here we are. I'm more interested in our future together. Starting with dinner – where are you taking me?"
He smiled, and turned to signal the waiter for the check. They had been sitting for a long time. The sun had dipped behind the buildings around the square, and the air had grown cool. It felt good to stretch her limbs. She spun away from the table in slow circles, and when she returned, he had opened his newspaper and was staring at it, his face grave.
"It's always there, isn't it?" she asked. "What's happening at home. The Anschluss. I feel it too – the dreadful shadow."
He nodded. After a long silence, he asked, abruptly, "You were surprised when I planned such a long honeymoon, weeks and weeks away from the children. Do you know why I did that?"
She thought to lighten the mood with a saucy response, but the words died on her lips when his troubled eyes sought hers.
"Maria, on top of everything else you have taken on – me, the children, the household, the aristocracy – there is more you do not know. The situation in Austria is not only a threat to our country, it is a threat to me, personally. To us. They will be looking for me to serve, and they will not take no for an answer. I have done nothing to endear myself to them, starting with my argument with Zeller. I have done everything I can to prepare, but I confess that the future looks bleak."
"My future is not bleak," she said stoutly, "because you are in it."
He nodded his gratitude, but his face remained somber. "This coming year is going to be a challenge unlike any that either of us has ever known. I'm afraid for our country and our family. I will do whatever I must to keep us safe, but I need your help. We may have to flee, if, we can find a safe place to go. . . "
He looked away for a moment, as though the thought was too much to bear, but then his eyes returned to her.
"The time we are spending together here in Paris – the music, the people, the art, the food, and yes, the way we are alone together as well" – he gave her a half-smile – "is the only time we have to build a bond between us that is strong enough to withstand the storm." He sighed. " In normal circumstances, we would have days, weeks, months, to learn about each other. There is so much I want to . . . But you and I? We have, if we are lucky, just this few golden weeks together, before our lives may be torn apart. I only hope that some day I can make it up to you."
Their eyes met as they stood – for a few moments? for an hour? - making silent promises to each other, promises that could survive an uncertain future. Then, wordlessly, she tucked her hand in his arm, and together, they left the square.
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A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows – they really do inspire me. This chapter was a bit of a departure from the rest of the story, and it took me a while to figure it out – I have the TSOM Fan Fiction group on Facebook and Proboards to thank for helping me with it. Maria needed a break from all that angst! And I have always wanted to work out some of my quibbles with the plot (did he really start loving her when she sat on the pine cone? I don't think so), and this was my chance to have Maria and Georg work things out for me. I also enjoyed returning to ideas from my first fanfic, "That September." Future chapters will be more like what you've seen so far. PM me if you'd like to join our group! And – I don't own anything or anyone connected to the Sound of Music, this is all for love.