Paris, France
October 1937
Deep into their second bottle of champagne, Georg groaned loudly at the knock at the door, and Maria laughed, somewhat more steady on her feet, reaching out to push her husband back down into his chair.
"Don't. I will get it."
"It's probably just another damn invitation to some party or other," Georg mumbled, watching as his wife sashayed her way from the balcony with a teasing glance back at her husband.
She returned a few minutes later, a fistful of invitations and telegrams in hand. Flipping through them, she made a noise of disapproval. "You would think a massive wedding in Salzburg would be enough of an indication that we would like to spend a few months ignoring the world, but alas."
Gesturing for the mail, Georg took it from Maria and tossed it into the parlor, the different pieces scattering all over the floor. "There," he said emphatically. "We can sort those out in the morning."
"And tonight?" Maria asked, a sparkle in her eye.
"Tonight," Georg pronounced, "I want to finish this champagne, ravish my wife, and sleep through the nasty hangover that is bound to ensue."
Going to sit on his lap, Maria took the champagne flute from her husband and shook her head. "Oh, no you don't. I want you good and well tomorrow morning so we can go to the Louvre and see the art exhibits."
"What do you propose we do with this, then?" Georg complained, trying to snatch the drink away from her.
"I think," Maria said, swirling the alcohol around, "that I will finish this, and put the cork back in our bottle. We can finish it at our picnic lunch tomorrow. Or have you forgotten?"
"No," he said, though he watched with an expression of regret as his wife carried out her edicts.
"I promise you, my love, you will thank me in the morning, and tonight you will first drink your way through several pitchers of water, and then you may ravish me."
"Mm, what if we ravish each other, darling?"
Maria blushed, but held his gaze. "I would like that." She squirmed her way from his grasp a moment later, and bustled about, gathering water goblets and a pitcher of iced water. She brought it back to their little table on the balcony and resumed her seat across from her husband.
"I made you uncomfortable," Georg stated, gaze piercing through her.
"Nonsense," Maria waved, but he cut her off.
"I am aware of my slightly drunken state, Maria, and it gives me a somewhat looser tongue and less introspective nature, but I know this as truth: you are put off by what I said. About ravishing each other. I meant it, you know."
"Yes," Maria faltered. "Yes, I know you meant it."
"I know you love to be ravished," Georg said matter-of-factly. "I make you scream. I set you on fire. I make you feel things so raw and deep that you cannot resist. I have made love to you in nighttime and daytime, in moonlight and sunshine. You delight in it. I delight in your delight. You have captivated my heart."
Maria's cheeks were so warm that she was sure they were crimson. But she could not tear her gaze from her beloved, and burst out, "That's just it! I have no hope of bringing you to the level of passion and ecstasy you so easily bring to me! I want to do that for you, I want it so bad I can taste it. It is as strong as my own desire to have your body in mine, Georg!"
Georg listened to Maria's entreaty, blinking hard at what she had just revealed.
"I am a thoughtless boar."
Horrified, Maria shook her head fiercely. "No, Georg! Not at all! Forget I said anything, it was foolish of me!"
"No," Georg countered, "no, it is not foolish, Maria."
At loss for words, Maria simply sat there, feeling guilty for having guilted him and making a muck of what had so far been a lovely night.
"It is not foolish, because in my eagerness to show you how much I love you, my darling, I took complete pleasure in that without thinking that you might feel underprepared in comparison. I haven't done well enough in helping you to know how to please me, I see that now."
"Oh, but you have!" Maria cried, trying desperately to salvage the situation. "I just don't feel like my own confidence and… sense of direction measures up to what you are able to evoke within me. I feel I am a rank amateur when it comes to… 'ravishing.'"
"You are the complete opposite, Maria. If only you knew what you do to me…"
"That's it," she cried, "precisely that! I don't know and I want to know so that I can go about pleasing you as deliberately and thoroughly as you do me!"
"Oh, I think you know," Georg said quietly. "I see your smirks and you look ever so much like the cat who ate the canary when you know you've hit your stride."
"Yes, well, most of the time that has been sheer luck, or simply the ease of exciting you in the heat of the moment!"
"Ahh," Georg uttered. "Eureka!"
Quirking a brow at him, Maria said with frustration, "Georg, I would appreciate if we did not play games right now!"
"No games, love," Georg reassured, reaching out to grasp her wrists. "But listen to me: you are overthinking it. You said it yourself: you find what works because we're caught up in each other, and sometimes just get lucky. That 'luck' of yours has been employed repeatedly with great success, Maria, don't you think?"
Maria opened her mouth, about to argue, then closed it, realizing what he meant. It had been accidental, her hands brushing his genitals, and her kisses hitting some intensely erogenous spot of his body, and the gentle bites to his nipples as she was working her way across his chest in the heat of passion. And she had deliberately repeated each of these things, wondering if it would elicit such a strong reaction as the time before. It always did.
"I see…"
"I hope you do, love, because you've otherwise put me in quite a compromising position, being so headstrong and argumentative, as you often are."
Maria tore her gaze from the point above his shoulder that she was staring blankly at, attempting to process what precisely she thought of all this, and when she looked at her husband's face, she saw that he was wearing a self-satisfied grin that aligned itself quite nicely with the Cheshire Cat.
"May I ravish you now?" he asked. "You've gone and seduced me, Baroness."
A slight whimper rose in Maria's throat, and she found she could not resist. "We will ravish each other," she corrected.
The following morning, Georg woke to find Maria already wide awake, sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets next to him and deeply engrossed in what looked like a tourist guide, her blue silk robe draped around her naked frame.
"Mmm, I thought you might be reading that Kama Sutra volume," Georg said, teasingly.
But Maria wasn't fazed, and merely said "hmmm" while pulling a pencil from behind her right ear so as to mark some particularly interesting place in the booklet.
"You aren't the least bit curious?" he prodded.
Huffing, Maria's bangs fluttered as she looked up from her task, and she said, "Maybe one day, but I think having you for a lover is plenty to handle without the aid of that book. And I would like to see Paris at some point before we leave here, if you can imagine that!"
"I have taken you to numerous dinners and soirees and shows and operas!" Georg insisted.
"Yes, all at night, silly, except when we bought Brigitta's birthday gift." Tucking her hair behind her ears, Maria leaned down to kiss her husband good morning. "I would like to see this city during the day, and I might even be persuaded to buy a new dress or two."
"But Paris is La Ville-Lumière!" Georg said. "It comes alive at night!"
"Be that as it may, this is my first time ever out of the country, and I would like to see some of the infamous landmarks and artwork here, Georg!" With that, Maria tapped him smartly on the nose and went to dress. "I ordered breakfast a while ago, yours is out in the parlor," she called from the bathroom, where she had started a shower.
Georg sighed, knowing that it was nothing but the truth that motivated Maria to move from the bed, so he slipped into his slippers and tied his robe, seeking out his breakfast and morning papers. "How does the Eiffel Tower sound to you?" he called as he buttered some toast and skimmed the headlines. So far, nothing of note…
"Yes, and the Louvre! And some art museums!"
"I'll call a cab for us," he responded, digging into his fruit.
"No, let's walk! It's a beautiful day, love." Maria had finished her shower already and was pulling a brush through her wet hair as she came out into the parlor area. "It won't take long to dry and set my hair, so do hurry. I let you sleep too late."
Unwilling to admit that he had something of a headache, Georg merely shrugged, shaking out the first section of Le Monde. "Give me a few minutes to finish eating, and I'll be ready before you can say 'auf Wiedersehen.'"
"Ha, ha, very funny," said Maria, but she was wearing a big smile.
Several hours later, they found themselves atop the Eiffel Tower, and Maria was positively enraptured by it.
"Ooooh," she exclaimed, "it's an awful lot like observing the villages from the Untersberg, only it's a city beneath us!" One hand to her head, where she was attempting to keep her hat secure, she added, "it's just about as windy, too!"
Georg, who hadn't anticipated a windy chill, had left his hat in their hotel room, thinking they would return after several hours and a lovely picnic lunch by the Seine, but Maria had her heart set on the climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and as luck would have it, they were quite alone.
Threading his fingers through hers, Georg locked their hands together and tried to see Paris with the eager eyes of his wife. He loved Paris; it was a romantic, large city with something for everyone; but the Paris he loved was the Paris that came alive at night time, what with all the music halls bursting and the theatres boasting full houses and the crux of Paris high society milling all about, giving the city its beautiful, crackling energy. One could not see the filth of the city in night time. Only its beauty.
But now, he saw what Maria saw: people of all sorts milling about. Artisans, street performers, tourists, lovers, academics, children, guides, mimes, food vendors… anything and everything.
Turning to look at her husband, Maria exclaimed, her eyes alight, "Oh, Georg, what a wonderful day this has been!" And defying all rules of decorum, his wife launched herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. What a sight they must make: the distinguished, well-dressed man in polished leather shoes, a charcoal grey suit, donning a white dress shirt open at the collar, with a long, warm overcoat; she pretty as Seurat's A Sunday Afternoon on the Island, wearing a knee-length skirt suit of deep burgundy red and matching collared top, a cream blouse beneath with a beautiful gold brooch pinned to it that he had bought her in Vienna several weeks prior. She wore a black cloche hat with the ensemble, and a pair of black pumps as well.
It was only when the wind threatened to take off her snugly-placed hat that Maria broke away from her kiss with a small laugh and look of utter contentment. Overwhelmed by how her scent, her boldness, her emotion, her obvious joy drove him wild, Georg could not find it within him to reprimand Maria for the breach of etiquette. In fact, it was rather thrilling, and he turned quickly at the sound of laughing and applause, only to see some Parisians behind them nodding approvingly at the display.
"Très bien, monsieur!" they called.
Maria laughed at the startled look on his face, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Don't be angry, love," she said.
"I'm not," Georg answered plainly, and he tucked her arm in his and, with one last glance at the scape from the tower's top, he led his wife toward the elevator, praying that he could keep his hands to himself long enough to return to their suite.
"I hope you don't mind skipping the last art museum," he said huskily, attempting to hail a cab. "I want you so!"
As it turned out, Maria had no problem with an altered itinerary, especially as the new and improved version included intense lovemaking and a long, hot shower together.
"I enjoyed when you pinned me against the wall and took me there," Maria breathed. She was murmuring in his ear as she scrubbed his back with a washcloth. "And again on the floor, once we removed our things."
Groaning, Georg could feel himself becoming hard again at the thought of how they had barely been able to shut their door behind them with the "do not disturb" sign in place, let alone fully disrobe. She had unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pushing them down enough to free his erection, where he had hiked her skirt up and pulled away her panties which were kicked away with her pumps. He had taken her like that, supporting her weight as she wrapped her legs around him. Then, when he had expired, they collapsed to the floor, and Maria, unheeding of the usual need to recover from a round of lovemaking, had simply begun to undress them both, making him writhe with pleasure as she teased played, making a striptease of her own clothing removal and sweet torture of his. Just her gentle, but unabashed touch was enough to stir his arousal, and by the time she had climbed over him, kissing him passionately, another erection was building steadily, and she reached her own climax as he placed a firm thumb to her own center and stroked her.
Later, they moved to the bed, where he first parted her legs and brought his mouth to her swollen sex, sucking and kissing and stroking ever so gently and tantalizingly with his tongue; exploring anew her hot, wet core, marveling at how aroused she was. Thinking back to their wedding night, Georg recalled how he had expected to have to go to considerable effort to be sure she was aroused enough for him to penetrate her, but she had been modest the night before, when she'd declared she looked forward to joining as one with "alacrity." It had been no surprise to him to find that initiating sexual advances was as easy as long, deep kisses that turned to necking that finally progressed to eager fumbling to his carrying his new bride off to bed, ready to undress her and make love to her.
She was, in fact, in such a highly aroused, yet relaxed, state that she had not been too put out with pain that night or the following morning. She had accepted the warm bath he drew for her, but it hadn't taken her long to initiate more lovemaking herself.
Again, Georg did not find himself surprised, precisely; her initiation had been a long kiss, one she was well-versed in as a result of their betrothal, and while it was not precisely her begging him outright to make love to her, she had only been clothed in her robe, and she had sufficiently tousled his hair while he lay in the crook of her arm, talking with him of nothing in particular, merely the pillow talk of lovers.
What startled him is how comfortably Maria seemed to fit the role of lover; what with her struggles in reaching an acceptance of being wife, mother, and baroness, Georg admitted to himself freely that he had wondered how she would fall into that fourth category. In retrospect, it made sense. Maria was a soul who managed to reach to the heart of things very quickly; with increasing degrees of "functional" status, she became increasingly unsure of her footing. In her role as lover, she was new, yet "settled;" in her role as wife, she was finding her balance, and determining how to use that to function as a unit with him; in her role as a mother, she struggled most with the change in the nature of her authority over the children, and the fact that her first priority shifted from them to her husband; as a baroness, she felt utterly strung out, most days, out of her depth, and disconnected.
But Georg knew this was a balance of identity that he preferred in the woman meant to be his life partner. He had loved Elsa Schröder, and they had been great friends, connecting over a shared grief as that fine woman and baroness slowly pulled him out of his shell. But as wonderful as she was, her reputation ruled supreme: she was a baroness first, a wife second, a lover third, and a mother last. Having had the privilege to know her late husband for even a brief period of time, Georg had seen the power of being with the person meant for her: she had been, first and foremost, his lover and his wife. Her role as baroness paled in comparison, and it was perhaps that knowledge that had made it easier for both of them when she had so graciously allowed him to break off the engagement.
He had been horrible to her, terribly unfair. But she had taken the injustice like the sporting, gracious woman she was, and had fallen back on her place in Viennese high society to fill the void her husband had left. He did hope she would find happiness someday. Max sometimes joked that if Elsa did not find someone by the time she reached age fifty, they had agreed to marry, and he would use all her wealth to further his own great musical ideas.
Maria's hands had crept from his back to his sides, now, and she was dangerously close to his groin. "Maria…" Georg trailed, wondering how he'd been able to maintain such a serious train of thought with her doing such innocent, yet beastly things to his body.
"What?"
Oh, dear. Georg swallowed. He recognized that tone of voice. She was playing innocent and cheerful, with a hint of laughter bubbling in her throat.
"My darling, are you trying to make me expire right here?"
"Hmm," Maria said quietly, "maybe I've just been contemplating returning a few favors. You did show me how."
His breathing hitched, and with water streaming over his naked body, the flow from the showerhead blocked by his neck and shoulders, Maria knelt down in front of him and began to stroke his hardening member, grasping it in hand as the erection built under her ministrations.
"Maria," he moaned some minutes later, close to orgasm, but she only looked up at him with a pleased grin and squeezed a bit harder before rising and hooking one leg around his waist as he shifted around to lean on the wall and lift her onto him, riding them both toward their release.
Lazing in the tangle of their bed sheets some time later, Maria stifled a yawn and said, "We really should try to call the children again. Do you think we'll get through?"
Laying on his side and propped up by an elbow, Georg traced a finger from the arch of Maria's foot and up the length of her calf, murmuring, "We can try, but I doubt it. I gave it some thought, and it occurred to me that Max would be most likely to be on the telephone when the children are settled in doing their homework. It's the only truly ideal time to try calling them, though we might be more successful if we try after dinner."
"We just tend to be so busy after dinner," Maria pointed out, jerking her leg away from her husband with a ticklish squirm.
"Yes, so busy…." Georg scrambled to his hands and knees, tackling his wife and burying his face in the sweet scent of her freshly-washed skin and hair, laughing as she giggled and tried to fight off his wandering hands, which were attempting to find all her sensitive, ticklish spots.
"Georg, really, stop," she breathed, "or you might find yourself with a bloody nose!"
"Ah, so that's how bad it is!" he grinned, brushing his fingers ever so lightly down the length of her torso.
Stowe, Vermont
May 1945
"Is my dress suit done yet, Baroness von Trapp?"
Maria tried hard not to roll her eyes at Lucille Roberts, then remembered that she was speaking to the woman over the phone, and promptly gave in. "Please, ma'am, call me Maria."
"Oh, tosh, you have a title and you should be able to use it, even though it is German."
"Austrian," Maria muttered under her breath, jaw clenched. "If you come in today, we can make sure everything fits and send you home with both orders, Mrs. Roberts."
After making the necessary arrangements, Maria placed the phone in its cradle, wiped her brow, and let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Alexandra Higgins bustled in at just that moment, observed Maria's pinched expression, and nodded knowingly. "Lucille Roberts?"
"Yes," Maria breathed, "how could you tell?"
Alexandra smiled ruefully. "It is a familiar expression to me, the one you wear."
"I don't know how you have tolerated her for all of your working life, Alexandra," Maria commented. "She is finicky at best and such a horrible gossiper at worst."
Alexandra chuckled at this, nodding. "I know what you mean. It's not so much that she gossips that is offensive—it's that she is so terrible at it!" Pulling some bolts of muslin fabric from the storage bin, Alexandra said, "That reminds me. I didn't get the chance to tell you, since you've been in and out in the past few weeks."
"I do apologize for that," Maria said sincerely. "Herr Detweiler should be on the mend, now, and Georg may start taking him around the estate for exercise."
"That is good to hear," Alexandra said with a warm smile. "I should like to meet this Herr Detweiler. Your girls sounded so fond of him."
Maria smiled. "Oh, they are. All of the children. He is the uncle they do not have."
"Does he speak English?" Alexandra questioned. "I'm afraid I speak no German."
"He does, enough to get by in his travels, at least," said Maria. "I am inclined to think that his language skills are nearly on-par with my husband's, but Max does not necessarily give everything its due diligence as he truly should."
At the mention of Maria's captain, Alexandra was reminded of why she had initially started this conversation. "I just wanted to let you know that Lucille was asking some rather prying, private questions. I don't know if she picked them up from the church rumor mill, or if she is simply being her uncultured, rude self. She started with why you had left early that day, then moved on to why you haven't any children of your own. In the interest of quieting her, I told her that it was likely a choice you and your Captain made in light of the war. I hope that I did not overstep my bounds."
Maria sighed. "No, you did not overstep anything. But it seems I will never escape this field of nosy onlookers that think I should be with child! When we were engaged, everyone thought I was Georg's mistress, and that I had become pregnant by him. The war started and years passed, so that drivel has faded, but it seems to be the privilege of being both a mother to seven and of prime childbearing age that my body warrants constant inspection and myself impertinent questions!"
"It comes with the territory, unfortunately," Alexandra said soothingly. "It was bad for me for years, until I finally snapped at some poor old, unsuspecting dear that after several miscarriages, it was determined that I could not safely carry a child to full term, so it was out of the question. Never happened again."
"Oh, I am sorry, Alexandra," Maria said, feeling sad for her friend.
"It was a long time ago now," the elder woman shrugged. "It was my lot in life, and it gave me the opportunity to pursue many adventures with my husband that we might otherwise not have done. I don't regret anything."
"That is good," Maria agreed, "though no one should have to suffer in that way."
"True," Alexandra trailed.
The two women worked in silence for a while, stocking inventory and adjusting price tags for the new bolts of fabric ready to go out for the latest sale and seasonal design of the storefront. Though it was only early May, now, Alexandra Higgins was known throughout the town for her love of the summer months, and given half the opportunity to begin the season early, she would.
With a glance at her watch, Alexandra reached over and turned on the wireless radio that sat on a high shelf so that they could listen to their daily news broadcasts while they worked. News of the war was, of course, their primary concern, but they also liked to listen to any rebroadcasted fireside chats by the president.
"I keep forgetting that he died," Alexandra said quietly, after tuning the various radio frequencies.
Maria looked up from the clipboard she was marking figures down on, and frowned. "Oh, so do I. We keep expecting to hear his voice on the wireless at home after dinner, only to remember that he died weeks ago, and the last broadcast he gave was nearly a year ago."
"In just over a week, it will have been a month," Alexandra sighed. "Such a shame. He was a great leader, and he reminded me so much of my late husband, Dave. It was more comfort than I can ever express to hear his calming voice talking to us through the radio. It made a hard time bearable, and then when the war broke out… well, you remember."
"Yes," Maria said. "My youngest girls liked him especially. They were devastated at the announcement of his death. We hadn't turned on the wireless that morning, but it was all over the papers, and they saw the stands on their way to school."
Alexandra shook her head sadly, turning off the wireless. "Such a great loss."
The two women did not stop their work in the back room until Maria heard the jangle of the door bell as someone entered the shop. "Probably Mrs. Roberts," Maria said, sticking the pencil she wrote with behind her right ear and squaring her shoulders—for battle, she said, which made Alexandra laugh.
"Maria, darling!" Lucille shrieked, rushing toward Maria to give her a great hug. "How are you?"
"Just fine, Mrs. Roberts," Maria said patiently. "If you would just follow me to the changing room, we can see how the final alterations measure up and send you on your way!"
"Oh, good," Lucille tittered, "My son Jason will be on leave soon, and we have decided to meet him in Annapolis!"
Guessing Army, but not quite sure, Maria asked conversationally as she steered the woman to the dressing room, "What branch does your son serve in, ma'am?"
"Navy, coincidentally, just like your Captain! I have been saying for ages that they should meet! Perhaps your Georg could give my boy some useful military secrets!"
Maria cringed inwardly, for Mrs. Roberts had pronounced her husband's name as "George." The woman was practically simpering now, and winked with enormous effort; biting back a sharp reply, Maria calmly explained, "My husband served in the Austro-Hungarian Navy during the Great War, not the Navy of the Third Reich."
"But surely he must know something!" Lucille cried, but Maria firmly shook her head and ignored the woman. If Jason Roberts was anything like his mother, she should shudder to introduce him to Georg, let alone the rest of the family. And Maria had regaled them all with too many unflattering stories of the woman for it to be strictly appropriate in polite company. As far as Maria was concerned, she would fit the women for her outfits, collect payment, see her off, and breathe a huge sigh of relief until the point in time that Lucille Roberts decided a new frock of some sort would be appropriate—whether it was or not.
"I do sometimes wish that she was not my most reliable patron," Alexandra sighed, standing with Maria as they watched Lucille carefully make her way to her vehicle, two large boxes in her arms which Maria had neatly tied securing ribbons around. "I'm going to run out of ribbon and then she will be most displeased at the notion of having her things wrapped in lowly string!"
Maria laughed, nodding. "With any luck, we will be able to place a large order for necessities very soon!"
"And not have half of it rejected out of turn by the suppliers, you mean," Alexandra amended.
Swallowing, Maria nodded. Glancing at her wristwatch, Maria gave a start. "Oh, dear, I must leave now! I have an appointment with Tony at the barber shop at half past!"
"You found your wedding photos, then?" Alexandra grinned. "Let me see! I will keep them while you freshen up."
Pulling the photographs from a deep pocket in her skirts, Maria handed them to her employer. "I was devastated to have to cut my hair this short when I entered the convent, but it was so terribly convenient in the years that followed."
Alexandra flipped through the photographs while Maria went to hang her apron and brush out her long hair. One of the pretty young woman dressed in a beautiful blue, flowered chiffon dress, sitting demurely in what looked like a garden terrace with a lake and mountains in the background, made her breath catch in her throat. It was like a dream. And the short coif—it did suit Maria well. Today, she had her hair up in an elaborate braided crown befitting of a queen of lore, but usually she pulled it up into a neat chignon or tied half of it back, letting the heavy locks cascade behind her.
And the one photograph of Maria in her wedding gown—Alexandra thought her heart may have stopped. The dress was exquisite, regal, simple, absolutely gorgeous, and it did everything to flatter Maria's enviable figure. Set off by a wreath of myrtle and a simple, flowing veil, Maria looked every bit the baroness her marriage had made her. The gown was not only appropriate for the woman donning it, but for the season as well, with its long sleeves reaching to a point over her hands and a high, stiff neckline. Surely Maria must have felt so incredibly beautiful on that day!
"Ah," Maria sighed, coming up behind Alexandra, her hair now unbound. "I do wonder what became of that gorgeous gown."
"I suppose you couldn't have saved it," Alexandra acknowledged.
"Georg wanted to have it sent to the children's grandparents in England, but I don't think that ever happened. They would have passed it on to us while we were there."
Casting a surprised glance Maria's way, Alexandra asked, "You were in England?"
"For a time. Georg decided it would be better to utilize what military contacts than to risk the unknown."
When she saw that Alexandra was still confused by this, Maria explained, "Georg's late wife was English. The granddaughter of the famous Robert Whitehead, who invented the torpedo. She comes from a family of seafarers, just as Georg does."
"How ever did they meet?"
"Georg met her when he docked in Italy while still in the naval academy. Her grandfather had been welcomed by the emperor to open a factory in Fiume after the British government rejected the invention. Her family was living there at the time."
"I hope I'm not prying… it can't be easy."
Gathering her pocketbook and jacket, Maria took back the photographs, shaking her head. "On the contrary. I wish I could have known her. The children speak of her fondly, and Georg… he still finds it difficult to speak of her, but that he loved her deeply is so clear to me. He sometimes says that loving her makes him love me even harder. I am much indebted to her!" She laughed lightly at this, but said somewhat sadly, "I think it's what keeps him from further pursuing naval opportunities. I don't know what place he really has here in America, but surely his expertise and geographical knowledge must be highly sought after."
"You would let him go?"
Walking with Alexandra down the steps, Maria said, "I would miss him terribly, but I have seen the longing as plain as day. It is as much a part of him as I am and the children are. I couldn't possibly refuse."
"Even if you were to become pregnant?"
Maria stopped, then, and looked at the older woman. "Yes. Even then. Perhaps I am selfishly comforted by the thought that he would not stand for being away for long stretches should that occur. But I can no sooner hold him back with a clear conscience than he can me. I love him too much for that."