A/N: I'm so, so sorry for this. This turned out much darker than I intended for it to be.
Just so you know, I will make this right somehow. I promise. I swear.
Thank you for the continuous interest in this story. I do enjoy writing it a lot and it's always nice to see that other people enjoy reading it!
(As always, any mistakes I might find throughout the week will be corrected.) This chapter has been revised and updated on 29th of June. Significant changes have been made to the last part of the chapter.
Chapter 4: She Runs
Mondsee, December 1928
He caught sight of her through the glass doors that led to the third ballroom, a mob of sandy blonde hair moving in the direction of the patio doors. She appeared in no particular hurry as she intermittently slowed her pace, her eyes drawn to the arms and feet moving in fluid synchronicity across the dance floor. Enchanted as much by the music as the dancers it was only a matter of time before she surrendered her full attention to the spectacle and stopped to watch.
He studied her then, took the time to make sure that it really was her and that he wasn't just projecting a familiar face onto an unfamiliar one; the way a stranger's smile or frown might be reminiscent of another.
It was the familiar chiffon blue that ultimately solidified his suspicions, had caught his attention when she first appeared in his periphery. Though Georg didn't care much for fashion, had hardly the patience to tell the difference between a champagne dress and an afternoon tea dress, he did remember that dress. She had worn it but once in his presence, had made it herself from the material he had bought for her, and it had been he who had sent all the dresses (including that one) to the Abbey about three months after she'd left. Despite the dress, she looked different now, her hair had grown - just shy of touching her shoulders, and her face appeared more mature, a hint of makeup accentuating subtle changes. Such delicate differences but big enough to instill momentary doubt. He wasn't wrong though; it was Fräulein Maria. His surprise was great, the sudden anxiety genuine.
She had stopped swaying to the music, her eyes transfixed on something on the other side of the ballroom. One of her hands flew to her mouth and he knew it could only mean one thing. He approached her then, before his mind could trick his feet into moving into the opposite direction. He reached out, intend on making his presence known, but then thought the better of it, stood back and said:
"I'm sure they would be delighted to see you."
She physically stiffened, her back straight and rigid as realization dawned, and she whirled around.
"C-captain."
"Fräulein Maria." He inclined his head, not quite sure what had possessed him to approach her like that.
"It's been a long time."
"Y-yes," she stuttered, her face flushing a shade deeper. He noted how the crimson spread down her neck and then disappeared beneath the blue fabric.
"You look well."
"I-I," she scrabbled for an answer, his eyes probably too intently upon hers as she racked her brain. And he too was trying to make sense of the absurdity of it all. After almost precisely two years here they were and oh, the irony of the situation didn't escape his notice. The very attire he wore, the gloves and the medals on his suit, it was as though not a moment had past, they were back where they'd left off two years ago.
"I've been well," she confirmed, having gathered her momentum. "And you?"
"Splendid," he said.
"Only slightly surprised to see you here, I didn't realize the Abbey allowed for its novices to attend parties such as these."
"I'm with the charity," she said, as though that explained it.
"The Meldemannstraße dormitory?"
"Yes! You've heard of it!"
"Of course, it's why we're all here tonight, isn't it?"
A forced smile crept upward, and she briefly shifted her eyes away, the color spreading across her cheeks once more, while his fascination remained undeterred.
"Yes well, you'd actually be surprised how very few people know why we are all here tonight."
He smirked, couldn't quite help himself. He understood all too well the implications behind those words, and couldn't help but share her disdain. Elsa loved these sorts of parties, held a special affinity for all things Milie, while Georg failed to understand the appeal, not as enamored with high-society as he used to be.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you," she said, too politely.
"They've grown so much," she nodded in the direction of the dance floor. Friedrich and Louisa had stopped dancing just then and appeared to be in the midst of a heated argument; Friedrich talking animatedly and pointing at his shoes while Louisa stood with her arms crossed, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"In body yes, in mind, not so much," he joked while they watched Friedrich stomp off and away from the dance floor, leaving Louisa looking quite pleased with herself.
Maria bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, the scene an all too familiar sight.
"I see you kept the dress," the Captain said, abruptly changing the subject.
"Oh!" she looked. The dress. Made of the material he had bought for her, the inappropriateness not lost on her.
"I kept a few, but donated most of them to the poor."
"The Abbey didn't confiscate them?"
"No," she said, twisting her thumb around in her hand.
"Odd," he remarked.
"I left the convent shortly after my return."
He didn't answer, his eyes on Louisa, she had found herself a new dance partner. A young tall man with short auburn hair kissed her hand and led her to the dance floor. Elsa would be pleased; he knew the boy well, the son of the infamous Baron Vonhof. Georg made a mental note to take the boy aside later to lecture him on the inherent impropriety of dancing with a child half his age.
"You left the convent," he said, more to himself, his eyes still fixed on Louisa and the young man. They twirled around the dance floor, disappearing in a flurry of glittering dresses and finely pressed suits.
"I couldn't stay."
"Yet, you missed your life at the abbey."
She didn't answer.
"You could have said good bye," he looked at her then. And though he had always known, somehow, he had never before allowed himself to believe it. He had played the part of the fool remarkably well. To have believed that she had wanted to dedicate her life to her faith; that her leaving had had everything to do with God and nothing with him. It had been such a small but important lie at the time.
"Captain, I —"
"It broke them."
"I never meant—"
"Why did you leave if not to follow in your Sister's footsteps?"
"I wanted to come back," her voice small, barely above a whisper. "But when I read the wedding announcement in the papers I knew that I shouldn't and-"
"Georg, darling! There you are!"
Impeccable timing.
"Elsa," he said, his voice hoarse. He tucked at the fabric around his neck, able to release the tension as he swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"You remember Fräulein Maria?"
The look of surprise that materialized on Elsa's face was as artificial as the lily flower in her hair. She had undoubtedly seen them talk; probably even overheard the last bits of their conversation before she'd decided to interrupt.
"But of course, it is Fräulein Maria! I hardly recognized you, dear. Hasn't she changed, Georg?"
He nodded, noting again how her hair was now long enough for her to have pinned it back to one side. His eyes fell on the pin, grabbling for his attention. A tiny ornament sticking from her hair, a small white flower attached to the steel. Edelweiss. She caught his stare.
"It's good to see you, Baroness. I hear you are married now."
Elsa pulled him closer, squeezed his arm and then twined her fingers through his. He had half the mind not to shake her from his side.
"A little over a year now."
"Then my congratulations are long overdue."
"But appreciated all the same," she said and smiled.
"Have you spoken to the children yet? I'm sure they would be so happy to see you again."
Maria's eyes darted to the dance floor; the Baroness not missing a beat followed her line of sight.
"Oh! There she is! Louisa, darling!"
Startled by the sudden interruption, Louisa accidently stepped on the foot of the young man she was dancing with. Apologizing profusely, it took a few more moments for her to avert her attention to the Baroness, but when she did her eyes found Maria's instead.
The color drained from her face, a whirlwind of silent emotion passing between the two women as both stood frozen, unable to speak.
"Louisa? Come darling, say hello to your old governess."
She moved, slowly, calculated steps on slippery marble.
"What is she doing her?" the question directed at her father.
"Don't be rude, child," Elsa chastised. "You must be happy to see each other again after such a long time."
"Happy?" she stated, her voice dripping with contempt.
Maria gave a weak smile, the scorned girl who had once looked at her with such adoration and love now unable to stand the sight of her. And despite having been prepared for this, having known that if ever she saw one of the children again their reaction might be less than pleasant, the rapid passion with which Louisa had spoken was something she could not have prepared herself for. Not even if she'd tried. It hurt. More than she could tell.
"How can she—" she turned to Maria, "you be here?!"
"Watch your tone," the Captain warned.
She crossed her arms and gave her father a pointed look.
"Fräulein Maria is here as a representative of the Meldemannstraße charity," the Captain said.
"Charity?" Elsa looked as confused as the other guests at the mention of a charity.
"She merely wishes to say hello," he continued, looking at Louisa sternly, warning her as much with his eyes as his tone to not test his temper any further.
Maria, having plucked up her courage, interrupted.
"That is very kind of you, Captain, but there's no need. I can see that my presence here is causing you some discomfort. It was very nice to see you again, Louisa. Now if you'll excuse me," she nodded to each of them, then turned around and left. Her hands instinctively went to her throat as she quickly made her way across the dance floor, bumping into a few guest, ignoring the Captain's haunting voice calling after her.
Louisa turned to her father, disappointment shimmering in her eyes, while her voiced dripped with sarcasm when she said:
"What did you expect, father? She runs. That's what she does best."