A/N: I wanted to give you a quick update before I go on a long weekend break, so this chapter is slightly shorter than I intended! Thanks so much for all your kind words, so glad to know you're all still enjoying the story!
Maria felt like her entire body was made of lead as she dragged her shaking frame up the steps towards the house, the large exterior of the building suddenly appearing intimidating and vulgar in the way it loomed over them, as though it held the secret to whatever horror she was about to discover. A worry stricken Margaret had her eyes fixed to the house in her determination to get Maria to a secure location, clutching at the crook of her elbow with a fragile hand - though it wasn't clear who was supporting who as they leaned on each other, edging their way into the hallway.
Maria wanted to chance a glance over her shoulder to see how the children were reacting to the sudden and strange alteration in circumstances, but she kept her head rooted firmly forward, unable to bear the innocent curiosity she might find in their eyes as they watched their mother and grandmother retreat.
As though in slow motion, her heart in her mouth, Maria finally found herself in the study as Margaret closed the door hurriedly and lowered her onto the sofa - the very same sofa on which she'd lain with Georg after their passionate encounter all those months ago. The vivid memory of skin on skin, of anger and fire and passion, kickstarted her heart again - only this time it didn't thunder with anticipation but with unrelenting panic.
Georg. He was dead. She was sure of it. He'd orphaned seven children and robbed an unborn baby of a father, leaving a pregnant wife to spiral into unimaginable despair. Is this what he'd felt in the moments before the doctors had informed him of Agathe's passing all those years ago? She wondered. Had he too felt as though he were about to be consumed by an abyss of unbearable grief? He'd known more than anyone what loss could do to a person and yet he'd put himself at risk anyway, placing his family in the firing line of the kind of loss that had almost ruined him.
As quickly as the panic had begun to unfurl in her stomach, a rage like no other suddenly engulfed her previous turmoil, consuming her whole and enveloping her like a suffocating smog. She wanted to pummel her fists against Georg's chest, push and pull at him and scream until he understood the grief he'd caused her. But of course she'd never be able to touch him again - she'd never be able to shout at him, or grab him, or kiss him, or hold him, or see the many expressions his handsome face was capable of - the stoic authoritarian, the playful rogue, the doting father, she'd never-
"I couldn't risk telling you in front of the children," Margaret's softened voice jolted Maria back into the room and her head jerked up to observe the elderly woman where she sat, slumped in an armchair beside the desk. She looked even older than her years, her face pale and waxy, and her eyes pierced Maria's with an unspoken anguish as she opened her mouth to speak. But Maria suddenly found her voice and interrupted before the words could leave the Baroness' lips.
"How did it happen..." she whispered, her eyes downcast and her jaw set rigidly in an effort to remain strong.
Margaret sighed and the silence that followed seemed to stretch on for an age before she finally said on a murmur, "an explosion.. of some kind. A shell..? I'm not sure. But I got the phone call half an hour ago. They're gone."
And there it was. That all-consuming, black despair that began to cloak Maria like a disease. It seeped into her very bones and left her limbs feeling heavy, her lungs suddenly robbed of the air she needed in her desperation to survive, her heart feeling as though it had been ripped from her rib cage and hurtled against a brick wall. How would she ever survive? She'd not even had the luxury of a year with her love before he'd been cruelly taken from her. Did God have no mercy? Their family had surely suffered enough!
"I'm not sure what to do.." Margaret whispered into the air thick with depression around them, her brow creased with worry - though she remained eerily numb, devoid of emotion. Maria realised with shame that she'd entirely overlooked the fact that the elderly woman had lost a husband too. Was this unsettling calmness Margaret's way of handling her own grief?
"Oh Margaret, I'm so sorry," Maria sobbed for the both of them, clutching at her heart where it ached in her chest. She found she wanted to say a million things at once, only to discover that no words would do the pain any justice. Instead, speech entirely evaded her and wracking tears of hopelessness took their place.
"Yes well.." Margaret replied a little stiffly, though Maria missed the flash of puzzlement in the elderly woman's eyes, "I never really met them.. it's just-"
"What?" Maria's head jerked up, her tear-stained face suddenly contorted in confusion.
"Lucy and Thomas' parents," the baroness replied matter of factly, "I never really met them. Though I don't know how on earth I'm going to break the news to the little darlings. Orphaned at such a young age.. it really is awfully tragic. It was a shell or bomb of some sort in the Blitz. I don't know what I'm going to do with-"
But the baroness was unable to finish her monologue for she was immediately cut short by a sudden and heart wrenching sound, a strangled cry of despair and relief that suddenly burst from Maria's lungs as the girl crumpled to the floor like fragile tissue paper before her.
"Maria!" Margaret was by her side in a flash, hauling the young woman into a safe position on the sofa while she gasped in lungfuls of air, tears streaming down her face in her relief.
"What on earth!" Margaret cried in concern, "Maria, what's the matter? Is it the baby?!"
"I thought.." Maria heaved through her sobs, clutching at the baroness in her desperation, "I thought..." but she couldn't possibly verbalise what she'd thought, for the realisation that her assumptions had been wrong left her feeling such overwhelming relief that it was almost too much to bear. The elation was short lived however, for it was met moments later with an emotion far more painful: guilt. Guilt that she could feel such relief in the knowledge that her husband was safe, while two little children had been left orphaned. She felt sick with dread, grieving on behalf of the two little evacuees who had unknowingly found a home in the deepest recesses of her heart. How they would suffer the loss of their parents, just as she had when she'd lost her own family, just as the Von Trapp brood had when they'd lost their mother. Lucy and Thomas had no home, no other family - a fact she'd learned after the two children had asked Max what an uncle was. The poor darlings.
"Maria?" Margaret pressed, her voice filled with worry, "are you alright?"
"I...," Maria took a deep breath, "I thought you were talking about Robert and Georg.."
"Good heaven's no!" Margaret cried, a hand flying to her forehead, "my God, I don't know what I'd do if my Robert..." she trailed off, "no darling, they're safe and well as far as I know. Now just take a minute to calm down."
Despite her anguish for the children, Maria allowed herself a few seconds of elation as she regained her composure. Georg was safe and well. He was alive. Thank God in heaven.
Long minutes passed in tense silence before she was finally able to muster the strength to speak again.
"I'll tell the children," she whispered, staring into the empty fireplace across the room, her expression hollow and vacant, "I'll send Georg a telegram and ask that he come home. Thomas will need him. Lucy too."
The baroness nodded wordlessly, taking hold of Maria's white-knuckled hand.
"They have no family," Margaret noted with regret, her eyes glazing with compassionate tears, "so young.."
"They have a home herethough," was Maria's resolute reply, "surely-"
"Maria.." Margaret sighed, shaking her head in defeat, "we.. Robert and I.. we can't raise two little children. We're getting old, frail. If we were to pass while they were still young.. what then? And England is such a volatile place, God only knows for how much longer. I fear we wouldn't be able to give them what they need."
"But you've taken them in for all this time," Maria implored, turning to face the baroness in her determination, her eyes riddled with turmoil, "surely you know you're capable-"
"We took them in temporarily in light of the government's evacuation scheme and because we wanted to do out part in helping to protect London's children from these unspeakable horrors," Margaret explained, "but it was only ever meant to be temporary, Maria. Whether it was going to be for a few months or a few years, I wasn't sure. But darling, I'm 75 and Robert.. he's nearly 80. We aren't as young as we used to be. We can't raise two children... We're unlikely to even be here in a few years.."
The meaning of Margaret's words were not lost on Maria and it made her heart suddenly ache. Realising the truth behind the regretful words, her eyes fell to the fireplace again in helplessness. When she'd been a lonely orphan herself, she'd wanted nothing more than for someone to fight for her, to fight for her well-being, to fight against her sadness and her fear, to care enough just to keep her safe. What did these two little children have left? Apart from a broken homeland and each other?
She knew the answer to her own question before she'd even finished asking it. Little Lucy and Thomas had a family in the Von Trapps.
"We'll take them with us.." Maria murmured determinedly, as if to no one in particular, her voice so quiet that the baroness had to strain towards the girl to make sure she'd heard her right.
"We'll take them with us. To America."
Two days had passed since Maria had heard the awful news and she'd sent word to Georg via telegram mere hours afterward. She had tried to call him as well, but to no avail and she had yet to hear back from him.
By the fourth day, she was beginning to lose her patience. Lucy and Thomas were still oblivious to their loss - since Maria wanted to wait until Georg was present to break the news. But she didn't know how much longer she could bear to see the children's sweet little faces while carrying such a burden.
The whole brood were beginning to notice that Maria was troubled, that she was somewhat subdued - and they'd begun asking worrisome questions about the baby, concerned that something might be wrong. When she and Georg had shared the news that they were expecting a baby, the children had been overjoyed with excitement at the thought of a new sibling - particularly Thomas, who'd been positively triumphant that he would no longer be the youngest. Maria hadn't had the heart to tell him however, that he most likely wouldn't know the baby for very long at all before they left for America.
Now, everything was different. If Maria had anything to say about it, Lucy and Thomas would be coming with them. But with Georg apparently too busy at the base to acknowledge the family's need for him, Maria was at a loss for what to do next.
By the fifth day, she'd decided enough was enough and she'd worked herself up into a silent rage that simply couldn't be extinguished. Persuading Margaret to take the children for a stroll about the grounds after lunch, Maria managed to waddle her way to the drawing room with determined conviction, finding exactly what - or rather who - she was looking for.
Just as she'd suspected, Max was perched lazily on a chair beside the window, watching the children playing in the grounds while he was doing exactly what he did best: nursing a rather large glass of wine.
"Ah, hello Maria dear.." Max greeted her somewhat wearily as she staggered into the room, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion, "I must say I'm overjoyed that you never obtained the key to the wine cellar by the way, I'm not sure what I would've-"
"This is what's going to happen," Maria stated matter of factly, her nostrils flaring and her enormous stomach heaving so aggressively that Max couldn't help but liken her suddenly to a stampeding rhinoceros.
He gulped. This could only mean bad news.
"You're going to drive me to the base in Hampshire," she commanded sharply, holding her head high despite her rather undignified size, "I'm too.. uh..big.. to drive myself."
She could've sworn she heard a derisive snort from the impresario then, but her eyes flashed with such fury that he fell immediately silent and took a rather large gulp of his wine.
"You're going to drive me there," she continued determinedly, "and then you're going to drive us both back."
"By us.. I assume you mean you and Georg?" Max enquired incredulously as she nodded the affirmative.
"And why on earth would I do that?" he implored, rolling his eyes lazily, "apart from the fact that you'll lock the wine cellar so fast I'll forget what merlot even looks like.." he hadn't forgotten her last heartless threat when she'd wanted something from him.
Maria waddled closer and attempted to encircle him like a prowling panther once again, but the intimidating effect was lost to her swollen stomach - making her appear more like a bumbling hippo than an assured commander. Max had to stifle a laugh so as not to hurt the girl's feelings - feelings that were no doubt addled by raging hormones and unrelenting discomfort in that gigantic belly of hers. She looked utterly ridiculous, bless her.
"I don't have time to waste filling you in on the finer details Max," Maria drawled with an authority she didn't quite feel, attempting to imitate the way in which she'd seen her husband exert his command effortlessly over those around him, "it's incredibly important and I demand that you drive me immediately."
"And if I don't?" Max smirked, rather enjoying her futile attempts to appear menacing. The contrast between her vulnerability with her heavy pregnancy, and her failed intimidation tactics were almost endearing - he was rather curious to see what she had up her sleeve next, the tempestuous little Fraulein they all knew so well.
"What are you going to do if I refuse?" He teased wickedly, "sit on me?"
He'd expected to lather her up into an amusing rage for sheer entertainment but, much to dismay, her bottom lip began to tremble and the resolute expression on her face began to crumble as tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh Christ," Max cursed, as he leapt to his feet, "Maria I'm so sorry, I was only teasing," he insisted, attempting to ease her into a chair without getting her wedged there, "you're.. you're positively glowing!"
"Oh shut up Max, I'm huge!" She wailed, "I can't even tie my own shoelaces!"
"Come now," Max swallowed hard, entirely out of his depth, "you'll shrink right back down after the baby comes-"
"I'm an absolute whale!" She cried, "I can't even fit behind a steering wheel for heaven's sake! I need to see Georg, it's so terribly important but I'm simply too fat to-"
"Alright!" The impresario relented in desperation, tugging at his moustache in his agitation and hovering around her like a pestering fly, "alright, God help me, I'll drive you!"
"You will?" Maria's glistening eyes shone with gratitude.
He sighed in defeat and nodded regretfully, knowing all too well that he was playing with fire. Mentally he kicked himself for being so soft at heart - he would undoubtedly have to endure a storm of fury from his friend for bringing his heavily pregnant wife to a naval base, of all places! It was entirely ludicrous. But Max Detweiller had discovered long ago that he'd do anything to avoid the emotional breakdown of a tormented woman - let alone a heavily pregnant one!
Hurrying from the room like a loyal dog to retrieve his coat, hat and the keys to the remaining car, Max entirely missed the mischievous smirk of triumph that had suddenly broken across the tempestuous little Fraulein's face.
A/N: poor Max, he's turning into a bit of a puppet when it comes to Maria! Georg doesn't know what's about to hit him! I hope you all enjoyed it - I felt I rushed this chapter somewhat so I could give you a quick update. I wrote it in a few hours so I hope I've still done it justice. Next update soon