A/N: After receiving some lovely comments on the first chapter, I felt quite inspired to write out this next one. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, and followed this story. The journey is just beginning.
3 months and 12 days later…
Georg sat in his study with his laptop open, going over the expense reports that had been sent to him that morning. He found that the report put him in a rather good mood. The report showed that his company was bringing in significantly more money than it was spending. Only six months ago, his small shipping company had been losing money rapidly.
Georg had found that his clients had begun to up and leave him for a new shipping company run by a Hans Zeller, a man Georg had met briefly before at social gatherings and prayed he would never have to meet again. Zeller offered ridiculously low prices for exporting goods, prices Georg was unable to fathom that he would be able to make an income off of.
After weeks of deliberation with his finance and marketing departments, they were able to adjust their prices to fit better competitively. While they were no where as low as Zeller's company, it worked. Georg prided himself on being able to give customers a service that kept them coming back, a quality which Zeller did not seem to possess. Georg treated each client with as much charm and kindness as he could muster to ensure their loyalty to him.
Georg smiled at the numbers in front of him. Things were finally falling into place, at least in his work life. His smile fell as his thoughts led him astray from his work life; his personal life was another matter entirely.
The past three months of his life had been challenging, ever since the night of the incident at the nightclub. It began with him waking with a splitting headache to Elsa shoving some Aspirin in his face and lecturing him at his bedside about going off the radar. She made it very clear that she was extremely worried about him and that while he was staying with her in Vienna, that kind of behaviour was not to be tolerated.
To say that it put a bit of a wedge between he and Elsa would be an understatement. She acted icy towards him for several days afterwards. When he returned to his home in Aigen a week later, she had barely spoken more than a few words to him, not that he really minded. He was overcome with guilt for what he had done that night and had put all his energy into forgetting it.
Max, oddly enough, was his saving grace. He didn't mention a word about that night to Georg and went on as his normal, charming sponge self. While he noticed the tension between Georg and Elsa, he acted as a mediator. He was the buffer between them. He would joke and take them on outings and keep the conversation going, even if he was just talking to himself.
Over the weeks, Georg and Elsa had seemed to find a silent reconciliation. Elsa called him one night after he had returned to Aigen and gone was the cold air in her voice. She quickly became the warm and jovial woman he had come to enjoy. With some time, she had put the entire incident behind her. Georg only wished that he could say the same.
After the first week, Georg had felt he had made great progress in the promises he made to himself. Georg was invested in his work and completely in control of himself. He had barely even thought of the incident since that night. He was incredibly proud of himself.
Until the dreams began to plague his every sleeping moment.
A couple nights after he had returned to his home and seven children – who often steered clear of him in the rare times he came home – the dreams started. Typically, if Georg ever had any sort of lust-filled dream, it was Agathe who starred in them. It was the only time he really felt at peace, when he could feel her in his arms once again. He felt complete bliss in those dreams, only to have his world crash down around him all over again when he would wake, and she was not there.
These dreams were not of his Agathe.
These were vivid dreams, explicitly real feeling dreams that woke him with a start and left him drenched in sweat and unbearably aroused. Every night when he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he would always find her.
She – he refused to use her name – would always find her way into his subconscious, and usually, into his bed in these dreams. It would start off innocently enough. In one dream, he was simply just talking to her about Paris while they sat under the stars and in the next minute, she was on her back in the grass while he fumbled to get her pants undone.
It always ended the same though; each time she would vanish before his eyes just before he was about to climax, and that's when he would wake.
The dreams were haunting and unnerving. Georg felt a level of anxiety rise within him after he woke up from these dreams, along with a striking but familiar feeling of heaviness in his chest. After each dream had ended and Georg was sat up in bed trying to calm his erratic heartbeat, the guilt would settle in all over again. The memories of that night would wash over him anew. Her lips, her curves, her soft little moans. He could feel, taste, see, smell, and hear it all over again. He despised himself for it.
Not only did he feel guilty for dreaming of this woman while he desperately trying to make things right with Elsa, he felt as if it were a betrayal to Agathe. The way he desired this woman in his dreams – because in broad daylight Georg refused to think about it – was a level of wanting and needing that he hadn't felt since Agathe had been alive and well in his arms. He didn't even feel that kind of desire with Elsa, which was just another reason that he felt guilty.
While the sex with Elsa was satisfying, it was more of a casual thing. The two had met through Max; Georg being his oldest friend, and Elsa being a friend of his ex wife, who surprisingly took Max's side in the divorce. Georg had been a widower for three years, Elsa a widow of seven years. The two hit it off right away and she had seemed to bring a spark back into his eyes. She made him laugh and it felt easy to be around her. The conversations did not often run dry and they had fun together. Their relationship stood on a platonic level for about a month, until one night when Georg had visited her flat one night by himself and the two had drank a little too much scotch.
They fell into bed together as, Georg reflected, it was inevitable. It was easy with Elsa at first. She didn't want a label anymore than he did. They were just good friends who, on the occasion where they both needed a release, would sleep together. It wasn't ever out of pure passion or desire, it was more often just a way for them both to let off steam.
Georg had noticed Elsa change within the last several months. While an unspoken agreement had settled that they were seeing each other exclusively, Georg had never taken the next step to make their relationship official. He didn't feel like he needed to. He was comfortable with where they were. But gradually, Elsa started to drop hints that she had wanted things to be more serious between them. She would usually use Max to try and urge Georg to take things further, but Georg felt like it was wrong.
It felt almost as if he were replacing Agathe if he committed himself into a real relationship with Elsa, and Agathe just couldn't simply be replaced.
He was still grieving, after all. Five years later, his heart still ached when he would wake up in the morning and she wasn't there. His lungs fell short of breath when he would look upon his children and see her in each of their faces.
Ah yes, his other shortcoming in his personal life – his children.
While he knew it was wrong, Georg had closed himself off to his children. He loved them, he really did, but he just couldn't bring himself to be in a room with them for too long without feeling a deep pain in his chest at the memories of Agathe that were embedded in each of the children. He saw her in Liesl's smile, in Friedrich's eyes, in Louisa's hair, in Kurt's flamboyant attitude, in Brigitta's laugh, in Marta's soft-spoken voice, in Gretl's love to be in the spotlight. They each possessed traits that reminded him so vividly of their mother that it physically hurt him.
After Agathe had passed, Georg closed himself off from everyone and everything. He left the country, choosing to stay at the family summer home in Rome for just over six months. Mrs. Schmidt, his housekeeper, bless her heart, had assured him that she and her husband would watch over the children while he was away. He had hoped that with some time and distance, his heart would heal, and he would be able to be a better father to the seven people who needed him the most. He found that his plan did not have its desired affect.
He came home more broken than he had left. He couldn't look at any of his children without feeling enraged at the world for taking his love away from him. He knew they were grieving too, he knew that they needed him, but he couldn't bring himself to be the father they deserved. He began to rely on governesses to take care of them, claiming he was needed in Vienna frequently due to his workload increasing. While governesses seemed a rather nineteenth century way of doing things – as Max often liked to point out – he had felt more secure in their abilities to educate his children properly as opposed to nannies.
The governesses never seemed to last. It seemed that his children had become quite unruly in the time of their grieving. They played tricks and pulled pranks on the governesses until they would quit without any notice, dragging Georg back to Aigen to find someone else.
As he sat at his desk, he tried to recall how many governesses they had chased away by now. Eleven, he thought bitterly. They had managed to scare off eleven governesses. The last one had barely lasted a few hours. Georg had left the children with the governess and made off for Vienna, only to be called home by a frantic Mrs. Schmidt that same night.
It had taken him nearly a week to find a replacement, or rather it took Mrs. Schmidt a week. Georg put out an ad online and let Mrs. Schmidt vet the people who applied. He had little patience and little time to interview the people applying to look after his children. At least, that's what he told himself. He had been part of the interview process in the beginning, but he quickly grew tired of the looks of pity when they found out his wife had died, or the looks of disgust when he mentioned he wouldn't be around much.
Georg sighed as he leaned back in his chair. Between Elsa, his children, and his unnerving dreams destroying his psyche, Georg felt exhausted. His only solace was burying himself in his work.
He took his reading glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He had to have been sitting there for a good few hours. He stretched out his back in his seat and heard an unsettling cracking. You're getting old, he thought to himself bitterly. Before he could contemplate his aging bones further, he heard a knock on the door of his study.
"Come in," he called. His butler – and Max also constantly criticized Georg for having a butler in this day and age – Franz poked his head through the door.
"The new governess has arrived, sir. She's waiting in the foyer," the man told him. Georg nodded and stood.
"Thank you, Franz," he replied, dismissing him. The butler nodded curtly before exiting the room. Georg took his dark grey suit jacket from where it hung off the back of his chair and slipped it on. He straightened his tie around his neck and patted the knot gently as he made his way out of his study, and down a corridor that led to the foyer.
His eyes searched the foyer for the governess. He never knew what to expect. He had employed governesses of all different ages and backgrounds. He stopped short when he saw a figure at the far end of the foyer.
A young woman dressed in a pair of paint stained jeans and a baggy t shirt stood with her back to him, her hand placed on the doorknob that led to the music room, a room in which everyone living under his roof had strict instructions to never enter. He was shocked, he had never seen a governess snoop around his house so quickly after their arrival. She won't last the day if she keeps this up, Georg thought to himself.
"Don't," his voice was loud and firm as it echoed through the foyer. He watched the intruder tense, her dainty hand slipping off the doorknob. He took a few steps closer, his shoes clicking against the floor with every step. "There are certain rooms in this house I would rather not have you snooping in during your stay here."
Slowly, the perpetrator turned to face him, and Georg swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. It couldn't be. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. She couldn't be here. He blinked several times, willing the image in front of him to just be an illusion of his mind.
It was undoubtedly her. The blue eyes, rosy lips, and golden hair confirmed it. It was the woman from that night all those months ago.
Neither of them made a move or a sound. They simply stared at each other with wide eyes. This had to be a joke. This couldn't be real. She couldn't be here, in his house, staring back at him with those big blue eyes he had seen every night in his dreams for three months. Surely this was just another dream, and he willed himself desperately to wake up.
But he didn't wake up. He stood planted in his spot unable to move, or speak, or breathe. She was stood in front of him, her eyes raking over him with disbelief. He felt a spark of anger build within him, not necessarily directed at her, but at the situation. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, and she really was to be his children's governess for the summer, he knew he was in big trouble.
They silence had stretched through many minutes. He had to say something, anything. What could he say? That he was sorry? That he was an ass for the way he ravished her against a building and then left? That she was haunting his dreams and it was killing him? That she needed to leave before his sanity completely shattered in front of his eyes?
"You said you were a teacher, not a governess," he choked out, breaking the never-ending silence in the room. He mentally kicked himself. That was what he chose to say? She looked surprised when he spoke. Her eyes widened before quickly narrowing in his direction. He felt as if she were shooting daggers at him.
"I said I was finishing my teaching degree, which I have. I needed a job for the summer. Besides, I believe you left out a few details yourself, seven of them," she retorted with what Georg could only describe as pure venom. He wanted to say he was surprised by the iciness of her tone, but he wasn't. His actions were deplorable, he had spent enough time realizing that. But her tone annoyed him. The whole damn mess annoyed him.
"I didn't think my children were any of your concern at the time," he said pointedly. He watched the hurt flash in her eyes for a quick second before her gaze became icy again. It was easier this way, he thought. To treat her coldly. They did agree on some level that night that it should be forgotten, and it would be. Or at least he would try to make it seem as if he could have forgotten it.
"I suppose they weren't, Captain." He flinched at her use of his military title. He was accustomed to people calling him Captain after he had retired from the Navy, and especially after Agathe passed. It was a way to keep things from being personal. But for some reason, it stung when she referred to him by his title. He hadn't been aware that she knew that bit of information about him. He cursed Mrs. Schmidt internally.
"How much did Mrs. Schmidt tell you about your position here?" Georg asked, changing the tone of the conversation. He wanted to leave, quickly. He wasn't sure how long he was going to last in the same room with her, let alone under the same roof as her. He needed to think. And he needed a drink.
"Not much," she told him. He nodded and began a slow pace in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.
"You are the twelfth governess to come and look after my children. The ones before you were not equipped to discipline my children. I do hope you will be an improvement," he started, keeping his tone business-like. He tried to avoid her eyes. He tried to avoid looking at her at all, instead choosing to glare at the wall as he continued his pacing.
"Is there something, erm, wrong with the children?" she asked. He narrowed his eyes at her, without looking directly at her.
"No. I believe there was something wrong with the governesses," he said, letting his words sink in. "They were unable to manage any semblance of discipline in this house. Discipline is the main pillar of this house. Please do try to remember that Ms…"
Georg wanted to smack himself. He didn't even know her last name. He tried to push the thought away. Forget that you had ever met her before, a voice in the back of his mind spoke, consider this a first meeting.
"Rainer," she supplied. He nodded curtly in her direction before returning his eyes to the wall in front of him.
"As you know, this is a full-time role. You will live under this roof to care for my children, but with that, there are rules to be followed. No snooping, for example," he paused to let her take the hit before continuing. "The children wake up at seven every morning and get ready for the day. After breakfast, they are to focus on their studies until lunch, weekends are no exception. After lunch, they take a walk around the lake to get fresh air and exercise. Afterwards, they are to do their required reading until dinner. After dinner, they have two hours of Internet to do as they please before lights out at eight. Under no circumstance are my children to be up and about after lights out. Do you understand?"
There's the look he feared in all of his interviews with governesses in the past, the look of disgust with a spark of anger. It hurt more coming from her big, kind blue eyes, it hurt a hell of a lot more. But he stood his ground, stopping in front of her to stare her down.
"I was told the ages range from five to sixteen. Do they all go to bed at the same time?" she asked. While her tone was filled with a formal politeness, he could see the annoyance in her eyes.
"Those are the rules. I expect you to follow them. Now that I've made myself clear, I must ask you again, do you understand?" he asked, his voice oozing with ice. He was beyond annoyed that she would question his parenting. They were his children and as long as they lived under his roof, they would live under his rules. That included anyone under his employ.
"Yes, I think I can manage," she replied through gritted teeth. He nodded, pleased she didn't question his parenting methods further. It was becoming easier, he found, to think of her as an insubordinate governess. She had the perfect attitude to act the part of just another nuisance under his employ. At least being in this frame of mind could help him keep his confused thoughts and feelings at bay.
Carefully, without letting his eyes linger, he analyzed her attire again. The baggy shirt she wore had a symbol that he believed belonged to a musical group, however he could not recall to which it belonged. Her jeans were covered in splatters of red, white, blue, and yellow paint. All in all, she looked as if she had just come from living off the street, he mused.
"Would you like to change before you meet the children?" he asked, his voice a little harsher than he needed it to be.
"What's wrong with my clothes?" she asked, looking down at herself. He scoffed.
"You want to meet the children dressed like this?" he shot back. He was appalled by her choice of outfit on her first day at the job, quite frankly. He had expected that someone coming to meet their employer for the first time might want to look a little more presentable.
"I apologize, Captain. I did not realize I was meeting royalty," she quipped. He had to hand it to her, she was quick on her feet. He felt himself almost begin to smirk at the comment but held his face in its stony mask.
"Fine," he said simply. They are going to eat her alive, he thought. And it would be for the best. He didn't have just cause to fire her. The faster the children ran her out of the house, the better. He pulled a small whistle from the pocket of his slacks. It was some cheap plastic whistle he had purchased not long after Agathe had passed. It was shrill but rather effective. As he brought it to his lips and blew sharply into it, he watched her jaw drop. He quirked an eyebrow at her, daring her to comment, but she said nothing. He hid the smirk growing on his face by raising the whistle back up to his lips and blowing again, a shrill scream echoing through the foyer.
It sounded like a stampede of raging bulls as his children all assembled outside of their rooms and quietly made their way down the stairs in an orderly fashion. He watched Maria from the corner of his eye as she watched all the children descend to the foyer. Her face was unreadable as she began to physically count their heads. He was rather proud of how quietly and calmly they came down the stairs.
Friedrich was the first down followed by his brother, Kurt. They both wore similar short sleeved button-down shirts and slacks, something Georg had insisted on. He believed they needed to start dressing like young men and not young hooligans. Louisa and Brigitta followed, with Liesl holding the hands of the two youngest trailing behind them. Louisa was quite adamant about how she felt wearing dresses. Agathe had tried for years to get Louisa in a dress but had failed miserably. While the whether got warmer, most of his daughter opted for light summer dresses to keep them cool, whereas Louisa insisted on a simple pair of leggings and a blouse.
"Children," he addressed them as they came to stand in front of him in a lazy line, "this is Ms. Rainer. She will be your new governess."
He saw the cold stares they shot at their new governess and Georg had to hold back a chuckle. She certainly won't last the day, he thought to himself while simultaneously wondering where his children had learned that menacing look from.
"Ms. Rainer, this is Friedrich, Kurt, Louisa, Brigitta, Marta, Liesl, and Gretl," he nodded to each of his children as he went down the line they had formed. He watched as she smiled politely at his children and he couldn't help the smirk from spreading across his face this time. She had no idea what she was up against. "Now, I'm sure you'd all like to get acquainted. I'll see you all at dinner."
He left as quickly as he could, not wanting to be in her presence for longer than necessary. His head reeled as he walked back to his study. This certainly wasn't a dream. No, he thought, this is a nightmare.
He made it to his study and shut the door. He stopped at the little bar he had in the corner of his study and he poured himself a whiskey before slumping into his chair at his desk. What on Earth was he going to do? Georg felt like his world was crumbling before his eyes, and it was all her fault.
As he sipped at his whiskey, he found himself becoming increasingly angry. He was angry with his children for chasing away the previous governesses that preceded her, he was angry with Mrs. Schmidt for not giving him some warning, and he was angry with her for being in his home. All of his anger was unjustified, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.
This was an absolute mess. He really had no one else to blame but himself. How foolish had he been to believe he could forget about her without any repercussions for his actions? His world never worked that way. His actions always had consequences. How was he going to get himself out of this?
He thought for a moment about his next move. He couldn't fire her without it getting out what had happened between them. No, he wouldn't fire her. He hoped the children would be able to get rid of her by the end of the day, but that plan was rather flimsy. Maybe the last one had broken in a matter of mere hours but typically, the governesses stuck it out for a few weeks. He had a sick feeling in his gut that she would try and stick it out. From the conversations that had taken place that dreaded night, she hadn't seemed like the type to back down right away from a challenge.
No, he would have to leave. He certainly would not be able to stay under this roof. If the aching memories of Agathe weren't enough to torture him, watching this woman prance around his house certainly would be. He picked his phone up from off his desk and dialed. After two rings, the other line picked up.
"Georg, how lovely to hear from you," Elsa's cool tone came through the line.
"Hello, Elsa. How are you?" He asked sweetly, tapping his fingers against his glass.
"Oh, I'm fine. Exhausted. Max and I went shopping today," she replied.
"No, you went shopping and dragged me along to hold your bags like some man servant." Georg could hear Max's annoyed tone in the background, and it brought a smile to his face.
"I'm glad you had a productive day. Perhaps I could come up and relieve Max of his bag carrying duties?" he asked, straining to keep the hesitation out of his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was be paraded around boutiques to carry Elsa's things around, but he needed an escape and he had felt as if he had been neglecting her lately.
"Oh Georg, that would be lovely. Max, wouldn't you love to see Georg this week?"
"As long as he is the one carrying your things. I swear, Elsa, I won't be able to move tomorrow. My poor back," Georg heard Max whine in the background.
"Oh, quit your whining. There should be some fresh strudel in the kitchen. Help yourself," Elsa called over to Max. Georg could hear Max's shoes clicking on the tile at a hasty pace. There was nothing his oldest friend liked better than fresh dessert, except perhaps, money.
"I was thinking maybe I could drive down tonight?" Georg said, praying that Elsa didn't have plans. It was foolish to think she didn't.
"Well, I'm meeting some friends for dinner tonight. I expect it to go late. But you're more than welcome to come," she told him. Georg cursed inwardly.
"No, no. I'll drive over in the morning, if that works for you," he replied.
"That would be fine. I've missed you, you know," she said, her voice dropping an octave. Georg winced slightly as he realized he hadn't given her much thought over the past week he had been back in Salzburg. He told himself it had been because he was so busy from work, but that defense was futile as his nights were constantly taken up by the thought of another woman, a woman now living under his roof no less.
"I've missed you too," he said, inwardly cringing at his lie. It wasn't that he didn't miss her, he enjoyed her company and did miss it. It was just that she was a means to escape right now, a way out of a mess. He felt the familiar pangs of guilt in his chest as he realized how he was using her. He needed to stop this nonsense. Elsa had always been there for him and was taking him in when he felt he had nowhere else to go. He promised himself to do better by her when he went up to Vienna in the morning.
"Max is staying here too, although that's no news. I don't think he even has a home since he spends so much time here. He's going to have to start paying rent," she said the last bit a little louder, Georg assumed so that Max could hear. Georg felt a sense of relief that Max would also be there. As hard as he was to deal with sometimes, Max always lifted Georg's spirits.
"I heard that." He heard in the distance.
"You were meant to," Elsa shot back.
"Well, I'll leave early in the morning and make it to Vienna in time for lunch," he told her.
"Excellent, I'll see you tomorrow, Georg."
"I'm looking forward to it," he replied before hanging up the phone. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He was glad he would be able to escape. Elsa and Max had always been nice distractions.
Georg just prayed that he would be able to make it through dinner.