A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the memory of the gifted man who touched our hearts and gave us gorgeous Georg.
R.I.P. Christopher Plummer. What a glorious acting legacy he has given us; what a life well lived. To offset my sadness at our loss, I'd like to imagine that maybe he's up in heaven, partying madly, or perhaps having a drink with Shakespeare, discussing the finer points of Hamlet and King Lear.
Well, uhm…, I was supposed to write the wedding chapter, I know. But I ended up writing this instead. *hangs head in shame*
I promise the next chapter will be the wedding. Perhaps my head was too full of thoughts of our beloved CP.
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Chapter 27: Temptation
Maria was running late, she realized ruefully. She was so immersed in helping the children get ready for the wedding tomorrow that she had lost track of the time. She was going to spend tonight at the Abbey, her final evening before her marriage. She had hoped to be on time for Vespers for once. But at this rate she knew she would not be able make it, no doubt incurring Sister Berthe's wrath.
Maria smiled as she touched the exquisite lace wedding veil that had been a gift from the Sisters, organized by Sister Berthe. Underneath all that fierce gruffness was a heart of pure gold. She felt sad that it had taken her this long to realise that. She looked forward to thanking the dear Sister, knowing of course, that Sister Berthe would be brusque and dismissive, hiding her loving goodness behind that stern, formidable façade. Much like Maria's beloved Georg.
For a moment Maria indulged in dreamy thoughts of her husband-to-be. Her eyes had the faraway look of a young woman fathoms deep in love. But a woman in love, who also has children to look after, rarely has the luxury of romantic day-dreams for long.
"-Fraulein Maria, these shoes don't fit, they hurt."
"-Fraulein Maria, Brigitta took my ribbons again. Make her give them back."
"-Fraulein Maria, when can we call you Mother?"
"-Fraulein Maria, my sock has a hole in it."
"-Fraulein Maria, why do you and Father have to go away for a few days? Why can't you stay with us?"
"-Fraulein Maria, should I wear my hair loose tomorrow?"
Maria came back to reality with jolt, laughing at all the questions and complaints from her boisterous brood. Frau Schmidt and two of the maids were also helping her, but still it was chaos. The children thundered from one room to another with a heavy stomping of feet, calling to each other, squabbling amongst themselves, and getting in each other's way. Doors were constantly slamming and excited voices were raised. Good natured bickering and high-spirited laughter echoed through the hallways. The house seemed alive with happiness.
Maria was surprised that the commotion hadn't drawn Georg out, but maybe he was too busy doing last minute things in his study. Or perhaps he wanted to stay clear of the noisy chaos, she thought with fond wryness.
Frau Schmidt helped her pack a small case for her honeymoon in the mountains. Her trousseau had been purchased by the housekeeper. With Maria so busy with her spiritual counselling over the past week with Sister Berthe, she hadn't had time to buy anything herself.
She was still in awe over the luxurious things that Frau Schmidt had bought for her under Georg's instructions. The clothes were gorgeous, made with delightful materials like cashmere, angora, lambs-wool, silk and satin; their cut and style were imbued with a simple, understated elegance. She had never owned such beautiful things before, and she couldn't help caressing the plush textures. She picked up a cashmere sweater, relishing its warmth and softness, and rubbed it against her cheek with almost feline pleasure. What a contrast to the rough, scratchy dress she had arrived in.
In a haze of contentment she murmured to Frau Schmidt how grateful she was. "These clothes are simply lovely. Thank you."
The housekeeper nodded, smiling, moving about with her usual efficiency. "You'll only need a few things for the honeymoon, Fraulein. Everything else I will shift to the master bedroom for your return in a few days."
Maria swallowed hard, feeling the flutter of jittery excitement in her belly, her face felt hot at the housekeeper's words. It still seemed daunting, no matter how much she loved Georg. She felt the usual mix of anticipation and anxiety as she thought about it. On the one hand, the sheer, blissful happiness of it was like warm honey flowing through her veins, but on the other hand, she felt shaky with apprehension at the momentous step she was about to undertake. She was venturing into unchartered territory, but at least she had Georg to help her navigate married life.
Remembering her girlish fears when she had left the Abbey at the beginning of the summer, she quietly hummed to herself "I have confidence in sunshine…." It helped to conquer the fear of once again stepping into the unknown.
Finally, with everything ready, she went in search of Georg, guiltily noticing the time. It was surprising that he hadn't come for her already. He wasn't in his study. Puzzled, she went in search of him in the library. Max was there, languishing serenely, cradling an aperitif with evident enjoyment.
"Max have you seen Georg? He said he would drive me back to the Abbey before dinner."
"Oh hmm. He hasn't emerged? I'd better take you to him. Georg retreated into his lair a couple of hours ago. Something he read in the paper about the Anschluss triggered his fury once more."
"Oh dear." Maria looked worried. "But he's not in his study."
"Ah-hah, but he has another place he goes to when he really wants to be completely alone to battle his demons. Come with me, my dear. I'll show you so you can say goodbye to him, then I'll take you to the Abbey."
He led her through the kitchen, to the door to the cellars. Max took down a hurricane lantern hanging from a hook and lit it. He guided her down the steep, stone steps. Inside it was dark and cool; the air felt damp and smelled slightly musty.
Max put on a melodramatic, sepulchral voice as he held up the lantern and intoned, "Beware the beast in his lair! "
Maria smiled with scolding amusement at his clowning. Really, it was quite surprising that Georg and Max were such good friends. They were so different.
They passed the wine cellars full of bottles gleaming in the dark through their light patina of dust. Max lingered with a sigh of bliss as if greeting a passionate lover, before moving on. He paused and put a finger to his lips.
Baffled, Maria realized she could hear a faint thudding sound as they made their way through the dim passages. The sound grew to a deep rhythmic pounding. Even more astonishingly, it was accompanied by masculine grunts of exertion. For the life of her she couldn't think what it might mean. Was Georg making those sounds, and if so, what on earth was he doing?
Then finally, she saw him in a far room, pooled in the soft golden light from another lantern. She stopped, transfixed at the sight. She had never seen him like this before and she was utterly mesmerized. She could hardly breathe. Suddenly her heart was thundering like horse's hooves on turf.
Max slipped away, murmuring that he would take her to the Abbey shortly. But Maria barely heard him, stunned by the sight of Georg without a shirt, wearing loose, dark cotton trousers as he ferociously thumped a heavy punching bag dangling on a chain from the ceiling.
His back was to her and he was completely engrossed in pummeling the weighted bag, which barely moved because of its density. She could see that bandages were wrapped around his knuckles instead of gloves. Maria could not tear her eyes away, there was something so elemental and potent about the sight of his uncompromising strength and vigour.
The lean muscles of arms and shoulders were bunched in a breathtaking display of physical force. She noticed, spellbound, that the glow from the lantern gave the smooth, taut skin of his back, a bronzed hue. His hair was in disarray, wet with sweat so that it looked darker and silkier. Sweat also glistened all over his body and ran down his spine.
Gone was the smooth sophistication of his formal suits, and with it had vanished the veneer of debonair, suave urbanity. In their place was a display of raw masculine aggression as he threw punch after punch with ruthless precision and impeccable timing, grunting with effort.
With her face flushed, Maria could only stare at his lean powerful physique honed to perfection by the hard, punishing exercise. Ill-prepared for her first enthralling sight of the sheer strength and masculine beauty of her fiancé, shivery feelings spread across her entire body, and wherever they went they left havoc.
To her it seemed as if his magnificent male form had a glorious prowess to it. She felt an answering feminine softness tugging deep within her, drawing her inexorably, irresistibly to the unconscious call of his virility. The feelings were frightening in their intensity, but in a daze she moved a step closer.
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Georg had had a difficult afternoon. After returning from their last counselling session he and Maria had shared a tender kiss before separating to prepare for the wedding tomorrow.
While he organized various documents and the clothes he would need for their honeymoon, he had stupidly glanced at the evening paper that Franz had brought in. He knew he should have ignored it. He didn't want to be distracted from the pleasure of his approaching wedding day, but he had been unable to resist the compulsion of his military training. It had been drilled into him throughout his career that he needed to take in every piece of available intelligence. His life could depend on it.
The news sent chills down his spine. Hitler was amassing troops on the border in a colossal display of intimidation and aggression. In Austria itself, under Hitler's orders, street fighting had broken out in many cities. Austrian Nazis, emboldened and aggressive, were causing as much violent chaos as possible to destabilize the government.
Georg felt sickened, the familiar, powerless rage burning like embers in his chest. He knew beyond doubt that the death-knell for Austria's sovereignty was being sounded. Time was running out. Unable to contain the bitterness and fury he had retreated down to the cellar to blank out the simmering volatility of his mood with physical exertion.
Although never a boxer - the bloodiness and brutality of the sport had never appealed to him, - as a naval cadet he had had to spend hours pummeling a punching bag every day. Basic training had also involved swimming, marching, fencing and other vigorous pursuits. As a result, in the Imperial Navy he had been at the peak of his physical health.
But then, he acknowledged with a whiff of self-disgust, the indolent lifestyle he had led over the last couple of years, had softened him into idleness and decadence. Grappling with his grief over losing Agathe, he had found himself being drawn into the meaningless life of a pampered aristocrat.
He recalled with distaste the endless drinking and being bored out of his mind in gossipy parties in Vienna. More often than not, he had awoken with a thunderous hangover, and felt his body bloated from over-indulgence in rich food.
Finally offended at his dissolute lifestyle, about a year ago in a moment of determination, he had set up the punching bag in the cellar. It became his private retreat where no one could disturb him. It was even better than his study where interruptions were constant. It had felt good to get back into physical shape and channel his restless energy in a controlled way.
More than that, he knew that if he was called upon to defend Austria, he needed not only a razor-sharp mind but a strong physicality. Those were the only things that could give him an edge if he had any hope of survival against the might of the Third Reich.
Now, the evening before his wedding, the punishing effort of pounding the bag eased the rage that had gripped him after reading the newspaper articles. Other more innocuous thoughts drifted in. He almost smiled at the idea, but he was damned if he was going to admit to a sliver of vanity as a new bridegroom, about to pledge himself body and soul to Maria.
With my body, I thee worship. The thought was heady and exhilarating. Ruefully he acknowledged that Kurt's comments earlier in the week had stung his pride. His younger son had seen Georg's navy photo in the newspaper and blurted out how much thinner his father had been when he was younger. It was true enough. Eighteen years ago, when he had married Agathe, he had been in prime condition, toned and trim from the rigours of Navy training. He wanted to honour Maria in the same way. Even though he knew she loved him no matter what his physique, his pride demanded it.
He pictured her in his mind, the image ravishing his senses. It was astonishing that even the mere thought of her could lift his mood out of the depths of hell, straight up to the heights of heaven. Maria, my love, my love. He heard a sound in the pause between the thumps. With rapier sharp reflexes, he whirled around, startled. As if he had called out to her in his mind, there she was, standing, watching him.
With his chest heaving, and drawing in gasping breaths, he stared back at her in long moments of silence. She appeared unable to say a word.
"Maria," he breathed rawly. Then remembrance hit. "Ah, damnit all, I forgot I was supposed to take you to the Abbey. I'm sorry."
But she just shook her head slowly. In the dim light he was unaware that her eyes were drinking him in as if she were in a desert, parched, and having sight of a pool of pure spring water.
Georg became conscious that she had never seen so much of him before, shirtless and only in thin cotton trousers and bare feet. No doubt she was feeling shocked and repulsed by his body drenched in sweat. The perspiration was even dripping, stinging, into his eyes, from the hair hanging over his forehead. No doubt it must be an unpalatable sight for someone from her sheltered background. Faintly horrified, he realized that it was probably the worst introduction to physical intimacy between them.
But then she came closer and he was able to read her expressive eyes and see the swirling confusion of feelings there. There was definitely uncertainty, tentativeness and perhaps anxiety, but those emotions were in full battle with desire, awe, and passionate wonder.
Georg sucked in a harsh breath. In the dark, cool cellar, temptation glittered and spun around them, weaving beguiling, seductive spells, making the ridiculous and the impossible, seem not only possible, but necessary. For God's sake she was about to go to the Abbey and they were only hours away from marriage. So why was his head filled with a vision of taking her in his arms in this damp uncomfortable place? Why did it feel that despite the ugly surroundings, the beauty of their love and passion would create a magical, golden space, as heavenly as paradise?
"Maria, darling, don't look at me like that. My control can only take so much," he muttered hoarsely. Did she have any idea how a look from her could fell his self-discipline, making his usual ice-cool head dissolve in hot hungry need? No doubt in her innocence, she was unaware of her allure and her power. It was up to him to manage the situation.
She moved closer still, and suddenly the air felt volatile and thrilling, as if a match was about to be thrown on gasoline, igniting a conflagration.
This was insane, he realized, snatching at his control, and trying to remember all the promises he had made to Father Wassner and the Reverend Mother. He had given them his word of honour.
He needed to get them out of here now, before they became overwhelmed with desires too big contain, before temptation carried them away on a swift current. He knew that however magical this moment, Maria was devout enough that she would not be able to forgive herself later if she gave in to their passion before they were wed in the eyes of God.
He rapidly started unwinding the bandages that had protected his hands, clumsy with haste. "Let me just get these off." Even to his ears, his voice sounded raspy, thick with need.
But she took over the task silently, still unable to speak. Later he would smile at the irony of his beloved Maria being speechless for once. But now, as her graceful fingers gently unraveled the bandages, all he could think about, as her head bent over her task, was that her hair looked delectably soft and was shimmering like spun gold, and that the skin of her cheek had the bloom of a tender rosebud or perhaps a delicate, palest-pink camellia.
The bandage of one hand fell to the ground and she lovingly examined his red, swollen knuckles, while Georg stayed frozen in temptation. It almost felt as if his heart stopped when she raised his hand to press her soft mouth reverently to his bruised fingers, then brushed her cheek tenderly against the back of his hand.
He groaned, deep in his chest. "Oh my love." Dear Lord, tomorrow could not come soon enough. He wondered how he could survive the agonized anticipation.
Maria looked up at him with eyes speaking eloquently of love and longing. Finally she found her voice, but it was still only a thready whisper. "What's this?"
She reached out and touched the simple metal chain that hung around his neck. As she touched his chest, where the military identity tags lay nestled in the whorling patterns of chest hair, Georg felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot through him and he almost flinched. His chest continued to heave but this time not with adrenaline or physical exhaustion, but something more primal.
Astonishingly for him, given that he was a man of few words, he found himself gabbling to break the tension. "They're my identity tags from the navy, from when I was in the Great War." The explanation came low and husky. "I put them back on about six months ago when Hitler's rantings about annexing Austria became more rabid. I haven't taken them off since, because they constantly remind me of what I am, and what I must do."
Maria's eyes flickered briefly in pain at the implications of those words. But then her fingers explored the rectangular metal tags curiously. The seal of the Imperial Navy, along with his name, rank and serial number were imprinted on them. They were worn out with age but the embedded writing was still legible.
By tacit agreement neither of them wanted to think about what the future may hold beyond the next few days. With the black clouds of a looming firestorm approaching, about to wreck devastation over Austria, surely they were allowed these few days together in blissful peace.
But still, he felt driven to make her a promise he hoped he would be able to keep. "When I return, you can take them off me for good." Not for the first time he swore silently that he would do everything in his power, move heaven and earth if he could, to come back to her and the children.
Maria nodded tremulously. There was nothing to say to that, except to hope and pray.
He drew in a deep breath to vanquish the temptation that still lingered. It was swirling insidiously, like smoke creeping under a doorway, ready to burst into explosive flame at any opening. "But for now, my sweet, we need to get you to the Abbey for your last night before you become my bride."
Maria smiled, unable to resist a last tentative touch to his chest, reveling in the unfamiliar feel of crisp, damp hair. "Max said he will take me." She paused, her eyes alight with wonder. "I can still scarcely believe something so wonderful could happen to me."
"I feel the same." Georg brushed her mouth with his in gentle kiss that felt like a promise, then grasped her hand, leading her through the passageways until she was safely at the top of the stairs. He blew her a kiss from below as she turned to give him a radiant smile. "I'll see you in the church tomorrow. And please don't torment me by being late!"
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Hours later, Georg relaxed with Max in the library, still appalled at how close he had been to giving in to temptation. The power of the yearning had been shocking, the way it had been able slay common sense and even decency. Thank goodness Maria was now safely in the Abbey. He was uncomfortable to realise he didn't have the willpower to resist her allure for another night under his roof. So much for his famed self-discipline.
Max was in a jovial mood. "Well Georg, it's your last night before you marry that adorable creature. We should break open some of your best wine."
"As if you need an excuse," Georg said dryly.
Max agreed cheerfully. "As it happens, I discovered a rather delightful vintage while rummaging around in your wine cellar." He produced it with a flourish and poured them both glasses.
"Now Max, I need you to make sure all the arrangements are in place for tomorrow…"
"Relax Georg, this is not one of your military operations. I'll pick up Maria tomorrow morning in the Mercedes and take her with Liesl, Marta and Gretl to the church in the mountains."
"Don't forget to pick up her friend Eliza."
"Oh yes I forgot about that. I just hope I don't get lost on the Untersberg," he mused provokingly.
Georg gave him a severe look. "You're not inspiring me with much confidence."
"Calm down, Georg. I'm just rattling your cage. Frau Meyer delivered all the flowers and foliage earlier, for you and the other children to decorate the church in the morning. Franz packed the other car for you. Everything is in place."
Max added hesitantly, "There's just one thing….er..."
"What?" Georg eyed him suspiciously.
"Well I'm afraid the children invited Sascha to the wedding."
"Oh dear God, no. I specifically wanted our wedding not to turn into a circus, so why is that clown going to be there?"
"It will be fine, Georg. He might weep a bit, he always does when he's happy. And he adores Maria. Besides, he'll be useful since he gets himself invited to all best parties. He'll be able to defend Maria's honour fiercely. He's very loyal to Maria, though not so much to you."
Georg scowled, his jaw clenching, aware that malevolent rumours had already started about himself and Maria. All the press coverage from her winning the Festival had fueled the fire. Undoubtedly the poisonous gossip would only get worse once word of their hasty marriage got out. He nodded curtly. "Fine."
Max changed the subject before Georg's bad mood could take hold. "I really can't believe how you captured our darling Maria. But I must say, you shattered my dreams at the same time. Maria could have had a splendid singing career if you weren't holding her back. She won the Festival for God's sake. You do realise you have broken my heart with your selfishness?"
Georg rolled his eyes, unconcerned. "I am sure you will find some other poor innocent to exploit."
"At least I can comfort myself that you promised to name your first born with Maria after me, since I was instrumental in bringing the two of you together." Max looked smug.
Georg mocked him. "No doubt like Rumpelstiltskin, you'll be there to collect your reward when the time comes."
"Oh I don't want the actual child, though come to think of it, maybe I do. With Maria as the mother she's likely to produce a musical genius." Max chuckled at Georg's unamused glower.
Max got up and stretched. "Do you know, I feel a song coming on." He went over to the piano and started picking out a tune. "A few more hours is all the time you've got. A few more hours until you tie the knot.*" Off key, Max began to sing gustily, making Georg wince.
"You're getting married in the morning*
Ding dong the bells are going to chime.
Pull out the stopper and let's have a whopper
But I'll get you to the church on time."
Georg snorted, "Max I'm willing to pay you to stop torturing my ears."
"Come on Georg, sing it with me. It's just a bit of fun. Surely you don't intend to be one of those boring, uptight old husbands with a vivacious young wife?"
"I'll get you there in time, spruced up and looking in your prime…"
Georg broke in again. "Max unless your singing improves you can forget about your invitation to the wedding."
Max was unfazed. He smirked. "You don't scare me Georg, I'm giving Maria away so I'm essential to the proceedings."
"Kick up a rumpus and don't lose your compass
And I'll get you to the church on time."
"Max, may I suggest you keep your day job. Oh wait a minute, you don't have a day job."
"Hah, I resent that," Max said, still tinkling with the keys. "You have no idea how much hard work it is being a charming sponge. It's enough to drive a man to drink." Distracted by that thought, to Georg's relief, Max got up to pour himself another one and raised his glass.
"Here's a toast to the luckiest devil in Austria and the poor angel who is taking him on."
Georg couldn't help breaking into a genuine smile of happiness. "I'll drink to that."
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A/N: Thanks for reading and I would love to know your thoughts.
*Get me to the church on time. Lyrics and music by Lerner and Loewe, My Fair Lady
I don't own MFL or TSOM
Keep safe everyone. xx