i wish to know

the fatal flaw that makes you long to be

magnificently cursed


With a calmness he certainly didn't feel, Georg shut the door to his study with nothing more that a soft click. His right hand came up to the knot of his tie, tugging it loose. He popped open the top button of his shirt, willing the air to enter his lungs in even breaths. Next, he slid his jacket from his shoulders as the heat prickled against his skin uncomfortably. He tossed it over the nearest settee. The fingers of his left hand twitched mercilessly with the agitation he felt rising in his chest.

Desperate to do something, anything to stifle his nerves, he took a few steps to his side table. He grabbed the crystal decanter, pouring a long, stiff drink into a glass that was bigger than he probably needed at this hour. He didn't care. He needed a drink.

Glass in hand, Georg made his way over to the leather chair sat behind his desk. He took a seat, lifting the glass to his lips and allowing the amber liquid to wash over his senses. He was thankful for the dull burn that cascaded down his throat and the warmth that stirred in his chest – it gave him something to focus on than the infuriation that itched at every inch of his skin.

Two days ago, he had sent a letter to the Reverend Mother inquiring after some help to find a governess. Having found no luck on his own, he figured to acquire the services of a hardened nun, one that valued discipline and wasn't easily scared off, would perhaps – unironically – be the answer to all of his prayers. While he didn't know the Reverend Mother particularly well, he trusted her judgment entirely. If anyone could help him find a suitable governess for his children, he had hoped it was her.

How wrong he had been.

While he had expected to find a weathered, stone faced nun, he had instead found a young slip of a girl in one of the most hideous dresses he'd ever laid eyes on – snooping through his home, no less! She couldn't have been older than twenty-five – if that – and she looked at him with that of a wonderment of a child. Her eyes were bright and curious, her stature relaxed yet ready for anything, and this was not what he had hoped for at all.

If barging into rooms she had no business in hadn't been bad enough, every word out of her mouth seemed to be questioning of everything he said. Even when he had scathed her with a look that would have sent even the toughest cadets running, she didn't budge an inch. In fact, she continued to watch him with an open curiosity while she indirectly questioned his parenting methods in a way that made his blood boil in his veins. He gritted his teeth at the memory.

He had never derived so much pleasure from blowing that boatswain whistle than he did in that foyer. That had certainly made her shut her mouth. He had struggled to repress the smirk that had toyed at the corner of his lips. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

The insubordination had been the most infuriating. The way she had refused the whistle – a direct order – had made him seethe. He could say what he would about the former eleven governesses, as useless as they were, they had never outright disobeyed an order from him. He had considering firing her on the spot, for certainly she was proving to be far more trouble than she was worth, but he was desperate. He was simply tired of searching for governesses, and the Reverend Mother had sent her there for a reason – what that reason was, had been a question he had turned in his mind since the moment he had laid eyes upon her.

And then she had blown that blasted whistle she had just finished degrading, and it took all he had in him to turn around with composure. The heat prickled his face as he felt the fury boiling beneath the surface. How dare she ridicule him? Especially in front of his children.

Excuse me sir, I don't know your signal.

No one had dared to speak to him in such a manner in years. His jaw had tightened, his body practically trembling with the effort to keep calm.

You may call me Captain.

He had given her one last scathing look, a warning, hoping that her behaviour would change by dinnertime. Somehow, he highly doubted it.

His fists clenched on his desk. Where did the Reverend Mother find her? And why in God's name had she sent her here?

He lifted his glass to his lips again, taking a sip as he longed to feel the flames once again engulf his throat, to soothe the venom from his veins. He took a deep breath and sighed.

On one hand, he doubted she would last the day. He had thrown her to the wolves, and he was sure they would rip her apart in a matter of hours.

He knew very well about the way his children ran the former eleven governesses out of the house. He remembered the very angry recollection of pranks that had occurred from number eight. He could say something to them – he should. Wasn't it only right for a father to reprimand his children for such awful tricks? He couldn't. That would mean admitting his role in them even playing tricks in the first place.

He shook the thought away as something heavy began to settle in his chest. He gulped down the remainder of the liquid in the glass, immediately finding comfort in the way the heaviness travelled to his head instead.

No, he mused to himself, he doubted he would have to deal with Fraulein Maria long. For, he must admit, he children were getting rather creative in recent months, and they seemed to be getting more restless as time went on. Surely, she wouldn't last very long.

He sighed to himself. However, if she left, where did that leave him? Right back at square one. He would be scrambling once again to find a governess for his children, that was, if he hadn't already gone through all of the governesses in Salzburg.

He felt torn between hoping his children drive her away that very moment and wishing desperately that she would stay, if only for the summer.

He glanced at the grandfather clock on the opposite end of the room. Half past two. He had a few hours until dinner. Turning his attention to the papers on his desk he had abandoned half an hour ago, Georg resolved to stop thinking about his current governess situation and get some work done. Yes, surely getting through some paperwork would make him feel better.

However, he couldn't stop himself from wondering from time to time whether or not she would make it to dinner.