Chapter 23: Reason to Stay
Maria slipped from her bedchamber and raced down the long, hushed corridors until she stood before his door. But when her fingers closed around the round brass knob, it wouldn't turn. She tried a second and then a third time, finally letting out a little huff of annoyance as she gave up and knocked.
"Who is it?" came the muffled response.
"What do you mean, who is it?" she hissed. "It's me. Just like it is every night. Why have you locked the door?"
A moment later, she could hear Georg's voice all too clearly, even through the stout wooden door.
"Maria, go to bed."
"What?"
"I said, go to bed. I was nearly asleep myself when I heard you knock."
"Georg, please!" Her face flushed with humiliation. "You're not going to leave me standing out here, are you? Open the door, please."
There was a long, tense pause before the door opened, just enough so that she could see him, dressed in rumpled pajamas, his hair mussed and his face unshaven.
"Can't I come in? Just for a minute?"
"Go back to your room, Maria," he said firmly, and then more gently, "We'll have a talk in the morning."
"You're turning me away?" she choked, not even trying to keep the fear and panic out of her voice. "I thought that, at least until I leave, we would still – I mean, you're my husband."
"Oh, is that what you call it? Because I'm starting to think I've become more of a - And anyway, as you yourself pointed out, this whole marriage has been – what was the word you used? A sham, wasn't it?"
He pressed his lips together, as though trying to hold back any further response. But after a moment, he sighed.
"Look, Maria, I've given the whole matter a great deal of thought. There is much we need to discuss, and at this moment, the last thing I want to do is to make things any worse, or say anything else I'm going to regret. We're both exhausted and stirred up, and I think it's best if we both get a good night's sleep before we make any decisions. Now, if you'll excuse me?"
And with that, he closed the door.
Maria could barely remember making the trip back to her room, but she would never forget the look on his face. Had he shouted at her, had his eyes gone icy with fury, or hot with lust, or even bleak with grief, she'd have known where she stood with him. But his face had been soft with unnerving kindness, and the warmth in his voice was lined with resignation and pity. As though he had already moved beyond her, to a place she could not go.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Whitehead Manor dated back to the seventeenth century. Or was it the sixteenth? Maria couldn't remember. John Whitehead loved to boast about the Manor's distinguished history. For centuries, it had stood on this very spot, solid, sturdy and invincible, having withstood civil wars, fires, storms, and other calamities.
Which was why it was so very odd that this morning, Maria's bedchamber had gone all wobbly. The walls and floors wavered in the thin winter-morning light, as though they were made of silk and paper rather than stone and wood. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that morning could hold off until the room stopped trembling so.
But there was no denying that the sun had made its appearance some time ago, and it would be far better if her first encounter with Georg took place over breakfast, in the company of his family and a handful of servants. Who knew what he'd confront her with once they were alone? Not to mention that she'd missed breakfast entirely yesterday. She could not bear to begin what might be her last morning with the von Trapp family being chastised for another such transgression.
She splashed water on her face, slid back into yesterday's dress and tied her hair off her face, and the whole time, the knot of dread in Maria's chest drew tighter until, by the time she stumbled down the great stairway, she could hardly breathe. She skidded into the dining room and took her seat just as Henderson appeared by her chair to pour her tea.
"Good morning, children," she murmured, cupping her hands around the cup's comforting warmth.
"Good morning, Fraulein Maria," they chorused.
Captain von Trapp was seated at the far end of the table, applying himself with uncommon gusto to a plateful of eggs, and neither looked up nor joined in the greeting. He was groomed to his usual perfection, clean-shaven and neatly combed, formally dressed in an impeccable white shirtfront that gleamed against a dark suit.
"Well! Christmas Eve at last!" Mathilde Whitehead said gaily. "And a special Christmas it will be indeed, with you children here. We've a great deal left to do, though. Starting with trimming the tree. We'll begin in the parlor, just after breakfast. You too, Georg."
"I'm sorry, Mathilde," he looked up with a polite smile. "If it can wait until the afternoon, I'd be happy to help, but I've got some business to attend to this morning."
Maria felt her belly lurch with apprehension. Was his business related to her departure? She was resigned to leaving, she really was, but was he really going to send her away on Christmas?
"What could be more important than the Christmas tree, Father?" Marta asked.
"As a matter of fact, Marta, I'm hoping to get married. This morning, if possible," he added, and without another word, he returned to his eggs.
This remarkable announcement elicited murmurs of curiosity and gasps of surprise. But not from Maria, who was too preoccupied by the dining room, which had begun to behave as oddly as her bedchamber, although in this case, rather than the walls trembling in place, the whole room began to spin slowly around her. The children somehow didn't notice, being focused instead on their father's news.
"Who's going to marry you?" she heard Kurt pose the question around a mouthful of toast. She really ought to reprove him. If only she weren't so dizzy!
"Well," he put down his fork, "I'm hoping Fraulein Maria will marry me."
Now she let her eyes rest on him, but only because he seemed to be the only fixed, stable thing in the whirling dining room. Maria was dimly aware of Liesl and Louisa, who had bolted from their chairs, squealing with delight, and were prancing in place, held there by their father's warning gesture.
"Why would you want to do that?" Kurt persisted.
Her Captain's steady gaze held her own.
"Because I love her," he said simply.
The words hit her with a giddy rush of joy mixed with disbelief, which only further unsteadied her.
"But does she want to marry you?" Brigitta piped up.
"I don't know, darling. Shall we ask her?" he said slyly.
Every pair of eyes in the room was trained on her now. Maria could see them waiting for her reply, their faces shining bright with hope and love, but there was also the sickening realization that if she opened her mouth to say anything, all would be lost. Hand to her mouth, she raced from the dining room and across the grand foyer. There was no chance of making it up the stairway, but she remembered a servants' toilet just under the stairs, and she made it there just in time.
Afterwards, she was too exhausted to do anything but close her eyes and press her hot cheek to the cool tile. The dizziness and wretched nausea had eased, but now it was her thoughts that spun wildly out of control. What on earth was he up to, declaring his love for her just in time to send her away? And the bit about getting married? They were already married!
"Has it been this bad every morning?"
When she opened her eyes, there was a black-booted toe just inches from her face, and the neat break of a trouser-cuff, and a pair of gray-wool-clad legs leading upward to the source of a deep, kind voice.
"Go away," she said, weak with embarrassment.
"Not a chance," the voice said over the sound of running water. "It will get better, you know. Another week or two, and you'll be fine. But you won't be able to keep it a secret much longer."
"Is there anything you're not an expert in?" Maria said wearily.
She heard the door close, leaving the two of them confined in the compact chamber, with its orderly pattern of black-and-white tiles, its fixtures glowing dully in the dim light.
"I'm sadly lacking in many regards, as you well know. Just a sip, now."
He crouched at Maria's side and put a glass to her lips, allowing her only a few thirsty swallows before he put the water aside, ignoring her murmur of protest, and wiped her face with a damp handkerchief.
"I am sorry," he said gravely. "I do love you, and I ought to have told you so long ago, but it seemed so obvious to me that I began to believe I had. Are you quite sure I didn't? Because I was certain-"
"How did you know?"
"That I love you?"
"No, about the-"
'Oh! Well. We've been together every night for two months, and you haven't bled," he said bluntly. She felt her cheeks go from pink to red when he cupped his hands at chest level and added, "And up here? There's more of you."
Her humiliation was now officially complete.
"May I?" Without waiting for permission, he set glass and handkerchief aside and fit himself into the limited space, until he was seated facing her, with his back to the wall and his long legs folded before him. "Maria, darling," he began, reaching for her hand.
"Don't you touch me!" she snapped, curling herself into a tight little ball of misery on the hard tile floor, as far away from him as she could get.
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you? Very well, then. I'll try to keep my distance, though it is a little crowded in here," Georg said amiably. "I thought my announcement would have a more positive effect, but apparently I was mistaken. Not that I don't deserve it."
Maria felt out of sorts, unaccountably wary. Hadn't he spoken the words she'd longed to hear? What was the matter with her? Her heart should be wildly rejoicing! But deep inside, she feared this was just some kind of trick. She knew how it would go: he would reel her back in again, with his blue eyes and handsome face and velvet speeches and his wit and charm. The very thought of going another such round with him exhausted her.
"Maria," he interrupted her thoughts, "do you really want to run away to Shanghai with my baby in your belly?"
She tucked her chin even more firmly against her chest so there was no chance of meeting his eyes, took a deep breath and gave an emphatic nod – yes. Yes, I do. It will be for the best. But Maria had never been very good at hiding what she was thinking and feeling, and in the next moment, her head began to swing from side to side – no. Please don't send me away. When she peeked up at him, for just long enough to steal a glance at his face, his eyes were closed and he looked quite pale, and oddly relieved, somehow. She looked away hastily, embarrassed, like she'd caught him in a private and shameful moment.
"Then why run away? Why do it?"
"First of all, because I thought you'd be angry about this-" she lay a protective palm over her midsection, "and also -"
"Angry? I'm not angry, I'm delighted! How could you possibly think I'd be angry about such wonderful news? And it's you that ought to be angry at me! I'm the one who got you this way, after promising not to."
"Why did you?" she said shyly. "I mean, why didn't you – ehrm - I mean –"
This had to be the most embarrassing conversation anyone had ever had.
"I promise to answer any question you ask me, but first, what did you mean, 'and also'?"
"And also because eventually you're going to send me away anyway. It will be less complicated, less upsetting for them, if the children don't know that we have been married. Or about – ehrm - him."
"Him? How do you know it's a - hold on. Why would I be sending you away? I'm the one who begged you to come to Paris, don't you remember? And who brought you here to England."
"Because you always send your – your mistresses away when they fall in love with you. That's what you told me."
"Maria. Maria, darling. How many times must I tell you? This is not the same thing, not the same thing at all! What will it take for me to make you understand?" He tugged at his ear. "All right. Let me see if I can make it easier for you. What were you doing last year, on Christmas eve?"
She blinked.
"Me? I was at Nonnberg, of course. I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"I mean at this very moment, what would you have been doing? One year ago from right now."
"Christmas Eve, and Christmas for that matter, they are blessed days, of course, but in many ways, the order of the day would have been like any other. By this hour, the first service would be well behind us, and it would be nearly time for the second. In between, we'd be doing chores. I'd be working in the kitchens or the barns, most likely. There was no breakfast until after the second service," Maria said broodingly, remembering her grumbling stomach.
"Were you thinking of your children? Lovemaking? The opera? Parisian lingerie?"
"Of course not," she frowned. "I knew nothing of those things, or if I did, they were not important to me. I was thinking only of God's will. Or trying to, anyway."
"And yet these are all things you've become quite fond of, to one extent or another. What happened to the girl in the ugly dress and black boots who invaded my ballroom? What happened to the postulant who wanted only to serve God and swore never to marry?"
"She changed," Maria shrugged. "That was a long time ago. A very, very long time ago."
"Of course," Georg agreed, "but then why can't you see that I've changed, too? Who knows why I acted up after Agathe died? Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I wanted to fall in love. Certainly I behaved badly toward my children, we both know that. I'll never understand how you could have fallen in love with the man I was last summer, but that is not really the question, Maria. The question is whether you can love the man I am now."
"How can you even ask me that? You know you were always the only one for me," she said in a low voice.
"Do I? Do I know that? I have done you so many wrongs, Maria, not the least of which is failing to tell you how much I love you. But you have wronged me too. Among other things, you never told me, either."
Resentment bubbled in her chest. Uncurling herself, she hoisted herself up on her elbows to face him.
"I did so tell you! In the hotel."
"You told me you needed me, Maria, but everyone needs me. Have you ever told me you love me?"
"I didn't have to!' she glared at him. "I followed you all over Europe like some kind of lost puppy. I asked for nothing, and I never complained, not even when I began to want more from you in return. And I gave you everything you asked of me."
"Did you? You gave me your body, a gift I truly cherish, but not your trust. With the exception of that one day on the bridge, the only place you trust me is in bed. The rest of the time, it seems like you're poised to flee at any moment. I've lost count of the number of times you've run away from me, or threatened to, and now, without even giving me a chance, you're doing it again! Why, even under torture, even when I threatened to tie you down, you wouldn't be straight with me about how I could make things right. Or about the baby! You want to know why I didn't stop myself? I didn't think of it until this moment, but now I see that it might have been the only way for me to try and make you stay put!"
His version of events took her aback. And apparently, he was not finished yet.
"You know, Maria, that day I took you from the Abbey, your Reverend Mother warned me to leave you untouched. I failed miserably, of course-"
"But Georg, I wanted to be with you that way. How many times must I tell you?"
He held up a hand to silence her and then the words began to pour out of him like water.
"But the irony is that you are the one who touched me. I thought that my feelings had died, along with Agathe. Those women I bedded – how I pitied them, for loving me when I was capable of nothing more in return. By the time you came along, I thought I was past all of that. I was prepared to make the best of things with a second marriage. I was not prepared to find myself lusting after someone who had no use for my attentions, in bed or out of it. I was confused. Frightened. When you ran away – the first time, that is," he returned her glare, "I thought it might be for the best."
He ran his hands through his hair and scowled at her again.
"And then I'm forced by circumstances to marry you! And then you inform me that you're not going to be a nun after all! And then you announce that I'm the one you've singled out to teach you to – of course. Because that's what everyone wants from me." He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "Yet still, I tried to resist. I encouraged you to find yourself a husband, I taught you how to kiss, and eventually, despite my better instincts, I taught you every single thing that comes afterward."
Maria watched his expression change, the way, during that long-ago afternoon at the hotel, she'd watched the sunlight transform the sea. She studied his handsome face as his expression lost every trace of the wit and charm and humor and intellect he wielded against the world, until the elegant veneer was completely stripped away, leaving only his eyes. His sad, beautiful eyes.
"I didn't want to believe it – that I could still love Agathe and love you too. That day in the hotel, when I thought I had to leave you behind – oh, God- but you came back to me – and – and then something happened in that forest, I don't know what it was, or when it happened, and suddenly it wasn't just that I wanted you anymore, it was that I – I loved you."
His gaze dropped to his lap, where his hands lay trembling.
"The tsunami," he muttered. "I thought you were-"
"Are you saying I destroyed everything?"
He managed a weak chuckle.
"You are hopeless, Maria, love. Damn you! No, don't you see? The last time – after the war, when everything I cared for was swept away. It was Agathe who saved me. To be forced to let go of her – and then this time – am I to lose you, too? How many times can one man be forced to recreate himself? I have lost my home, and my country, and I very nearly lost my children, and I thought you were the one this time, the one who - I should have told you, yes," he said, his voice hollowed-out with regret. "I suppose I feared that if I did, you might run away from me. Again."
He ran an arm across his face, a gesture as boyish as any of Kurt's, and all at once, Maria saw that Georg was not Salzburg Captain any more, not at all. Indeed, she felt like she was seeing him clearly for the first time in a very long time. All these months, while she had taught herself to expect nothing from him, to forgive his ruined heart every shortcoming, all that time, he had been remade entirely.
Her mind flashed back to a memory: the two of them, coiled together, naked, on the dirt floor of a harvest hut while a storm raged around them.
Recreated, he had said. Remade. Reborn.
She found herself sidling up close to him, her outstretched legs seeking the warmth of his.
"Georg, why didn't you tell me any of this before?"
"You haven't given me a moment alone with you in weeks. Except in bed."
"And yet you turned me away last night!" Maria's eyes stung at the humiliating memory.
"I know. It must have seemed cruel, but if I had let you into my bed last night – well, we both know you trust me there." His mouth tightened into a straight line. "What would that have accomplished? What I wanted to know was whether or not - you see, I was starting to believe that was the only thing you wanted from me."
"Of course that's not the only thing! You have given me so much, Georg, not only a family but – well, I don't know what you'd call it. Confidence, maybe. You make me feel important. And even when you are being so bossy, I know now it is just you trying to keep everyone safe. It is true that I like –" she stammered, trying and failing to summon one of the expressions he had taught her during their long nights in the forest, "I do like – ehrm - being with you. But I thought that was all you wanted from me, and I tried not to want any more than that, knowing you would send me away when you were done with me."
"I don't know how you talked yourself into believing that," he said sternly, "but I've done nothing to deserve it. Not for quite a long time, anyway. But because of the way we started out, you find it impossible to trust me. You assume the worst of me. As though it hardly matters what I do to redeem myself. I am doomed, regardless."
"But you- you said you couldn't beat it," she picked through her memories, although everything looked different now. "You said that marrying me was like putting her in the ground again." But even as she spoke, Maria thought about how she'd been so uneasy about following him to England, expecting his return to Agathe von Trapp's childhood home to jolt him back into grief. But that hadn't happened at all: ever since they'd arrived here, he spoke of his late wife easily, openly, with great affection.
Another memory: those panicked minutes in the hotel hallway, when she had reflected on the price she had paid, time and again, by running without stopping first to think. How had she let herself do it again, jumping to such a wrong-headed conclusion?
"And you told me, Maria, that you would never marry, that you entered Nonnberg Abbey because only God's love lasts forever. And while God undoubtedly will never desert you, your Reverend Mother, on the other hand? She couldn't get rid of you fast enough. I know she did it to protect you, but I suspect she also knew exactly what was going to happen between us. And while we're at it-"
By now, Georg had regained his composure and his normal air of authority, and there was no missing the twitch of his fingers against his crossed arms. But Maria knew that her recent impression of him, uncertain and vulnerable, would remain engraved on her heart forever.
"While we're at it, Maria, let me tell you something else. The love of a man and a woman is holy, too. If God's love for you is forever, well, then, so is mine. And that is why-"
He leaned forward, his eyes searching her face.
"I want you to marry me." He looked around the cramped toilet. "I could get down on one knee, but I'm not sure there's enough room in here."
"What difference will that make? We're already married."
"No," he shook his head. "You were right about that. That marriage was a sham, as false as that dreadful ring. You can't build a marriage on convenience. Or on lust – well, not only on lust," a smile flickered across his face, but then his expression grew serious. "We need to start from the very beginning. Because I do love you, Maria. Not the girl you were in the ballroom, but the woman you are now. But you must accept my proposal only if you can promise to stop running away from me. And only if you can tell me – go ahead, darling, go ahead and say it. Now."
For a moment, Maria was out on that bridge again, the world quaking around her, but she swallowed back her fear and blurted it out: "I love you, too, Georg. I do! But-"
"Now what is it? You're not going to turn me down, are you? After I made a fool of myself in front of my children?"
"No! I mean, yes, I will, I will, but you can't just go out and get married because you feel like it! We're refugees, from an enemy country, you can't just expect them to-"
"You can if you're me, with friends in high places like John. Even so, I had to drive all the way to London to get the appropriate permissions, and a license, and then I had to stop in three towns on the way back before I could find a priest who was willing to fit us in on Christmas Eve. Because this time, we'll get married in a church. You'd like that, darling, wouldn't you?"
Of all the revelations from this momentous conversation, why did her eyes well with tears now?
"And I bought you a proper ring, this time. And a dress!" he announced triumphantly. "But we haven't got a lot of time. The priest is only available until noon. Do you think you're well enough to make it upstairs?"
Maria knuckled the tears away and shook out her stiff elbows and knees. But before she knew it, Georg had risen to his feet in one smooth motion, scooped her into his arms and kicked the door open.
"Put me down!" she gasped.
"Enjoy it while you can," he advised her, laughing, "I won't be able to do this much longer." When they had climbed the stairway to the first landing, Mathilde Whitehead appeared in the foyer below them.
"Have you finished getting yourselves engaged yet? I've got the children in the parlor, dressed and ready to go!" she called cheerfully.
"Think so. Give me another ten minutes before calling for the cars," he said.
Through the open door of Maria's bedchamber, she could see one of the housemaids bustling about.
"The dress arrived an hour ago, Captain. I'm just giving it a bit of a steam."
"Thank you, Anna. We'll manage from here."
"Very well, sir," Anna said, scurrying from the room, but not before sending a little grin in Maria's direction.
"A white dress?" Maria giggled. "You bought me a white dress?"
"In case you've forgotten, our daughters are attending this wedding," he said grimly. "Let's not give them any ideas. Now come on. We haven't got much time." He was already stripping off her dress, working with focused efficiency. Maria would have stopped to tease him about his well-honed undressing skills, but she had a question she didn't want to forget, and he had promised to answer any question she asked.
"Georg?"
"What is it? These shoes won't do. Step out of them, will you?"
"About Agathe. Did you talk about such things with her? About love and everything?"
"No," he said distractedly. "Hands up in the air now." He dropped the dress over her head, coaxing her arms through the sleeves and smoothing the full skirt down over her knees.
"You didn't?"
From behind her, she heard him heave a sigh.
"Maria, darling, you must remember that I wasn't left alone with Agathe for more than a minute until after we were engaged, and we were quite heavily chaperoned right up until the wedding. We had nothing to do except talk, which made things less dramatic, somehow. You and I – we seem to have rushed right into the wedding night without the courtship."
"Oh," Maria felt a little stab of misgiving, "Do you wish that we had had a proper courtship?"
"Not unless you do. Do you regret it?"
"That depends," she countered. "Do you?"
"I wouldn't change a thing that's happened between us, no. And anyway, it doesn't matter whether I do or I don't, because we haven't got time for a proper courtship. Another few days," he grunted, tugging the zipper upward, "and this dress isn't going to fit you anymore. I doubt I could keep my hands off of you long enough for a proper courtship. I can't even think straight in your company. Another mark against me."
He dove into the closet and produced a different pair of shoes.
"These will do. On they go," he commanded, and then he steered her to the large standing mirror and stood behind her, dragging a hairbrush through her curls.
"Georg?"
"Hm?"
"I know you think that I was always running away, but I wasn't," she said slowly, "not exactly. I think it's more that I was searching for a reason to stay."
Maria's search had taken her from the warmth of her mother's arms, to her uncle's farm, to Nonnberg Abbey. Sweeping seven children up in its wake, it had led her through a gilded ballroom, dumped her into a mountain lake and danced her across an elegant garden. After a brief return to Nonnberg, it had taken her deep into an Italian forest, and then to a seaside hotel where the ocean's roar could be heard from every window. It had led her back into the forest, climbing cliffs, crossing ravines and swimming in secret ponds, and then to Paris, before depositing her deep in the frigid English countryside, where she had found her reason to stay in a tiny, dimly lit, black-and-white tiled toilet.
"Oh, my love."
In the mirror's reflection, she could see the understanding spread across his face, and then he spun her around and clasped her to him, so tightly she nearly couldn't breathe, and buried his head in the curve of her neck. "I am so sorry, Maria," he murmured. "I tried to tell you, darling, honestly, I did. What a coward I've been!"
She rolled her eyes at the very idea. Georg von Trapp a coward?
"I have no reason to expect it," he continued, "but I hope you can forgive me. For the first wedding, and that miserable wedding night, and the waterfall, and the cave, and last night, and oh, God, the night before that, the way I -"
"There is nothing to forgive," she insisted. "I ought to have been paying closer attention to you. And you definitely shouldn't apologize for the night before last!"
"Would you please stop being so damned forgiving and let me apologize? You're not the only one who needs a firm hand, you know," he released her with a wink.
Maria was pondering that wink when there was a knock at the door.
"Father? Grandfather sent me up here. He says it's nearly time to leave."
"O-ho, is that my best man? Come in, Friedrich. I've got to go see about the cars, if you can make sure your Fraulein gets herself downstairs in one piece. Oh, and," Georg dug into his pocket and produced a small black velvet pouch, "here are the rings. Hold onto them for me, Friedrich, won't you?"
As soon as Georg was safely out of sight, Maria snatched the little bag away from Friedrich and emptied its contents into her palm. Two shining gold rings, one big, one small. There was something about the smaller one, something that required closer inspection-
"Friedrich! You give those back to me!"
"Not a chance," her son – her son – said cheerfully, stuffing the rings and the bag into his pocket. "I'm in charge of them until the wedding. Are you ready, Fraulein Maria?" He corrected himself with a shy smile, "I mean, Mother?"
Maria tucked her arm in Friedrich's and let him lead her to the gallery and down the stairway. When they reached the landing, she looked down, her eyes sorting through the crowd - the Whiteheads, a pack of servants, the other children – until she found her Captain. He was preoccupied by arrangements, directing the children into the cars, glancing impatiently at his watch.
"Here we are, Father," Friedrich announced.
When he looked up, his face broke into a smile.
"Ready, Fraulein?" he asked.
"I'm ready, Captain," she answered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Sorry this was so long, but I think it's time to put my readers out of their misery. Hopefully the new year's holiday is giving you some reading time.
So this is more or less the end, although there will be a brief end-tying chapter. Thank you for the good wishes upon my major life transition, which is unfolding as well as can be expected. And thank you for reading my story. While I hope you enjoyed the review holiday, I do treasure the reviews many of you left and at this point, if you haven't left one yet, I'd love to hear what you thought. I'll get the disclaimer out of the way – I don't own TSOM or anything about it, I just do this for love – and now you can read the rest of this self-indulgent A/N or just wait for the last chapter in a week or so.
When I'm writing a long story like this, I simply disappear into it like a woman obsessed, thinking of it while I'm driving, falling asleep, doing the dishes, whatever. As the end approaches, it's very hard for me to say goodbye, and one of the ways I process that grief is to reflect on what got the story started in the first place. For example, I wrote a long story called "The Widow" which sprang from a single mental image: a young woman in a floaty, flowery summer dress, standing on a dock under a blazing sun, talking to the grizzled captain of a large red sailboat. How did they get there and what happens next?
This story had its origins in several circumstances. One, I thought I had gotten all my M rated writing out of my system after "Nothing Like a Yesterday," but I hadn't, and I wanted to write more of that sort of thing. In particular, I liked the idea of what it means and doesn't mean to leave someone "untouched," a term for virginity used so often in the trashy Regency romances I adore. Two, I always wanted to write a marriage of convenience story. I'm not sure if this story got that out of my system, although it was so tedious creating the circumstances that I'm not sure I'll do it again any time soon. Three, I always love me some rakish Georg, but I started to think about a "flip," in which Georg has abandoned his debauched ways, only to realize, to his dismay, that he has created an equally wicked reprobate in Maria. Four, I have a small interest in the 50 Shades fandom, which I won't ever write for, and doesn't really fit with M&G, but I thought I'd at least give it a try in Chapter 21.
Along the way, I seem to have written a defense of traditional courtship, which was not my intent, and does not reflect my personal beliefs, but just goes to show you that when you write a story, the characters have minds of their own and don't always stop to consult with you.
I had NO idea this story would end up being so long; one of the things I like about writing fanfiction is that you don't have to bow to the whims of an editor, but can go on at as much length as you like!
I do have the seeds for another story in my brain, but after I finish this one, I want to spend some time on Proboards and to leave some badly-overdue reviews, so for now, I will just say so long, farewell, and best wishes for 2019.