Chapter 6
He had abandoned ship for Vienna within the hour, not even waiting for the weather to break, and without a word to his children or their governess. He did, however, make two stops on his way out of Salzburg. First, the jeweler, a bracelet for Elsa. Second, his solicitor, Herr Lenz.
"I have an assignment for you," Georg began, before he'd even taken a seat across from the older man, and then he quickly filled in all the pertinent details.
"I don't understand," Lenz said. "You took her in during a storm, that part I get. But then why didn't you hand her off to the police?"
"I don't know. These days, it's hard to know who to trust," Georg replied, though the truth of it was, at least at first, that he'd been too anxious to get out of Salzburg to ask too many questions about the girl.
"You don't know what you could end up with," Lenz warned. "She might be the type to make demands. Money, or worse. She might try to claim you tried to-"
"That won't happen," Georg said flatly. "Look, I need you to see what you can find out about her, and the sooner, the better. Spare no expense, hire a team of investigators if needed, do you understand? Your job is to find the facts, and then mine will be deciding what to do about them." That was all the man had to know for now.
Lenz shook his head. "This sort of search could take weeks, you understand. Or even months. Not to mention the cost. You're sure you want to get involved in something like this?"
I'm already involved, Georg thought to himself. This was only the first step, of course. As far as matters with his governess went, he didn't know exactly what would happen next; it would depend on Lenz's report. But surely she would be grateful to have the truth. It would only help. This is the least I can do for her, so that we can move on, all of us.
But all he said to Lenz was, "You have your orders. You can reach me in Vienna if you learn anything of interest. I'll be at my usual hotel for the next day or two. After that, I expect to be relocating to – to a private home. But I won't be going far. Just a block or two away."
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In the end, it was ridiculously simple. She'd just walked right up to the building with the red dome - Nonnberg Abbey, the Captain had said - and rung the bell. When the gates swung open, she was almost immediately engulfed in the warm embrace of a black-habited nun who chanted, over and over, like some kind of prayer:
"Maria. Thank God! Where have you been? Maria. Thank God! Where have you been? Maria. Thank God! Where have you been?"
Within a minute or two, there were a dozen or more of them, all in somber habits, clustered around her and chattering excitedly. And just like that, she was home again.
Sister Margarethe – How could she ever have forgotten Sister's dear, sweet face? – whisked her away to a small, quiet chapel and listened, wide-eyed, as Maria told her the whole amazing story, about how she'd woken up at the villa with no memory of who she was or how she'd gotten there. About the seven remarkable children, each of them in turn, and their father, and Dr. Weiss, and all the von Trapp household.
At last, Sister Margarethe leaned over and gave Maria's hand a comforting squeeze. "It's an incredible story, dear. We were terribly worried about you, you know, although of course I knew in my heart that the Lord would protect you from any harm."
"The only thing," Maria said, "is that I don't remember why or how I left here. I was here one morning, and the next morning, I woke up in Aigen. Why would I have left, Sister? Do you know? Why didn't anyone look for me?"
"Maria, darling. We looked everywhere for you! All the usual places, and some unusual ones as well. But who would have thought to look in an aristocratic household in Aigen? Were they good to you?'
"Oh, yes," Maria sparkled, although her heart gave a little flip at the thought of what had happened yesterday in the ballroom. And then she was off again, with more stories to tell about her time at the villa, and the marvelous von Trapp children. She might have gone on for hours, but her tale was interrupted by another familiar face.
"Maria. Welcome home," said Sister Berthe. Tall, forbidding, but Maria could see the hint of a smile behind the chilly exterior.
"Sister Berthe! Oh, it's so good to be here again! Tell me, may I see Reverend Mother now?"
"Yes. Well," said Sister Berthe.
"Well, you see," Sister Margarethe interrupted, but then it seemed like she didn't have anything to say. There was a long, awkward silence, and finally Sister added, "Let Sister Berthe and I go consult with Reverend Mother, Maria. We'll be back shortly. Meanwhile, I'm sure you might like to spend some time with the Lord, to thank him for your safe return." Without waiting for an answer, the two nuns fled the room in a swirl of black skirts.
Maria turned to the front of the chapel and fell to her knees in wholehearted prayer. After a while, though, she rose and wandered aimlessly around the room, letting the memories rush in, feeling them flow over her and fill the empty spaces in her heart and mind.
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place so easily! Now it came back, all of it: the dreary winter day when the priest brought the news of her parents' death. Uncle Kurt and his peppermint drops. She remembered her teachers' training, dear Klaus, the days and nights spent hiking and camping on the mountain, the inspiration of a red sky at dawn bringing her nearer to God. She could recall the long days of prayer and meditation, Sister Margarethe's kindness, Sister Berthe's chastisement. Her heart leapt at the remembered joy of romping through a green mountain meadow.
Closing her eyes, clinging to the recollection of that green meadow, Maria spun in a slow circle, her face raised to seek the sunshine that could not penetrate this cramped, dark space. She moved dreamily, listening for the birds and the rustle of leaves - at least until she knocked over a small bench and broke the peaceful silence.
"Maria?'' It was Sister Margarethe again, along with Sister Berthe.
"Oh, sister, I remember!" I remember all of it," Maria frowned, "I mean, except why I left, that is still a puzzle, but I remember everything else. I remember both of you. You and Reverend Mother- may I see her now? Because I'm ready at this moment to take my vows!"
She pushed away the image of that green meadow, and the unanswered question of why she'd left the Abbey if she'd been so happy here. But surely she was ready. This was the moment she'd been praying for, for weeks and weeks, wasn't it? What had happened in between was just some sort of dream. Wasn't it?
The two nuns exchanged uneasy glances, and it was Sister Berthe who explained the situation. "Reverend Mother is in seclusion. In prayer about – ehrm - about a difficult matter she has taken to the Lord. Why don't you go home and return tomorrow, Maria?"
Puzzled, Maria turned to Sister Margarethe, who smiled thinly. "Go home, darling. Go home and tell your family all about your exciting news. Tomorrow will be time enough to talk about the day you left, and to take the next steps toward your future."
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It was quite late by the time Georg checked into his usual hotel in Vienna, and he sent word to Elsa that he'd be around first thing in the morning. But when he arrived at Elsa's just after breakfast, he was greeted by a note explaining that she'd been unable to reschedule a fitting, and that she'd join him for luncheon.
Georg gave a groan of frustration; he was a man on a mission, in a rush to resolve things and move ahead. It was imperative that he confront Elsa while yesterday's fire still simmered in his veins. He had barely settled himself in the salon, with the newspaper and a cup of coffee to keep him company during the wait, when her butler interrupted.
Later, he would wonder what might have happened if the telephone call had not come when it had, or if the hotel's manager hadn't been quite so doggedly obliging. A matter of hours, and he might have managed it. Perhaps.
"Excuse me, Captain. Your hotel called. Someone's been trying to get in touch with you on an urgent matter. A Herr Lenz. You can use the telephone in the Baroness' study to return the call if you like."
"Georg?" Lenz's voice rapped over the wire. "About your mysterious governess. I've got what you need."
"Already? You said it would take weeks. Maybe months."
"It didn't take long, once I –
"Well, get on with it," Georg said, tapping his fingers on the desk. "What have you learned?"
"The thing is," Lenz said, with uncharacteristic delicacy, "it's not the sort of thing for a telephone call. I think you're going to want to go over this in person. When will you be back in town?"
Georg flinched. When Lenz had warned him the search might take a long time, he had taken the warning as though it were a promise. Somehow, he'd anticipated having more time to accommodate, to adjust to his new life with Elsa, before finalizing matters with the girl. But now that things were happening much faster than he'd expected, the state of play had shifted somehow, in a way he couldn't quite put into words. His mind raced with possibilities he somehow had failed to consider up until now.
"Lenz. Don't go anywhere," was all Georg said, however. Within minutes, he had left a note for Elsa and was in a taxi on the way back to his hotel, though on the way, he asked the driver to stop so he could buy another gift. One he hadn't thought of before.
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Deep down inside, he'd known the truth about matters with Elsa, known it for some time, he supposed, but he never would have guessed that the end would come disguised as a box of French macarons.
He was in his hotel room, gathering the few things he'd taken out overnight before returning to Salzburg, when there was a knock on the door.
"Elsa? What are you doing here?"
Elsa, normally utterly gracious and composed, was visibly rattled, her hair escaping from its combs and her blouse half-tucked in, as though she'd come from wherever she'd been in great haste.
"The question, Georg, is what you are doing. I was under the impression that you had returned to Vienna to see me, but before we so much as lay eyes on each other, you leave word that you're departing again. Or am I mistaken?"
"No," he admitted. "I'm just finishing up here, and then I've got to get on the road. I'm sorry, Elsa, but something has come up."
"Do you really have to go, Georg? You've just arrived, for heaven's sake. I thought that you'd resolved the governess situation."
"It's not that," he said briefly. "Not this time, not exactly."
She paced the room restlessly, eyes darting everywhere, before stopping short at the sight of his open suitcase.
"What have you got there?"
"Oh, that." He handed her the jeweler's box. "I'd brought this along, you know…" he trailed off.
She barely glanced at the box in her hand before her eyes went back to the suitcase. "No, I mean that."
"Just some French macarons," he shrugged. The small box was the only one he could find, but he'd had it wrapped in gold paper with an enormous white satin bow and a spray of silk roses. It had cost much less than the bracelet, but he knew it would be far more appreciated.
"Macarons? I've never met another person who despised sweets the way you do, Georg."
"They're for my children."
Elsa frowned. "That's an awfully small box for seven children, Georg." She pursed her lips. "They're for your little Fraulein, aren't they? Your mystery governess."
"The girl did me a favor, Elsa. I'm merely trying to thank her."
Her shoulders sagged and her face softened. "Georg. Please. Don't make it any worse than it has to be. Something has happened between you and that girl. You must admit it."
"I admit nothing of the kind, Elsa." But the words felt evasive and ambivalent on his lips.
"Look. I made a mistake," she said desperately. "Maybe it is time for me to visit Salzburg after all. Max can manage without me, I'm sure. If you can wait an hour or two, I can even come with you."
"I'm sorry, Elsa. Look, before I go – well, I'd be an ungrateful wretch if I didn't tell you at least once that it was you who brought some meaning back into my life. And I do thank you for that. But you should have given me your answer months ago. There was a time when I would have been happy to - but now I can't, I'm afraid." On this point, his voice was as certain as his feelings.
Elsa came up close to him and put a hand on his arm. Her eyes filled with tears as she searched his face for a long moment before she reached up to kiss his cheek. And then, as though she were a puppet pulled upright by an invisible string, she straightened, and her face hardened.
"Very well. Auf Wiedersehen, darling." And then she was gone.
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Once again, Georg was on the road to Salzburg. How many times in the last four years had he made this trip, with the grief, dread and frustration growing as approached Salzburg, while the pull of Vienna's attractions behind him was nearly irresistible. Now, it was as though the winds had shifted: he felt the pull of home grow stronger by the mile.
An hour out of Vienna: Elsa was wrong, of course. There was really nothing between him and the girl, nothing more than a warm friendship, an exchange of favors. He'd given her a home and she'd given him his children. That incident in the ballroom – yes, and the evening in the library, too – were simply aberrations brought on by bad weather and boredom. There was nothing more to it.
Two hours out of Vienna: and was the idea so preposterous? True, she might be twenty or more years his junior - it was impossible to know – but they seemed to get along well, as well as he had with Elsa, except she loved his children, too. And if he were perfectly honest with himself, there was her captivating blue gaze, her lush mouth, her soft golden hair, her long, supple legs - that mouth! He couldn't stop thinking about it.
Three hours out of Vienna he was overcome with remorse at the direction his thoughts had turned. The girl was defenseless, alone in the world. It would be taking advantage to approach her, as she had nowhere else to go. And, he warned himself, she was young enough that she might bring her heart into things, and that was a complication best avoided.
At last, he was seated in Lenz's office.
"It's all right here," the man told him, gesturing to a sheaf of papers. "Nothing would make me happier to send you a big bill for my trouble, but the fact is, it took no time at all. It was all over the papers, if you'd only bothered to look. I should have made the connection right away, but you threw me off with your description." Lenz shuffled the papers for a bit before quoting Georg's words back to him. "Pretty. Full of life, the will of the wisp type, a bit of a clown."
"I don't read the papers," Georg said with a tight-lipped smile, "so why don't you tell me the news I paid you to discover?"
"She ran away from home. They've been worried sick about her," Lenz started.
"Home? But she believes her parents are dead," Georg said.
"She wasn't living with her parents."
His heart sank. "So she's married, is that it?"
"No," Lenz said. "I mean yes, in a manner of speaking. But not really."
The man was enjoying himself too much!
"Stop talking gibberish," Georg warned, rising from his seat.
"She's a nun," Lenz said, grinning.
Georg was speechless, the breath knocked from his lungs. His legs could somehow not support him and he slumped back into his chair.
"A what?" he choked.
"A nun. Well, almost. A trainee of sorts, at Nonnberg Abbey. Postulants, they call them. They haven't taken their vows or anything-"
He did not like the knowing look Lenz sent his way.
The solicitor returned to his files. "She was a handful. Definitely not one of their shining stars, but they adored her anyway. She simply vanished late one afternoon, leaving no trace behind, and they tore the whole city up looking for her. It was all over the papers, like I say. I got hold of one of their flyers." He shoved a bright-yellow paper across his desk.
"That's her," Georg confirmed.
"I was hoping you'd be able to identify her. Saves me the trouble of having to call on them. They still don't know where she is, or that you've been looking for her. The next move is yours to make."
The solicitor's voice faded into the background as Georg attempted to make sense of what he'd heard. Yes, the little governess had reinstituted grace at meals, took the children to church each Sunday, and spoke frequently of God's will. There was her fascination with the red dome. And her remarkable command of Latin, which had seemed odd in a young woman who spoke no other language.
But. There was also the way that she couldn't sit still. The tree-climbing and banister-sliding. The way she couldn't seem to stop singing wherever she was. He was fairly certain he'd heard a curse word or two fly from her mouth. And then there was the curve of her waist, the press of her body against his.
The young woman he knew was not made for the cloister.
"Georg?" Lenz interrupted his thoughts. "Don't you want to know her name?"
"Of course," Georg said numbly.
"Maria. Her name is Maria Rainier. And a word of advice for you, Georg. It was one thing to have a young girl living in your house, what with your practically being engaged to your baroness in Vienna, and almost never in residence."
"Elsa – we've called off our engagement," Georg said vaguely.
"Well, then, all the more reason to act quickly. A nun in training under your roof? The minute the word gets out, the gossip is going to fly, and it's not going to care who gets hurt. You. Your children. Her."
Georg was still trying to make sense of it. Not twenty-four hours ago, his plans had been neatly laid out, a future with Elsa and the start to a neat resolution for the mysterious Fraulein. Now Elsa was gone for good and his plans for the girl – Maria, he reminded himself – lay in ruin.
Or did they?
He wasn't ready to give up, not yet.
"Lenz," he said slowly, the details taking shape in his mind. "Here is what I want you to do."
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The updates will come a little more slowly now that work is picking up again. I can't tell you how motivating your reviews are – even though you don't always "guess" correctly what's going to happen, it helps me sharpen things up to know what you think will happen. Very short reviews are welcome too! Fans of the real Maria's books will recognize some material I borrowed for the Elsa scene, and won't be surprised that Georg changed direction so abruptly. Thanks lemacd for consulting on that deleted paragraph. I don't own TSOM or anything about it!
