Chapter 8: Forbidden Hope

A/N: I found this chapter to be particularly angsty; it was hard to write. But if you manage to get through this one, the next chapter promises to be MUCH more pleasant.

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Georg dressed quickly. The children would be going downstairs soon, expecting breakfast to be served as usual. He wanted to explain to them what had happened to Frau Schmidt and reassure them that she would be fine.

He had spent most of the night waiting for the doctor to arrive. He had not wanted to fall asleep in case Frau Schmidt woke up and needed something. Fortunately, her injuries had not appeared to disturb her sleep. He, on the other hand, had not slept at all, but he counted it a small price to pay for having played a part in the accident. Even though Frau Schmidt clearly did not blame him, he was not quite ready to forgive himself.

Once Doctor Hecht had finally arrived, he had examined Frau Schmidt and determined that there was no need for stitches, much to Georg's relief. The news had allowed him to relax for the first time all night. He would have tried to get some rest after that, but by the time the doctor left, the sun had already risen. He'd had just enough time for a quick shower. He would need to go downstairs soon to meet with the children.

He checked himself in the mirror over the dresser. He looked scruffy, unkempt. There had not been time to shave. At least he was clean; he was glad to be rid of the blood stains.

The thought reminded him of the blood-stained clothes he had left in the bathroom. He was not sure what to do about them. Maria had said that they were ruined, that the stains would not come out. If they were unsalvageable, he should probably just throw them away. He could see them through the open door of the bathroom, hanging on a hook.

The images and memories came unbidden into his mind – Maria standing close to him, pushing his sleeve up, the fabric tickling his skin; the feel of her hands on him, their heat penetrating his initial shock and flooding him with white-hot desire; the way she had held his wrist long after she could have let go; the look in her eyes and the swipe of her tongue.

Later. He would throw them away later.

* * * * *

"Are you sure she's going to be all right?"

"Why can't we go in and see her?"

"When will she be better?"

"Who's going to clean the house?"

"Who's going to cook our meals?"

"If you keep talking over each other, I won't be able to hear your questions."

He had waited for the children just outside the dining room, which was not set up for breakfast; they would be eating in the kitchen this morning. He had told them about the accident, speaking succinctly and matter-of-factly, downplaying the injuries. Even so, the children were overly excited after having heard the news about Frau Schmidt. It was understandable; they had known her all of their lives and were naturally concerned.

"As I explained to you, her injuries are minor and the doctor has already been to see her. She will need to rest for a day or two at the most, but then she should be able to resume her duties. Franz will help with some of what needs to be done while she is indisposed and the rest of us will have to make do. Knowing Frau Schmidt, I imagine she will be up and about by tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I'm counting on all of you to make sure she is not disturbed. Are we all clear on this?"

"Yes, Father." Liesl spoke for all of them; the others were nodding their heads solemnly. They looked so serious now; he hoped he had not scared them. Perhaps it would be best to let them see her sooner rather than later.

"After breakfast, I will check on her. If she is awake and feels up to a visit, you will be able to see her sometime this morning."

The children brightened at that and resumed their chatter, already planning to make a get well card in the brief time they would have after breakfast.

"Fraulein Maria! You'll help us, won't you? You're so good at making things."

Georg turned to look in the direction that Kurt was facing. Maria had just finished descending the stairs and was walking toward them. She was dressed to go out, wearing a light coat.

His heart sank. Somehow it had slipped his mind that Maria would not be here this morning, that she was leaving to visit the abbey. How could he have forgotten?

"Help with what, Kurt?" Maria asked as she approached.

"We're making a get well card for Frau Schmidt. We need to finish it as quickly as possible so that we can give it to her when we visit her after breakfast."

Maria ruffled Kurt's hair. It was a simple gesture, but it tugged at Georg's heart. It seemed immeasurably affectionate.

"That's a marvelous idea. I'm certain it will cheer her up. But I won't be able to help you. I'm sorry, but I need to go to the abbey this morning. I know you will do a wonderful job on your own; you're all so talented and capable."

Georg could see that she meant every word. She never misled the children or gave them false praise. They were blossoming under her care. He saw it in the way that they did not lose their enthusiasm for their idea, even though they were disappointed that she would not be there to help them.

He had been on the point of despair only a few hours ago, but it seemed like so much had happened in the short time since then. He thought he had seen something in her, the hint of a deeper feeling for him beyond the physical attraction he knew she felt. Or so he hoped. Aside from worrying about Frau Schmidt, he had thought of little else all night. But here she was, ready to leave, and for all he knew she would not be coming back. He could so easily be deluding himself, believing only what he wanted to believe. He needed to know what was real, to know if he had reason to hope.

"All right, children, breakfast is in the kitchen. Go on, Franz should be waiting for you there. I'll join you in a moment." After a chorus of 'good-byes' and 'see you laters', they were alone, and there was no one left to look at but each other.

With the absence of the children, the buffer between them was gone. He felt the change in the atmosphere instantly, more quickly than he ever had before, even stronger now after the way she had behaved toward him last night.

His intention had been to talk to her, to try to discover more of what she was thinking and feeling. But the thoughts flew from his head as they stood there looking at each other. What was this power she had over him, that one direct look from her could so easily reduce him to a solid mass of aching want?

He felt the cresting waves of longing surge through him violently, even more so because he could sense the same waves rolling off of her. He read it in the tension in her body, heard it in the sound of her quickening breath, saw it in the fever in her eyes. He knew that if he felt for it, her heartbeat would be hammering as hard and fast as his was. And he wanted to feel for it everywhere it pulsed in her body. He surrendered to it without thinking. He was already moving toward her before her voice stopped him.

"I was in to see Frau Schmidt this morning. She's understandably tired, but she seems to be doing well." Her voice was higher than normal, her words rushed. Her obvious battle with her own feelings gave him pause, made him question himself. He answered her almost automatically, most of his mind still wrapped up in her.

"Yes, she's going to be fine. She didn't need stitches and just needs a bit of rest."

The silence that followed their brief exchange was awkward. He had been thrown off balance and was still reaching blindly, trying to recapture the strands of the thoughts that had so rapidly fled from his mind. She caught him off guard yet again when she spoke before he had been able to gather himself.

"I should be going. It's a long journey."

Was she leaving already? She had only just come downstairs; he had only just seen her. He had not had a chance to talk to her.

"Won't you eat something before you leave? As you said, it's a long journey." He grasped at something, anything, to delay her. She was proceeding so quickly, his mind could scarcely keep up with her.

"Thank you, but no, I'm not hungry. I'll eat something at the abbey. I should go."

She had already turned and started walking. He stepped quickly to her side.

"I'll walk you to the door."

The simple act of moving his body jump-started his brain and he was able to think again. She seemed so eager and determined to leave. He had wanted to know if he had reason to hope; perhaps she was giving him his answer. If she was, he was not ready to accept it yet. If he could only find the right words to talk to her.

"I wanted to thank you again for your assistance yesterday. Your help was invaluable."

"It was your skill and knowledge that made the difference, Captain. But I'm grateful I was able to help."

They were almost at the door. He was rapidly running out of time and opportunity. He steeled himself and forged ahead. He needed to know what was real.

"And afterwards, in Frau Schmidt's room, when you…ascertained that I was not injured. I…I appreciated how you showed your concern." He was trying to be careful with his words, because he was so uncertain about what had or had not happened, uncertain about what she had thought and felt.

They had reached the door. Her steps slowed to a crawl and then stopped altogether. He saw the slight turn of her head, the glance down at his hands and arms, and when she blushed he knew she was thinking about when she had touched him. He wanted her to do it again. He wanted her to reach out to him, to want to be with him. He waited for her to respond, hoping. When she finally looked up at him and saw him watching her so intently, the color in her cheeks deepened. His eyes locked on hers, refusing to let her look away.

"Last night, I…" She sounded out of breath.

"Yes? Last night you…" he prodded when she stopped, burning to know what she was going to say. But she just shook her head and he knew she was not going to continue.

"Maria…"

"I really must be going."

"What time will you be back?" He tried not to feel defeated, but it was a losing battle. She regretted what had happened. Or she regretted that he had obviously misinterpreted it. Now his only hope was for her return.

"I'm not sure. When I've finished at the abbey."

What if she was never finished at the abbey? What would he do then?

"Good-bye, Captain." She paused a moment, perhaps waiting for his parting words. He could not bring himself to say them.

He watched her leave in silence, wondering if he would ever see her again.

* * * * *

That day was one of the longest of his life. The hours had seemed to drag by. After checking on Frau Schmidt after breakfast, he had allowed the children to visit with her, but not for too long. Although he knew that she enjoyed their company, as evidenced by her extolling the magnificence of the card they had made for her, he had called them out of the room before they could exhaust her with their sincere but overly solicitous attentions. It had been enough time, however, to appease them.

He had spent the rest of the morning in the living room with the children, having given each of them independent study and reading assignments. He had tried to read the newspaper and catch up on correspondence, but he could not concentrate on anything. He kept listening for the door, waiting for the sound of Maria's return.

By the middle of the afternoon, when he and the children had returned to the house after a lengthy hike along the grounds of the estate, only to find that she had still not returned, he began to worry in earnest. What if she really did not come back? She could arrange for her few belongings to be sent to her at the abbey, assuming she even wanted them. But before the thought could throw him into a downward spiral, he reconsidered. Surely she would not leave the children like that, not after the way she had left them so casually this morning. No, he was convinced that if she left, she would do her best not to hurt the children.

Still, when Gretl turned to him to say that she was enjoying the day but that things were just not the same without Fraulein Maria, he had found it difficult to reply. He felt her absence deeply; nothing was the same without her.

After a well-intentioned yet uninspired supper of potato soup, the children had gone upstairs, disappointed in the meal and in the fact that their governess had not yet returned. He told them that she would most likely return after they had gone to bed and that they would see her in the morning. He could only hope that it was the truth.

He was by himself now and feeling restless. He wandered through the house for a time, but left to his own devices, he found himself visiting the rooms where he could feel Maria, the places where he had been close to her. He relived every heated look, every touch, every tremor, every moan, every what almost was.

It was not until he found himself in front of Frau Schmidt's door that he realized how he was punishing himself – for pushing too hard, for hoping too much, for wanting what was not his. It was almost masochistic, what he was doing. He had to break free from it or it would hurl him into a depression he had only experienced once before. He did not want to repeat that experience, if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the children. He was not the same man he had been; he could not make the same choices.

He decided he might as well visit Frau Schmidt. It would help to think about someone else. He knocked on the door and entered at her invitation.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, Captain. Frankly, I'm a bit bored and tired of just lying here uselessly and reading. I welcome the company. Please come in."

He closed the door behind him and sat in the chair by her bed. He looked at her with an appraising eye and was pleased to note that she seemed stronger, less pale, more rested.

"You're looking better. I believe the rest has done you good."

"Well it certainly wasn't the potato soup. I know Franz is an excellent butler, but he will never win any cooking competitions."

He smiled at the sparkle in her eyes. He had made the right decision to visit her; her good humor was already having an effect.

"You can rest assured that I'll be back to work tomorrow morning. I can't have the family starving to death, can I?"

"There's no need to return to duty too soon. You should take your time, make sure you've recovered enough. We can manage in the meantime."

"I'm quite well enough, sir. But thank you for the kindness of the offer."

He smiled and fell silent, leaning back in his chair. His eyes were drawn to the foot of the bed. He could almost see Maria still standing there, watching him, waiting for him to walk over to her. But of course, she was not there. A wave of sadness washed over him, drowning the bit of relief he had begun to feel.

"Sir? Are you well?"

He tried to shake free from the sadness. He was supposed to be here making Frau Schmidt feel better, not brooding to the point where she became concerned for him.

"Yes, I'm fine." He looked back at her and tried to muster a smile but failed.

She studied his face so intently that he felt exposed. He looked down at his hands, trying to escape her piercing gaze.

"Captain, I've worked in this house for many years. I've seen you through the happiest of times as well as some of the most tragic. I am loyal to this family and I care deeply for all of you. Please forgive my impertinence, but I can see that you are not fine, that you have not been fine for some time. If there were ever anything you would wish to discuss in confidence, I want you to know that I would do my best to help you."

He looked up at her, startled. What had she noticed? What did she know?

"I'm not sure what you mean." His first instinct was to be evasive.

"It's about Fraulein Maria, isn't it, sir?" Her voice was gentle, a mother's caring, loving voice. The sound of it was comforting, disarming.

He closed his eyes and felt the weight of his burden. He had been carrying it alone for so long. If he could unload just a bit of it, if there was anyone he could trust with it…

"Yes, it's about Fraulein Maria." He could hardly believe he had decided to confide in her. But he trusted in her discretion and in her kindness. And the burden had become so heavy.

"I can't stop thinking about her. She's always there, everywhere I look. Even when I close my eyes, she's there. I've tried so hard to get her out of my head. But I can't do it. I kept my distance from her, I tried to stay away from her, but every attempt was futile. It only made things worse. This thing just keeps growing stronger. It makes me want her in my life. And it makes me want…so many other things."

The words spilled from him so easily. Once he started, he found that he could not stop, did not want to stop.

"The more I see her with the children…she'd be a wonderful mother to them. They already love her. And she's kindhearted and good and gentle and strong, courageous and beautiful and full of life. Sometimes I think she cares for me, but she always pulls away from me. I've made a mess of everything. I've pushed her too hard. She's so inexperienced, innocent even. I've just confused her, made her question herself, muddled her thoughts until she couldn't possibly know what to think or feel. I've ruined everything. "

Frau Schmidt listened in silence, letting him speak freely until he ran out of words. Then she spoke.

"I suspected it was something like that. You have an air of suffering about you. But I see it in her as well. I'm not convinced you're seeing her clearly, Captain. One would have to be blind not to have noticed the tension between the two of you. It's there, in both of you. And I saw the way she looked at you when she thought you were injured. Believe me, sir, she cares." She paused before continuing, apparently deciding on what to say next.

"But have you considered her perspective? She has her life planned. She's preparing to serve the Lord as a nun. She may not have professed her final vows yet, but she made a commitment. Do you suppose it would be so easy for her to turn her back on that commitment?"

"I've considered that, of course. It's one of the reasons I tried to stay away from her. I didn't want to interfere with her life, with the decisions she had made. But if she cared for me…"

"Forgive me, Captain, but there's much more to consider. Have you never thought that your relationship with Baroness Schraeder might be a barrier for her? That she could never bring herself to be involved with a man while he was still attached to someone else? You've just spent two weeks with the Baroness. Did you never consider how that would speak of a level of commitment that Fraulein Maria could not ignore?"

"But that relationship is over. It ended for me the day Maria entered this house, even though I didn't know it at the time. The Baroness and I were never officially engaged, and now we never will be. I've already sent word to her that I'll be visiting later this week. I'm going to tell her then, that we have no future together. She's been wonderful, but I've never cared for her the way that I…"

He was suddenly afraid to complete the sentence, to say the words aloud. Saying things out loud somehow made them seem more real. And he was afraid that his reality would never fit Maria's. He was not sure he wanted to face that, not yet. He surprised himself by realizing that he still had some small modicum of hope left. But Frau Schmidt would not let it go.

"What were you going to say, sir? Please say it. You need to say it."

What was the use of denying the truth? He was tired of fighting it when he was powerless against it, and denying it would not make it any less true.

"I never cared for her the way that I care for Maria. The way I love Maria."

Admitting it left him feeling raw, vulnerable. He had known it would. Once spoken aloud, he could no longer continue trying to bury those feelings.

"And Fraulein Maria knows this? She knows that you love her? She knows that you are ending your relationship with the Baroness?"

"No, of course not. How could I have told her all of that, when I know I've been the cause of the agony I see in her eyes, when most of the time I make her uncomfortable, when she feels like she has to pull away from me?"

"How could you expect her to do anything else if she doesn't know the truth?"

Her words struck him like a physical blow. How could he have expected her to do anything else? He always lost control with her, his volcanic passion erupting because of how hard he tried to suppress it. But that had backfired; it had only made his desire for her grow stronger under the added pressure. The only time he hadn't lost control, that he hadn't pushed her, had been yesterday, and it had been the one time she had not pulled away.

"Please take my advice, Captain. Talk to her. Be honest with her. And let her make a decision based on the truth."

He could lose her if he did that. If she did not feel the same way he did, she would leave. How could she stay then, knowing how he really felt? If he could find a way to contain his feelings, she might stay, at least as the children's governess. But even as he thought it, he knew it would never be enough. It would be too hard having her living under his roof, all the while wanting it to be more. Sooner or later, it would become impossible to bear. And he would still lose her.

"I will think about what you've said." He stood to leave. "I've taken up enough of your time. But I want to thank you. You've done more than I could have expected or asked for."

"Captain, I only want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

The words resounded in his ears as he closed the door to her room until another sound replaced it; the opening and closing of the front door. The sound triggered so many contradictory feelings in him – relief, joy, anxiety, apprehension – that he nearly staggered.

Maria had returned.

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I hope, as always, for your reviews.