A/N: It's dinner party time!
"Uncle Max, why are you so dressed up!" Brigitta exclaimed when her uncle made an appearance in the drawing room shortly before dinner the very next day. Georg turned to find the impresario adorned in a full coat and tails, his eyes shining almost as brightly as his polished shoes.
"Can't a man dress nicely for a visit with his nieces and nephews without raising suspicion?" Max retorted innocently - but Brigitta only narrowed her eyes at him with a look of knowing suspicion.
"Don't you believe me?" He implored, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence.
"No!"
"You're a very intelligent girl!" Her uncle chuckled affectionately, "I confess, you've caught me red-handed. The truth is, your father and I are going out for drinks this evening."
"Max..." came Georg's low warning, but the impresario merely held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"You can put down your weapons Georg! I'm merely meeting with a potential protégé at the Bristol and I think it'd be good if you accompany me. And don't worry, I've just spoken to Frau Schmidt - she's catering only for the children this evening."
"Max!" Georg barked again, "somehow I recall specifically telling you that I would not be going out this evening."
"Poppycock," Max chirped, bouncing on his heels, "I drove all the way over here just now to pick you up. And besides, you need to stop all this moping about just because Elsa is away."
"I am not-"
"It's okay father," Liesl interrupted with a bright smile, "it's not often you get to see uncle Max. I can help put the little ones to bed tonight," she turned to her siblings, "right?" The rest of his brood nodded in enthusiastic agreement and Georg wondered fleetingly just what their uncle Max might've promised them in exchange for their treachery.
"One drink!" Max insisted, his eyes gleaming, "you love the Bristol!"
"No!" Georg snapped with finality.
"Humour me!"
"Absolutely not!"
It was with the utmost chagrin that Georg slipped reluctantly into Max's car some time later, fully adorned in his formalwear and medals. He had half a mind to slap the triumphant grin from the impresario's face for his impertinence, but then he only had himself to blame.
"How did you rope me into this.." He grumbled, picking imaginary lint from his trouser leg as Max whizzed through the country lanes towards town.
"By being a very charming sponge," he grinned, "it's just as Liesl said. I never get to see you anymore Georg! A drink is just what we need."
Still sulking somewhat, Georg merely grunted, staring out the passenger window. Silence enveloped them for the majority of the drive until finally they reached town and Georg felt the need to confront the uneasy feeling that was settling low in his stomach.
"We're not going to the Bristol, are we," he sighed in defeat, knowing all too well where they were really headed. He'd suspected from the very moment Max had showed up in the drawing room dressed to the nines that the impresario was intent on going to the party at the Goldener instead. Afraid of being needled with questions he didn't want to answer however, Georg had eventually relented - only to find himself in an even stickier situation as a result.
"Oh ho, am I really so transparent?" Max guffawed, "I ought to up my game. Machiavelli would be disappointed!"
"The Bristol is better you know," Georg insisted casually, though his stomach was roiling, "why don't we just go there?"
"I've already responded to your telegram accepting the invitation at the Goldener," Max shot him a sideways smirk and a wink, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
"Max, how dare you take what doesn't belong to you and speak on my beh-"
"Just who is this Lieutenant Norden anyhow?" The impresario interjected, entirely unfazed by his friend's anger.
Georg sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose, "a British Royal Navy acquaintance," he gritted, "but there's something I need to tell y-"
"The British Navy?" Max wrinkled his nose, "I can't stand the British! All a bunch of toffs if you ask me!"
Something very much akin to panic was beginning to bloom in Georg's chest the closer they got to the Goldener. He didn't think he could bear to explain the bizarre circumstances concerning Fraulein Maria to the impresario, but he accepted that the damage would be significantly lessened if he just confessed before their imminent arrival. Fraulein Maria would no doubt be there, a whole life away from the abbey in which Max believed her to be ensconced.
"Max, I really need to tell you some-"
"What are you doing getting mixed up with the British Navy anyway?" The impresario needled.
"Now is not the time!" Georg snapped, "just listen to-"
"Ah ha!" The impresario declared as they pulled up at the Goldener - and Georg rather suspected he was deliberately trying to avoid what he believed would be a tongue-lashing if he allowed Georg to speak, "it's just as I remembered it! Grand and glorious!"
Without hesitation, he hopped out of the car and gave the keys to the valet before Georg had a chance to protest.
"Max would you just wait one minute!"
But the impresario was already striding towards the grand double doors, the bellboy pulling one open for him with a low bow. Full-blown panic erupted in Georg's stomach as he sprung into action, leaping from the vehicle and chasing after the impresario as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. It was in the hotel's foyer that he finally caught up with him, grabbing him closer by the upper arm.
"Max for God's sake!" He hissed, offering a forced cordial smile to some elderly ladies who happened to be walking past, "I have something important I need to explain-"
"Captain Von Trapp! You've arrived!" came a sudden voice from behind them that instantly turned Georg's blood cold. It was unmistakably a British accent, and Georg could do absolutely nothing to avoid the imminent train wreck as both he and Max turned to find Lieutenant Norden beaming at them, dressed in a striking tuxedo. Much to Georg's relief, Maria wasn't with him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she would make an appearance.
"You must be Herr Detweiler," Norden greeted, introducing himself with a hearty handshake for both gentlemen. As much as he hated to admit it, Georg couldn't deny the lieutenant was as sickeningly charming as he remembered, "please, come this way... " Norden gestured, "we've booked the dining room especially."
"Marvellous!" Max simpered, falling into step behind the lieutenant - and Georg took the opportunity to try and attract his friend's attention while Norden's back was turned, his desperation increasing tenfold. But it was no use... Norden was entirely within earshot and Max was delightedly oblivious to his agitated hisses, reaching enthusiastically for a glass of champagne from a passing tray and smacking his lips in appreciation.
"Welcome gentlemen," Norden gestured through the doorway once they'd reached the dining room, "do make yourselves at home. If you'll excuse me, I'll be back in just a few moments to introduce you to everyone. I just have a small request to put in at the bar."
Norden bowed his head in farewell and Georg scanned the elegant surroundings in cold dread, waiting for the inevitable moment when his former governess would appear before them. And sure enough, as if in slow motion, his eyes found her, pure and real in a room of otherwise empty faces. She was chatting with an elderly woman in the far corner, smiling radiantly - the slender curve of her neck and the gentle waves of her hair giving her an ethereal beauty. A stunning, floor length dress of a deep red hue clung to every curve of her figure, the backless number exposing elegant swathes of silken skin - and the effect on his mind and body was immediate, alarming, overwhelming. He could do little else than stare, stunned, his mouth agape and his fists clenched - until she turned gracefully, her eyes landing on the two gentlemen appraising her from the doorway.
Her smile faltered only slightly as she recognised him, a blush creeping into her cheeks, but she soon recovered - and suddenly Georg felt as though they were dancing the laendler all over again, the rest of the world disappearing around them as they stared at one another. She was so breathtaking that he couldn't move. Even the sound of Max choking violently on his drink somewhere beside him couldn't break him from his stupor.
"My God!" the impresario rasped in disbelief, thumping his own chest, "is that... surely it can't be? Fraulein Maria?!"
But Georg wasn't listening - instead he watched in misery as lieutenant Norden suddenly reappeared from the bar and made his way towards Maria, lacing a hand around her waist and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"What the- !" Max spluttered, watching the scene unfold in front him with utter astonishment, until finally it dawned on him, "Ohhh!" He scoffed in realisation, "oh hohoho! She's here with the host?! Oh this is just too scandalous to be true Georg!"
"Behave yourself!" Georg hissed, as Norden caught their eyes with a grin and beckoned them over.
"You mean you knew she was going to be here?" Max asked incredulously as they made their way towards the couple.
"I tried to tell you!"
"But what happened to the abbey?!"
Georg didn't have the strength nor the time to answer before they reached the host and hostess - all he could do was plaster a polite smile on his face and hope for the best.
"Fraulein!" Max exclaimed over-enthusiastically, grasping Maria's hand before anyone else had a chance to speak, "How lovely to see you again after such a long time!"
Almost instantly Georg's stomach dropped into his shoes - and it appeared the Fraulein felt the very same way, for her eyes widened and the colour drained rapidly from her cheeks.
"You two have met before?" Norden frowned, looking from Maria, to Max, to the captain for further explanation.
"I.. well..." Maria stammered, her voice trembling.
Fleeting confusion flashed across the impresario's face, but a desperate sideways glance from his friend told him everything he needed to know. Quick as a flash, he rectified the situation with a nonchalance that only a life amongst high society could've taught him.
"Just the once!" He lied effortlessly.
"Yes.." Maria recovered, "at the abbey!"
She realised her mistake far too late.
"You met this... man," Norden scowled, "at the abbey?"
"Heavens no, not the actual abbey!" Max guffawed, while Georg could only observe, dumbstruck and altogether mortified, "it was at a... uh.. a charity event where the Nonnberg choir was in attendance! And fraulein Maria's soprano happened to catch my attention. I'm a headhunter for the performing arts you see... " he stated proudly, "but alas, she told me she wanted to pursue the Lord's work!"
Norden seemed satisfied enough with the explanation, for he turned his attention to the Fraulein instead, "soprano? I didn't know you could sing!"
"Well.. not really.. " Maria muttered, her face reddening as she took refuge behind her champagne flute - and Georg was again forced to contemplate exactly why she hadn't shared that part of herself with her beau. She'd always loved to sing, bursting into melody everywhere and anywhere, as though she couldn't bear to keep the notes inside. It was part of what had made him fall in love with her in the first place...
"Always so modest," Norden chuckled, pulling her closer by the waist until Georg rather felt like punching him.
"Come now gentlemen," the host clapped his hands together, "let me introduce you to a few friends of mine."
"I don't like that Detweiler fellow," Alfred sulked quietly at the bar as Maria sipped on her third champagne in an attempt to calm her fast-beating heart. As if seeing the captain again wasn't punishment enough for her lies, Herr Detweiler had nearly exposed her - and the thought of what might have resulted was making her feel sick.
"He was simpering all over you."
"He really wasn't Alfred..." she sighed a little impatiently.
"He's looking at you right now!"
Following Alfred's eye line, Maria discovered Herr Detweiler and the captain on the other side of the room, the former muttering away to his friend conspiratorially and casting hurried glances in her direction. But it was the captain who held her full attention. Dressed in a suit and tailcoat with the Maria Theresian cross draped proudly around his neck, he looked exactly as he had done the night of the Von Trapp party, and the thought caused an unwanted fluttering in her stomach. He was saying very little, leaning lightly against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest, his face sullen. Brooding, she realised with a hint of a knowing smile. About what however, she couldn't quite fathom.
"Herr Detweiler's probably just scheming about how best to make some money out of me," she shrugged, rolling her eyes.
"Only with your voice I hope!" Alfred bristled, swigging his whiskey bitterly, before his face eventually softened, "you know you really ought to sing for me sometime," he requested affectionately, "I'm sure I'd love to hear it..."
She could only smile meekly in return, "maybe some day..." the truth was, she hadn't much felt like singing since leaving the abbey - and when the time finally came for dinner to be served a few minutes later, she couldn't deny that she was grateful for a distraction from the topic.
To her immense relief, there were just enough people seated around the table to provide a much-needed buffer between herself and the captain. Alfred took her left side as host, while a white-haired man who had earlier been introduced as Colonel Waltham filled the space to her right, alongside his wife. Next to them sat two young lieutenants whose names Maria had forgotten, while the opposite side of the table hosted Herr Detweiler, Captain Von Trapp, a moustachioed man named Major Douglas and his wife, and a young couple who Maria and Alfred had met in a jazz bar on their first evening together in Salzburg. It was a bizarre mix of people to say the least, but the conversation flowed easily - that was, until the topic turned to the navy.
"Best and worst days of my life, serving in the armed forces!" Max declared jovially.
"Well it takes discipline, determination and thick skin," Norden bristled, evidently implying that Max possessed none of these attributes.
"Right you are!" the impresario beamed, oblivious to the barb, "And the Austro-Hungarian navy consisted of some of the most determined, disciplined, thick-skinned young men in the entire world. Why, just look at the captain here - " he clapped a hand onto Georg's shoulder and Georg immediately stiffened, "decorated by the Emperor on more than one occasion for bravery in combat!"
"Well what a shame the Austro-Hungarian navy no longer exists..." the lieutenant muttered.
"Alfred!" Maria chastised, aghast - and Georg instantly felt his blood boil. Whether it was due to Norden's barb or the sound of that sweet, high voice calling another man's name, he couldn't quite be sure. Either way, he dropped his spoon and let it clink deafeningly against the china of his dessert bowl.
"How many wars have you fought in lieutenant?" He challenged matter-of-factly.
Norden looked a little taken aback at being addressed by his naval associate rather than the man he'd deliberately been confronting, "Well.. no wars, per se Captain but-"
"And how many otherwise worthless scraps of metal have you been honoured with for seeing unspeakable things?"
"Well I.."
"Precisely what I thought," Georg muttered authoritatively, tucking back into his dessert, "Still, you're a young man - barely out of boyhood. You have a whole life ahead of you in which to prove your worth."
The sudden reddening in Norden's cheeks filled Georg with immense satisfaction.
"It doesn't do a man good to spend a life serving in solitude," interrupted Major Douglas, "He needs something to fight for. Something to protect. Like your Maria here, lieutenant - " he gestured, tapping his nose knowingly, "ensure you make an honest woman out of her before she realises her folly in choosing you in the first place!"
A light titter of laughter made its way around the table, until-
"She doesn't need protecting!"
The entire room suddenly fell silent and it wasn't until all eyes landed on him that Georg realised the angry protest had torn from his own lips. Lieutenant Norden appeared dumbstruck while the Fraulein's mouth hung agape - and Max was fixing him with a look as though he'd sprouted two heads.
Oh God.
"Er.. that is, what I mean to say-" he stumbled, breaking into a cold sweat, "is that we live in a modern world nowadays Major! Women are pursuing their own dreams and deciding their own paths. They no longer need our protection..."
"Here here!" Cried Lady Waltham, raising her glass triumphantly as the room once again broke into easy laughter. Much to Georg's immense relief, everyone resumed their previous conversations, all talk of the navy forgotten. That was, everyone except Fraulein Maria, whose curious eyes remained fixed on him - and suddenly he was filled with a deep ache, an intense longing to reach across the table and take her hand in his amongst a room of strangers. He was reminded of the way she'd looked at him when he'd first sung Edelweiss - warm, curious, affectionate, fascinated - as though she was seeing him for the very first time.
And oh God did it hurt to remember.
"What the hell was that?" Max hissed some time later at the bar, nursing his digestif.
"What was what?" Georg feigned ignorance, glowering at his drink.
"She doesn't need protecting!" Max mimicked him in a low, Neanderthal type drawl, "that's what!"
Georg merely shrugged petulantly and took a large gulp of his whiskey.
"My God," Max scoffed as realisation dawned, "she still affects you doesn't she! Even after all this time... "
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Georg snapped, but much to his mortification he felt his cheeks redden and the impresario merely snorted.
"Don't play me for a fool Georg, I noticed the way you two used to look at each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife! It was all very delicious, you know - the master of the house and the virginal postulant-cum-governess driving you up the walls. One of the most entertaining summers I've ever had!"
"You've made your point.." Georg snarled.
"Thank God Elsa isn't here to see your fawning-"
"I am not fawning!"
Max merely chuckled devilishly.
"I bet her lieutenant is driving you to madness!" he exclaimed with obvious glee, "he's quite a catch isn't he. Handsome, accomplished, charming, young-"
"Enough!" Georg growled, slamming his tumbler down on the bar, "I'm going to get some air."
"Good idea!" the impresario teased, "wouldn't want you getting too hot under the collar now would we!"
But Georg was already halfway across the room, stalking towards the doors and then out into the hallway with a heavy scowl. He needed a moment to catch his breath, to regain some composure before he truly embarrassed himself. Rounding a corner, he spotted a balcony at the end of a long corridor, the glass doors thrown open and the cool evening breeze forcing the curtains to sway in a sporadic rhythm. That would do perfectly, he decided.
It wasn't until he reached the balcony doors and pushed the curtain aside however, that he realised his grave mistake - for he was suddenly confronted by a sight that crippled him like a knife to the chest. Maria and lieutenant Norden were occupying the balcony and they were locked in a passionate embrace. Norden's back was to Georg, and he could see Maria's dainty fingers grasping at the hair on the nape of her beau's neck, could see the lieutenant's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, could hear the sound of her delighted whimpers as their mouths moved over one another's - and white hot flames of rage and despair suddenly erupted in the pit of Georg's stomach.
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't even move - he could only stare dumbstruck as the knife twisted mercilessly through his heart. Nothing - not even the prior realisation that he might still love her - could have prepared him for the devastation of seeing her like this. In someone else's arms. And suddenly he was burdened with another unbearable image in his mind's eye - the image of her naked form nestled under her beau, her face torn with ecstasy. Had they lain together, he wondered, had she known such pleasure with the likes of him? The thought alone made him dizzy with grief.
Maria may have been preoccupied with the newly discovered heat of Alfred's kisses, but a bizarre shiver suddenly ran down her spine, an inexplicable and instinctive feeling that she was being watched - and it caused her eyes to flutter open mid-kiss. What she saw over Alfred's shoulder stilled her beating heart. The captain was stood in the doorway as though frozen to the spot, watching their embrace with undeniable anguish written across his features. Maria's shock was instant, her sudden turmoil crushing - and her heart turned over in her chest at the look he was giving her. It was a vulnerable look of despair, betrayal, hurt and uninhibited yearning - a look that turned her to ashes. And suddenly it was so painfully obvious to her, so clear in her otherwise addled mind, so blatant in the way her heart thundered: the passing of time had changed absolutely nothing.
Immediately she broke the kiss with a gasp, and Alfred's eyes flew open, studying her face with confusion. He must've noticed that her gaze was elsewhere, for he whirled around on the spot to ascertain what had captured her attention - but Captain Von Trapp had already fled, leaving the doorway empty and Maria's composure in ruins.
A/N: VOTE TIME! I need to know whether you want this story to become M rated or not. It could go either way so it's down to a vote - because I'm a people-pleaser. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter too, I hope you liked the angst and our captain's jealousy!