A/N: I'm not sure how happy I am with this, but I decided it's time to put you all out of your misery. I hope you enjoy it!
It was with the deepest sympathy that Max watched his oldest friend playing with the children later that afternoon in the drawing room. To any other observer Georg might've seemed content, even joyful - what with the way he was engaging so heartily with his brood. But Max wasn't fooled. There was a shadow to his eyes, a shadow that Max had seen only once before. The very same shadow the impresario used to notice when he'd had to wrestle numerous bottles of liquor out of Georg's numbed fingers.
His friend was putting on a brave face for the children, there was no doubt about it. Every time his brood's attention shifted elsewhere for a few moments, the smile would fall from his lips and his face would darken with something Max didn't want to identify. And in truth, it scared him - the last time Georg had looked like that he'd fallen into a despair so deep it had taken a miracle to get him out of it.
The journey back from the train station had been even more painful than the infamous journey back from the Goldener. Without so much as a single word, Georg had thrust the keys in Max's direction, his hands clearly shaking too violently to grip the steering wheel, his face a canvas of disbelief. Obediently, Max had commandeered the vehicle, and in any other circumstances he would've been over the moon: Georg rarely let him touch the convertible, let alone drive it! But his friend's acquiescence in this case had only served to show how shell-shocked he really was by what had taken place on the platform.
Max couldn't quite believe it himself. The girl loved Georg, he was sure of it. If their stolen looks and longing glances the previous summer hadn't been indication enough, her tormented blushes at the Goldener had confirmed it without question. That, and the raw turmoil that had churned in her eyes that very morning when Georg had gone after her. Max had been standing close by, with one eye fixed firmly on his friend and the other on an unsuspecting Norden who'd been collecting the tickets a few yards away. It'd felt as though he'd been watching a play, a helpless observer witnessing the tragedy as it had begun to unfold. The look in the Fraulein's eyes, the anguish in her voice had been unmistakable.
And yet, she'd gotten on the train anyway...
"Leisl," he whispered from his place in the doorway, and the girl looked up from her task with the little ones to find her uncle beckoning her over with a gentle jerk of his head, a silencing finger pressed to his lips. Frowning slightly she excused herself without drawing anyone's attention and made her way to the door with a weariness that Max didn't miss.
"What is it uncle Max?" She asked hesitantly as though she thought she was about to be roped into a conspiracy she'd rather avoid at all costs.
"Take the others for a little walk around the garden would you Liesl?" He asked softly, "I want to have a quick word with your father."
"Oh Uncle Max," Leisl sighed with a hint of amused exasperation that suddenly reminded him vividly of Agathe, "if it's about getting us to sing for you again, I'm afraid father just isn't going to-"
He interrupted her with a hearty chuckle, patting her affectionately on the shoulder, "don't you worry sweetheart, I have no intention of flogging a dead horse, no matter how notoriously persistent I am! Especially not such an ill-tempered, stubborn horse!"
It was at that particular moment that said horse's head snapped up from his place on the sofa, scowling at the impresario and the conspiratorial whispers taking place in the doorway.
"Max..." came his low warning, "just what are you up to?"
The impresario didn't answer but Georg watched, eyes narrowed, as Leisl crossed the room with a roll of her eyes and muttered something low to her brothers and sisters before the seven of them upped and scarpered in a flurry of thundering footsteps. Not for the first time Georg wondered, with a stab of irritation, just what kind of power Max had over his nieces and nephews to make them obey his every request.
"I was wondering how long it would be before you pulled something to get me alone for an interrogation," Georg gritted, hauling himself into a standing position and making his way stiffly to the window. Ignoring the barb, Max edged in the opposite direction from the caged lion towards the beloved liquor cabinet, pouring them both a stiff drink. Evidently, they were going to need it!
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he tried to find the words to begin what he wanted to say but he didn't even know where to start - so instead he busied himself with adding ice to their glasses while he considered what he'd been thinking about before he'd beckoned Leisl over.
As Georg's friend, he should've done more.
An outside observer, he'd been all too aware that something had been developing between the master of the house and his children's governess ten months ago and yet he'd done nothing to stop the mess that had so rapidly ensued. As a close friend, he could've pushed Georg to confront his feelings, he could've spoken to him about his potentially unwise decision to marry Elsa. But instead he'd sat idly by, convincing himself not to meddle, sweeping the deteriorating circumstances under the rug on the premise that Georg would surely get over it and that he should therefore allow things to take their natural course. But the natural course had turned out to be a damaging one indeed.
Clearing his throat, Max approached his agitated companion and handed him one of the glasses, which Georg took begrudgingly.
"You look terrible," Max observed, attempting to sound sympathetic - but then he rather wished he could stuff the stupid words back in his mouth when Georg fired him a glare that could only be described as murderous.
"In the nicest possible sense of course!" He corrected himself feebly. Georg only rolled his eyes and knocked back the entire glass of whiskey, his jaw tensing as the liquid burned down his throat - and Max made a mental note to deny him a refill if he requested one.
"What do you want Max?" Georg sighed impatiently, continuing to stare blankly out the window.
The impresario paused for a long while, rocking back and forth on his heels and toying with his moustache before he finally spoke, "I have a theory..."
Georg's expression didn't change, "And what theory might that be?" He retorted icily, his tone making it all too clear that he couldn't care less.
"I believe Maria made the wrong choice," Max declared, but Georg only snorted.
"Thank you Max, but your flattery is wasted on me."
"I'm not trying to flatter you," the impresario huffed, rather tempted to smack Georg upside the head for his sulking, "I'm trying to tell you that she's made a mistake. You know plenty about mistakes, don't you Georg? And much like you and your proposal to Elsa I believe Maria will reflect on her mistake and come to her senses. Only, she's far sharper than you are, and a damn sight braver too. It won't take her ten months and a broken marriage to realise her true path."
The only indication that Georg had even heard him was the slight flicker of his eyes and the rigid clenching in his jaw.
"When she knew she wasn't meant for the cloistered life, she took a blind leap and left the sisters, did she not?" Max continued, trying to get through to him, "The same will hold true with the lieutenant, you mark my words - she'll realise soon enough and she'll take another blind leap-"
"Regardless Max," Georg spat, his tone cutting as he continued to stare darkly through the window, "she's gone. None of it matters anymore."
"Courage.. fortitude, compassion - she possesses all these attributes and more in spades Georg," Max forged on, despite the imminent storm darkening his friend's face.
"And what exactly is your point?" Georg snarled, his entire body rigid with silent anger.
"Don't give up on her," Max murmured simply. But it was clearly the wrong thing to say, for the caged lion suddenly attacked, his quiet reflection instantly replaced by a rampant anger that had him rounding on the impresario like a wild beast cornering a helpless gazelle.
"So what would you propose I do!" He bellowed, his eyes churning with a dangerous fire, "Jump on the back of a white horse and follow her all the way to England only to have her turn away from me again?!"
He threw his tumbler angrily into the empty fire place and watched with satisfaction as the impresario jumped in response to the violent sound of shattering glass. But despite the outburst, Max apparently remained unperturbed.
"What was the one thing you wished you'd done all those months ago!" he needled persistently, raising his voice in retaliation, "the one thing you wished you'd done when she first returned to the abbey!"
"I called that blasted abbey countless times!" Georg shouted in defence, "I wasn't allowed to see nor speak to-"
"Georg," Max interrupted gravely, his voice softening with compassion, "just, answer the question."
His chest heaving, Georg didn't speak for long moments, his obsidian eyes locked with his friend's - until finally his shoulders sagged and his fists unclenched in defeat.
"I wish I'd written to her," he rasped quietly, "I wish I'd written all the things I hadn't been able to say out loud.."
Max shrugged modestly, "So write to her."
"And say what?" Georg scoffed at the suggestion, turning back to the window and resting his knuckles on the sill to prevent them from clenching again.
"Let her know that nothing's changed," Max encouraged, "that you'll still be waiting and that you forgive her."
"I don't even know where she lives..."
"The Reverend Mother might know of a forwarding address..." Max suggested hopefully, but Georg didn't respond, a heavy silence falling over the two of them instead. Watching his friend for long moments, the impresario could tell that despite his stubborn silence, Georg was brooding over the advice - which was all Max could really hope for under the circumstances. Maybe, by some miracle, he'd managed to get through to the man after all.
"Well," he murmured with finality, draining his glass and making his way towards the door, "just think about it, Georg. After all, what more have you got to lose? You gave up on her once. Don't make the same mistake again."
"Children?" Max frowned an hour or so later when he found them all enjoying the sun on the terrace, "where's your father? He's not in his study..."
"He had to go to town last minute," Friedrich piped up and the lines on Max's brow only deepened in confusion.
"Yes," Brigitta chimed in, "something about an address?" She shrugged, "he seemed in a bit of a hurry."
"He said he'd be back in time for dinner though," Kurt hastened to add, rubbing his grumbling stomach hopefully.
Max couldn't quite suppress the knowing grin that spread wide across his face then as realisation dawned. It seemed that by some miracle, even the most ill-tempered and stubborn of 'horses' could be persuaded after all.
Georg considered that he'd surely gone mad to be taking advice from the likes of Max Detweiler - and yet here he was, bolting down the country lanes in the direction of Nonnberg Abbey. The impresario's parting words had been ringing in his ears for the better part of two hours, to the point that he'd no longer been able ignore them.
"Don't make the same mistake again."
He'd made plenty of mistakes, of that he was most certain - but perhaps the biggest mistake of all had been to let Maria flee the previous summer without doing absolutely everything in his power to find out why she'd left. What he'd told Max before had been true - he did regret not writing to her, he did regret not going after her. He should've gone straight to the abbey and broken down the blasted doors. Instead he'd chosen to give up on her - to make his own assumptions about her departure rather than bothering to pursue the truth.
And he was in danger of doing the very same again now. She'd left with Norden, true enough - she'd boarded the train and headed to England despite his pleading. But just as Max had said, none of it meant that it was the right choice, nor that it was the future Maria truly wanted for herself. If there was any possibility that she'd made a mistake, then she needed to know that he would be waiting, that he would understand. Hadn't he himself chosen the wrong person ten months ago and regretted it ever since?
The last time she'd fled, she'd been too afraid to come back to him. This time, he'd make sure she knew - he would only ever welcome her back with open arms and with love in his heart. For what sin was she guilty of that he himself hadn't committed first? Fear, denial, and guilt had led him down the wrong path once, and he could hardly blame her if she too had fallen victim to their powerful grip.
He would write to her, he'd decided. He would get a forwarding address from the Reverend Mother - explain the entire circumstances under oath if he had to! - and he'd write every single word that he should've written ten months ago. Everything that yet remained unsaid.
Parking the car a short distance from the abbey, he moved on quick feet in the late afternoon sun, trying to determine what in God's name he was going to say to the reverend mother when she would undoubtedly ask precisely why he wanted a forwarding address for her ex postulant. Would he be better off lying, he wondered. Or perhaps honesty was the best policy in the house of G-
Suddenly Georg stopped dead in his tracks, confronted by a sight that tore the air from his lungs. He quite simply forgot how to breathe. He was rooted to the spot, his mind hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. Surely it was entirely impossible. Surely his eyes were deceiving him.
There - perched on the front step of the abbey and hugging her knees to her chest with all the fear of a lost child - was his former governess. His lover. His very lifeblood. She hadn't spotted him approaching, too busy staring at her hands as she twisted them in front of her knees - and he took the opportunity to study her, to calm his fast beating heart, to try and make sense of the startling fact that she was sat right in front of him instead of on a train to Paris.
When he finally found the courage to make himself known, he took a step closer, his whole body shaking.
"Hallo.." he cooed softly, utterly convinced she was a mere hallucination. But it seemed she was real after all, for she jumped instantly at the sound of his voice, launching to her feet from her perched position on the steps.
"I never thought I'd find you here.."
She stilled, her face contorted with anguish as she stared at him from her place on the step - he the undeserving mortal and she his goddess. The lowness of the sun meant that the abbey was cloaked in a golden hue and the glint across her hair was just enough to make her look like an angel - reminding him all too well of when he'd first spotted her in the square.
Her timid voice, rich with rising panic, broke through the silence, "I had nowhere else to go. How.. how did you know-"
"I didn't," he rasped, still unable to move, "I came here in the hopes of finding an address I could reach you at. In England. But you're not there," he pointed out stupidly, gesturing at her in disbelief, "you're here."
"Yes..." she whispered.
"Is.. is there any particular reason you're here and not... not there?" He dared to ask, his heart beginning a steady gallop in his chest.
She said nothing, eyeing him wearily, poised like a gazelle as though ready to flee again. But she stood firm, much to his relief.
"I couldn't do it.." she finally murmured, so quietly that he took an involuntary step closer, "I got as far as the next stop before I realised.."
"Realised what?" He couldn't breathe.
She cast her eyes to the floor, "I can't be his while I'm in love with you.. " she bit back a sob, "I told him everything, Georg. Everything. I broke his heart."
It was true - she had completely torn Alfred Norden's heart out, a fate he had neither predicted nor deserved. As one might've expected, he had bombarded her with questions the minute the train had pulled out of the platform, growing quite impatient when she wouldn't immediately provide answers. She'd been in no fit state to speak, but Alfred had begun to rant rather angrily about Herr Detweiler - until Maria realised, with utter horror, that she had made a terrible mistake.
It had been at that precise moment, alone in their private carriage, that Maria had confessed the deepest secrets of her heart to Alfred, no longer able to keep the truth inside. His reaction had been frightening to say the least - he had flown into a fitful and insulting rage, revealing a side to him that she hadn't seen before and one that she hoped no one would ever see again. But she could hardly blame him for his aggressive reaction - for what she'd done had been unforgivable.
"I left him on the train.." she murmured, unable to lift her eyes from the ground.
Georg's stomach plummeted and his heart soared all at once. She'd done it, she'd left Norden - just as Max had predicted. Overcome with hope, he moved as if to close the gap between them but she took a step back, her hands held up in front of her to deter him, and he froze once again, his heart sinking.
"But neither can I be yours," she was shaking her head, tears pooling behind her eyes, "One night nearly tore me apart, Georg. I..." her cheeks suddenly flushed pink, "I could be with child, Alfred said.. I didn't even consider-"
"Is that why you came back?" Georg interrupted, the accusation coming out harsher than he'd intended, his stomach turning over, "an obligation to fulfil...?"
"No!" She cried, her voice shrill with a sudden flair of anger, "I already told you why I've come back! Because I don't love him!"
"You love me," it was a statement, not a question - and he watched as she nodded helplessly, the tears finally spilling over.
"But it doesn't change anything," she sobbed, "we can't be togeth-"
"Maria," he interrupted softly, silencing her, "Elsa has returned to Vienna permanently. I told her everything too. And she told me all about how she's found her own happiness. We are getting an annulment," he confessed gravely, "It's over."
Clearly the news was a shock to her, because her eyes blew wide and a hand flew to her hair, "are you mad?!" She cried incredulously, "you've lost your mind! I never thought you would actually.. I can't believe you-"
She continued to mutter to herself incessantly but this time round he didn't even hesitate - with an indignant roll of his eyes he closed the gap between them in four easy strides, taking her firmly in his arms and silencing her with a searing kiss right there on the abbey steps.
At first she stiffened with surprise but soon enough she was melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervour, her hands burying under his lapels and pulling him closer. Blood surged hotly through his veins and his heart swelled with pure unadulterated affection. She was here, in his arms, as real and as pure as the sun itself. He hardly dared to believe it.
When he finally gave her room to breathe, she was speechless, her lips a little swollen and her eyes still closed - as though she was savouring the contact she thought she'd never experience with him again.
"Look at me.." he whispered, and immediately she complied, her guileless eyes fluttering open and staring at him as though she was seeing him for the first time.
"Maria," he ghosted his fingertips down her satin cheek, "I've said it before and I'll say it again, since you've always been so intent on defying me!"
She smiled sheepishly and he couldn't help but return it.
"I don't want a mistress," he continued, "I want to court you openly when this blasted annulment is confirmed - properly, without shame. To love you, to cherish you and support you... to provide for you, to stay by your side through thick and thin, and yes to welcome more children with you. And not because you might already be with child Maria, nor because of what we did at the Goldener - though I did love every second of it-"
Her cheeks burned crimson then and she hit him playfully on the chest in protest, but he only chuckled devilishly and tightened his arms around her, "- but because I love you, Maria. If you will only accept me and acknowledge that you are worthy - believe me when I say I yearn for nothing more."
If the look she'd given him before was one of incredulity, it was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now, her eyes shining bright with disbelief and wonder.
"But.. " she protested on a whisper.
"My God, you're even more stubborn than I remembered!" he interrupted, with only a hint of a teasing lilt, "but nothing, darling! I may have been wrong about many things over the years, but this -" he gestured between them, "I have never been more certain about."
He watched her cautiously after laying his heart bare, witnessing the myriad of emotions playing out on her face. Shock, confusion, hope, curiosity, longing.. and for long painful seconds it seemed as though she was never going to acknowledge the words he'd said, but simply stare at him dumbstruck for all eternity, until he felt like shrinking away.
He felt his heart sink, wishing he could read her mind - but he was at a loss. If she doubted him - or worse still, if she doubted herself - there would be no hope for them.
But much to his relief and overwhelming joy, the turmoil in her face eventually gave way to an earnest and unrepressed adoration that made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years - and his heart kickstarted like a drum in his chest when she dared to take his face gently in her hands, pressing a beautiful kiss to his lips that spoke of the promise they were making to one another. And he realised then that no words needed to be said, for the devotion behind her caress told him all he needed to know.
Overcome with tenderness he pulled her firmly into his embrace, giving her everything he had in the way his mouth worked in harmony with hers, in the way he peppered frantic kisses across her face, behind her ear, to the skin of her throat - until the heat of her gentle pants swirled into the air around them and the blood roared in his ears.
When finally she pulled away breathlessly, allowing their thundering heartbeats a chance to calm, he saw her eyes dancing with a newfound triumph, a surety, a confidence that hadn't been there before, "you know.. " she laughed softly, still breathless, "It all started with that silly whistle!"
A/N: That's a wrap folks! I know some of you might have expected or hoped for some more angst and drama to play out in England but that was never my intention – the focus of this story was always meant to be them banging into one another and having to fight/accept their attraction and love for one another. Ultimately I wanted a dramatic/fiery hook up and a happily ever after! I might write an epilogue for this story if an idea springs to mind but I won't promise anything at this stage. I do hope you enjoyed this story and as always I'd love to know your final thoughts!