A Time of Nerves
Maria held her breath as she felt Philemona bind the laces of the back of her dress, which had a corset-like structure on top, and it was nearly as tight as a real one, in order to enhance the slimness of her waist. It had been Philemona's idea: "One look at you and the pregnancy rumor will fly out the window."
Ever eager to disprove any rumor like this, Maria agreed without complaint and did her best to ignore the slight discomfort she took in the tightness of the dress. At least the skirt is nice and flowing, easy to move around in.
Philemona turned Maria around so they faced each other, and looked her over from head to toe. "Oh, my dear, you look absolutely divine!"
Maria gave a shaky laugh. "Forgive me if I don't quite believe you, Philemona. Oh, you look so gorgeous in that gown."
"What, this old thing?" said Philemona, grinning from ear to ear and twirling around. Her gown was a loud magenta color that complimented her very well, the fabric sparkling in places and an embroidered bodice. Her thick brown hair was set in beautiful, elaborate curls. Her outside matched her personality: tasteful extroversion. At the age of forty, Philemona was as attractive as any beautiful woman. "You ought to see my Christmas gown!"
Maria couldn't help but laugh.
"But something is missing, my dear," said Philemona, before revealing a simple string of pearls to a shocked Maria.
"Philemona!" she gasped as the older woman clasped the pearl necklace around her neck, "You really didn't have to –"
"I didn't," said Philemona simply with a small smile. As Maria realized what she meant, Philemona stopped her. "You'll only embarrass him if you try to thank him, and he'll only say he doesn't deserve your thanks."
For some reason, Maria suddenly felt sad.
Philemona squeezed her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. "Time to go."
On their way out of the room, Maria caught sight of Philemona in the mirror, accompanied by a lovely young woman with short golden hair and a royal blue silk gown.
She didn't recognize her.
Philemona gave a grand entrance into the front hall by giving a theatrical "Ta-da!" The children all gasped, clapped and crowded around the two women. At least, the girls did; the boys were not much interested in ball gowns, but they did give smiles of approval.
Max, the jovial man that he was, stepped forward to kiss both cheeks of each of the women and praising their beauty.
The Captain hung back, silent, but Maria could feel his eyes on her. Of all of the feelings she could be feeling, Maria found herself feeling both warm and nervous. Not nervous by his glance, but nervous that he would approve.
The drive to the Eberfield castle was relatively short. The men sat in the front, with Max driving, while the women sat in the back. The twins talked gaily about their hopes for the autumn ball; the newlyweds remained silent.
Finally, the car pulled up to the entrance of the beautiful castle. Everyone got out of the car, and the twins immediately linked arms and headed up the stairs to the huge open doors from which golden light was spilling. "On to battle!" said Max jovially, and Philemona flashed Maria an encouraging smile from over her shoulder.
Maria stood frozen with a sudden terror, looking at the beautiful castle-like estate. What if the Eberfields weren't as nice as Philemona said? What if everyone just glared at her and didn't say a word the entire time? What if she made a mistake?
Feeling a presence beside her, Maria turned her head to find the Captain standing next to her. He quickly turned his head towards the castle, but Maria had not missed the look of concern and compassion he'd been looking at her with.
Philemona's words echoed back in her head about Georg's distant behavior: He thinks it's what you want. And Maria had responded that she didn't know what she wanted from him.
Looking at his elegant black shoes, watching his feet shift from his heels to his toes slowly, Maria realized that he was just as nervous as her. He would be under the exact same level of scrutiny that she would be under, perhaps even more. Though he had done a terrible thing to her, it certainly wasn't the most terrible thing.
If there was anyone who was in the same boat as her now, it was him. Her husband. The Captain. I'm not alone…
And even if there was a part of him that was still that monster she couldn't forget…he wouldn't dare try anything here.
True, she had meant it when she said she didn't know how to reach out to him. Perhaps the most direct way would be worth it.
Before she gave herself a chance to change her mind, Maria looked up at his profile and tentatively grasped his fingers with hers.
Feeling him jump a little and look sharply at their hands, Maria instantly thought she had made a big mistake. The Captain just stood frozen for a moment, looking at their hands in shock.
Then, something inside him seemed to loosen, and he slowly entwined their fingers. He looked at her, the shock melting away into joy, reassurance, and compassion.
"If ever you feel uncomfortable or trapped, just tell me and we will leave right away, I promise you."
In response, Maria only nodded and made her grip as strong as his. For the first time about this ball, she felt reassured.
They walked up the stairs and through the open doors, hand in hand, their steps in sync with each other. The Captain led the way to the ballroom, and placed Maria's hand in the crook of his elbow when the sounds of music and conversation got louder as the ballroom got closer.
Finally, they reached the doorway. Just before they made their presence known, the two people paused and looked at each other. Their gazes said all that needed to be said:
You ready? I think I'm ready. Let's just make it through this.
Several hours later, just after dinner, Georg was sitting in a comfortable chair in the lounge where the men always went to smoke, drink brandy, talk, unwind, possibly play cards or billiards, after dinner had ended. Such was the routine of a high society ball: the genders were not required to split up, per se, but it was one of those many unspoken but very present rules to society.
Once, this had been his favorite part of a ball, especially after Agathe died. He could just grab a glass of brandy and settle himself in a dark corner, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out. Now, he wanted to be with only one person: his wife.
This was the first time all evening that the two had been separated all evening, which Georg was still having a hard time believing. After all, he'd spent all of today holding back: he'd asked Philemona to give her the pearl necklace he'd found for her, and it had been so hard not to tell her how beautiful she looked in her royal blue silk gown. In other words, he'd stuck by his resolution he'd made over a month ago: keep his distance and let her be the initiator.
Did she have any idea of how much his heart had lifted when she had taken on that role in the past few days? His heart had practically leapt out of his chest when she had come to his study with the invitation a few days ago. And when they had arrived at the Eberfield estate…she'd taken his hand! Georg had once thought only teenagers got this excited about such a simple act, but Maria made him take nothing for granted. Looking at her as she did it, Georg could see that she was scared and was asking for support.
He'd taken that role as seriously as a knight defending his lady fair. He'd stayed by her side, and she had no objections. Once, when he was asked to join some men for a conversation in the ballroom before dinner, he'd looked at her and he saw a flash of fear pass over her eyes. He'd politely declined without hesitation.
The Eberfields had greeted them enthusiastically and with so much kindness, and that sealed their fate at this ball. The cardinal rule of high society balls in Salzburg was simple: do not go against the host(s). If the hosts took a liking to someone, it was considered social suicide to go against that in this public event. Max and Philemona helped a great deal too, for they were favorites among the society and partygoers, and to disagree with them in public would only make a person seem heartless. So Maria and Georg had lived in a security blanket of sorts throughout the ball.
In the pre-dinner stage, in the ballroom surrounded by dancing and socializing couples, Maria's hand remained in the crook of his elbow, gripping it securely; he felt so privileged. He felt her slowly gaining confidence as she met person after person, and soon her smile became more genuine as time passed. While Max and Philemona danced frequently, and the newlyweds partnered them sometimes, Georg couldn't bring himself to ask her to dance. He knew that would put her in a close position with him, and he was too frightened of rejection.
Now, Georg wanted nothing more than to be by her side again; the dinner had spooked him. It hadn't been until dinner until he'd realized that Herr Zeller had been invited to the ball. Knowing the Eberfields, Georg knew that he would only be invited because not inviting him would be making a bad statement against the rising Nazi party. What surprised Georg was that Herr Zeller, who didn't have much love for the Eberfields, had actually come. Why had he come now to this ball?
"I don't know, Georg," said Max, when he'd posed this question to him as they sat beside each other in the lounge. He spoke above the voices of the other men playing billiards and smoking cigars. "I have an idea but you won't like it."
Georg's jaw tightened. "It wouldn't have anything to do with Maria and myself would it?"
Max sighed. "Everyone knows how you two are at odds, and he would be extremely curious to see her."
Georg felt his hand tighten around the glass of brandy he held in his hand. "He has some nerve…When can we leave?"
"Soon, Georg," said Max reassuringly. "The Eberfields know we would prefer not to stay for the whole ball."
Georg looked at the doorway that led to the ballroom. "I shouldn't have left her…" He remembered the flash of nervousness that had crossed her face for a millisecond when they were leaving the dining room and Georg had moved away with the men. All he could do was give her an apologetic, reassuring glance, and give Philemona, who had put an arm around Maria, a look that said, in no uncertain terms, "Take care of her or you will pay."
"Georg, she will be fine," said Max, patting Georg's shoulder. "You know Philemona will be the lioness looking after her cub, and Baroness Eberfield promised me she would make sure no one talked badly of her."
Georg tried to take this message to heart, but somehow he couldn't shake a growing feeling of uneasiness. This only rose in him when his gaze shifted to the corner where Herr Zeller had been knocking back whiskeys and shooting glances at him…only to find that Herr Zeller had disappeared.
"Where did he go?" asked Georg sharply, sitting up.
"Who?" asked Max, looking at the place Georg was staring at. "Oh, the rat. He probably went to the bathroom to empty his bowels of all of the whiskey he's been drinking."
But Georg still felt uneasy. A minute later, the door from the ballroom opened. Both men looked up expecting to see Herr Zeller come stumbling back in. But it wasn't.
Instead, it was Philemona, who motioned vigorously for the both of them to come. Fear and alarm were written all over her face.
Georg and Max immediately leaped up and followed her into the ballroom. "What's going on? Where is Maria?" Georg asked immediately to Philemona, following her towards the open doors that led to the terrace.
"She asked to go out on the terrace to be alone for a minute and get some fresh air. She's getting tired and her dress is rather tight, so I let her, since no one else was out there. It wasn't until she left that I saw Herr Zeller had come into the ballroom and was watching her. He was heading towards the terrace when I went to get you."
Now Georg and Max quickened their paces, the former's heart filling with such a sense of dread.
When they came close to the terrace, the sound of a muffled scream caused Georg to run like the wind.
