A/N: thank you for all the reviews! There were a few very fair points that some people made about the last chapter so I'll just clear some misunderstandings up quickly!
1. The confrontation between Elsa and Maria that happens in the movie on the night of the party never takes place in my story.
2. I too believe that in the movie Maria didn't want to admit her love for the captain, even to herself, until she knew that God had given her His blessing. However, in my story I believe the extremity of the vicious beating and the fear of losing Georg led her to admit her feelings to herself, even without God's blessing.
3. Georg is a brave man who has dealt with his fair share of pain from his navy days, so I believe that when he wakes he is more confused and shocked by Maria's actions towards him than any pain he might initially be in. Admittedly a broken jaw would make it harder to talk but I had a friend who's jaw was broken and he was able to talk in a clenched teeth kind of way.
I hope that clears some stuff up and I hope you like this next chapter :)
"Short term memory loss," doctor Shultz confirmed gravely as he stepped outside of the Captain's suite, "I've informed him of what happened but he's confused and ill-tempered from the pain, he's unlikely to cooperate until the initial shock has subsided."
"Dear God," Max muttered under his breath, throwing a sideways glance at Elsa, Maria and Frau Schmidt who stood beside him in the hallway with equally solemn faces. He had again insisted that the Fraulein be present for the doctor's examination and had convinced Elsa, and himself, that it was for the sake of the children - so that they could be informed of their father's progress by the adult they held most dear. But deep down he knew better. He knew he'd insisted on the Fraulein's presence because he could see that she was eaten up with worry and grief herself.
"I know it seems like a grim outcome," doctor Shultz continued, "but we must be grateful that the damage wasn't far worse."
If only they knew, Maria thought, her lungs feeling as though they were made of lead - if only they all knew just how much damage had really been done.
"What does he remember?" The baroness asked matter-of-factly.
"The last thing he can recall is driving home from Vienna."
Maria's heart collapsed in her chest. That long ago? Their heated confrontation by the lake, his healing relationship with his children, his joy over the puppet show, his beautiful rendition of Edelweiss, their stolen moments in the tree by the lake, the heat of the Laendler as they danced in each other's arms, his passionate confession as he'd gazed at her with such uninhibited longing.. All wiped from his memory? So many meaningful moments shared, so many wounds healed.. All for nothing. It took everything she had to stifle the sob that threatened to burst from her.
"The memories may return in time, they may not," the doctor informed them, "he is still healing and will need a lot of rest for some time yet, so he will still need care."
"That won't be a problem at all, sir," Frau Schmidt insisted, "we will continue to care for him as we have been until he has returned to full health."
Doctor Shultz nodded his agreement, "Ensure that you talk with him as I instructed before - allow him to try and put the pieces of the puzzle back together himself. It may help the memories to return but be patient, be understanding, and don't bombard him with information that might be too confusing or difficult to comprehend all at once. This is a slow process and we cannot overwhelm him."
Grunting in discomfort as Frau Schmidt rearranged his pillows, Georg felt the frustration and anger grip at him again. Being bedridden was suffocating and he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by his amnesia. Physical pain and open wounds he could handle - he'd faced more than enough injuries in his navy days - but his lack of control over his mind was beginning to take its toll. Max and Elsa had been trying their best to jog his memory but to no avail. He had always prided himself on his disciplinary precision, his military control and his ability to act rationally - all of which required a sharp mind - and the fact that he couldn't recall what had happened to him, or the weeks leading up to the supposed attack, was absolutely maddening. He was in a dark mood to say the least.
"The children have been requesting to see you Captain," Frau Schmidt busied herself with fixing the bed covers around him, "they've been pestering Fraulein Maria for the past two days since learning of your progress. Would you like for me to send for them?"
"How has the new governess been faring since she began her employment here?" Georg asked, ignoring her question, his speech somewhat muffled as a result of his healing jaw and heavy bandaging.
"Well she's hardly new now sir," Frau Schmidt chuckled, "she's been getting along famously with the children, they seem to have flourished under her care. They're minding her instructions, they're doing well in their studies.. And such beautiful voices.."
"I'm sorry?" Georg scowled, "voices?"
"Oh they sing so beautifully sir, one of the many things the Fraulein has taught them since her arrival."
Georg was speechless. His children sang? Impossible. He didn't allow them to sing. He had told the twelf governess exactly what was expected of her the day she arrived and singing had not been on his list of demands. The children were to thrive in their studies and march about the grounds, breathing deeply in the afternoons as requested. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt another surge of irritation at the young woman's insolence. He made a mental note to call her out on her extracurricular activities when he next saw her.
"The children sir?" Frau Schmidt repeated her question, interrupting his brooding.
"Yes yes yes, alright," he grunted, "send them in."
With a curt nod, Frau Schmidt excused herself to fetch the children and Georg fidgeted uncomfortably as he tried to recall what he knew of number twelve. She was a postulant from Nonnberg, she had arrived in a hideous dress and intruded in his ballroom, she had bated him at every turn, and she had pranced around her bedroom in that ridiculous nightgown the night before he left.. That nightgown.. That nightgown he did remember. He remembered what it had looked like in his dream when he'd pulled the frustrating garment over her head and shoved her naked body up against his bookcase. He remembered what her full, warm breasts had felt like heaving against his shirt, her delicate fingers grappling with his belt buckle, the rush of intense arousal he'd felt upon waking. Again, his lack of control over his mind caused the anger to knot in his chest and he recalled how he'd woken only two days ago to the real Fraulein touching him, stroking him. It had shocked him so deeply that he hadn't given a thought to where he was or what he was doing there. What on earth had possessed her to do such a thing? It had been beyond inappropriate, beyond impertinent and for some reason he couldn't shake it from his mind.
He was startled from his thoughts when the very woman he had been wondering about edged nervously into the room, uncharacteristically avoiding his gaze and ushering seven extraordinarily quiet children in behind her. Where were the eight mutinous rebels he'd been faced with before leaving for Vienna?
The children gazed at him uncertainly, the worry etched into their faces as they took note of his purpled skin where the bruising had made its mark, the heavy bandaging that held his healing bones. They were unsure how to approach him and it broke Maria's heart. She had gently warned them that their father was not himself, that he had taken a nasty knock to the head and should be treated with care. They'd insisted adorably that they would do all they could to help him.
"Father?" It was little Marta that spoke first, her voice cracking as she began to cry, overwhelmed by her father's vulnerable state.
"What is the matter Marta?" The Captain sighed impatiently. What had they all expected? The world was a cruel place and shedding tears over the incident was a useless business. It was a hard lesson but one that his children needed to learn, "I'm perfectly well, now stop crying."
The little girl sniffled and looked to Maria for comfort, saddened and confused by her father's abruptness.
"It's okay Marta darling... Children," Maria soothed, ushering them closer to the bed, avoiding the Captain's stare and hoping against hope that he would allow them to show their affections. She watched as he rigidly accepted a card from Gretl and a small cake from Kurt that the eight of them had baked for him the day before.
He seemed rather taken aback by the gesture, his disinterested eyes widening a little in surprise before the mask was resumed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Thank you children." Placing the card and cake on the bedside cabinet, he awkwardly patted Gretl on the head by way of gratitude. Maria could see the little girl battling the urge to throw her arms around her father, confused and dismayed by his detachment. Just show her a smile Georg, I beg you, she pleaded silently, show them you're in there.
But he did nothing but scowl again as he looked upon their gloomy faces, "for goodness sake, why do you all stare at me that way? I'm not a dying man, I'm merely a little bruised."
The children said nothing and he looked to their governess for an explanation, rapidly losing his patience. Number twelve wouldn't meet his gaze either and it enraged him. He looked around at his audience again and noticed suddenly that the children weren't in their sailor suits.
"Where are your uniforms?" He barked, "and why aren't you standing in a straight line?"
He felt his anger rising as he took note of their relaxed demeanours - Friedrich stood with his hands in his pockets, Kurt had a smudge of dirt on his right cheek, Brigitta's hair was coming loose - Had the governess allowed them to run completely wild over the last few weeks? It was deeply unsettling having no recollection of how his children had been fairing or which instructions they'd be following. Given his memory of number twelve's insubordination the day she arrived, he didn't hold out much hope for her disciplinary abilities.
"I said straight line!"
The children jumped to attention and got into formation, their dismay quite evident.
"Captain, I really must protest.." Maria had wanted to avoid talking to him at all costs but she couldn't stand idly by and watch him push the children away. It would hurt them too deeply to have their father ripped out from under them for a second time.
"You'll do no such thing Fraulein," the Captain retorted, fixing her with an icy glare, "children, I suggest you go outside for your walk immediately."
The children fled from the room, their faces flushed with upset, relieved to be free from their father's scathing scrutiny. Weeks ago she would have fought him for his denigration towards his children, she would've raised her voice and spoken out of turn. But she didn't feel as though she had any fight left in her.
"Now Fraulein, I want a truthful answer from you," he snipped, and she nodded solemnly, words evading her as she remembered a similar scenario out by the lake when she had first called him out on his behaviour.
"Is it true or have I been entirely misinformed, that you have taught my children to sing?"
"It's true sir."
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you Fraulein."
How could he ask that of her? Didn't he know that it was entirely too painful to look at him? So painful that she could hardly bare it? He was mistaking her cowardice for insolence and she prayed her face didn't express her anguish as she forced herself to look in his direction. She was met by his deep blue eyes, those eyes that she remembered, those eyes that stilled her heart - only now they were soulless, lifeless, emotionless, angry.
"Singing is not permitted Fraulein and you will kindly remember that you are here only to mind my children, to ensure they are working hard, and nothing more."
"Yes sir," she replied defeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
"They are to wear their uniforms at all times and conduct themselves with the utmost orderliness and decorum, have I made myself clear?"
"Yes sir."
He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, despite the sting of his stitches, "That's all?" He sneered, "no retort, no disagreement, no insolent remark?"
"No sir.."
"Well, I'm positively speechless," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "very well - as for my bandages, do whatever it is you need to do and be done with it."
Maria felt the sadness engulf her again as she made work of changing his dressings. She tried not to let his words hurt her - after all it wasn't his fault, this wasn't the real him. He was back behind the disciplinary mask but she knew now that this was nothing more than his coping mechanism, a way of dealing with his grief. Deep down behind the stoic, disagreeable authoritarian was her Georg - the loving father, the passionate Austrian, the pensive gentleman he had proven himself to be. Instead of being angered by his ill-temper, as she would've been two months ago, she found that she was deeply saddened and that she pitied him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him he didn't have to push everyone away, that it was okay to feel.
But as far as he was concerned she was nothing more than the governess, a servant, a stranger in his home. And as his steely gaze bore into her, his eyes darkened in a contemptuous glare, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd entirely imagined the growing connection between them over the past few months.
With delicate hands she peeled the swaths of bandaging from his facial wounds and cleaned them gently, trying desperately to ignore his impatient flinching and his evident desire to get away from her touch as quickly as possible. His indifference towards her hurt deeply and she tried her hardest to be nothing but clinical in her task but it was impossible. She was absolutely convinced he could hear her heart thudding against her ribs as she sat so exquisitely close to him, breathing in his scent, touching the heat of his cheek so intimately - only to receive scorn in return.
"You are dismissed Fraulein," he muttered when she had finally finished her torturous task.
Never in her life had she felt as alone as she did in those moments. In any other circumstances she would have sought comfort in God, but behind her grief, behind her anguish, she felt more than ever that God had turned His back on her. When she had first felt the stirrings of something new and unfamiliar towards the Captain she had felt deeply confused. On the night of the party, she had been so wracked with guilt that she had fled to her tree - believing that what she had been feeling was somehow wrong. But when Georg had found her there, his presence had calmed her, soothed her, and made everything seem so clear. And she had felt, in those moments, that nothing could ever be as pure and as beautiful and as holy as what she felt for this man.
But as she dared to look into the angry, vacant eyes of her distant employer, the disdain burning a hole in her, she realised that she had been entirely foolish. Of course she had sinned. She had betrayed God's will. And now He was punishing her in the very worst way.
She thought briefly of leaving, of running back to the abbey to seek forgiveness. But she knew now didn't deserve God's forgiveness. Instead, she had a duty to the seven souls she had grown to love. She would put aside her own selfish anguish and do everything she could to restore their relationship with their father. Again.