Chapter 19: Conflictions and Camilla makes her move
Georg heard the lock of the door click into place just as he placed his hand on the knob to go back into the room. He jiggled the knob despite already knowing the door had been locked. At once, he pounded his fist against the door.
"Maria, please open the door, we need to talk." There was silence from the other side of the door. "Maria!" Georg pounded the door with his fist once again. But it was clear that Maria had no interest in speaking to him again that night.
Georg let out a defeated sigh and ran one hand through his hair while the fingers on his other hand wiggled in nervous agitation. Maria was angry with him, and justifiably so. It was not very often that someone had the gall to stand up to him. Always used to being in a position of power and authority, it was rare for anyone to question his actions. Even as a young man working his way up through the ranks of the navy, he always received praise from his superiors for his actions and never criticism.
But with Maria, it was different. She was never fearful of speaking her mind or telling him that his behaviour was foolish and wrong. For the second time since he'd met her, she'd called him to account for his behaviour, and just like when they'd argued on the lakeside all those months before, she was right. He'd acted abominably and he'd deserved everything she said about him that night.
He should have believed her immediately and taken her side when it came to Camilla. The way he'd doubted her and then spoken to her: no wonder she was angry with then. Then Elsa! Oh why had he been so stupid as to bring up Elsa? In a way, he reasoned, there was something left unsaid between him and Maria when it came to Elsa. They had never really spoken about her since they'd become engaged, mainly due to Georg wanting to protect Maria from further hurt after the dreadful way Elsa had treated her the night of the party. But really they should have spoken about Elsa long before now and put all anxieties concerning Elsa completely to rest.
Part of him still felt guilty over hurting Elsa the way he did. Even though knowing he was in love with someone else, he still proposed to Elsa. And despite the gracious way she took their breakup, he knew under the façade she hid behind, Elsa was actually deeply hurt. While there was some element of truth to the fact that Maria was the other woman, what he really should have told Maria earlier that night was once he realised he was in love with her, Elsa became the other woman – the woman standing between him and the woman he truly loved. Georg decided he'd do everything in his power to tell Maria that the following day and apologise profusely for making those hurtful accusations in the heat of their argument.
As for Maria finding out about Agathe, that was an entirely different matter altogether. In a way, Maria finding out about his struggles with his late wife's memory was a relief – a weight off his shoulders, but now it also was forcing him into facing certain realities he'd been too fearful to face since their arrival. Maria's reaction was not what he'd expected, yet considering how little faith and trust he'd placed on her regarding what he was struggling with, he really couldn't blame her for reacting the way she did. But one thing she said was true: it was time to face the torturous memories once and for all, and make a choice.
Knowing he couldn't stand outside the door to their suite all night, Georg spun on his heel and made his way downstairs to the servant's hall. He found Lloyd quickly and, claiming that his wife had a severe headache and needed solitude for the evening, arranged a guestroom to be made up for him to sleep that night. Georg was certain Lloyd didn't believe his pathetic explanation for why he had to sleep somewhere else, and he was sure it wouldn't stop the servants gossiping the next day, yet making up an excuse was better than announcing the truth: that his wife had kicking him out of their room.
After leaving the servant's hall, Georg made his way to the grand entrance where he could hear laughter and chatter coming from the library. Clearly the Addingtons were still at the manor socialising with the Whiteheads but the thought of joining them made Georg feel physically sick.
Instead, Georg walked in the other direction from the library to a room he'd been avoiding since their arrival in England. Agathe's favourite room: the music room. Georg paused at the door to the music room and took a deep breath in. He closed his eyes, opened the door, and then opened his eyes again.
There, in pride of place, hanging on the wall opposite the doorway was a large portrait of Agathe. It was the first time he'd laid eyes on a portrait or a photograph of her in years. For the first few weeks after her death, gazing at images of her was comforting, until the pain of her loss overcame him and it was too much for him to bear to look at her anymore. That's when he packed away everything that was hers, and everything that reminded him of her. No more music, no more laughter, he ran the household like he was on one of his ships again. It seemed easier to block it all out - to try and forget than to deal with the pain.
But now, being back in her family home, the past month had been torturous. But even while trying to deal with the memories of his late wife, still he hadn't brought himself to come to her favourite room and to look upon her image.
Until now.
He stood in front of the portrait, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the image of his late wife. Her long, golden hair styled elegantly in a sophisticated up-do, her dark eyes sparking with laughter. She was so beautiful! It was a relief to see her that way again: alive, happy, and healthy. For too long after her death, his sleep had been plagued with nightmares of seeing her in her final few days: pale, thin, deathly sick.
But almost like it was too painful to look upon her anymore, Georg turned away and strode across to the other side of the room to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He downed the drink in one gulp, the golden liquid burning his throat as he swallowed. He refilled his glass and gulped down the drink once more before refilling the glass a third time. He let out a deep breath as he sipped the whiskey more slowly this time until the drink was finished.
His head swam and he felt numb as the euphoric effect of the alcohol began to intoxicate his body. He poured himself another glass full but didn't drink it. Instead, he just held it in his hand as he walked to the other side of the room and sat down at the grand piano. He put the glass of whiskey on top of the piano before gingerly placing his hands on the keys.
It had been years since he played as he'd ordered the piano at the villa to be taken up to the attic shortly after Agathe's death. Having it still downstairs had been too painful for him, as it reminded him too much of her. It was the one thing she would always request of him: for him to play for her. It would be their special time at the end of a day: her sitting next to him on the piano stool while he played, her head resting gently on his shoulder, the sound of his music soothing both of their souls after a long day.
Georg's fingers felt stiff as he played the first notes. But slowly, like his fingers had a memory of their own, they began to glide up and down the keys effortlessly until the soft strains of the piano music filled the room.
Georg looked up to gaze upon the image of his late wife again. He studied her features carefully, reminding himself of every inch of her face, every tiny line, every freckle. He closed his eyes as he continued to play, recalling how soft her hair was, how he used to run his fingers though it, and how sweet the scent of her hair would be, as he nuzzled his face against hers. He remembered how it felt to have her in his arms, to hold her close and to kiss her. He recalled all the sweet nothings they'd whisper to each other in the early hours of the morning, sharing many hopes and dreams they'd had for their family for the future.
Georg wasn't even sure what piece of music he was playing as his fingers seemed to move of their own accord as his mind was lost reliving the loving, happy memories of his late wife. But then his thoughts changed and Georg began to think of everything he'd experienced alone since Agathe's death: the children growing up and changing, and many firsts such as Gretl's first steps and her first words. She'd left him alone. She'd missed everything. She'd missed it all.
He felt angry. "Why did you have to leave me?" he hissed angrily under his breath as he continued to gaze at the portrait, his fingers pounding the keys harder and louder. "Why? You left me alone." He paused, almost like he could hear her talking back to him. "Yes, of course I know. I wasn't really alone, I had the children. But it wasn't enough was it? I wanted you, I needed you, but you were gone. And I missed you…"
Georg squeezed his eyes shut, trying to curb his emotions. He was never a man to openly cry, and he hadn't even cried when Agathe died. He had done his best to block off all his emotions after her death, so much so that now he realised that he never properly grieved for his late wife, never gave himself the chance to say goodbye to her forever. No wonder it was so hard being back in her family home where memories of her were as fresh as if she'd died only the day before. At the villa, he supposed, he'd had time to adjust to a life without her, not to mention how his world and his house had been turned upside down by the arrival of one postulant-turned-governess.
Maria.
Eyes still closed, Georg smiled to himself as he continued to play, thinking back to her first day at the villa. The ugly dress, her mock salute, her refusal to blow his whistle before her cheek of blowing the whistle back at him, the ridiculous pinecone at dinner, not to mention her complete disregard of the rules during thunderstorms. Then he thought of their argument by the lake, her lack of fear as she told him exactly what he was doing wrong with his children. But then the way she touched his heart with bringing music back into the house, back to him – the very thing he'd forgotten. Music brought them together, the puppet show, Edelweiss, dancing the Laendler together and the way they sang to each other that magical night in the gazebo.
Music was the central to everything and everyone he loved in his life. Agathe's love of music: Maria's love of music. The only two women he'd ever loved in his life: Agathe and Maria. Two very unique, yet two very special women, and two very different loves. He'd never once compared them against each other and he never would. It would be utterly unfair to do so. Yet now he found himself facing the question Maria had presented to him. Why was he insisting upon staying at the manor when Maria was so unhappy? Didn't her feelings mean anything to him? Of course they did! It pained him to see Maria so unhappy, to see the joy gone from her eyes, to see her cry and beg him to take her away. Why was he being so stubborn?
He opened his eyes and looked at the portrait of Agathe again. Then he knew. It was because of her. Georg knew once they left the Whitehead's, they would never return and leaving meant saying goodbye to Agathe all over again, facing the overwhelming grief that he'd never properly faced before. And the thought of doing that terrified him.
But Georg knew he loved Maria very much. He remembered singing to her the night he declared his love, "For here you are, standing there loving me, whether or not you should…" At times he didn't feel worthy of her love and was astounded, and truly humbled, that she loved him in return. He had hurt her greatly tonight and Georg knew that unless he did something quickly, he might lose her forever.
Quickly, Georg made his decision. The first thing he would do in the morning would be to find Maria and tell her…
"All alone?" A voice from the doorway broke Georg's train of thought. He immediately stopped playing and looked up. It was Camilla, leaning casually against the doorframe. Georg sighed. Camilla was the last person he wished to see.
"So it seems," he replied offhandedly, and trying to ignore her, began to play once more. But she didn't leave. Instead she walked into the room and leant up next to the piano.
"That sounds beautiful, what is it?" she asked softly.
Georg shook his head. "Actually, I can't remember the name of it. I was ah… just trying to relieve a bit of stress after somewhat of a tense evening," he admitted.
Camilla didn't reply immediately, only raised her eyebrows. "Lovers quarrel, I assume?" she finally asked.
Georg merely shrugged, not wanting to bring up his marital problems up with the person who had caused part of them. Camilla watched him for a moment before beginning to walk around the room before stopping in front of the portrait of Agathe. "She was beautiful wasn't she?" she said wistfully to Georg as she continued to gaze at the portrait.
"Yes, she was," replied Georg cautiously, not quite sure what Camilla was up to.
"I loved your wife very much…"
"Late wife," Georg corrected.
"… she was like a sister to me. I respected her very much… Unlike, your other wife," Camilla's tone turned from sweet to nasty in an instant.
Georg's head snapped up and he immediately stopped playing. The implication of Camilla's hatred towards Maria was crystal clear. His eyes narrowed. "Is that why you did that to Maria tonight?"
"Did what to her, darling?" Camilla replied sweetly as she turned to face Georg once again. She feigned innocence as she spluttered, "I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Remember, she was the one who…"
"Enough Camilla," Georg replied wearily, not putting up with games Camilla was playing. "Maria told me exactly what you said to her, and I know you were lying – nothing happened between us yesterday."
Camilla raised her eyebrows again. "Is that what she told you I said?" Camilla approached the piano and picked up Georg's forgotten glass of whiskey. "Are you sure she wasn't lying?" she asked him as she took a large sip.
"Maria is the most honest person I've ever met," Georg defended Maria at once, but inwardly wincing knowing that he hadn't believed her straight away. "She wouldn't lie about something like this."
"Well maybe she was confused, you know, she's still learning English. Perhaps she ah… misunderstood what I said to her."
Georg tried to think clearly for a moment, although it was difficult with the effect of the alcohol clouding his thought processes. He knew it was true. Maria was conversing in English almost all the time now but at times she did still find some of the language difficult and sometimes needed him to translate, to explain. But then he shook his head. No, he knew what Camilla was like and he believed Maria about what Camilla had said to her earlier that night. He wanted to get to the bottom of why she had done that to Maria. Camilla's dislike of her couldn't be the only reason.
"Camilla," he spoke plainly. "No, I know Maria was telling me the truth and I would like a simple answer from you."
Camilla looked slightly amused as she took another large sip of whiskey before sliding onto the piano seat next to Georg. "Yes darling?" she purred, her voice low and seductive.
He shifted uncomfortably away from her. "Camilla, why did you do it?" he asked her directly.
Camilla gave a little smirk. "I think you know why," she sighed before quickly leaning forward and placing a long, lingering kiss upon Georg's lips.
For an instant, Georg didn't respond: mainly due to the surprise of her kiss. But a few seconds later, as he recovered from the shock, he pulled right away. "Camilla, stop."
However she didn't listen to him but instead immediately kissed him again. At once he pulled back again. "Camilla, I'm flattered, I really am," he told her. "But I'm a married man… my wife…"
"Your wife?" she breathed. "I don't care about your wife." She took his face in her hands and kissed him harder. "No. Stop. We can't…" Georg tried to pull away again but Camilla had him locked in her embrace.
"Oh, yes we can," replied Camilla breathlessly. "We could be lovers… No one would know…" She kissed him again deeply and passionately.
Due to his drunkenness, Georg's reflexes felt sluggish, his head swam, and everything seemed to be happening so fast. He tried to push her back, but she was all over him. Her mouth was on his lips, his face, his neck. Her hands seemed to be on every part of his body as once, touching him, grabbing him, pulling him towards her. Every time Georg tried to gently push her aside, she seemed to come back at him with more force, more passion – like she was going to get him no matter what; he couldn't escape her. But a moment later when he felt her clawing at his shirt, trying to pull it out from his trousers to feel his naked skin underneath something in his brain snapped. He shoved her back with more force than he'd ever pushed a woman before, then rapidly stood up and moved several steps away.
"Camilla, what the hell do you think you were doing?" he spat as he quickly re-tucked his shirt back into his trouser pants.
Camilla, looking astounded at the rejection. "Oh come on Georg," she cried in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you don't want this? That you've never dreamt about me?"
"Never," Georg told her flatly.
"And yet you've strung me along all this time, letting me flirt with you, giving me hope…" she accused.
"Camilla," Georg took a deep breath. "Let me say this plainly and clearly. I have never enjoyed the way you flirt with me. It always makes me feel uncomfortable. And it used to make Agathe uncomfortable and now it has made Maria terribly upset. I had tried many times in the past to dissuade you, yet you have persisted in this foolish notion that I am somehow interested in pursuing a relationship with you. I apologise if, for some reason, you have been under the impression that I've held some affection for you. I never have, nor never will, see you as anything more than a friend. I'm sorry."
There was dead silence as she stared back at him, shocked at his honest declaration. She blinked several times before stammering, "well, Georg… I-I don't know what to say… I feel so humiliated…"
"Please don't," Georg tried to reassure her. "I really am very flattered, but I can't be what you want me to be. I love my wife very much. And I've hurt her incredibly by letting this continue as long as it has. You have to stop this. Tonight."
Camilla may have been manipulative and conniving, and not beyond throwing herself at a married man. But Georg's plain and frank rejection of her put her back in her place. There was no use pursuing a man who clearly didn't want her like she wanted him. Camilla looked down and nodded sadly as she agreed. Georg felt reassured that Camilla would cause him no further problems.
"But Camilla, there is something I do want from you," Georg continued. Camilla looked up in surprise. "I want you to make a full and public apology to Maria next time you come to the manor." Camilla opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the serious look on Georg's face, didn't object. Instead she muttered her goodnights, and then scurried from the music room.
Georg took in a deep breath, hardly believing what had just occurred in the last ten minutes in that room. He felt a weight lifted from his shoulders now that he'd finally put an end to all of Camilla's flirtations. He gazed up at Agathe's portrait one last time before he turned and left the room also. As he made his way to the guest quarters, for the first time since he'd been back at the Whitehead manor, Georg felt hope. He'd been like a ship sailing without a rudder, floating aimlessly across the wide-open sea, but now he direction and he had a plan.
And he only hoped Maria would forgive him and take him back.
A/N: Thank you, thank you so much to everyone else who has favourited and followed this story as well as everyone who has reviewed (especially the guest reviewers who I haven't been able to thank personally)! I loved every one of them, so please keep them coming! There will be more to come, so stay tuned!