"Missing?" Georg asked sharply, turning to his daughter. "Since when?"
"They just informed me five minutes ago," Lady Whitehead answered. "I was about to send someone to locate you."
"When did you last see him?" Maria questioned.
"At breakfast," Friedrich answered. "But I don't think he ever came up with us."
"I thought he stayed down to keep eating. You know how he is," Liesl added.
"Frogs," Brigitta suddenly remarked, so quietly that Maria almost missed the word. She turned to the young girl. "I heard him mutter something about frogs at breakfast, after Father left. I thought he was just upset at Grandmother and coming up with pranks. But maybe he decided to do one."
Georg shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. We were watching the lake; we would have seen him."
"Besides, there are no frogs in the lake," Louisa added. "He knows that."
Suddenly, the color drained from Georg's face. "The river!" he exclaimed. Before Maria could ask what he meant, he turned and sprinted from the house, so quickly he left the door open behind him. Maria followed as quickly as she could, but she only caught a brief glimpse of Georg already most of the way down the main drive before he turned onto a side path. By the time Maria reached the path, he had disappeared from sight. Maria plunged down the path as well, hampered by her skirts and the uneven ground. She stumbled twice but managed to catch herself before falling. After a couple minutes, she heard the sound of running water and followed it. Soon, her breath caught in her throat as she saw the churning water of a fairly large river rushing in front of her.
Her eyes searched the area, and she saw Georg's familiar figure on the nearest bank a few dozen meters downstream. He had already discarded his jacket, tossing it haphazardly behind him, and he was in the process of toeing off his shoes. Maria followed the direction of his gaze, gasping when she saw something bobbing in the middle of the river just in front of him. As soon as he removed his shoes, Georg splashed into the water, fighting the current. The river was much deeper than Maria had expected; only a couple meters from the bank, it had already reached Georg's shoulders, forcing him to swim. Maria rushed down the bank to where he had discarded his clothes, quickly removing her own shoes. She stepped into the water, and the current immediately threatened to sweep her feet out from under her. Maria stopped, biting her lip. As much as she wanted to help, she was no fool, and she knew she was no match for the raging water around her. If she stepped in further, she might soon need rescuing as well, and she certainly did not want to distract Georg from his current task.
Stepping back, Maria looked out into the river again, panicking when she saw neither Georg nor Kurt. After a few seconds, however, Georg's dark head surfaced, and he sucked in a large mouthful of air before kicking under once more. Frantically, Maria scanned the water around him, but she saw no sign of Kurt. Twice more Georg surfaced, each time pausing only to take a breath before plunging under again. The fourth time he surfaced, Georg kept his head above water. Maria noticed he seemed to be struggling with something, and as he kicked backwards toward the shore where she was standing, she saw Kurt's limp form floating in the water in front of him. Praying fervently, Maria watched their progress.
Though it felt like an eternity, it was likely only a minute or so before Georg managed to get his feet underneath him and walk out of the river instead of swimming. Maria stepped in again to help him carry the lifeless figure to the shore. As soon as Kurt was laying on dry ground, Georg dropped to his knees beside him, placing his ear near his son's mouth. "He's not breathing," he said, his voice tinged with the same panic Maria felt. However, his naval training took over almost immediately; he quickly turned Kurt onto his stomach, positioning one arm over his head and one bent under his face, freeing his nose and mouth. He knelt over him, placing his hands on the small of Kurt's back as he began to rock forward, compressing the boy's chest. While he worked, Maria reached out with shaking fingers to the small boy's neck, placing her fingers against the flesh which seemed much too cold for the warm summer day. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she felt a weak but steady pulse beneath them.
"I have a pulse," she told Georg as he continued to swing forward gently before relaxing back for a couple seconds. He gave no sign that he heard her, instead focusing all his attention on Kurt's mouth.
"Come on," he muttered, rocking forward again. "Breathe, Kurt. Just breathe!" As if hearing his father's impassioned plea, a small gurgle of water suddenly spilled from Kurt's mouth accompanied by a cough. Immediately, Georg released the pressure on his son's back, watching carefully as Kurt coughed again, stronger this time, bringing up even more water. "That's it, Son," Georg encouraged, rubbing his back. "Bring it up. Get it out of your lungs." Kurt coughed again, and another wave of water hit the dirt.
Kurt's eyes fluttered open. "Papa?" he asked, his voice weak.
"Right here, Son." Another fit of coughing ensued.
"Hurts," Kurt moaned when it finally ended.
"I know. But Papa's here. He will make it better." They stayed like that for a couple minutes until Kurt's coughing subsided somewhat. Georg then lifted him into his arms, carrying him back to the house. Lady Whitehead met them inside the door, saying something in English. Georg nodded, taking Kurt to one of the unused guest rooms. Though still conscious, the young boy seemed a bit woozy, a fact Maria could tell worried Georg. It worried her as well, and she was grateful when Georg told her Lady Whitehead had called a doctor who would be there soon. Wanting to make herself useful, Maria collected dry clothes for both Kurt and Georg, helping Georg change his son before stepping back to the doorway, letting father and son have a few moments to themselves.
"I don't hate my grandchildren, you know," a voice remarked from behind Maria, and she turned, startled, to see Lady Whitehead standing just behind her. "Or Georg. Or even you for that matter."
"I never said you did."
"You did not have to. You wear your thoughts on your sleeve."
Maria frowned. It was not the ideal timing for the conversation, but she knew she needed to discuss certain things with Lady Whitehead, and she did not know that she would have another chance to do it. "You certainly have not given any indication that you like us very much. And you seem to be vehemently opposed to Georg marrying me."
"Oh, I am vehemently opposed to that."
"Because I'm a poor governess from a humble background?"
"I could not care less about that."
"Then what is it? You say you don't care about my background and that you don't hate me. Then why do you care if Georg and I marry?"
"I did not want Agathe to marry Georg. And not for the reasons my husband expounded on either. Sure, I would rather her have brought home a titled Englishman from a good family instead of an Austrian who only received a title because of what he did against Britain in the war. But I could tell she loved Georg, and he seemed to love her as well, and I did want her to be happy."
"Just not with Georg."
"I did not think she would be happy with Georg. I had seen men like him before—reckless men, men who are so concerned with glory and honor and achievement that they fail to consider all of the consequences of their actions. I remember her telling me all about his medal, that Mary Therese cross."
"Maria Theresa," Maria corrected.
"Yes, that one. She was talking about how he had earned it, the highest honor in the nation, and I could not help but think that here was a man who was so reckless that his country actually gave him a medal for it, honored him as one of the most reckless men in the Navy. It is no wonder Austria lost her Navy."
"I hardly think the two are related."
"They may be more related than you think. Like I said, I have seen plenty of reckless men in my day, and they typically meet a tragic end much before their rightful time. I did not want to have my daughter widowed at a young age, so I opposed the match. I tried to explain why, but she would not listen, said that she could change him, tame him, help him lose that recklessness. And you know what?" Here, she gave a fond smile of remembrance. "She was right. They came home that first Christmas after they were married, and I could tell he was different. He had lost the last of his rough edges, the last vestiges of his life at sea. He had fully embraced his life as an aristocrat—polished, refined, dignified. He was a perfect gentleman, everything I could ask for from a son-in-law. He had his title by then as well, not a particularly high one, but combined with the incredible wealth he would inherit from his family, it placed him firmly in the upper echelons of society. It was a fine match, and everyone seemed to agree.
And then the children came. Liesl's birth raised some eyebrows, of course, but most overlooked it, especially when other children followed. Once they passed four, there were some comments, but most just pointed to Georg's Catholic upbringing and left it at that. The children seemed to ground him further, and I no longer really worried about his recklessness. Until he showed up here two days ago with you and I noticed a familiar glint in his eye, something I had not seen since he was courting Agathe. And when he challenged me, I knew—that recklessness was back. And it worried me. My grandchildren had already lost one parent; I did not want them to lose another.
At first, I thought it might just be Agathe's absence that brought back Georg's old habits, but I quickly realized that it was you. You brought out his recklessness. And so I determined to remove you from the picture. I thought at first that Georg was just interested in a dalliance because of your innocence, so I bribed one of the maids to help with that instead. That did not seem to work, however, so I thought perhaps someone of a different social standing would help, and Rebekah was only too willing to oblige. And then the music room! When the maid brought me what she had found this morning, it was too perfect for me to pass up the opportunity. I have no idea which of the guests used the room for such activities, but I am grateful enough that they did that I have no desire to reprimand them for it."
Maria stared at the older woman, mouth agape. Her explanation certainly shed light on a number of occurrences during the trip, but Maria was still having trouble believing anyone could be capable of such machinations. "And Lord Whitehead's comments last night?"
Lady Whitehead frowned. "Those were not part of the plan and certainly in poor taste. I have already spoken to him about that, and it will not happen again."
"What about your comments this morning? Those certainly reflect poorly on Georg."
Lady Whitehead waved her concerns away. "Society will forgive a dalliance with a maid soon enough. Heaven knows I have on more than one occasion. But I suspected you would not forgive such a liaison so easily which means that any tarnish on Georg's reputation was worth it."
"But what about the children? You do not honestly want them to believe their father is capable of such things, do you?"
"My dear, I thought I already told you—I am doing this for the children. They are much too young to understand what I was implying. All they care about is having their father alive and well, and I am doing my best to ensure that happens."
"By removing me from the picture," Maria said flatly.
"Exactly. I am glad to see you're catching on."
"Lady Whitehead, have you ever considered that Georg may not have actually changed his nature but rather suppressed certain qualities—like this recklessness you condemn—in order to please your daughter?" Maria huffed out a breath, her annoyance giving her renewed courage to speak her mind.. "And he's not reckless. He's a man whose principles do not allow him to sit idly by when he sees injustice. I, for one, do not plan to ever condemn him for that."
"And that is why you are most unsuited for him."
"Have you ever asked him what he wants? Or asked the children?"
For a moment, Maria saw a new expression on the countess's face, one that looked almost like regret. However, it soon settled into a neutral expression once more. "Life is not always about getting what you want." With that, she swept away. Maria watched her go for a moment, more confused than before despite the questions she had answered. After a couple minutes, she re-entered Kurt's room, sitting down in a chair beside Georg.
"How are you doing?" she asked the young boy. He blinked at her, considering her words.
"My throat doesn't feel so good. And it hurts to breathe."
"Has the doctor arrived yet?" Georg asked.
"I didn't see him."
"I will go inquire." Georg stood.
"I can go."
"Stay here with Kurt." He gentled the command with a smile. "I have a feeling you will provide better company than me anyway." Maria turned back to Kurt who, for once, was not wearing his easy grin.
"Perhaps we can discuss meal plans for when you're feeling better," Maria suggested. Kurt's eyes lit up at the thought of food, and he listened eagerly as Maria made various suggestions.
Ten minutes later, Georg returned with a man in his mid-fifties. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore a well-tailored suit. He carried himself with an air of importance though Maria noted, with quickly hidden amusement, that he was already acting deferential to Georg. She marveled at the effect her fiance had on people. "This is Dr. Miller," Georg introduced in German.
"It is nice to meet you," Maria pronounced carefully in English. The doctor said something in return, presumably expressing a similar sentiment, and Georg spoke briefly to him. Maria stood, intending to leave, but Georg shot her a questioning look.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"I just thought this was a family affair."
"Maria, you will be my wife in just a few short weeks as well as Kurt's mother. You have as much right to be here as anyone. Plus you have some medical expertise. I would greatly appreciate it if you stayed."
"If you're sure."
"Positive." After that, Maria sat down while the doctor examined Kurt, reporting his findings to Georg who translated for Maria. Fortunately, it seemed that Kurt was unlikely to have any long-term consequences from the near drowning though he asked them to monitor the boy for forty-eight hours to make sure. Once the doctor ensured they had no further questions, he shook both Maria's and Georg's hands, promising to return the next day to check on the patient. Georg saw him out before returning to the room, sinking into the chair next to Maria. Kurt was asleep, a condition the doctor assured them was normal—his body was likely worn out by the events of the day.
They were silent for a few minutes; Georg's voice finally broke the silence. "I almost lost him." Maria could hear the pain in every word, and when she looked over, she saw his hands were shaking where he had placed them on his knees. Reaching out, she placed one of her hands on his.
"But you didn't. You knew exactly what to do. You got him out of the water. You got him breathing again. You saved his life, Georg."
"I have not had to use the Schafer method since my Navy days. And never on someone so small. I was so afraid that I was doing it wrong, that it would not work or that I would get the water out of his lungs only to cause some sort of internal damage."
"But you didn't," Maria repeated.
He took a deep, steadying breath. "I saw Henry in the hallway and asked him to inform the children that their brother will be fine, but one of us should go be with them. Henry, Nicholas, and one of the maids have been watching them—Elizabeth fired the nanny. One instance where I actually agree with her."
"I'll go. Unless you want-"
He shook his head. "No, no, you should go. I'll stay here." He glanced back at his sleeping son. Maria could see the guilt not just on his face but also in the way he carried himself, letting his shoulders slump slightly instead of his usual impeccable posture. She knew him well enough to know that nothing she could say at the moment would assuage that guilt. It was the flip side to the confidence—often bordering on arrogance—that he displayed in most every situation. When something did go wrong, he tended to hold himself responsible even if he had no control over the situation.
"I will be back to relieve you later," she promised.
The other children accosted her as soon as she entered the room, asking after their brother. Maria gave them all the details she had though it did not seem to satisfy them. They all wanted to see him, but Maria delayed them by explaining that he was still sleeping before suggesting they all go down to lunch. Though they were obviously reluctant, they did follow her to the blessedly empty dining room where most of them simply picked at their food before excusing themselves.
After Maria put Gretl and Marta down for their rest in their room, she came back to find the rest of the children reading. They looked up when they heard the door open, and Maria raised an eyebrow in question. Liesl shrugged. "We didn't feel like doing anything else."
"Okay. I am going to get some lunch for your brother and relieve your father for a bit." They all nodded, and Maria retrieved a plate from the dining room before returning to the guest room where Kurt was staying. She found him awake, listening, wide-eyed, to his father who seemed to be telling some sort of war story. Both glanced over when Maria cleared her throat. "I brought some lunch for Kurt," she said, holding out the plate. The young boy's eyes lit up with excitement as he took it. "I tried to get mostly soft foods because of your throat," Maria added.
"Thanks," Kurt said, his voice a bit hoarse but sounding better than before.
"And I can stay with him for a bit, Georg, if you'd like to check in on the children and eat something."
"I don't mind staying here."
"You need to eat. You didn't have much breakfast either. Take care of yourself first, remember!"
He gave her a look of mock sternness as he shook a finger at her. "You are remarkably good at throwing my words back at me at the most inopportune times," he said. Maria gave him a small smile, happy to see he had some of his good humor back.
"Marta and Gretl are sleeping and the others are reading in the older girls' room."
Georg's eyebrows skyrocketed. "How did you ever convince them to do that?"
"It was their decision."
"Well, I will check in on them before cancelling our train tickets. And then I will eat," he added, seeing Maria's expression. Satisfied, Maria nodded. As he left, he grabbed her hand and glanced quickly at Kurt, who was absorbed in his food, before pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. "Thank you."
Maria's brow furrowed. "For forcing you to eat?"
"For caring about me and the children. For being my partner, my better half. I do not think I could have made it through these past couple weeks without you." With a final squeeze of her hand, he left before she could think of a response to the heartfelt sentiment.
Once Kurt had finished eating, Maria returned the plate to the kitchen, briefly pausing at the children's rooms on her way back to sit with him. Through a crack in the door, she saw Georg seated cross-legged on the floor with Brigitta in his lap and Louisa leaning against his side, a book open in front of him as he read. Liesl and Friedrich still sat a couple meters away from him, their own books open in front of them, but Maria noted they were watching their father much too closely to be reading the books they held. She smiled and continued on her way.
She and Kurt started the afternoon with a discussion of—somewhat to Maria's surprise since Louisa and Friedrich had always seemed to be the horse lovers of the family—horses. However, Kurt's voice soon gave way, so Maria entertained him by reading and singing and even telling a couple of stories about her time at the Abbey. She was in the middle of a tale of her attempts to return unseen after an unauthorized escape to her mountain, which was much more amusing in retrospect, when she heard a knock at the door. She called for the visitor to enter, turning to see Georg standing in the doorway with all six children. Even more surprising, all except Gretl were carrying food or dishes. "There was some concern that Kurt would be lonely at dinner, so we decided to bring dinner to him," Georg explained, entering the room and setting down the large platter he was holding on a low dresser.
"I am surprised Lady Whitehead authorized this."
Georg smirked. "What she does not know will not hurt her." He helped his children arrange the remainder of the food and dishes before encouraging them to fill their plates. There were only two chairs and a low settee in the room, but the children did not seem to mind—Gretl and Friedrich sat on the floor while Brigitta perched on the bed next to Kurt. Liesl took Marta into her lap on one of the chairs and Louisa took the other, balancing their plates on the bed as they leaned over to eat. It was certainly not a scene Maria would have ever expected to see, for as much as Georg had opened up to his children, there were still a number of rules of decorum that he followed quite strictly. One of those involved eating in the dining room or, on a few occasions, a picnic.
Georg seemed to sense her thoughts, for he stepped beside her and whispered, "They needed to see for themselves that their brother was fine, and I thought at least this way, they would have something to focus on other than questioning him endlessly."
"It's perfect," Maria told him. He smiled, gesturing to the food.
"After you."
"Oh. Are we eating with them?"
The smile slipped slightly from Georg's face. "After last night, I have no desire to eat with any of the so-called adults in this household." Maria nodded in understanding, taking a plate and filling it before taking a seat on the settee. Georg joined her, sitting close enough that they were pressed together from hip to knee. He flashed her a brief smile before engaging Friedrich in a conversation.
After they finished dinner, the children elected their father and Maria to return the dishes to the kitchen, pointing out that the two of them had spent most of the day with Kurt. After Liesl had assured them she would not allow her siblings to wear her brother out, they loaded themselves down with the dirty dishes and left the room. The dinner seemed to have eased Georg's melancholy somewhat, especially since Kurt seemed nearly back to his normal self—particularly where appetite was concerned—and he took the opportunity to tell Maria a couple of tales about his own boyhood exploits to purloin food from the kitchen. After depositing the dishes, they happened to discover a tray overflowing with tarts, presumably for dessert for the formal dinner. Georg, still in a rather jovial mood, managed to flatter the cook into setting two dozen aside on a tray for his family's consumption. Balancing the tray carefully, he took Maria's hand, and they started back for Kurt's room, still maintaining a lighthearted banter that Maria had come to greatly enjoy. Just as they crossed into the foyer, however, a voice stopped them.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Lady Whitehead asked, the outrage clear in her voice.
"Bringing dessert to the children," Georg explained calmly.
"The children should be in the dining room."
"We decided on a change of scenery today. They wished to eat with their brother."
"With their. . . you let them eat in the guest room?" Lady Whitehead sounded as if Georg had just told her he was teaching them to juggle knives.
"A couple of them even took their shoes off," Georg responded smoothly, eliciting another gasp from his mother-in-law. Much to Maria's horror, however, instead of continuing her verbal sparring with Georg, she turned to Maria.
"This is all your doing!" she accused. "I told you that you were unsuited for him, and I could not have been more correct. Imagine the thought of eating in a bedroom! What would even give you such an idea?"
"Leave Maria out of this." Georg's eyes had narrowed in anger. "She has done nothing but love me and the children and certainly does not deserve your ire."
"Nothing? Have you looked at yourself, Georg von Trapp? You did not even have the decency to put on a tie! And what is that on your shirt?" Maria glanced at Georg's white shirt which did, indeed, have a brown stain on the collar. She suspected it was Gretl's doing, for the young girl had spent about half the meal in her father's lap, relishing the more relaxed atmosphere of dinner. "You are not the man my daughter married," Lady Whitehead continued without giving Georg a chance to respond. "I do not even think I know you anymore and I dread to think what you might do to my grandchildren."
"Other than love them, you mean?"
Lady Whitehead scoffed. "You know nothing about love."
"And I am sure you are such an expert."
"Don't you dare-" However, Lady Whitehead did not have a chance to finish her sentence because a new voice suddenly interrupted, saying something in English. Lady Whitehead and Georg both turned immediately. Maria had known Georg long enough to see the momentary shock on his face before he managed to school his expression. Obviously, he knew the visitor. She studied the man a moment, hoping for a flash of recognition, but none came. He was relatively handsome, she supposed—though she personally felt no one could compare to Georg—with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sharp, angular face. He wore a tuxedo with tails that was obviously tailored to fit, so she imagined he had some money, but she supposed the same could be said of all the Whitehead's guests. Interestingly, he did wear a number of medals above his breast pocket, so she suspected he was a military man. Georg had explained before that John Whitehead had retired from the British Navy, so perhaps he had as well. That could also explain how Georg knew him.
Maria listened closely, trying to make out the English words Lady Whitehead and the visitor spoke. Though she was not able to understand any of the words, she did catch a name that caused her to give a small gasp and look to Georg. He understood the unasked question and gave a barely perceptible nod. It seemed Allan had come to the Whiteheads, and Maria could not help but think that did not bode well for Georg.
A/N: Yes, I know that Georg's method of getting Kurt breathing again would not be recommended today, but CPR did not become widespread until the 1950s. This story is set in 1934 when the Schafer method would have been the more likely method (especially considering that Georg likely would have learned it in the Navy twenty years earlier). I had actually planned to have this story finished already, but it has taken on a life of its own and is growing far longer than I imagined. I still have 6-8 chapters left to go before it's finished, and it will likely take me a bit longer than it has been to get them written since we're slowly coming out of our more relaxed summer schedule. But I hope to finish in the next month or two! And even before then, I have some future one-shots that I've been writing as the muse strikes, so I may post some of those.
