She knew she couldn't stay. That much was a given. She wasn't meant for this, she told herself. She began to haphazardly throw her things in the worn carpet bag she had brought with her, leaving the dresses she had made with her own hands. She wouldn't need them, after all. She quickly donned the heavy gray dress she had worn when she arrived.

"I think your dress is the ugliest one I ever saw!"

The children. She felt her heart drop as she thought of them. She would miss them so much more than she would have ever thought possible. And she knew they would be devastated to find she had fled, like a traitorous fugitive in the night. They wouldn't understand why she had to. But they had already been through so much in their little lives. Could she add another sudden, traumatic departure to their lives? The little ones especially, would feel deeply abandoned. Rejected.

A letter. She could do at least that. They deserved at least something, however pitiful it would be in comparison to saying it in person. She knew she could never manage to face them though. They'd ask why, and how could she reply? Why was she leaving? Why now?

Because of him.

He had been so cold and formidable at first. So far removed from anything she had ever experienced. And yet she had noticed his change in the past few weeks. He was softer. More caring. More present. More joyful. He had finally returned to his children, and they had been over the moon to have him back with them. But he had changed towards her, too. Yes, he was still strong and firm. But he treated her more an equal than a member of the household staff. He respected her. He asked for her opinions, and valued her input on all things, not just merely matters of the children. There was a glint in his eyes when he smiled at her, complimented her, looked at her.

"Haven't you noticed the way he looks into your eyes?"

She may not admit to having noticed, but she certainly had felt it. Oh, how her stomach flipped and felt hollow, when he would look into her eyes. She swore she could feel her very blood heat, and course through her when he would look at her, with his clear blue eyes. It felt like he looked into her very soul. And when his hand happened to graze hers as he handed her a book for the children, or her guitar, she had felt as though he had burned her. She knew she at least once she had inadvertently sucked in a breath, but she prayed he hadn't heard, hadn't noticed. His smile. Good Lord, his smile. When he rewarded her with one of his genuine, whole hearted smiles, she felt like nothing else in the world existed, or even mattered. She swore her insides would melt when he flashed her one of his incredible smiles.

And it wasn't just during the waking hours that he invaded her senses. At night, he consumed her dreams. At first she hadn't thought much of his appearance in her dreams. After all, he was the children's father and master of the house. She'd dreamed of outings with the children, and he'd be there. That made sense to her. But before she knew it, he was her dreams. His face, his touch, his smell invaded her there, and held her captive. Could she really call herself captive though, when a part of her couldn't wait to sleep, to meet him in her dreams, where he'd touch her. Hold her. Kiss her. Make her feel things she'd never dared to hope to feel in life. There were nights when her dreams were so full of him, she'd startled herself awake, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, with a fire in her belly she didn't know how to quench. Dreams where he kissed her with such intensity, and passion, where she'd respond with an enthusiasm and ardor she didn't realize she possessed. His arms wrapped around her, his strong hands roaming her body. Caressing her, touching her, feeling her, exploring her body that she willingly, eagerly surrendered to him…

She shook her head a bit to snap herself out of her reverie, trying to remember what she had been thinking before he had taken over her mind. A letter. Yes, she needed to write one to the children. They deserved that. She went over to the small desk in her room and sat down, searching for a clean sheet of paper from the stack of drawings, poems, assignments the children had given her over the weeks. She smiled sadly as she shuffled through them. She wanted to take them with her, but she knew it would only torture her more. She finally found a blank piece, and a pencil. She began to write.

"Captain,"

She had told herself she would write to the children. For the children. But she had started writing to him before she even realized. She rationalized it, as it was easier for him to deliver the news to the children. He could convey her message. Deep down, she knew she wrote to him, too. Whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not, she would miss him just as much. Maybe more. But that was exactly why she had to go.

Finishing her too short, too terse letter, she sighed. It would have to do; she didn't have it in her to devote much more to the task. She folded it, and addressed it to the Captain. Looking out the window, she saw the front drive was still bustling with people, and vehicles. The party was still in full swing. Beautiful, graceful guests were everywhere. Household staff, including some who had been hired to help just for the evening, flitted in and out all over the house it seemed. Would she be able to slip out unnoticed? Surely she would stand out, in her ugly gray dress, carrying her bag and guitar. No, she couldn't risk it. She would wait until the guests left, then she would leave, slipping out before Franz locked up for the night. The household would be exhausted, and never notice her departure. She glanced down at her letter, trying to think of where she could leave it. His study. He's an early riser. He would find it before the children were up, and looking for her. He could tell them before they searched futilely for her. She opened the door to her room a few millimeters to check if her path would be clear. It sounded like the guests were congregating to begin dinner, so there would be less of a chance for someone to notice her going into his study. If anyone did see her, she was just the governess. They wouldn't give her second thought just as she was. If she had her bag, they might question her. But just herself and her letter would make sense. She was the governess. The governess, and a nun in training she reminded herself.

She crept down the hallway, down the stairs, trying to walk as quietly and smoothly as she could. She saw no one, and heard only the din of the guests eating, drinking, and chatting merrily. Her traitorous mind imagined him with his guests, in his white tie and tails, looking so polished and handsome. No, she told herself. She forced herself to imagine the woman more suited to a man his station at his side, looking every bit the elegant woman he should end up with.

She reached his study unnoticed and unmolested. She suddenly worried it would be locked as she set her hand on the doorknob, but breathed a small sigh of relief when she found it wasn't. It was odd though. He always locked it, didn't he?

Closing the door quietly behind her, she turned and stood still, taking in the room. Bathed in the light of the fire crackling jovially in the fireplace and his reading lamp, it smelled like an intoxicating mix of leather, and his cologne, with a hint of that familiar smell of books. In addition to the library in the house, his study had a bookshelf that was full of volumes in all shapes and sizes. She knew from their chats that it had books related to his time in the Navy, some reference books, and many of his favorites. When discussing the children's studies with him, he had often reached for a book to share with her that he knew one of more of his children would enjoy. Some poetry for the older children. Fairy tales for the little ones. A reference book about horses for his Brigitta. She smiled remembering the Captain's giddy grin at the idea of sharing his favorite Kipling with his eldest son. He had looked into her eyes that night, and thanked her with his heart.

"I truly cannot begin to thank you for what you have done. For bringing me back to my children. For reminding me," he said, looking so deeply into her eyes that she felt as if he was looking into her heart.

"You never left them, Captain. You just needed a reminder that they still want to be close to you, still love you deeply. They always will." She smiled at him. He reached out, and patted her hand fondly.

"And I have you to thank, for making me realize that. For showing me." His hand lingered on hers, a moment beyond what would have been proper, and she felt her heart catch in her throat…

She smiled, remembering that night. They had talked for what felt like hours after that. She had loved every moment of their chats. Whether she could admit it to herself or not, their chats were her favorite part of her time there. Except for the night he sang. No, she told herself again, shaking her head again to bring herself back to the present, and out of that beautiful memory. She had not been brought here for him. The Lord had led her there for the children. But a small voice inside her asked, "only the children?"

She strode over to stand in front of his desk, as she had many times before. Yes, she would leave her letter here on his desk, where he would surely find it in the morning. By then she would be safely ensconced back in the Abbey, where she belonged. As she reached out to place it gingerly on his desk, she froze.

The doorknob to his study rattled as someone opened it, swiftly entered, and closed it. They leaned against the door, facing it, and sighed wearily. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and the tiny hair on the back of her neck rose as she stood rooted to the ground. Her mind went blank with panic.

It was the Captain.