The previous day…
With the afternoon sun beating through the windscreen, it hadn't taken long for the car to become unbearably hot. Some shade would be welcome, but trees in the old part of town were few and far between. Centuries ago, they hadn't seemed important. Now, with barely any room for vehicles to pass, let alone a decent path for pedestrians, it was far too late to think about avenues along the cobblestones. Slowly winding its way through the narrow streets, a gentle breeze stirred, not that it offered much in the way of relief.
A finger tugged at the collar of a starched shirt, beads of perspiration making everything uncomfortable and sticky. It might be cooler if a window was rolled down more than a crack, or better still, the car roof open, but that would invite being recognised, and he was already chancing his luck. God knows, the car stood out like a beacon. With that thought, he tugged at the brim of his hat, pulling it lower.
On the seat beside him, his coat had been discarded long ago. With shirt sleeves rolled up and hanging loosely below the elbow, he glanced down at his wristwatch. A few more minutes, then time to give up. An impatient forefinger tapped the top of the steering wheel. He'd been here for an hour already; yesterday, it had been two.
Oh, I was forever escaping over the wall…
That's what she'd told him. So, where are you, Fraulein…?
I'd climb the old oak tree by the wall, and try to be back for vespers…
Tired eyes narrowed against the sun's glare. Staring at a lone tree in the distance, he'd worked out yesterday it could only be that one. It was a perfect summer's day, surely, she'd try to escape on a day like today. He sighed, a heavy, weary sigh.
Maria, why do you want to lock yourself away, when all you do is escape?
Abruptly, his finger stopped its tapping as he was struck by an idea. It was pure madness! So mad, it might actually work. Flouting the first rule of any good strategy, he skipped over what might go wrong, as the idea quickly took shape. There was no time to waste – much better to seize the moment, than dither around looking for excuses.
But what kind of enquiry would he be making?
Unsure, he slumped back against the soft leather. Perhaps he should just let the conversation play out. That's exactly what he'd do. Let the conversation flow and see where it took things. Emboldened, his fingers gripped the handle of the car door.
Surely, his enquiries wouldn't be out of place. He was simply checking on her welfare. After all, she was supposed to be in his care. Not bothering with his jacket, oblivious to his state of undress, he pushed open the car door with a newfound confidence. But before the sole of his boot had even touched the cobblestones, he froze. Snatching his foot back inside the car, back to the footwell beside the accelerator, he slammed the door shut.
Why was she no longer in his care?
That would be their first question. Why had she returned to the Abbey? He still didn't know. He could hardly tell them the truth, that she'd just taken off without a word. What had she told them? If he didn't have a clue, it's unlikely their stories would match. He'd end up looking like a fool. Or worse…
Reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt, he pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half and then folded again. Only three days ago, the paper had been crisp, its folds sharp; but now it was worn and smooth from the touch of his hands, the constant unfolding and folding, from being read over and over, and over again. He opened her note for what must have been the hundredth time.
Dear Captain,
Thank you for the most magical of summers.
There's no double meaning in those words. She did enjoy her time with them. He knew she'd been happy. Or was she just being polite…
I miss the Sisters and the Abbey terribly, so have decided to leave early.
Forget the bloody nuns, didn't she miss them – especially, the children. Maybe, even him. His eyes left the note and searched into the distance, hoping he hadn't missed her scarpering over the wall. And if the Abbey is so wonderful, Fraulein, why are you always escaping?
Please say good-bye to the children for me.
Fraulein, you should have said goodbye to the children yourself. They deserved that much, at least. Why couldn't she face them? She could have spoken to him.
Farewell,
Did it have to sound so final...
Fraulein Maria.
Fraulein, what are you trying to tell me? He re-read her note, then read it again. What was he missing? There must be a clue in there somewhere, some hidden meaning behind her words. He sighed. It was a riddle he couldn't solve.
To be honest, he wasn't even certain she had returned. If she'd left in the middle of the night, how did she make it back to town? The buses didn't run at night, and he imagined they'd be few and far between on a Sunday.
Running fingers along a tight jawline, he couldn't bear thinking of her being out on the country roads in the middle of the night. Who knows what shady characters might be lurking around. But the roads would have been busy Saturday night with guests coming and going, so someone should have seen her. Perhaps she'd been offered a lift by someone. But no one had called to explain they'd stumbled across his governess.
Damn that God-awful party.
Not wanting any part of it from the beginning, Elsa had forced his hand. It had been a masterstroke on her part. Once she'd made her announcement in front of everyone, she knew there'd be no backing out. Damn Max for insisting Maria join them for dinner. He'd only wanted her there to champion his plans to turn the children into a performing circus. This was all their fault! Still, he should have checked on her. He should have asked someone to check on her, he corrected himself. He sighed, tugging impatiently at the knot of his already loosened tie. God, it was hot…
If only he'd checked on her...
When she hadn't appeared for dinner and the guests had been kept waiting long enough, Elsa had convinced him not to worry. The girl probably realises she's out of her depth. After all, she did try to tell you she didn't have anything to wear…
Surely, this wasn't all because of a silly dress. God, it made no sense! She could have worn the blue dress. It was more than suitable. He sighed. Who was he kidding? It was perfect…
He held up his hand, still feeling her hand slipping from his. Clenching his fingers into a tight fist, he cursed under his breath. Get a grip man…
Reading her note again, lingering over each word, he tugged irritably at his ear. Who just ups and leaves without a word? She was supposed to be looking after the children. Did she leave Saturday night or early Sunday morning? He sighed, realising he was no closer to knowing why she left, much less when.
His head ached as he ran through the sequence of events in his mind, yet again. She hadn't appeared for dinner and no one had seen her after she went to change. The children had found her room empty Sunday morning, so for the first time in weeks, he sat down to breakfast with only the children. Max didn't surface until midday, while Elsa had made a late appearance at breakfast, blaming the party for oversleeping. Later, just as the children were finishing, Franz had appeared with her note during breakfast. In his usual cryptic way, he said he'd only just discovered it on the side table in the foyer. Had it been there all night? Surely, someone would have stumbled across it before then. The children are like hawks and notice if anything's an inch out of place. Why hadn't they seen it on their way to breakfast?
Why hadn't he seen it…
Opening her note at the table, thankfully he'd stopped himself from reading it out loud. Reeling from her message and still not sure what to make of it, he hadn't the heart to tell the children she'd returned to the Abbey for good. He couldn't believe it himself. Still, he didn't want to believe it. Instead, it was far easier explaining her absence as just a visit. It would give him time to make sense of things – he still hadn't – and time to think – that's all he'd been doing.
His jaw tightened, the children's flood of tears and questions over Sunday's breakfast a raw reminder how much she'd come to mean to them. Having settled the children as best he could, breakfast had come to an abrupt end. Anyway, no one wanted to be at the table without her there – least of all, him. Leaving Elsa to finish breakfast alone, he'd driven slowly along the lane, then into town. Nothing… He'd taken the backway home, then drove into town along the main road a second time. Still nothing…
Sunday night, it had been easier to carry on pretending she was away on a short visit.
Two days later, he was still pretending...
oOo
That evening…
"Sir…?"
Realising Franz was standing to his right, decanter at the ready, Georg held up his hand in a dismissive gesture. He'd already had too much red wine. A lot had changed after her arrival – even his drinking. Wishing his traitorous mind would stop circling back to her, he prodded glumly at the dessert on the plate in front of him. Thankfully he hadn't had to contribute too much to the dinner conversation. With Max happily accepting another glass, he prayed that could continue. His heart not in it, he was already planning a hasty retreat to the study,
With no appetite, he gave up and looked to the opposite end of the table. She should be here, why wasn't she here? Dinner wasn't the same. But it wasn't the same without the children, either. He swallowed a resentful sigh, not willing to risk another silent rebuke from Elsa.
It seemed ridiculous, the three of them sitting at the head of an empty table. Still, he hadn't been in any mood to mount a serious argument against Elsa's new arrangement. Instead, he'd offered a compromise that they could both agree on. A trial. Like he could care less what her friends did with their children at dinner time, or any other time for that matter. They weren't her children, and certainly not her friends. These were his...
And what was the point of having two sittings for dinner every night. He wasn't running a bloody restaurant! He jumped a little at the touch of Elsa's hand on his, bringing the incessant drumming of his fingers to an abrupt end. Far too agitated, he couldn't bring himself to look at Elsa. Two more nights of this ridiculous arrangement…
Bristling, he dropped his eyes from her empty chair, staring at the table instead – her empty place. Fraulein, I know you'd be disappointed. It's only a trial. Mealtimes are family times. Dragging his eyes away from her end of the table, he clenched his jaw against her voice in his head. She should have known the children would be hurt. It was alright for her to dress him down, tell him his many failings as a parent, point out how he should treat his children better. Was this any way to treat them?
She hadn't even said goodbye…
But he didn't have it in his heart to be angry with her for long. Following the line of empty chairs, he found himself back frowning into his dessert bowl. A crème brûlée, apparently. Some insipid French thing Elsa had insisted Cook try her hand at. Obviously, Frau Muntz was yet to master the thing.
"…now, isn't this much nicer than those heavy desserts, darling?"
"Mmmm… certainly a change," his lukewarm approval was accompanied by the best smile he could muster. Had she noticed him poking around at it? The first few mouthfuls had proved a struggle, looking blankly into his bowl, what was left seemed insurmountable. Trust the French to take something as bland as custard and try to camouflage it with a fancy name.
Feeling a pang of guilt, he rested his spoon on the edge of the plate to reach over and pat Elsa's hand. He should be pleased with the efforts she was making. And she did look radiant tonight, even if it was too much for a quiet dinner at home. With the children eating at the usual time, she'd insisted on changing the dress code for their later sitting. Tonight, it was a shimmering sliver slip. Just because we're in the country, it doesn't mean we can't wear something nice. She'd even insisted he wear a dinner suit. God help him, it will be bowtie and coat tails next…
"…just promise you don't take strudel off the menu," Max leaned back, wiping the corners of his mouth with a crisp linen napkin.
"Oh, you two are hopeless!" Elsa rolled her eyes playfully between both men. "Honestly, I don't know why I go to so much effort," she teased, feigning a serious wounding.
Max threw his head back, laughing loudly.
"Now, why don't you make it up to me, Max, darling," she reached for her glass of white wine, jewelled fingers draped elegantly around its stem. "In amongst all your news from Vienna, there must be an update on the von Bergens." Knowing he was rarely interested in news from home at the best of times, she patted Georg's hand. Less of an apology, more of an attempt to shake him out of this mood of his. It was most unbecoming at the dinner table. "Max, I'd hate to think you were holding anything back…" she scolded.
"Ooooh, I'd almost forgotten all about the very proper Josep von Bergen," Max sat up straight, his eyes gleaming.
"Max, I thought you were making business calls," Georg snapped, his friend's mischievous grin only fuelling his black mood. "I didn't realise you'd spent the afternoon, and my money, gossiping away like a bored housewife…"
"Don't pay him any attention, Max," Elsa's attempt at a bright response did little to hide her annoyance at Georg's pointed comment.
"Are you sure you don't want another glass, Georg?" Max held up his glass of wine innocently. "It might take the edge of that mood of yours…"
"Hmpf…" Georg grunted, turning his attention back to the God-awful dessert.
"Poor Amelia… let's pray the worst of it's over," Elsa tut-tutted, doing her best to ignore Georg's grumping. He'll be over the little governess soon enough…
"Well, from what I hear, the reprieve may only be short-lived," Max leaned forward. "A calm before the real storm."
"Ooh, do tell, Max!" Elsa's eyes brightened.
"Let's just say, by the end of the year," Max raised his brow across the table, "it will be impossible to deny the rumours about Josep and his maid…" Max nodded, pleased at Elsa's squeal of excitement. "A pretty little thing by all accounts…" he added, sitting back in his chair.
"Oh, Max!" Elsa rolled her eyes. "When on Earth did all this nasty business start?"
"Well…" just warming up, Max smoothed down his moustache, "apparently, it was the cocktail party."
"Amelia's cocktail party? In her own home?" Elsa answered abruptly. "I just cannot believe it," her hand came down on the table, emphasising her disbelief. "No, I don't want to believe it…" she shook her hand dramatically.
"Well, poor old Baroness von Filcher did walk in on something unsavoury," Max reminded Elsa, having decided it was best to ignore Georg and leave him to play with his dessert in peace.
"Oh, that…" Elsa dismissed with a wave of her hand. "It wasn't supposed to be anything too serious."
"All will be revealed," Max winked. "Trust me…"
"No… I can't think about it…" Elsa shook her head. "And with the help…" she spat out the word with more distaste than she might otherwise have done.
"As you know, the von Bergen family have always been generous benefactors to the theatre, so Henri's sources are impeccable," Max paused for effect. And to take another sip of the very fine vintage. "He has it on good authority…"
"If you'll excuse me," Georg interrupted, irritation drowning out his attempt at an apology. He'd heard more than enough of this nonsense. "I need to finish off the…"
"Oh, Georg!" Elsa placed a disappointed hand over Georg's, but he was already pushing his chair away from the table. "Do you have to…?"
"I'm afraid it won't finish itself," he quipped, ignoring Elsa's disappointment, his hand slipped out from under hers as he rose to his feet. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," he added with a shrug before turning his back on the near-empty dining table and making a hasty escape.
Striding through the foyer, his steps slowed, then came to a stop.
There wasn't a sound. Without Maria, the life seemed to have been sucked out of every corner of the villa. He wondered what the children were up to, but already knew he wouldn't go in search of them to find out. Truth was, he'd been avoiding the children and he was certain they'd been avoiding him. Although the children were expecting their governess to return, the past days had been a glimpse of life without her. Perhaps they were as worried as him. Worried that without her, everything would go back to how it used to be. Without her laughter and music, without her joy and excitement – they all seemed to realise, but none of them could say it out loud.
Nothing would ever be the same with her gone…
oOo
He glared at the back of the door, willing it to be suddenly flung open. Flung open to reveal her rushing in breathless.
Too excited, too late, too much of a hurry – with her, it was always 'too something'…
Sometimes, after bursting in, she'd stand on one spot, shifting from one leg to the other, unable to stay still for more than a moment. Quickly, the initial thrill would turn to disappointment, realising it was just a fleeting visit. Other times, she'd flop into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk in that adorable way of hers. Letting out a sigh, the puff of air would send her short fringe fluttering, before it settled back against her flushed brow. A momentary flutter before remembering its place. Much like him.
Good Lord, man, where did that thought come from…?
Still bristling at such a ridiculous thought, he slumped against the high-backed chair. He'd do anything for one more visit. He'd settle for a fleeting visit, but preferably a longer one, like her regular updates on the children's progress. Of course, the conversation would quickly stray from the children – it always did. They'd talk for hours. Strange thing is, now he wondered if they ever talked about anything important.
His fingers drummed the desk. They'd always skirted around the topic of summer ending. With the children doing so well, he'd had half a mind to keep her on after the start of the new school year. He wished he'd told her what he was thinking, that he wanted her to stay. Then, she might have told him if she were unhappy, why she thought she couldn't stay, what her plans were. He could even have told her to give up on her mad idea of becoming a nun. Max would make a better nun than you Fraulein, for God's sake…
But would he have been brave enough to broach the subject? He doubted it. He might not have liked her answers.
But would she even answer his questions? He doubted it. Smiling sadly, he recalled her skill at deflecting attention away from herself.
Now it was too late for any of that…
Just one more chance alone, it's all he needed. He'd happily maintain the usual pretence. If her arrival was unexpected, he'd feign annoyance at the interruption – but secretly, be delighted by the surprise. If she was late for one of their meetings, he'd roll his eyes at her appalling lack of punctuality. Any other woman, he'd swear it was intentional – part of her wily charm, part of the seduction. But Fraulein wasn't any other woman. She didn't play those kinds of games, she didn't have to. It wouldn't cross her mind to keep him waiting, and she wouldn't have a clue how keenly he looked forward to her visits.
Oh no, she didn't play games. But he did. He'd tease her mercilessly, trying to make her blush – not that it took any effort. He'd try to pry details from her past, but she'd deftly deflect even a seemingly innocent question. Who was this woman? Where had she come from? He still didn't have answers to so many questions. Had he found out anything at all useful about her over summer? Had he even been paying attention. Gleefully, interrupting her, he'd try wrestling back control, telling her to slow down so he could make sense of the words spilling from those sweet lips of hers…
Those lips…
A rush of blood and adrenaline surged through his body. God, he'd almost kissed her. There in front of the children, in plain sight of guests, and though he didn't realise it at the time, right in front of Elsa.
Holding up his hand, he slowly dragged the pad of his thumb across the fingertips on his right hand, then slowly back again. He could still feel her hand in his. Even through his kid gloves, he could feel her grip tighten the more they skipped and turned; as he held her closer, tighter. As he reluctantly let go of her hand, as his hand fell from above their heads, it had been so close to cupping her cheek. Staring into her eyes, dropping his gaze down to those gorgeous lips, parted as she fought to find her breath, he'd been a fraction of a moment away from bending down to catch her lips in his. Perhaps if she hadn't been the one to realise where they were, realise what he was doing. Perhaps if she hadn't stepped back…
Is that why she'd left?
He scoffed at the idea. Her cheeks had been flushed, but it was from dancing. She'd said so herself. Shortly after, she'd been there to oversee the children's performance, and nothing was amiss. He'd kept his eye on her, even as she tried to hide behind the pillar, avoiding attention, letting the children take centre stage as she watched on proudly. She'd accepted the invitation for dinner. Why, he'd even told her she didn't have to join them.
Out of her depth. He scoffed at Elsa's words. Fraulein was never out of her depth. The idea was so ludicrous, it couldn't possibly be true. If she was nervous about the idea, there was no need to join them. She certainly didn't have to flee into the night…
Trying to stop the burn in his fingers, he drummed the desk instead – impatient, frustrated, restless. She was gone, she was always going to go. He had to stop thinking of that moment, of that dance, of her.
This wasn't right. This wasn't normal. This wasn't him...
oOo
"Ooh, isn't that pretty?" Elsa smiled at a sad-looking Marta standing before her, hoping against hope the girl's messy fingers kept a safe distance. When there was no response, she turned her attention to the large pastel drawing covering her lap, trying to unravel what it might mean. Thankfully, the girl was too shy and timid to take a seat on the settee beside her, so she might avoid having to comfort the child over the governess.
A little encouragement, she could manage that, especially when the girl was the first of Georg's children to finally acknowledge her presence in the sitting room. She made a mental note have a word with him. After all, when her and Max arrived almost an hour ago, the children had made something of a fuss over Uncle Max. It may not have been as boisterous as usual, but all she'd been given were suspicious looks, sideways glances and whispering. It was obvious they were talking about her.
Honestly, what manners had that nun been teaching these children?
Not to be deterred, she decided to plough on as best she could. "And who do we have here, hmm?" It was impossible to tell from the pastels the girl had smeared across the large piece of paper. She just prayed none of the mess made it onto her dress. Judging by Frau Schmidt, the household wasn't used to anything but cottons and wools, or whatever tatt the silly governess found to stitch together. She made another mental note to address the play-clothes. They really should be burned…
"This is Father…" Marta pointed to the middle of the picture, then looked up at Baroness Schraeder with a frown. Wasn't it obvious?
"Of course, that's your father," Elsa's bright smile hid her annoyance at the girl's patronising tone. It might be obvious to her, but honestly, it could have been anyone. "He's at the party…" more of a question than a statement, hopefully she had that bit right.
Marta nodded, shifting shyly from one foot to the other.
"And who are these two?" Elsa pointed to a couple who appeared to be dancing. But honestly, who could tell?
"That's Liesl and Friedrich," Marta announced proudly.
"It was such a glorious party…" Elsa's wistful remark didn't register a response from Marta, let alone anyone else. She only wished the older girls could take half as much interest as their younger sister. Really, they should be more appreciative. She'd be more than happy to pass on her wealth of experience. It would set them up for life, and be far more useful than the little nun's lessons. "It's so nice of you to include everyone in your drawing…"
"Everyone…?" Marta screwed up her face in confusion.
Before Elsa could respond, Brigitta appeared from nowhere, dropping onto the settee beside her in the most unladylike way. The girl was always snooping around and listening in on the adults' conversations, and now she was sitting a little too close for her liking.
"You and Uncle Max aren't there," Brigitta declared in a loud voice.
"Oh…?" Elsa momentarily forgot to mask her response. Why had the room suddenly gone quiet.
Hearing his name, Max woke up from his glass of brandy. "Uncle Max not there?" he huffed. "I don't believe it!"
"I just thought…" Elsa continued, now wishing Marta had kept ignoring her like the rest of the children. "Well, your father is dancing with someone, and…"
"That's Fraulein Maria," Marta announced.
"Oh, ho…" Elsa laughed nervously, a prickly heat suddenly breaking out across her chest and rising uncomfortably up her neck. Not needing to look up from the pastel drawing, she knew everyone's eyes were on her. "Of course, it's Fraulein Maria…" Damn that governess!
"I miss Fraulein Maria," Marta's sad, tiny voice seemed unusually loud in the oppressive silence of the sitting room. "Does she miss us?"
"Oh, I'm sure she's happy, whatever she's doing…" Elsa ignored the girl's question. The children's moping was almost as bad as their father's…
"Why did Fraulein Maria leave?" Louisa narrowed her eyes at Baroness Schraeder from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"Well, I… I…" Elsa's answer waivered as she struggled to maintain contact with the girl's angry, accusing eyes. Did she know about their little chat in the governess' room? Quickly reminding herself that was impossible, she looked away in hope of finding a friendly pair of eyes. "Your father did explain…"
"Is Fraulein Maria coming back?" Kurt asked, joining in from the large rug, where he lay on his stomach, feet in the air behind him.
"Tell us she's coming back, Uncle Max!" Friedrich pleaded, the model boat he'd been working on with Louisa and Kurt now forgotten.
"I miss Fraulein Maria…" Marta sniffed to no one in particular.
"Well…" since he had no idea himself, Max wasn't sure what to tell the seven sad faces that had turned his way. Georg had simply said she'd left a note to say she'd returned to the Abbey, but wouldn't say how long she'd be away. "I think…"
"Goodness, me!" Elsa exclaimed, a little louder than necessary, given the silence. "Is that the time already?"
The children turned to Baroness Schrader with blank looks.
"Time for bed, children!" she announced, hoping her enthusiasm to dismiss the children for the evening might be mistaken as an effort to make bedtime seem exciting, just like the governess had done. "Now, off you go…" she encouraged them, ignoring the groans and looks of disappointment.
Looking over the children's heads, she caught the amusement in Max's eye. Trust him to be having fun, watching her floundering with the children. Where on Earth was Georg? They were his after all. With a handful of weeks left before the holidays were over, the sooner she broached the subject of boarding school with him the better. Once the children were upstairs and out of her hair, she'd pay him a visit in the study. He'd been left to brood about the governess long enough. Honestly, he was worse than his ungrateful children.
"There you go, Marta," Elsa carefully lifted the drawing off her lap, trying not to get any pastel on her fingers.
"We'll say goodnight to Father on the way," Liesl looked up from gently rousing Gretl, who'd fallen asleep on her lap some time ago. "He may have found out when Fraulein Maria's returning."
"Best you don't interrupt, he's tied up with some important paperwork," Elsa's breezy answer only earned her more dark looks. "I'll tell him to check on you when he's finished," she hoped that small compromise would work. Now, what did that damn governess used to do? "Children, come on…" she clapped her hands once, then twice. She had to admit the girl made it seem charming, but she couldn't help thinking it felt like shooing away an annoying flock of sparrows that had decided to settle on the terrace. Still, it seemed to be working.
With their games packed up, the children offered Baroness Schraeder a glum goodnight, and struggled to offer Uncle Max anything brighter.
"Good night, children," Elsa called after them. She noticed Louisa turn her head and glare sideways at her. Quickly reminding herself they couldn't possibly know about her little chat with Fraulein Maria, she gave the girl a bright smile.
Sighing with relief at the sight of their slumped shoulders disappearing into the foyer, she was sure she couldn't have stood much more. Pressing fingertips against her scalp, she struggled to understand everyone's mood. You'd think the girl had died, for God's sake! She was going to leave in a few weeks anyway, so what did it matter if she left early. A little longer chatting with Max, then she'd make her way to the study to sort out Georg.
"Well, well, well…" Max chuckled, "you seem to be getting the hang of it!"
"Easy for you to say, darling," Elsa muttered under her breath. "You get to play good old Uncle Max, while I'm the evil stepmother…" she paused to raise a brow, "or, I will be."
"Oh, you are evil!" Max raised a glass to Elsa's wicked laughter.
Pleased at Max's response, she might ask him to see if Georg's mood had improved before she ventured into the study. The man was unpredictable at the best of times, and now he was nursing a bruised heart.
She gave Max a self-satisfied smile. Without any more annoying distractions, she was certain Georg wouldn't be able to resist her charms…
oOo
Leaning back in the leather chair, he stared at the clock on the mantel. The children should be on their way to bed now. He'd look in on them when he made his way upstairs in a few hours. He should probably join Elsa and Max in the sitting room, but he really wasn't in the mood. Still, he should try to make an effort…
At the sound of the door opening, his head spun around.
"Oh, it's you…" he muttered under his breath.
"And who were you expecting, Georg?" Max raised a brow as he closed the door behind him. "Or should I say, who were you hoping?"
"No one…" he lied.
"Hmpf…" Max dropped into one of the visitors' chairs.
In silence, the men stared at each other across the desk for a second or two, and then a third…
"I see you're getting through that important paperwork," Max dropped his eyes to the empty desk between them.
"I changed my mind," Georg lied again. "Decided to make some telephone calls instead."
"Oh, I see," Max nodded.
"Well, I could hardly make them this afternoon with you tying up the line gossiping, could I?" Georg shrugged.
"I suppose not," Max murmured.
"Was there something you wanted?"
"No, not really…" Max dropped his head to the side.
"Then why are you here?" Georg dropped his head a little to the side.
"Just thought I'd check in on you," Max answered.
"Check in on me?" Georg snapped. "What do you need to…"
Max held up a hand. "That's why, Georg," he narrowed his eyes across the desk. "Your mood has changed ever since the governess left… no, no, hear me out," he cut off his friend's protests. "I'm not sure what was going on…"
"She was my children's governess, Max, that's what was going on," Georg's words were cold and sharp.
"Well, be that as it may… you've been in a mood ever since," Max huffed. "And trust me, it's not a pleasant mood to be around."
"How dare you tell me…"
"Georg, save it!" Max raised his hand. "I'm just here to tell you, you need to let it go…"
"Let what go?" Georg bristled as Max rose to his feet.
"Whatever it is, let it go," and with that, Max walked out of the study.
oOo
"She's the only one who's happy…" Brigitta hugged her knees tighter against her chest.
"It's fake." Louisa leaned back against the iron frame at the foot of Liesl's bed. "She's been fake since the day she arrived."
"Isn't that won-der-ful, dah-ling!" Kurt had jumped off the bed to do his best imitation of a Baroness flouncing around.
"This is serious!" Friedrich threw a pillow at his brother's head, despite admitting to himself, it was a very good likeness. "What does Father see in her?"
"She's nothing like Mamma," Liesl frowned. "Why can't he just marry Fraulein Maria?" Images of them dancing still swirled in her mind.
"When is she coming back?" Kurt asked, jumping back up on the bed and sending everyone rocking for a moment or two.
"Is she even coming back?" Louisa wondered out loud.
"Don't say that!" Friedrich snapped.
"Well, she might not," Louisa shrugged. "Father hasn't told us anything."
"I can't believe Baroness Schraeder wouldn't let us say goodnight to him," Liesl sighed.
"I know, who's she to tell us what to do?" Friedrich added.
"Why are we even listening to her?" Louisa asked.
They fell silent, contemplating the answer to that question.
"Why don't we go and speak to Father?" Everyone turned to look at Brigitta.
"What, now…?" Friedrich frowned.
"Who knows, he might have heard from Fraulein Maria," Brigitta shrugged. "And if he hasn't, we might find out what's really going on."
"Liesl, you should go," Louisa looked at her sister.
"Me?"
"Well, we can't send Kurt!" Louisa screwed up her face as her brother poked out his tongue.
"But Father won't be happy to see me," Liesl shook her head, "especially at this hour."
"He's already unhappy, so it doesn't matter," Friedrich rolled his eyes. "You need to go…" he nodded encouragingly.
"I don't need to do anything…"
"Liesl, you need to go speak to Father…" Louisa told her older sister firmly. All the other children nodded in agreement.
"I don't know…" Liesl hated being the oldest at times like this.
Marta's eyes filled with tears as she snuggled against Liesl. "I just want Fraulein Maria to come home…" she sniffed.
oOo
Still smarting from Max's visit, he reached down and tugged at the bottom drawer with such force, it almost came out from the desk. Pushing it back in an inch or two, he snatched up the bottle of brandy and a shot glass, placing them both on the desk. Filling the glass, he replaced the stopper and went to stow the bottle away, but as he looked down beside him, his eyes were drawn to the contents at the back of the drawer.
Behind two more glasses, an empty cigarette case and lighter, screwed up pages of his personalised stationery stared back at him. Barely recognisable, crumpled balls, stuffed out of sight. A sharp contrast to the meticulously organised contents of the other drawers and the regimental order of the study.
He went to slam the drawer shut, but hesitated. Without stopping to think, he snatched up one of the balls of paper. Against his better judgement, he carefully unwrapped it, laying it face down on the desk in front of him. Pausing to gulp back the smooth, amber liquor, he refilled the glass.
Bracing himself, smoothing out the creases as best he could, he slowly turned over the paper.
A note to her. One of his many attempts from Sunday…
Dear Fraulein Maria,
I only read your note this morning and was surprised to learn you have returned to the Abbey. The children miss you terribly already. We all do
There must be at least a dozen, not counting the ones he'd addressed to the Reverend Mother. Of course, he'd never found the right words. Too formal, too personal, too vague, too accusing… He'd never sent either of them anything. With each attempt, he'd sounded like a deluded romantic fool, an older man preying on an impressionable young woman, or an idiot somewhere in between.
That's what he was – an idiot…
He took a mouthful of brandy. Or had he taken advantage of her? Of course, he hadn't. Had he imagined something that didn't exist? She'd mended the children, she'd built a bridge between him and the children, and his gratitude was understandable. Had it only been gratitude? He leaned back in the leather chair. Misguided gratitude perhaps. Or was this something more?
He sighed. He'd turned over the question in his mind a thousand times since. He guessed it didn't matter if she didn't feel anything for him. Still, it hadn't stopped him wondering. It hadn't stopped him finding an excuse to go to town yesterday, and then again, this afternoon. Parked down the street from Nonnberg Abbey, what was he hoping for? He knew the answer to that.
He wanted things to go back to how they were …
But they wouldn't. Not now… not without her.
He stared at the disorganised piles of notes on the desk in front of him – a sad, confused, unfolded crinkled mess. God, how many attempts had he made? Too many.
The notes addressed to Maria were in one pile, the smaller pile was addressed to the Reverend Mother. Unable to find an answer in her note, he'd hoped one of these might trigger something. But they hadn't. All he'd achieved was feeling even more defeated.
And now, as he'd carefully opened each of the crumpled notes, his anger had grown. Anger that she left without a proper explanation, let alone a proper goodbye. Surely, she owed him that.
He'd welcomed her into his home. He'd let her take charge of the children. He'd changed because of her. He'd become a better person because of her. Had that not meant anything, Fraulein?
Reaching down, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the silver lighter. He flicked it open and ran his thumb down the wheel, the flint sparking to life. Pushing the chair from the desk, he gathered up the two piles of notes and strode towards the fireplace.
If it meant nothing to her, then it certainly meant nothing to him...
Throwing all the notes into the black hearth, he dropped to his haunches. Holding the lighter against the edge of one of the pieces of paper, he rolled his thumb down the wheel. The flint sparked moments before the paper flared. Reaching for the poker, he pushed the other notes towards the flame. Standing up, he stared glumly at the hearth, watching each individual note curl and blacken, no match for the heat of the flames.
Was this all that was left of the summer? Memories and a pile of ash...
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her note. Unfolding it, watching his notes slowly catch alight, he thought he heard the study door open. For a mad moment, he let himself believe it was her. She realised how much she missed them, she was returning home, wanted to stay…
Hearing footsteps enter the study, he didn't dare turn around. He wanted to hold onto the hope it was her for as long as he could.
The sound of the door closing brought him out of his thoughts, made him realise his madness. "Max, I don't want to…" Remembering her note in his hand, he quickly stuffed it into his trouser pocket as he spun around to face the door. He frowned. "Oh, it's you…"
oOo
Thank you everyone for reading, reviewing and supporting my latest story!
I hope you don't mind, but I thought we needed to go back in time and try to unravel the jumbled mess in Georg's head.
I don't own TSOM, just having a lend.
"Immerse your soul in love"