Chapter 47: A Lie Shatters
The same morning, Aigen
Maria was still tired as the day began in earnest, her last prayers abandoned when she finally pulled herself up to her feet, a little dizzy and holding onto the bed frame to steady herself. Her old dress, the same she had worn that first day, was wrinkled even after she shook it out and smoothed it down along her bed. I don't belong—there's no changing that, she thought as she tugged it down over her hips and reached up to pull the hair that wasn't there free of her collar. All the dresses she had sewn hung in her wardrobe, but she didn't want to touch them. I don't want them. I don't need anything else from you, Georg.
A little cold water on her face didn't shrink the dark circles shining through her pale skin, nor dig trying to comb out her hair's tangles straighten it. I don't like it this long. She set the cheap comb down on the edge of her sink and shook away a few strands of hair sticking to her skin. It was just brushing her jaw, just long enough to begin twisting around in gentle waves. I'll have to cut it soon. I don't like it this way anymore.
Back in her bedroom, slumped against the washroom door, Maria tried not to look at the piles of half -done sewing. I wanted to at least have yours done, Friedrich, even though I knew it would be harder than anything for the girls. But I will soon. None of you should have to live this way because he wants you to. She flattened her hands against the door and pushed herself up and away. Maybe tonight—
The window was jangling again, hinges squealing as it snapped back against the frame. There's going to be enough to do after Sunday, but maybe it can finally be looked at, Maria thought as she hurried across the room. Another bright day had dawned, clear and hot and a little sticky. A typical July day: not a cloud to hide the sunshine, just a gentle breeze biting her cheek before she pulled the window closed. She snapped the latch closed harshly—almost jabbing the sharpest corner into her thumb before she tugged the thin curtains back. "At least it's a lovely day. I know the children will want to be outside anyway, but at least they'll enjoy it." It was certainly something that had contributed to her exhaustion last night and the headache just beginning to sprout above one of her eyes, their antics across the grounds. The children chasing one another about outside endlessly—Marta and Gretl always looking back toward the villa like it was threatening to swallow them up—and the boys and Louisa begging her again and again if they could spend the afternoon climbing trees. She loved the children's voices, whether they were singing or not, but the questions had turned grating after a time.
They'll be happy if I tell them that, Maria thought as the walked back across her bedroom, stopping only to neaten the pile of half-sewn dresses and right her guitar in the far corner. She smiled as she opened the door to a waft of thick stagnant air from the narrow corridor. The boys especially because they'll be better at it than everyone but Louisa. Slipping through the crack and closing the door behind her, she tucked her hands behind her back as she walked quietly to the hallway's end. And a race to the top of a tree would keep my mind off of things as well.
Now making her way to the back end of the gallery, she peered down into the foyer. It wasn't nearly as quiet as it sometimes was this early in the morning when the maids typically went about their business quietly, always aware that the children weren't up yet. Instead, the maids were scurrying about with dust cloths and brooms, Frau Schmidt right in the middle directing them here and there. Tables and chairs—anything that could be lifted—had been dragged away from the wall to give the broom's bristles space to sweep away the plaster dust. Passing one of the pillars that at the gallery's far end, Maria slowed, an arm wrapped around the column bringing her to a halt as she rubbed her fingers at the pain spreading farther back along her skull. It really could have been worse. I'm sure of that. I remember Father telling me something like that when he was in Vienna for a time. He was somewhere in Asia, I think, but I don't know if he said anything more than that.
"Just go on," she muttered as she slid her arm free and went on around the next corner, a yawn caught in her sleeve. She peered down again: just beside the library door, a little pile of dirty cloths had erupted, held up on one side by one of the chairs that probably hadn't been dusted yet. "You know you have to keep on with life like it is now because how else will the children know to do that themselves? No one else will—" She pinched her mouth closed. "I'll have to cross that bridge at some point. I don't have to do it a second before."
She didn't linger anymore, just hurrying along the final stretch and down the corridor to the children's rooms. A quick knock on the door was enough to rouse the boys and that again with a moment to look in verified that the older girls were already dressing for the day. And the little girls...Well, she barely had the door open before they were both at her side, hands reaching up for her—arms around her waist as they asked the question yet again: "When is Father coming home?"
"Don't—don't ask me, darling," Maria whispered to Gretl as she broke the girl's grasp around her. "I can't tell you that."
Now Marta was tugging on her sleeve, bouncing up and down on her feet. "But he is—"
"Isn't he?" Gretl interrupted.
"I'm sure he is," Maria said quickly. "I know he—loves you very much." You must, Georg, I'm sure of that. "But let's get you ready for today."
A little chorus of unhappy groans rose up to the ceiling, reminding her that they had played in their room for the first few hours yesterday morning—couldn't they do so again? "Not today," Maria insisted as she spun them around and marched them toward their little washroom. "You aren't quite so scared of the world as you were then."
By the time they were in the bathtub with soap up to their shoulders, the girls were more concerned with splashing themselves and Maria with bubbles than any fears of the earth shifting under their feet. As much as she tried to smile—even toss handfuls of slippery bubbles back at them—Maria's headache was only ripening.
O O O
A little later, on the road from Vienna
The roof was in place as Georg turned the steering wheel and nudged the convertible around a curve. At least both of the front windows were open, the air whistling past the gasket on the frames. It wasn't the most pleasant breeze at the moment—it was drenched with the stench of petrol and the hum of car engines—but the sweat trickling down his neck was already bad enough.
You made it harder than it needed to be, Elsa. I told you yesterday it wasn't the right time for you to come with me, so I don't know why you would try your luck with me. A smaller black car swerved into the lane in front of him; Georg muttered a quick curse as he smashed his foot onto the brake pedal. At least the road will help me think about something else.
The distance from Vienna grew little by little, the sun finally glaring in his mirrors after he had been on his way for an hour. It wasn't unpleasant, but the continual rumbling of the road beneath him grew old after a short while. Another man might find it similar to the gentle swell of the ocean when a ship or submarine rose up for a moment before breaking through a wave, but it was nothing the same to him. Once long ago, it had been too much and he had needed to stop not just for a few minutes but for the night, the grind of the tires on the pavement too much. Not today. Vienna is far enough away, but I'd rather be home. Wherever that is. I don't quite have any place else I belong.
Another curve of the road brought the road a little more to the south, the silhouette of some of Austria's large forests rising up from the plains. The drive today would be easy enough Georg decided as he wrenched the car into a higher gear and bore down on the accelerator again. He had been too stagnant in Vienna—spent too much time in Elsa's townhouse waiting for...Well, what? He wasn't certain.
Waiting for an idea of what to do? Whether to finally, finally talk with Elsa, to at last figure out how to live out his life in a haunted house? I'm not sure it is anymore. Your voice is fading, love, like you're someone I used to know a long time ago, not a woman I loved as much as I did. But I know that's my own fault. I don't know what else I could have done apart from that. It would have destroyed me—the children. And even...that girl. I had to leave her behind as well. He gently turned the car along another bend in the road as he drove past a truck moving slower than the rest of the traffic. That's what made it so easy, Elsa, there really wasn't anything of you for me to want. Isn't, really. Nothing between us apart from the physical desperation at times. Certainly nothing for the future if you're willing to bend your knees when the Nazis finally arrive in Austria the way I—
"The little whore's still there, I assume." Georg's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the car shivering to either side in his lane as his knuckles whitened. God, I don't know why you couldn't just leave well enough alone, Elsa. I told you all you needed to know about her—and how that summer leaves me tied to her forever. "It would have been different if you weren't in the church, Maria, but…" He licked his lips, his entire mouth suddenly dry. "You wouldn't have really been yourself if you weren't."*
But it wasn't like that, Georg told himself as his eyes flicked up to the mirror. You didn't know anything, Maria, about me or yourself. And if you had, I think you would have tried to talk me out of it or persuade me that it would somehow all be all right in the end. Now, it feels like it's the only good thing in my time with Elsa: she won't try to help me through anything. Not that either of you would know how to start, but you wouldn't give up where she wouldn't even begin.
The sand in his mouth was spreading down into his throat, and Georg tightened his lips as he hoped for some saliva to grow under his tongue. It was still too early to even think about stopping for midday and by the time it was the right time, he would almost be back in Salzburg. I don't know if she's right and that's where you are, Maria. But it's probably for the best that I don't. I wish I had realized it before the end that I couldn't stay like that. He lifted his foot from the accelerator, the golden sea of wheat whipping past too quickly through the far window. As much as I couldn't really love you then, Maria—or ever—I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I truly destroyed that love of life you have. Your passion for life I don't think I will ever have again.
Georg rolled his head to the side, a little crack sending pimples over his skin. You still would never understand how simple it could have been for us to both take what we needed. You to take some attention from a man—and me just a taste of something new and fresh. His next breath was a growl. God, sometimes I hear myself and I hate it, thinking of a girl so young and naïve like she's one of those women who haunt the largest ports.
We deserved each other, Elsa. Neither of us were really interested in one another for love, though I think you believe that's possible a little more. I'm not certain if that's even possible for me in the future. Or maybe, without Maria to worry about, I would have been good enough for you. You don't need my money or my title, you have both on your own. In your own way, for your own reasons...I think you deserved even better than I could give you, the little that I could.
He wasn't too eager to bring the convertible back up to speed, other vehicles passing him by as the sun chased him down. The villa would be there whenever he finally arrived: his children, the staff, any repairs to be noted. And what sounded like a troublesome governess. Georg scowled and tore his right hand from the steering wheel long enough to pull his collar from his throat. God, how is it so difficult to someone willing to maintain discipline? Maybe it's your last whisper of disapproval, love, trying to keep them all in line. I'll have to be here for that to happen, and I can rarely manage that. His fingers hurt as they clamped down on the leather wrapping the wheel. My punishment for forgetting, isn't it?
O O O
Midafternoon, the villa grounds
As she sneezed into her elbow, Maria's head throbbed, that same spot above her eye. The children had taken longer than usual to get ready and dress, even longer than yesterday. We'll really have to sort that out soon, she thought as, ten or fifteen feet ahead, Brigitta and Kurt crouched down beside the path to peer at something in the grass. But at least they were in their clothes from yesterday, sent back up to their rooms to change after an early lunch and yet another disapproving look from Frau Schmidt.
"Let's not go that way!" she shouted as Friedrich and Louisa ran farther down the path that paralleled the lane from the main road.
"What?" he shouted as he turned back.
"Come back, both of you!" After a moment—their heads pressed together like they were conferring—they both hurried back, a little trail of dust rising up behind them. "Let's stay together," she said as she sniffed against another sneeze. "At least for a start."
They walked with the trees beside the lane as the hot sun shimmered through a bit of humid haze, Maria calling back Marta and Gretl more than once when they were distracted by something and ventured too close to the trees separating them from the narrow road. They fell into the lengthening line, and she glanced back now and then, always spotting them easily. But it wasn't too long before they veered away onto the grounds and left both the road and the villa behind. The older children seemed to remember where they were going, but Maria and the others—the two little girls and even Brigitta and Kurt—were a little lost. The gentle slopes were wilder and covered in wild grass, dotted here and there with little rows of trees: some spindly, some proud. It wasn't too long before their walk soon turned into a race, Friedrich and Louisa far ahead as always, Maria and the rest of the children waiting behind for them to grow bored and turn back. (They didn't have to wait too long, though Liesl went on ahead to call for them.)
"Fräulein Maria?" Brigitta asked suddenly.
"Yes?" Maria looked down. Brigitta was beside her, one chunk of her long hair twisting between her fingers. Just the way I used to. "Did you need something?"
"Do you—"
"How long are you going to stay?" Kurt asked loudly, now on her other side. His cheeks were a little red and his hair was tousled from a little run to catch her that Maria hadn't noticed.
Brigitta skipped forward as she shouted, "I was going to ask her!"
"Then why didn't you?"
"I was!"
"One of the things you were talking about earlier?" Maria asked loudly. As they nodded, she turned toward the sound of another few feet rustling through the wild grass: the little girls of course, Gretl's long hair tangled on top of her head and Marta's face a little dirty as they galloped the last few steps to join them. "Until September."
"What in September?" Marta asked. She scrunched up her face as Maria wet her thumb and wiped at a speck of dirt on her nose. "What?"
"Your brother and sister were just wondering how long I'll be staying."
"But why then?" Kurt asked as he stepped around and behind his little sisters. "We've had a governess during the school year, too."
"I don't know," Maria whispered. She reached for Marta's shoulder, holding her still as she scraped at the smudge with her fingernail. "That's what the Reverend Mother told me."
Next to Marta with hands on her hips, Gretl shook her head, the messy nest of hair on her head quivering. "You won't leave."
"I'll have to then." The dirt was gone, so Maria let Marta go and wiped it from her finger onto her dress; the old frock would be a mess by the end of the day anyway. "And you won't need—a governess nearly as much." You will, but maybe your father thinks he'll be able to do much of it himself. Or maybe you'll want to know that whoever replaces me will actually be able to discipline the children. "Even you'll be in school, Gretl."
"Do we have to talk about school already?" Louisa asked. Maria turned around: the girl had finally come back with Liesl and Friedrich, all of them with the same pink in their cheeks as Kurt, the knot at the collar of the elder boy's uniform loosened. He still looked a little out of place, the only of the children dressed as though he belonged...well, not on a ship, but at least at a port. Or perhaps he was right where he belonged, she decided, laughing at something one of his sisters had said. You aren't the boy I met in June anymore.
"Yes!" Brigitta said, a little smile on her face. "You say it like it's a bad thing!"
"It comes back around every year," Maria said as she guided the little girls forward into the group, an arm around both of their backs to push them into the middle. "And we will have to think about your studies more once August begins." The cacophony of complaints easily drowned out Brigitta's little squeal of joy at the thought of books and exams. "But let's not think about that right now," Maria said as Friedrich reached down to scoop Gretl up into his arms. She was walking a little slower, probably the odd couple of days catching up to her in the heat of the day. "Where are we going? You said you knew where."
"Yes," Louisa said as she bounced up onto her toes, arm stretched as long as she could as she pointed out toward one of the little mounds ahead of them. "Over there, those trees you can just see."
The foliage twisting in the breeze guided them forward, the same quickening wind licking away the worst of the midday heat. When they crested the hill—not even the faintest shadow of the Untersberg and the Alps that sliced through the clouds on the horizon—Marta broke out into a run. An indignant shout saw Gretl fighting against Friedrich's hold before she finally tumbled out of his arms, just a little ball crumpled on the grass before she scrambled up and after her sister. What remained of the little line disintegrated as they all ran down toward the long row of trees running along a road Maria didn't know. "Be careful!" she called, Liesl and Louisa hurrying forward before she had a chance. The girls were quickly persuaded around and away from the road as the rest of the group caught up, everyone suddenly searching for a knot or branch on the low trunk.
And now, instead of a race across the grounds, it was turning into a race to the top of the trees: a hand twisting on bark here, a shoe slipping on moss there. The older children each had their own to tackle while Marta climbed after Liesl and Gretl along with Louisa. Both of them had been eager to follow Maria in the scramble skyward at first before she sent them off to their sisters. "I won't be long," she said. "I just need a moment."
Her head still ached, though it wasn't so bad as when she first woke. Leaning against the tree she had claimed—back stretched out with her face turned up to the sky—she sighed. It was a little maze of of branches and leaves crisscrossed right where she would have to climb. Maria blinked hard, almost dizzy as she stared, something faintly roaring in her ear. She scrubbed at her eye—the noise was growing—and something rushed past as she opened her eyes. She snapped them shut again as her dress twisted around her knees and up along her thighs. But the dust had already snuck beneath her eyelids, scratching as she blinked a few times, just hoping for it to wash away.
After a few seconds, Maria rubbed at right eye with the heel of her palm; it was far worse than her left and right beneath her headache. Of course. She tugged her sleeve down around her hand and tried to wipe the thick tears away, her nose running. But at least it's better. She blinked again, the itchiness fading a little as she looked down the line of trees. Brigitta and then Friedrich were still fairly low amidst the branches, while Kurt was nowhere to be seen in the tree just past his brother. At the end, Liesl and Louisa weren't much higher than Brigitta and Friedrich, though they were both a little slower to keep an eye on Marta and Gretl— Maria coughed, the dust suddenly tickling the back of her throat. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve again, then her nose when she heard her name. "Fräulein Maria?"
"Yes?"
"Fräulein Maria?"
Who is—oh, Kurt! "What? Do you need something?" Past Friedrich in the next tree, the branches shook like someone was almost tumbling toward the ground. "Watch out!" she shouted, already in a trot—and then there was Kurt, arms wrapped around one of the thicker branches, his face still pink and his hair full of brambles. "Are you all right?"
"Of course. But you're going to lose like Brigitta is!"
Maria was quickly back at the base of her tree with her fingers scrabbling at the bark as she pulled herself up. It wasn't too long before the waving grass clinging to the ground was just a green blur and the leaves above called her higher, her headache finally fading little by little.
O O O
The villa
Georg clenched his jaw to stop the yawn; the early start to the day had not been helped by the monotonous drive from Vienna. He had persevered, the car still filled with enough petrol that he had made it to the villa with no worries and just handed the keys to the chauffeur with the order to top it up with petrol some time before he had to leave. Whenever that will be, he thought as he peered up at the large ceiling in the grand hall. I've no reason to be in Vienna, but no reason to be here, either.
"...cracks to be mended, Captain." He smiled at Ernst, trying to remember what the man had been saying. He still struggled to understand the man sometimes; despite managing the household for the last two or three years, the thick German accent lingered.
"So very little damage," Georg muttered as he tried not to scratch at an itch. At least he felt better than he had for much of the drive. By the time the first hints of the mountains began appearing behind a few wispy clouds, the sweat had stuck his shirt to his back and was soaking into his jacket. But quickly peeling both away as soon as he had a moment had been enough; they would simply be added to the other clothes had had needed to turn around to retrieve before even wrenching open the car's door in Vienna. Another reason to be gone. I don't need another woman leaving me quite so rattled. He grunted a little. Quite the thought, a governess doing that.
"Yes, Captain," Franz said, his face pinched and tight as usual.
"Very good." Georg's fingers were already twitching and eager for a cigarette. But it would have to wait as a few broken tiles were pointed out, already covered with little area rugs that needed to be kicked up to reveal the fissures. He was listening as patches of newly bared beams across the ceiling were pointed out, a few empty branches on the chandelier noted...all of them already planned to be repaired. "You have everything in hand already." I really have no reason to be here.
Ernst nodded, dark brown hair flopping around his wide face as he shoved his hand into his shirt pocket. "They finished cleaning in the hall this morning. It was the worst damage in the house itself." He was smoothing out a crumpled page now. "Stefan will have to tell you anything beyond that."
Ernst's tour through the house continued, Georg and then Franz following along. Through the dining room and salon, the library and ballroom, even his study. It was clean and tidy, not a speck of dust to be found, another reason to keep his comings and goings to himself. There was no other way to ensure discipline if his staff knew when to hold to the household's standards. And after all the rooms downstairs were looked to, it was upstairs and a circuit of the rooms lining the corridors that branched off and away from the gallery. He was already familiar with his own quarters, seemingly untouched apart from a few lightweight pieces of furniture that had shifted as the earth lurched. And then along to the children's rooms, though he only glanced through the doors. Marta and Gretl's room was still quite pink and pastel (a little empty without the nurse's bed), everything left slightly strewn about the way young girls did without someone to teach them how to do better. The elder children's rooms...Everything was gently out of place, nothing quite right. Books and notebooks were piled up and their beds were made with the bedspreads tucked sloppily around the top corners, crumpled pillows sitting wherever they landed. Discipline is the first rule...I don't even know your name. But I suppose it was the last thing Franz has been worried about after your predecessor.
The tour continued, wrapping around the back of the gallery where fortunately, the only sign that anything was out of the ordinary was a thin dusting of plaster right along the floor molding where brooms couldn't scrape it away. Ernst just continued to point to little things here and there, nothing in much more need of a little plaster and paint according to his notes. "Very lucky indeed," the younger man said as he opened each of the doors in turn. "And perhaps we should think about having some of the main framing looked at."
"Hmm." Georg didn't have anything else to say, just peeking in to each spare room for a moment. They were all empty but for extra furniture covered with sheets to stop the dust from sinking in, all but the room now set aside for the governess. In years long gone, this wing of the house had housed family and friends, guests welcomed for weeks at a time when the villa had been filled with singing and laughter rather than uncomfortable silence. Georg hated these halls almost as much as his own lonely bedroom.
The next door opened—and a private world appeared. Another rumpled bed hardly more than half made, a table with little trinkets Georg couldn't quite make out—and an old guitar propped up in the corner, the case battered and worn. I don't know why that surprises me, he thought as he leaned forward to peer around the room. Something held him back, stopped him from taking a single step in. Fool. Everything in this house is yours. At the room's far edge, the sunlight was blinding and the window was swaying to and fro like the hinges were loose. And fabric, dark ugly shades...Fabric was folded and piled everywhere. "God," he hissed as he chanced one step inside. But from what I already know, I shouldn't be surprised.
Beside him, Franz coughed gently as he rubbed the side of his hand across the top of his lip. "The governess's room."
"I assumed so." Georg shivered as he stepped back out and around the two other men. Away from it all. "See to that window before it comes off its hinges."
Ernst nodded, brown hair still flying about his face. "Of course, Captain."
The tour went on around the final floor of the house, the servants' quarters right under the rafters—even up and around the attic that was so caked with dust, only Ernst's feet had left tracks for years. He was probably the first to cross the threshold since most of her things were hidden away. But Georg struggled to pay attention. He nodded here and grunted assent there at a few larger gaps in the walls than had grown downstairs. ("Farther from the foundation, I think, Captain. Pulled in more directions.") That last room downstairs: it wouldn't leave him alone. He actually stumbled into doorframe as they found their way back to the staircase, though he righted himself with nothing more than a faint scuff. After that, teeth cutting into his lip, Georg kept his eyes always on the next step down, his knuckles white on the gnarly wooden banister with his two employees in front of them. At least it was something to hold to for the moment.
Shapes in the attic's darkness were haunting him. Well, one, really, taunting him. The family guitar was somewhere in those memories, tossed into the shadows in a matter of days after the first wash of numbness faded. It was one of the first casualties of the chill choking him, the visions of Agathe nestling it on her lap and delicately plucking the strings too much to bear then and now. I don't even need to meet this governess to want her to be gone. I threw it all away years ago and I won't have it back now.
When they were back in the hall, Georg waved the household manager away, before he could ask him to send one of his young men back to the attic to find the guitar and do something—anything with it. "Do whatever you need to do," he said quickly as the younger man crumpled his list back into his pocket. "I'm sure you know what to do."
"Thank you," Ernst said, nodding yet again before he folded his hands behind his back and hurried into the darkness at the end of the grand hall.
"And, Captain," Franz began as he shuffled around and straightened his waistcoat, "will we have time to discuss...the governess?"
"Ah, yes." Georg turned on his heel, his gaze rising up to that wing of the house. What is it over there that troubled me so much? I'm sure it could just be the last few days with Elsa— He cleared his throat. Or just the time of year and talking about—her for a moment. She never really played that damned guitar around me. I just didn't expect to have one in this house. At least out in the open. He coughed again. "You don't approve, I know that."
"I'm afraid the woman just doesn't understand discipline."
"You said as much."
"I don't think the routine she was given lasted a week."
Georg pushed his hands into his jacket pockets, strangely empty after changing from the one he had worn on the drive. "Perhaps I should have waited another day or two to leave after the one before her stormed out. What was her name?"
"Fräulein Maria."
He shuddered as his hands tightened into fists. I've heard that name too often today. But it doesn't matter here. "I don't think I even met her that night."
"I'm sure you didn't, Captain. You had already driven to Vienna when she arrived."
"Perhaps—say that again."
"What, sir?"
"Who do you mean? 'Fräulein Maria'?"
Franz was confused, Georg knew that clearly after so many years. His eyes narrowed, mouth a little open like he meant to say something else but was thinking better of it. "The new governess, Captain."
"The new governess?" Georg repeated as his mouth dried.
"Yes," the butler said as he nodded. "Frau Schmidt wrote to Nonnberg Abbey. I suppose it was the only place she could think of to find someone disciplined—"
"That wasn't where she came from, though I suppose you remember more than I do." And she can't.
"I...I don't follow," Franz said quietly after a moment.
"Never mind. She doesn't matter if she was only here for two hours."
"Ah! Forgive me, Captain, I misunderstood. I don't remember her name, I'm afraid. Frau Schmidt might—"
"Again, it doesn't matter," Georg snapped. One of his fingernails caught in his pocket's seam, a ragged end tearing away as he swallowed a curse. "But what of...Fräulein Maria, you said?" It's nothing I feared if Frau Schmidt decided a nun's convent was somehow her best source for a new governess. And—I wouldn't be frightened by that girl anyway.
"Yes…" As Franz led the way toward the back of the hall, Georg just listened as he loosened his torn nail from the thread in his pocket. It was almost a list of the man's woes, a story of discipline's demise in the house. How school lessons had somehow turned into singing lessons and time for sketching and journaling, afternoon marches that deteriorated into leisurely walks and even games and picnics as of late, the visit from the Countess—
"Why wasn't I informed?" Georg snapped as the emerged from the main corridor onto the terrace and into the blinding sunshine.
Franz turned back, his face still tight. "It happened very suddenly, sir. And Frau Schmidt was more worried about seeing to everything she—"
"I should have been told about her visit." Georg walked past his former orderly to the railing, the thick railing hot and coarse under his palms as he reached for it. At least there's one thing that is certain and still. He scraped one hand along stone, the grit biting. And another right there under the sun. "Even everything going on with this—governess, you should have been more detailed."
Franz dropped his head in a sharp nod. "Of course, Captain. It won't happen again."
"But where are they now? The children." Georg asked as he yanked his hands free. They certainly weren't in the house, and as far as the eye could see, the grounds were empty as well. Just the lake swelling up with the air and the grass shivering.
"I don't know, sir. Everything has been odd these last days."
"Nothing happened to the children?"
"No, sir. They were just frightened for the day, as I told you in that telegram." A quick step brought Franz up beside Georg, almost like they were standing on the bridge of a submarine that had just surfaced, desperate for a taste of salty air. "I regret to say that she has indulged them especially since then."
"No discipline."
"None at all, Captain."
O O O
The villa grounds
Maria took another deep breath, the little pain in her side fading as she glanced to her side. Despite the dust flitting past on the wind, she could see the boys and two oldest girls ready just like her: one foot ahead and both hands in the dirt to launch themselves at Brigitta's signal. She twisted her nose as the breeze swept a little cloud of pollen in front of her face, then dipped her head down. You won't win this time, Louisa! she thought as her fingers curled down into the ground.
The race to the top of the trees had proven more difficult than expected. Maria and Brigitta's trees especially were filled with branches situated a little farther apart than they could reach. And even Louisa and Liesl's trees were too hard for Gretl and Marta to keep pace. So after Friedrich and Kurt jointly claimed victory—Maria nervously seeing them at least fifteen to twenty feet farther from the ground than she was, arms gleefully stretched high above the highest leaves—she called for them all to climb down again. (It took much longer climbing toward the ground than the sky.) When they were all firmly on the earth again, everyone's clothes dirty with bark and leaf litter, Louisa was quick suggest a foot race...which she won in short order, as well as the next.
"Ready!" Brigitta shouted next to Maria. Her calves tightened. "Set!" One more long breath. "Go!"
The air was suddenly filled with the thumping of shoes on the ground and panting. This time, rather than pulling ahead, Louisa was overtaken by her brothers with Maria close behind. As before, Liesl was right at the back, though Maria suspected she wasn't all that eager for another race. These aren't your favorite moments, she thought, even her thoughts labored like she was saying them aloud. But I'm sure your younger sisters won't mind too much.
The grounds were opening up before them again, the more unkempt patches of trees disappearing beneath the mountains as the very edge of the house peeked around those that remained. As she curled her hands up, Maria pushed herself a little faster, now running past Louisa. She tried not to smile at the little huff of annoyance she couldn't hear—it was lost with the pounding of shoes—but she just ran even faster. The boys were still far out of her reach, but Maria dug her shoes in harder.
Friedrich, in the lead almost from the start, stayed right there, and at least with Louisa behind her, Maria was happy enough to settle into her place. He would likely reach Brigitta's chosen end point first, the farthest tree they could see from the starting line, but maybe—maybe she could pass Kurt? She gulped down another breath and struggled forward. Kurt was better at climbing trees, she had learned that in the previous races— But it didn't matter anyway. Friedrich was too far ahead and in a few seconds was already waiting at those trees, loosening his kerchief and shirt as much as he could for a little fresh air.
They joined him little by little, first Kurt and Maria and Louisa, then Liesl with the girls who hadn't been in the race at all. By then, Maria had her sleeves rolled up and was mopping the sweat from the back of her neck with her hand, just wiping it on her skirt. I don't think even the poor they give postulants' old clothes would want this one now. The dust was now sticky where she had dried her hands and there were a few snags she didn't know, like she had been too close to prickly bushes.
"...mean that," Brigitta said as she pushed her younger sisters back onto the path. "And be careful!"
"We should do this every day!" Marta said as she wiped her own hands along her rumpled dress. Her fingers left a black trail, a match to the marks just around the mouth on her face and Gretl's.
"You didn't do anything!" Louisa snorted. She was stretching her arms above her head, still breathing heavily. "You just stood—"
"We climbed trees!" Gretl said. She wiped her arm against her nose, the same black smear left on the very tip of her nose. Blackberries, Maria realized. Maybe something to do later this afternoon.
"You haven't done anything lately," Friedrich said, Kurt laughing beside him. "Not since Louisa had to catch you before you fell—"
"Let's not do that," Maria said quickly. "But come on, let's go back." The children groaned loudly, a quick swell of words in decipherable. Just a hint of no and I don't and to study today to be heard. "We won't worry about your studies today. But I think we should all have some water and something to eat. And then we can come back and all find those blackberries."
The children were happier as they walked on, the villa rising up around the lake—and someone walking slowly around it, toward them. That's unusual. But I suppose the groundskeeper still has a lot of things to look in on.
O O O
Behind the villa by the lake
Something wasn't quite right. Georg couldn't shake it as he snapped the black tip of his riding crop through the grass as he began his walk down along the lake. Any sign of a path was long gone, overgrown by a world that refused to be beaten back. Fitting. And it was quiet, eerily so if he was honest. Perhaps it was just the growl of the engine still haunting him from the drive, the roar of other cars through the open windows. Or maybe it's just the silence that seems so out of place. After all, it shouldn't be so deadly quiet with seven children in one family.
He walked faster, eager to be away from the villa. Franz hadn't had much more to say and Georg hadn't been in the mood to talk. It was a brusque end to the tour, one final command to have the groundskeeper do whatever he needed to repair the stone fences that had cracked and a few of the narrow wooden crossings that had snapped away from their mountings, no need to ask permission. Really, Franz had looked ecstatic to disappear back into the villa. Georg had allowed him a minute before stepping back into the villa himself and hurrying to his study to retrieve the riding crop he had left there years ago. Somehow, he always liked having it to hand in moments like this. Putting the world back in order. Or trying to.
It won't be too long until I can be on my way again. Maybe I'll come back later than usual. When winter is about to make itself known. It's my world, really. He slapped a few thicker weeds away from his dusty shoes, then again with a dig down into the dirt to bring up the roots. It won't be too long until it's turned cold and dark, with hardly a bright spot in the sky. Just waiting for—something. I just don't know…
He winced. The silence was breaking, dull whoops and shouts from somewhere in the distance. God only knows, and I don't even really know where my children are. The noise was growing, drawing his attention past the end of the lake. And shadows growing larger before falling back, like a group of hooligans running wild. Almost like...Christ.
O O O
At the end of the lake
"Don't get too far ahead!" Maria shouted.
In between Brigitta and Marta, Gretl spun around with a hand over her eyes. "But I want to go back."
"We are," Liesl began, walking slowly next to Maria, but she stopped quickly, almost laughing. The little girl was stomping one of her feet, arms stretched across her dirty dress. "It won't be much longer."
"But I'm thirsty!"
"So am I!" Marta shouted as she ran a quick circle around her younger sister, arms flung out from her sides. "It's been ages—"
"You weren't even running!" Louisa said. She was on Maria's other side, all of her hair plastered to her cheeks.
"We knew not to!…" The little squabble grew, though Maria wasn't in a hurry to tell them to quiet down. Who could care outside? There isn't anyone around today—there isn't ever anyone around this far out on the grounds. Except...She squinted off in the distance. Whoever it was out that way was walking toward them, steady and straight. With some purpose.
"Fräulein Maria?"
"Hmm?"
"Would that be all right?" Brigitta asked.
"Would—what?" Maria pushed herself up onto her toes. She still couldn't see much of whoever that was, just that he—it must be a man, someone that tall—kept coming toward them. I think he's walking faster.
"If I stayed in the schoolroom, even if everyone else wants to go back to pick blackberries."
"I'm sure you dragged Marta and Gretl out of the thicket. Did you eat your fill then?"
"Not really…" But Brigitta tightened her hands on her dress, the same telltale black smudges bleeding from her fingertips.
"It should be fine. We'll all need to wash up first— Brigitta?" The young girl's eyes and mouth were suddenly wide open, and then she running forward, almost jumping through the overgrown grass. "Brigitta!"
"It's Father!" she shouted as she spun back around, almost tumbling down like her heel had landed in an animal's burrow.
Maria's mouth was dry, her heart pounding. "What?" she rasped.
"Father!" Brigitta shouted again with her hands up around her mouth, already yelling it back to her brothers and sisters. "Father's back home!"
Maria shuffled to a stop, the children suddenly a roar of excitement around her—and then they were gone, all breaking out into a run. Don't. Don't—I can't! The older children must be going slowly, dawdling a little while they waited for the young girls. "Don't go—" A first choppy step, then another as she narrowed her eyes—only looking at the children's dwindling backs. "Don't go so fast!" But they were still shrinking, so Maria threw herself into a run of her own.
What do I say? What do I do? she wondered as the breeze whipped across her forehead. Breathing was harder than during those races that weren't even an hour old, hot and searing far down in her chest. The gap in front of her was closing, and in front of the children— No. I told myself I could, that I would. Even if just for the children. Still in front of her, they were slowing, now waving and jumping as they tried to catch their father's attention.
"Did you bring us—" Marta began.
"—from Vienna?" Kurt finished.
He was still some distance away, but close enough that Maria could see how broad his shoulders were, that one of his hands was full. Did he bring you anything from Vienna, is that what you're wondering? The ground rose up beneath her feet again as the world closed in around her for a moment.
"What is it?" Maria asked as she turned the little parcel over in her hands. It was wrapped in thin tissue paper that crinkled and crumpled so easily, something hard hidden beneath.
"Always asking questions," Georg murmured as he touched her cheek with the crook of a finger. And then, down along her jaw and neck—down between her naked breasts, around and up to pinch one of her nipples. "Why not find out for yourself?"
She blushed as another rush of pleasure swelled in her belly and between her legs. Her husband had arrived home late the evening before, another business trip that had consumed most of Saturday. And he had seemed fully intent on consuming her once dinner was finished, not bothering to let her find her nightdress even when their narrow bed transformed into a place of sleep rather than lovemaking. Nor had he let her find it yet this morning even after keeping her home from church once again.
A little silver chain tumbled free from the white gauze. It rolled out across her hand as Maria pulled the rest of the tissue paper back, a small knob of metal falling free as well. She squinted as she lifted it up to her eyes—and shivered as Georg's hand scraped across her stomach. "It's...It's a rose, isn't it?" she sighed as her vision swam. You can't do this to me anymore, Georg, you know I don't know how to say no to you!
"Perhaps. But something to make you smile. And"—his fingers under her chin, he forced her face up again—"I think you could do with something to wear around your neck other than a cross."
A few huffs filled her lungs and a shake of her head cleared her world—and Maria ran faster behind the children. What do I say? I don't know. He was still too far away to really see, but she could imagine everything: his face, his tanned skin, his stiff muscles— "No!"
Up ahead, Louisa turned around. "Fräulein Maria?" she called, even running back toward her. "What is—"
"Louisa! Come here!"
Maria stumbled forward with a hiss as her knee landed in the dirt and her teeth slammed together with the force. I wasn't ready to hear your voice. I just didn't—
"All of you. Come here!" The little happy, eager shouts were suddenly gone with just the sound of grass crushing under fourteen feet to replace it, seven children running to their orderly line. Peering up as she scrambled back to her feet, Maria narrowed her eyes. The children's backs were to her, all of them standing in age order with their filthy hands clasped together and feet set shoulder width apart. She couldn't really see him, just saw someone moving in front of them and pausing occasionally, one and then another of the children standing straighter and stiffer. "In order." Kurt and Brigitta quickly switched places. "Now…"
As she walked on, now unable to really hear the Captain, Maria struggled to smooth out her dress. It was only a matter of feet as she hurried behind the older children, their father at the other end glaring down at his youngest daughters. Stepping up in line with them, she reached for Liesl's arm with a gentle squeeze, the girl hardly turning her head. I know you can't, she told herself as she took one more step forward. Just breathe.
He was just as she first remembered, even though she couldn't see his face as he straightened Kurt's shirt: dark hair immaculate, skin gently tanned, jacket perfectly pressed and buttoned. But you don't belong here. Even though I knew somehow you must. He did have something in his hand—one of those switches horse riders carried—and he was snapping it through the grass. "I would like to know"—he turned a little toward her, though he now was staring at Louisa—"and I intend to know. I already asked once, even if you all pretended not to hear me. Where is your governess?"
Next to her, Liesl squirmed, one shoe digging into the ground—and beside her, Friedrich looked toward Maria, his eyes wide under his mussed hair. I hope you don't stand out to him. I just didn't have the time—
"Where is she?"
"C—Captain!" Maria wanted to bite it back, to turn around and run away. I know I have to, but—I can't! You were right, Reverend Mother, that I don't think I can face it—and I can't, I just can't. But there's no changing it now. He was turning, that switch swinging past his thigh, his face coming into view. Brilliant blue eyes and sharp nose—and the unhappy gaze. The powerful stride as he came toward her, not seeing his children shrink back from him. "I'm right…" Please help me, Father. "I'm right here."
He was staring at her, Maria realized, not taking his eyes off her as he strode right to her. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, her breaths came faster and shallower. "Do you…" Maria looked down, her own sweaty hands now tightly clasped behind her. "Do you remember—" "Now you belong to me." Even his voice rising up in her memory was enough to mortify her and tighten her throat. Why does it still feel like you're right?
"Quiet," Georg snapped. The governess had said something, but he hadn't heard, and he didn't really care. His riding crop whipped past his trouser as he slowed a few feet in front of her. God, you really look like you could have just come from a convent. The woman's hair was severely cut just around her ears and red cheeks and her grey dress was stained with mud deep in wrinkles that ran down from her narrow waist. If I wondered where the children learned their bad habits, I have my answer now. He didn't even look back at the children, every one of them filthy. You'd be cleaner if you'd just climbed up out of the lake. "So you are the teacher—the governess—responsible for this nonsense?"
"Nonsense?" she repeated. She had to look at him, directly at him—she couldn't look at the children. I can't think of you and him.
"Chaos, if you will," Georg said softly as he walked past her and turned back quickly on his heel. You sound familiar, Fräulein, worryingly so. But if you are, I don't see how you came from an abbey. "Something apart from the order you were to keep."
I don't understand. Maria twisted her neck to follow him as he walked back through the same rut in the rustling grass. What am I supposed to do, Reverend Mother? You told me it was God's will, but...I don't know if I can believe that. Nothing has ever been about God with him. Not even that afternoon when he demanded— "It was here, wasn't it?"
"Fräulein?"
"The day you—you…"
"Quiet! Do you or do you not have trouble following such simple instructions?"
Maria shuffled backward—almost into Liesl!—eyes never leaving his retreating back. "I'm sorry, I just didn't…" "Best that he disappeared now before he learned anything about you." Now it was her uncle's voice hanging in the air, tainted with alcohol, cigarettes, and greed. But I didn't do anything, then or now! At least, anything except respect myself one winter's—
"An answer!"
She straightened with a shiver. "No...Captain."
"And yet you are all out here?"
"I didn't expect to see you—today."
"You didn't, Fräulein—Maria?" She winced as she shook her head. I don't want to hear you say it, Georg, it's my name. "That is your name," he went on with a slap of the crop across his hand.
"Yes."
"I just wanted to be certain." Georg's eyes darted down to the little girls now right beside him. Marta was sniffling and trying to hide her tears, while Gretl was just digging her feet into the ground. "The governesses seem to come and go quite quickly in my house." He turned back to her—and somehow, she was still looking at him, blue eyes wide like she couldn't quite believe something. "And why do you stare at me that way?"
Maria loosened her trembling hands, both palms sweaty. "I can't help but think, sir—"
"Yes?" Georg sighed. It had all gone on for too long already. There was nothing else for it. If this governess—this girl—was unable to maintain discipline, then she would have to return to her convent.
"We've met before."
It won't be too hard to have Frau Schmidt find another to take your place. "I highly doubt that." He turned to the children, still standing quiet and dirty—and watching. "Back inside: in your uniforms—in line—in the hall." They didn't move, just Kurt and Louisa looking at one another, leaning together to whisper something..."Now!" They didn't hesitate and were suddenly a dusty mob running away, just Liesl and Friedrich waiting long enough to each take one of the little girls hand.
"What are…" Maria's voice faded as she followed the children over her shoulder, her neck starting to hurt. "Why are you frightening them?"
"Frightening them?"
"Yes!" She couldn't wait any longer as she dusted off her hands, spun away from—
"You will stay here, Fräulein." Maria shivered. His voice was closer. "I left Franz and Frau Schmidt very strict instructions as to how the children's days were to be scheduled."
I won't be afraid of you. If I won't run away from anything ever again, I won't be scared of it, either. Maria turned away from the children, one or two of them dawdling far away. Back to him. You may have to look after yourselves anyway. His face was almost a snarl now, the whip-like end of that switch once more laid across his empty hand. "You did, Ge—sir. Captain." I've faced the things in the world I should really be scared of. You and everything from then...There was the red on her cheeks again. It's more embarrassing than anything else. "Frau Schmidt gave them to me the morning after I arrived."
Georg took a few steps her before glancing back. She was really was just a slip of a girl with nothing to her. How you could be admitted to a convent..."I do not recall wasting time outside as a part of that schedule." I suppose stranger things can happen in this world. He was behind her, rolling the crop across his hand with his thumb, now squinting. What little there was of her was buried beneath that frumpy dress, no doubt fitting for a woman who meant to be a nun. And something familiar...No. She was trying to watch him, Georg saw as he continued to circle her, blue eyes still confused. I'm just thinking about her after this morning. Or perhaps it's just because I remember you—her being so different than Elsa is. But...why do your eyes look so familiar, Fräulein?
The Captain was now on her other side, stalking through the shallow trough left behind by the children's shoes. "I just thought—we should be out here like this for a little while longer." And the children, where were they? I hope you went into the house, I don't want you to know any of this!
He snorted. "Why?"
"Why?"
"It's a simple enough question."
Maria gritted her teeth; her heart was still racing, but her hands weren't shaking anymore. I'm not afraid of you. "Marta and Gretl—Brigitta, even though she won't really admit it! They're still scared after the earthquake, and I don't want them to keep thinking—"
"So you're distracting them? They may be children, but you can't be one, too!"
"I'm not—" "I'm a teacher, not a child!" "No, Captain, I'm not," Maria whispered. She couldn't do anything more, something fresh swelling in her chest as the memories tumbled over her like waves onto the sand. The gardens, the market, Attersee: the quiet, the hawkers' calls, the lapping of the water under the breeze. Always him by her side: holding her closer as the weeks and months wore on, no doubt more than ready to have stripped her bare and taken her in that clearing years—
"Why are you blushing like that again?"
"You can't ask me!" Her own voice was far away, like she was drowning—suffocating under the past.
"So I'll ask you again," Georg said as he stepped back in front of her, his eyes raking along her frame again. If I didn't think better, it might be you—Maria. "Do you or do you not have trouble following such simple instructions?"
"No, Captain, but they're children!" Maria rushed forward even as her vision swam. "You just said so yourself! Not sailors like you!"
"Sailors?"
"Yes—"
"Yes. And I am their father—"
Georg stumbled back as his face stung, the echo of her slap hanging in the air. It was just one pace before he righted himself, his hand over his cheek where the skin pulsed and probably glowed red like hers. In front of him, her mouth was open and slack, right hand hanging flat and open in midair. Something was warm and dripping faintly, like the blow had ruptured some of the vessels in his nose. He dropped his riding crop into the grass and touched his fingertips to his nostrils, immediately hot and damp. At least I'm still upright. God, if she'd knocked him from his feet, it would be almost...It's like I've been here before. A dark Salzburg evening—two, really—rising up from the ashes of the past years. Those gangly limbs and blue eyes brimming with surprise, but no fear…"Goddammit, girl, watch where you're going!"
He had to clear his throat, a thin trickle of blood working its way down his throat. And he needed to think, to understand. "I'll definitely see you out of my house for that!"
Maria flung her hands down to her sides. Her fingers filled with pins and needles, stinging from hitting him. "I'll be happy to be gone—"
"And I'll be pleased to buy your bus ticket back to the abbey—"
"I can't go back to a place I didn't leave, that I can't join no matter how much I wish I could!"
"And where the hell did you come from, if Frau Schmidt wrote to Nonnberg?"
"From their school—"
"So from the abbey—"
"No!"
"Then where, Fräulein?"
"Why are you calling me that if we're alone again?"
"I beg your pardon?" Georg snapped. You may say it like that, Fräulein, but I have trouble believing it's true. Of all the women who could have walked through my front door to look after my children, it wouldn't be her. But...your voice is so familiar. And if your hair was longer, I don't know if I could try to deny it.
"If you really don't remember…" Maria had to stop, her breathing harder. It might be my very last chance to ask. "Then please, just let me go!"
Georg scowled at her, the blood already thickening and clotting under his nose. "Gladly, Fräulein—"
"Do whatever you have to, just let me have my life!"
"Fräulein—"
"Don't call me that!" Maria shouted as she chanced a few steps closer.
"Then how should I address you?"
"You always used my given name before."
"Before?" It's a dangerous game for you to play if you do.
"Yes, before—"
"So enlighten me...Fräulein," Georg hissed, hand already diving into his pocket though he knew it was empty. Nothing to steady him: his cigarettes' promise of nicotine or the dearest memories of ages that still lay buried in the past. But he was seeing her anew, that past flickering like a candle just beginning to come to life. Clad in a dress even worse for the wear than the one she wore now, her coat sodden with a January's day drizzle. Long blond hair tamed into a braid over her shoulder as she stared up at him from the wet street. God, how?
"Enlighten you?"
"If you're so certain I don't remember—"
"You don't."
"Or perhaps I want you to tell me," he hissed.
Maria was shaking again, a fresh anger ready to well up. "Three years ago in Salzburg. Winter, that summer, the autumn." "Now you belong to me." No, I don't! "It could only have been months since your wife died when we met, I know that now—"
"Don't you dare talk about my wife—"
"But I am! I wasn't even twenty when …" The memories swarmed over her like ghosts crawling in from the night. Giving herself to him time and again, never a question asked or a worry indulged. Her stomach was retching, her throat filling with bile. "I was confused—"
"And I wasn't?" Another step: Maria was close enough that she could smell the same cigarettes from years ago, though it was far fainter than she remembered. "I was barely grown, hardly older than Liesl is now."
Georg took a heavy step toward her as well. "And don't talk to me about my daughter—"
"I wasn't even half your age—I don't think I am now. You called me a child the first day we met."
"Fräulein—"
"I had no experience. I didn't understand anything about what you really wanted from me."
He snorted again, the blood drying on his face crackling and tugging at a hair above his lip his razor had missed. "I don't believe that."
"And you aren't around to see her go through the same—"
"Once again, you will not say one word about Liesl, Fräulein—"
"No, you can't say that!" The trembling was worse, not just shaking but almost quivering with...I don't even know what I'm feeling, what I'm going to say—any of it. "I thought I was in love. Just like she thinks she is now." Her hand flew up and across his face again, though he didn't move this time: he didn't flinch—her husband didn't flinch—he didn't even turn away from the blow even as her hand throbbed. And something was on her hand, tacky and warm. Blood, Maria realized. I'd do it again if I could. "It took me too long to realize I was wrong. To know that you were just like my father and would run away from what you didn't want to look at anymore. Even your children, just like him!"
"Maria!"
"You're the same as my uncle, just taking whatever you wanted from me! It...And I was only there because of you—"
"Maria—"
"I loved you then, but...I learned how to hate you over the years! And…" She was trembling again, arms and legs restless and belly roiling as she struggled to keep the sick down. I can't anymore! "I wish we had never met at all!"
* Since it's been a while: according to my research, at this point in Austrian history, a civil marriage could not be granted a civil divorce if one spouse was a member of the Catholic church.
A/N: Anyone else remember The Pierces album Thirteen Tales Of Love and Revenge? "Lies" runs in my head with this one.