Paris, France
September 1937

"If there is one thing that is entirely sordid about the whole affair, it's that the oh-so-esteemed Captain von Trapp has dumped poor Elsa Schröder for a mountain girl—he didn't even have the decency to turn her away for a woman—his new bride is, quite literally, a girl. Rumor has it she coerced him, and might even be carrying his love child."

"Tut, tut, Alice," interjected an older woman of regal, poised stature, "she is not merely a mountain girl, but a novice at the esteemed Nonnberg Abbey. It rather makes the whole thing even worse, and she was hired as his children's governess, I heard." Taking a glass of wine as it passed by the group of tittering women, this thoroughly-informed member of the group paused to drink, then looked around at the others, smirking with superiority at their looks of awe and respect. "I have also heard tell that his children are holy terrors. They will likely run her off before long, and then they will both be ruined!"

The quiet chit of the gaggle spoke up at this interval, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You have had designs on Georg von Trapp since you first laid eyes on him twenty years ago, Maude. Don't pretend you really believe that his reputation will be truly shattered if you think you can honestly find a way to wriggle into his life and use your title and money to salvage this… catastrophe."

Maude smiled impishly at this. "How naïve you are, Marianne, cherie. You see, the thing of it is, should the new… baroness," she spat, "indeed find herself with child, it will be a bastard from the day it is born. Never mind the children, the marriage can never work! His little slut will be out of my way within six months, forever shunned as a single mother."

"I think you underestimate how much this man loves his children, Maude," said Marianne. "Not that I don't agree you make the better match far and away, but do you even have an inkling of what love actually is and everything it entails? Perhaps he loves this woman he has chosen to marry. He certainly loved Miss Whitehead."

"Psh," Maude scoffed. "He loved her so much that he spent the majority of their marriage thousands of miles away on ships and in U-boats."

"He was so young then," Alice said, sounding as though she were about to take the side of the Captain and his new bride. "But plenty say he was a complete rake, regardless of his marital status."

"Clearly, or he wouldn't be in this situation!" Maude exclaimed. "Are you daft?"

"Why marry him then? Why bother? If you truly believe he is as any man, with no capacity to remain faithful, what is your object?"

Maude silenced at this and gave a haughty toss of her head. "It would all simply fly over your heads."

Alice and Marianne watched their companion as she drained her wineglass, then stalked off in a huff to find some willing dance partner, clearly irritated with her present company. Marianne shook her head. "Certainly the situation is ripe to gossip over, but surely she realizes she will never win that man."

"No, I am afraid not," came a deep, masculine, and very angry voice.

The women turned and gasped, realizing that Captain von Trapp was standing right behind them. He was taking the arm of a fourth woman in their company, whom they had not noticed sitting silently on one of the many benches that lined the ballroom floor. She was very beautiful, with short blond hair, stunning blue eyes, and a pale yellow gown of the most exquisite design, one which hugged her body in all the right places and which was the epitome of elegance and class. A fine diamond necklace glittered at her neck, and a simple, yet elegant ring was on her left hand. The gaggle realized all too late that this was his new wife, and they hurried off without a word, terrified of what had been heard and comprehended.

Baroness Maria von Trapp looked over to her husband as he watched the women flee, her brow knitting. "Mehr Dummköpfe?" she muttered quietly. Though her French was incredibly weak, she had recognized some of the conversation, and most certainly her husband's name, and that of his deceased wife's. Anything said about her, she was sure, was entirely nasty and inappropriate.

Captain von Trapp gave a tight nod.

Maria shook her head, marveling at the gall she had just witnessed. Not knowing precisely the content, she found it difficult to be as angry as Georg, but this was becoming a tiresome pattern. "Am I carrying our tenth love child?" she questioned, trying to make light of the situation and hazarding a very easy guess.

Georg's gaze bore into hers at these words, and he pulled his wife into a quiet corner, away from prying eyes. Before doing anything else, he stroked her face and kissed her chastely, then said, "I am loathe to repeat any of that, as it was quite vulgar, but we'll discuss it later. I just want you to know that I love you more than life itself, only you hold my heart, and I am content with my lot."

Maria's grin had sobered, and she nodded. This flurry of gossip, most of it centered around what was meant to be a very private and, at least to Maria's mind, joyful matter, was something she handled with varying degrees of humor or irritation, but her new husband only possessed one approach: red-hot fury. In a way, it was quite gallant of him, and Maria found she appreciated the fire in his actions when they were alone more than she had dreamed possible, but most days, she simply shook her head, glanced at the pile of papers her husband read every morning, and said to him, "No child until this unrest has settled, my love. If things turn out the way they appear to be heading, all these words, they will soon mean absolutely nothing."

He would then look up at her and smile sadly, reminding her that whether words had present or future weight, they still carried the power to cause hurt. And he was so very sorry that she had to be constantly exposed to this, sometimes in the most vicious of manners.

She would nod, acknowledge the truth of this statement, and recall some of the nastier rumors flying around at home in Salzburg and Vienna, spoken in her own native tongue, leaving no room for misunderstanding. And she would shrug.

Aigen, Austria
August 1937

It was unbearably hot and humid, with rain threatening. Maria was caught up in the flurry of last-minute details for the wedding in several weeks, and though her fiancé was supposed to be keeping his seven children occupied for several hours while she attempted to finish off her never-ending lists with some occasional help from Frau Schmidt, he wasn't faring very well.

Gretl ran into the study where her governess was hard at work, shrieking something about wanting Maria all to herself, with Marta and Kurt hot on her heels. They circled her desk repeatedly in a wild game of chase until Maria was forced to raise her voice and demand that they leave her in peace.

The youngest von Trapp's lip began to tremble, tears appeared in Marta's eyes, and Kurt may as well have been slapped. The girls ran out, trying to hold back their tears, but when Maria hurried to stand and go to Kurt, he shook his head. "You're no fun anymore, Fraulein Maria!" he cried. "I don't want you to be our new mother!"

With that, he hurried out to follow his sisters, slamming the study doors shut with a loud bang.

Maria sat down again, eyes still wide from this pronouncement, glanced at the list she had made detailing the wedding party, and brushed it aside with a cry of frustration. Georg had hired as many people as possible to do various things, from the gowns and dresses to the cake and music, but when it came to coordinating the entire event, Maria found herself quite alone.

Twirling the pencil she held, Maria stared blankly at the floor, thinking of everything that had happened since announcing their engagement publicly. They had tread lightly as a couple, at first, only appearing at a handful of dinners and dances in the first month of their engagement, but it soon became clear that the gossip mill was running on the water power of their relationship, and the more visible they were, the worse things became, and though Georg found it unfathomable and unconscionable that absolutely no one preferred to step up and take a stand to support Maria and guide her through the snares of his aristocratic world, Maria understood immediately: he was doing all he could, but his reputation could only go so far, and so far, no woman of such status had taken it upon herself to bring Maria under her wing.

Those who didn't gossip stayed silent. It was utterly impossible, and mulling this little bit over, Maria felt once again that, as herself, as a young woman, she had no place in this world, no sense of belonging. She did not know how to wear her new mantel. And because she struggled despite Georg's constant tutelage, these she-wolves found all the chinks in her armor and exploited them to their very best.

It was all suddenly too much, and the dark, depressive cloud that had been hanging over Maria's head for weeks descended upon her, and the tears began to fall.

Several minutes later, a knock sounded at the study door, and Georg's voice could be heard from the other side. When she did not respond, he entered, only to find his bride-to-be heaving silent sobs of fear and panic, and he went to her immediately, embracing her.

"Darling, hush," he whispered, rocking her and stroking her head. "I have spoken to Kurt, and he will be confined to his room with no books or toys until he apologizes to you for his words. I don't believe he truly meant them."

Maria, whose sobs were now verbal but muffled by Georg's shoulder, struggled to find her words. "It's not… not just that," she said shakily. "I… I just don't know if I can do this, any of it!"

"I will hire help to finish the wedding planning, dear heart. I had hoped some friends would kindly step in, but…"

"N-no, Georg, I-I…I meant b-be your w-w-wife," she stuttered, crying more violently now. "I am no baroness. I was not born to this life. Anyone can teach me how to behave, but helping me see how to use my title and position to command respect and reverence… that is something I have no innate understanding for. I am clumsy and sometimes terribly foolish, and I don't always know when it would be better not to speak at all. I am paralyzed by fear, and the fact that suddenly I am becoming a person I do not recognize, for ends that are so vague to me—I am so unworthy of this honor and privilege."

As Maria continued to speak, the more panicked Georg felt. He thought his help and instruction, loving and gentle, had been plenty enough to carry her through the perils of their controversial engagement, but now he could see something very clearly: he had given her a set of tools she had no idea how to wield, no matter what her natural charm and wit, and now he found her disintegrating before his eyes, suffering not only under the strain of his high-society life, but the mounting animosity of his own children. For all they had tried to do to keep the peace and make the children feel secure in the fact that nothing would change, he realized now that this had been a grave error. He should have seen it sooner. All of it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Maria pulled away from her fiancé's embrace, the last of her unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "What am I to do?" she asked, anguish coloring her every word. "I love you so! I could not bear to be apart from you, yet I am unsuited in the role of wife and baroness at every turn. I can't even plan our wedding! Perhaps I should just take up as your mistress," she muttered bitterly. "It seems that's what is expected to have happened; perhaps that is where my error lies: trying to live a life beyond my station."

For a moment, Georg's heart stopped at the shock of her words. She could not possibly be propositioning to be his mistress? How much vitriol had actually reached her ears? And how could her self-worth have deteriorated so quickly that in a matter of weeks, the woman who had stripped him bare and told him every folly he'd made with his children in spite of his glaring hatred for her words was now this unrecognizable self-doubting, self-destructive shell?

"Maria!" Georg said sharply, anger tinging his voice. "I do not ever want to hear you say such a thing again. Your worth goes so far beyond being my sidepiece and the voluntary laughingstock of Viennese high society! I love you!"

But she merely continued to gaze at him miserably.

It was with a sinking feeling that Georg realized what he must do. Taking her left hand in his, Georg kissed the engagement ring that was on her finger, and pulled out the wedding ring from the inner pocket of his blazer. "Maria," he swallowed, "I will not force you to do something you do not want to do. You can take that ring off, and we won't marry. I can keep this wedding ring for a later time, when you are more prepared. But I will not have you as my mistress. I will only have you as my wife, Maria. My regard for you is too high to behave in any other way."

Maria looked down at her hand, then back to Georg, her right hand lingering over the ring.

"You could also keep the ring," Georg finished, watching her face carefully. "And this time, I will do right by you. I will implore some of the best women I know to take you under their wings and help you. Hired professionals will finish the wedding details. We will lay the boundaries differently for the children. It was unfair to all of us to treat this engagement as though nothing would change their relationship with you, and I should have seen that straight away. I was caught up in their excitement and took it all for granted. That was a mistake, and I am sorry. What should be a source of joy to you has only served to make you hurt more."

Maria nodded; whether she was agreeing to continue the engagement or acknowledging the truth of his words, Georg was unsure. He settled for both, and pushed the wedding ring onto her finger, resting alongside the engagement ring. "Marry me?"

Maria took a slow breath, then said, "Promise me something."

Georg nodded, murmuring, "Anything, my love."

"Promise me," she stated, "that if these next few weeks are a continued disaster, you will tell me so. I don't know that I possess the capacity to correct anything that has not already been determined to be a major misstep on my part."

Georg hesitated, understanding that she meant to have him break off the engagement if things continued to go badly.

"I don't intend to appear weak, but my concern is for you and the children; I am afraid that as baroness, wife, and mother, I am doing far more harm than good." She quirked a sad smile. "It has been my observation that sometimes, unfortunately, much as we wish it, love does not conquer all."

"I suppose that is difficult to argue with," Georg said, wishing he had some words of encouragement or wisdom that would disabuse Maria of her most recent ideas.

"Also," Maria breathed, blushing faintly, "forgive me the delicate subject, but I do not wish to become pregnant at any point during our honeymoon, or even soon thereafter."

Georg thought of the incessant rumors that had every person Maria met scrutinizing her figure not to appraise her beauty and attractiveness, but rather to gauge her level of sin and wrongdoing, and understood her meaning expressly. He indicated this with a nod.

"And…" Maria trailed, "well, perhaps this is doubly selfish, but if the Anschluss is coming and, I'm not saying it will come to this, but if war does break out… I would rather not bring a baby into that. I know it is a lot to ask, and defies everything my faith has taught me, but… it frightens me."

Her voice had grown smaller with this second confession, nearly to a whisper by the time she had finished speaking. Georg took her hands in his, and said firmly, "Not selfish. Sensible. As much as I want to have a child with you, Maria, it is not as though I am young and childless. Seven children is a great responsibility, and adding to that number would be more foolish than selfless in uncertain times."

"I have these nightmares sometimes," Maria whispered, "that some great evil is after us, after you, and I am heavily pregnant, unable to reach safety because of it…and the children are left alone." She blushed crimson. "It seems so foolish, saying it out loud."

Brow furrowed, Georg considered what Maria had just told him. It seemed as though it was one part true fear, and one part metaphor. If he were a different man, he would simply restrict her further involvement in soirées and dances to less stressful things than politics, but he was a man that appreciated his betrothed's quick wit and sharp mind, especially in a pinch, and though she did not say much, she absorbed it all. When he had first met her, he often thought of the space inside her head as some sort of murky, cobwebby maze, but now he saw it more like an internal puzzle fueled by her astute nature and burning curiosity to know anything and everything.

"You are not foolish. Not in the slightest. I was scarcely home through any of the pregnancies that resulted in my children. When things tide over, Maria, I so long to share in that with you. I should have, back then, but Lord willing, one day in the future, I can right some of my wrongs with you, my darling."

Maria cracked a watery smile and kissed her soon-to-be husband softly on the lips, taking the time to gently suckle and taste him before pulling away. "Well, how could I possibly refuse such a man as you?"