LORELEI

Chapter 1

"Georg?"

When there was no reply, Maria pushed open the heavy door to the study, where she found Georg sitting behind the massive mahogany desk, barking about matters of business over the telephone while studying some papers spread out before him. At least she thought it was business: he was speaking French, so he might just as easily have been making arrangements for their honeymoon, and Maria would not have known the difference. Except that she did know her Captain: although the wedding was still a month away, plans for their trip to Paris were already in place, every detail mapped out with military precision.

When he saw her, his face brightened, and he covered the receiver with his hand just long enough to say, "Shipping deal in Le Havre. I'll just be another minute or two."

"Maria, dear. What could possibly explain that scowl on your lovely face? More wedding woes?" Max Detweiler inquired. He was stretched out on the big leather sofa nearby, an open book face-down on his chest and a cup of tea and plate of biscuits within reach, the picture of complete relaxation. Even though Maria felt anything but relaxed these days, she couldn't help returning his smile.

"No, Max, not this time." Although the truth was, there were plenty of wedding woes, a new one every hour, but she couldn't bring herself to admit the true extent of her worries within earshot of Georg. No, she'd gotten herself into this wedding mess, and she'd have to get herself out of it.

"The children?"

"No, they went easy on me this morning," she reported with a rueful laugh. "And I've got another few hours to myself before they return from school."

"The household then."

"No, I think I'm sorting all that out, slowly. Today I finally mastered the difference between fall and spring cleaning! Although in a way, I suppose it is the household I've got on my mind."

"Come sit by me," he said, hauling himself upright and patting the seat next to him. "Come tell Uncle Max all the details."

Maria knew from experience that her Captain's calls sometimes lasted much longer than the promised "minute or two," so she gladly dropped into the proffered seat next to Max and helped herself to a biscuit.

Despite the infuriating reason for his continued presence at the villa, Maria adored Max Detweiler. He had been nothing but kind to her, starting with the miserable evening of Baroness Schrader's grand and glorious party. Although she had since come to understand the business motives behind his behavior, still, he'd spoken kindly to her at that humiliating moment when even Georg had frozen her out in an uncharacteristic act of cowardice. Max had positively crowed with delight upon hearing the news of their engagement, and since then, Maria knew, he had been her stalwart defender, in the swirl of gossip that began seemingly within minutes of that news becoming public, and quickly spread from one end of Austria to the other. She had been sorry to see Max leave Salzburg the day after they got engaged, and even sorrier to see him return a week later.

"Well," she began to explain, "You see, Peter-"

"Peter?"

"The gardener. He woke up in the middle of the night, convinced he had left a lantern burning in the garden shed, and he was so worried about causing a fire that he went back to check. He found Hans-"

"Hans?"

"Peter's assistant. He found Hans with one of the housemaids, having an – ehrm – an assignation."

Although she felt her cheeks turn pink, Maria felt she had handled the revelation with a certain degree of sophistication. She tried not to notice Max's lips twitch.

"An assignation? Is that what you call it, Maria?"

"In polite company, that will do, yes," Georg said, joining them. He seated himself in the big armchair. "The two have been let go, of course. Hans is a married man!"

"Married to someone other than the housemaid, I take it," Max grinned.

"It's not funny, Max. I won't tolerate that kind of behavior around here. I have five daughters, not to mention several single young women on the staff living under my roof, for whom I bear a certain responsibility. A man like that has no place here. As for the girl, she can easily find employment somewhere else, but I don't want her-"

"But that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Maria interrupted. "It's the girl, Georg. She has a name, you know. Lolly. And she hasn't had an easy time of things. I just came from her room and she told me all about it. She's an orphan, raised by an aunt and uncle who weren't very kind to her. Just like me! She could easily be me!"

"Except for the stint at Nonnberg Abbey, I suppose. That's where your paths must have diverged. Because I don't recall your dallying with any married men, darling," Georg said dryly. "Unless you've been keeping secrets from me."

"Can't we give her another chance, Georg? She hasn't had all the advantages your girls have had."

"Neither did you, Maria," he said firmly. "We are not dealing with a family member here, or a friend. We are talking about employees, people with whom we have a business relationship, and we owe them nothing more."

"Even Frau Schmidt?" Maria countered. She liked the housekeeper – she really did – but the long hours of immersion required to master the tedious details of managing an aristocratic household sometimes made Maria long for Sister Berthe, who by comparison to Frau Schmidt, was a tolerant and forgiving teacher.

Georg set his jaw. "That's an entirely different situation. Frau Schmidt held this household together during Agathe's long illness, and even more so during the years after she died. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. It is an exceptional situation, and one I don't intend to make the norm. I don't want a young woman with loose morals around my daughters. Or my sons, for that matter. Think about Friedrich!"

"Friedrich?" Maria was amazed. "But he's only fourteen!"

"Exactly!" Georg said triumphantly. "That girl under the same roof as my children? Absolutely out of the question! And that's all there is to it." He rose to his feet and strode across the room, as though signaling that the conversation was at an end.

Friedrich? It was yet another one of those moments – they seemed to happen almost daily since her arrival at the villa months earlier - where Maria had the feeling that a curtain had been lifted so that she could see a side of life she had never imagined.

She followed him to where he stood by the terrace door, looking out at the lake. "Please, darling?" she wheedled, sliding her arms around his waist and looking up at him through her lashes. She'd learned a thing or two about getting her way with her Captain since that night in the gazebo, although with Max's constant presence, she didn't get much of a chance to practice, not any more.

Georg chuckled, looking down at her with an expression of amused affection, although Maria could have sworn she saw something flicker in his dark blue eyes, something she recognized from those first heady nights of their engagement, before everything had changed.

"All right," he shook his head, before gently detaching her arms from his waist. "Have it your way, Maria. Hans goes, but the girl – what did you say her name was? – the girl can stay."

"Oh, Georg darling, thank you! And – ehrm - one more thing? Please promise me you'll be especially kind to Lolly, won't you?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Maria. But don't say I didn't warn you. This kind of gesture never works out well."

Maria barely heard the warning, though; she threw her arms around her Captain's neck and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth before he could elude her. Throwing Max a victorious look, she scurried back to the kitchen to tell Frau Schmidt her news.

The older woman shook her head. "Whatever you like, Fraulein Maria. You're in charge now, after all. I shouldn't be talking to you this way, but there's still a month until the wedding, so I'll say it anyway: you are too kind-hearted for your own good. And I am going to insist on one condition. Lolly had too much freedom as a housemaid. Send her down to the laundry where Millie can keep an eye on her. Also, while you're here, I have a question about the little sandwiches for the wedding breakfast, and also, whether we ought to order more crab puffs-"

But Maria had already fled. She simply couldn't wait to tell Lolly the good news! Climbing the stairs to the third floor, she thought about the wayward girls who had occasionally presented themselves at the Abbey gate. Girls so starved for affection that they had gotten themselves in trouble, whose families had turned them out, and who would spend a lifetime paying for a single mistake. What a blessing, to have the ability to save Lolly from such a fate! Maria had always been kindly disposed toward those girls, back at the Abbey, but she hadn't understood them, or sympathized with them. Not really, not the way she did now.

In the first week after that blissful night in the gazebo, Maria had learned a great deal about the utter impossibility of resisting temptation, at least a certain kind of temptation far more powerful than the lure of blue skies and fragrant mountain meadows. Take kissing: until that remarkable night, there had been a great deal she hadn't understood about kissing, about how a man could kiss you with his whole body until you wanted to do a great deal more with your body than simply kiss him back.

The second night of their engagement, the two of them had taken a long drive up into the mountains, to a special spot Georg knew where, he promised, the sunset views were magnificent. Incomparable, even. But the spectacular view went unadmired in favor of an hour of furious necking in the awkward confines of the car.

The third night it had rained, so there was no possible pretense about sunsets, but after the children went to bed, there was a frantic and enlightening two hours behind the locked doors of his study.

Every evening of that first week brought new and thrilling liberties taken, sometimes on long drives to nowhere, other times locked safely behind the doors of his study. During the daytimes in between, with the children back in school, Maria tried to concentrate on the wedding and learning the details of running the household. But she was far too distracted to do anything other than relive memories of the previous evening and, with her heart pounding, anticipate the evening to come. Her skin prickled constantly with the memory of his touch.

How did married people function, anyway? She found it nearly impossible to go about her daily business with his taste on her lips and the unseen traces left by his long fingers sliding under her blouse or searching beneath her skirt, creeping a little higher every night. Every morning, she woke with her head full of memories that left no room for guilt or shame, her sole concern choosing an outfit that would facilitate the coming evening's adventures.

Until the seventh night of their engagement, when everything had changed. But Maria didn't like to think about that.

"Lolly?" the door was half-open, so Maria entered the girl's room without knocking, to find her just as she'd been an hour ago: crumpled on the bed, weeping lavishly, dark eyes swollen and golden hair in a tangled mess.

"Oh, Lolly, dearest, do stop crying. I have wonderful news for you! Captain von Trapp has agreed to let you stay on. You're going to work in the laundry, doesn't that sound nice?"

The news was met with a mournful sob and a string of hiccupping moans as Lolly struggled up to a sitting position. "Th-thank you, Fraulein Maria. I'm very grateful, really I am, it's only that-"

"Only that what? Your position is secure, you have a chance for a fresh start, and you'll love working with old Millie, I just know it."

Maria winced as Lolly wiped her nose with her sleeve and explained, "It's Hans, Fraulein Maria. My man. He's gone now, gone for good, and I'll never s-see him again, not ev-ev-ever, and-" the rest of the sentence was submerged in a rising tide of gasping sobs.

"But Lolly! You deserve better than a wretch like that. A man with a wife. And they have two little boys, did you know that? The way Hans lured you into-" A dark worry crossed Maria's mind. "Lolly, did you – he didn't – you're not going to have a baby, are you?"

"No," the girl sniffed, wiping her damp sleeve across her nose again, "I didn't do anything like that. But I wish I had."

Maria sighed with relief. "Now," she directed, in her best governess voice, "let's start at the very beginning, by getting you something more – ehrm – suitable to wear when you're off duty, shall we?" She looked doubtfully at Lolly's outfit, the skirt too short, her scooped blouse a size too small. "We'll make a proper young lady out of you in no time," Mariasaid cheerfully. "Liesl has plenty of lovely things she never wears. Let me go find you something suitable, while you wash your face. And for heaven's sake, Lolly, find a handkerchief, would you?"

Liesl would find some objection to sharing her castoffs with a housemaid, Maria knew. Liesl - and Louisa and Brigitta for that matter – they had all been impossible lately, complaining constantly, refusing to help their younger sisters get ready for school, failing to make their beds because "we never had to do that before you came." Liesl had wrinkled her nose at the maid of honor's dress, but at least she'd agreed to wear it, while Louisa and Brigitta had refused outright to be bridesmaids.

Maria longed for the days when the von Trapp children had been fiercely devoted to her, but she tried to be understanding. They had lost their mother and suffered through eleven governesses before becoming deeply attached to the twelfth, who had lost their trust by running away from them. Although they'd welcomed her back from the Abbey at first, now that she was about to become their stepmother, they were clearly testing the limits of her love before letting her into their hearts for good. Surely her heart was big enough to pass this test. Wasn't it?

Rooting through Liesl's closet, Maria tried to redirect her irritation from the von Trapp girls to Hans, the contemptible gardener's assistant, but somehow, her conversation with Lolly kept forcing her thoughts back to the night that had changed everything, exactly one week after the magical interlude in the gazebo.

Maria and Georg had returned long after midnight from one of their "drives." The villa was dark and still, and as they crossed the foyer, Maria caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, blouse misbuttoned, hair awry, eyes dazed, neck rash-red from his kisses. They had paused on the landing for one last kiss, just like always, but tonight he kissed her with unusual ferocity.

When the kiss ended at last, his mouth still brushing against hers as though he couldn't bear any further separation, he whispered hoarsely, "Maria. I want you to – ehrm – I ask you to - please. Come upstairs with me. Please," he repeated urgently. When he tugged her gently in the direction of the family wing, there was no mistaking his meaning.

"Me?" She felt her face turn hot.

"Yes, you, you goose." he smiled tenderly, brushing a thumb across her mouth, still swollen from hours of kissing. "You and no one else. Not for me, not ever."

Then Georg slid his hand round to the back of her neck and his gaze caught and held hers, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. "I'm a grown man, and you, love, are a very desirable woman. Let me love you the way a man is meant to love a woman. It will all be proper and legal in a matter of weeks anyway. I'll have you back in your room first thing, before anyone is the wiser."

Maria struggled to speak. "I-"

"Or if you prefer, we can go-" he nodded in the direction of her room, in the staff wing. "Come on!" he coaxed. His fingers tickled across the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. "You know you want to."

And Maria did want to. She wasn't angry, or even put off by the idea, but he had caught her by surprise. Yes. She was surprised, more than anything else, and if she were perfectly honest with herself, more than a little curious. In her mind, what was going to happen after the wedding, the part that was going to happen in an actual bed, had seemed almost like a fairy tale – remote, not quite real, and even a bit of a mystery. Now, without warning, the fairy tale was within reach, forcing her to admit that she was, actually, rather eager to play her part in it.

She arched her neck against his hand and pondered, perhaps longer than she intended, before pulling away to look at him. He had never looked so handsome!

But before she could say anything, he pulled away with a wistful smile and ran a gentle finger across her cheek. "Ah. I see. Well, I understand, of course. I'll see you in the morning, darling," and then, with a chaste kiss on her forehead, he was gone, leaving Maria gaping in disbelief at what had just happened.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, Maria came downstairs for a very late breakfast to find Max Detweiler enjoying a third cup of coffee. Although she didn't know the reason for his sudden return from Vienna, she welcomed him warmly. As the day wore on, though, it became apparent that he was intent on making a pest of himself. He did not leave them alone for more than a minute, turning up at the most inconvenient times, accompanying them to a concert, joining them for dinner.

Finally, when Max went to the men's room, Maria was able to hiss, "Georg? What is Max doing?"

"I asked him to chaperone us."

"What?"

"I asked him to serve as our chaperone. To stay with us until the wedding. To keep us from," he cleared his throat, "misbehaving. Any more than we already have, that is."

"But I don't want to stop," she blushed, "I mean, just last night, weren't you the one who wanted us to-"

Georg sighed deeply. "I don't want to stop either. I admit it. But that's the problem, you see. I can't keep my hands off of you, it seems. I'm not going to apologize for what I did last night, or all the other nights, for that matter. But I'm too old to be carrying on in the back seats of cars. It's vulgar," he said distastefully, "and exhausting as well. I respect your decision, of course, but this way neither one of us has to wrestle with temptation any longer."

And just like that, Maria's life had changed, from days full of breathless anticipation and nights awash in dizzying sensation, to having nothing more exciting to look forward to than days spent learning the linen closets, choosing a monogram for four hundred wedding invitations, and intermittent battles with her stepchildren to be. Now all she had to fill her nights were dreams about her Captain, vivid, shameful dreams from which she awoke trembling with unfulfilled desire. That moment's hesitation on the landing had cost her dearly, and she felt her regret as a nearly physical ache.

As the days went by, Georg was perfectly polite and attentive. He offered affectionate kisses on the cheek and the odd squeeze of a hand, but the long hours of kissing and more faded into wistful memory, and the spark had gone out of his eyes. Suddenly, he became madly active, his life packed with business and leisure activities. He'd even taken to playing tennis, two long hours of practice and games every day, and twice that on weekends.

Every time Georg kissed her cheek, or worse, her hand – as though they'd landed in a nineteenth-century novel, for heaven's sake – Maria wondered what would have happened if she'd been quicker with her response. Why must she always be late for everything? And there would be no second chance, or even an opportunity to discuss the matter, because she was far too timid to introduce the topic in their rare moments without Max. Once or twice, she'd practiced in the privacy of her room, asking the mirror, "Darling? Remember the night you asked me to – ehrm – when you told me you wanted to – ehrm," but then, cheeks burning with mortification, she'd abandoned the effort.

She couldn't be angry at Max, though. The maddening situation wasn't his fault, and anyway, he was too charming to resist, so much so that she occasionally forgot the reason for his presence. As the weeks of his visit went by, he kept the children entertained, played the piano and sang for the family almost every night, and had much more patience than did Georg for her seemingly endless wedding-related difficulties.

With the errant Lolly installed in the laundry, a peaceful week followed, if you didn't count the snake Kurt left in Maria's bathtub, or the pine cone she occasionally found on her chair, or worse, in her bed. After a prank involving salt in the sugar shaker, she alerted Georg to the situation, half-hoping he would threaten a return to uniforms and whistles, but he only laughed. "They're testing you, isn't that what you told me? When I was a new commander, the men tried all kinds of things on me," and Max had chimed in, "Remember the time…"

Maria shrugged away their disinterest. She refused to let anything interfere with her good mood today. Three weeks to go, and for better or for worse, the menu for the wedding breakfast was fixed so firmly that even Frau Schmidt couldn't change it. There was only one more round of fittings to endure. And so far, she'd kept up with thank-you letters for the wedding gifts that seemed to arrive by the truckload.

Planning the wedding had caused Maria headaches over matters she would never have even known about six months before. All those invitations! Georg had twenty years on her, and he well-known, too, with a large family that only underscored her orphan status. He even had a grandmother living in Vienna, although she was too frail to travel to the wedding. Then there were fittings for the new clothing piling up in the huge trunk that stood in the corner of her bedroom. And a wedding breakfast that would very nearly eclipse the ceremony in splendor.

She often thought back longingly to that first evening in the gazebo, and how readily they had agreed on the simplest, quickest wedding possible. The next morning, however, when they told the children their good news, Maria began to waver. The girls had been grievously disappointed, filling the house with their pleas for an elaborate wedding. The discrepancies between Georg's family situation and her own became more apparent, and Maria realized that marrying at Nonnberg Abbey was the only way her "family" would be part of the proceedings, even if they had to observe from behind the cloister's gate. And of course, Maria wasn't entirely immune to the romantic promise of a long white dress and a veil.

"Whatever makes you happy, darling," Georg had told her. He'd been so generous and understanding, even though he'd already had a lavish wedding. Now, with three weeks to go, Maria was no longer sure she wanted the wedding she'd signed on for, either, but there was no turning back now. Although he hadn't once complained, or worse, thrown her decision back in her face, she couldn't bring herself to ask him for help, or admit her misgivings. She had gotten them deep into a situation she regretted, and she'd have to get them out of it, too, without the help of her now-turncoat stepchildren and oblivious fiancé. Three weeks. You could survive anything for three weeks, couldn't you?

Maria gave herself the treat of a lovely day in Salzburg, taking tea with the Reverend Mother and doing a bit of trousseau shopping. The brown paper packages filled with wicked scraps of satin and lace were practically burning a hole in her bag when she returned to the villa in time for dinner, where she found Frau Schmidt lying in wait.

Speaking of holes being burnt, it turned out that Lolly was not quite working out in the laundry. She'd ruined four of Georg's shirts and Brigitta's school uniform, and the guest room sheets would need replacing before the family guests arrived for the wedding. "She can serve in the dining room," the housekeeper suggested, and Maria knew perfectly well this was her penance, aristocrat-in-training or not.

"Attention, everyone," Maria announced at breakfast the next day. "This is Lolly. Lolly is going to be helping us at breakfast time! Let's make her feel welcome, shall we?" The request was met with disinterest from the children, other than Marta's shy wave. Max offered a friendly greeting, but Georg didn't even bother to come out from behind his paper. "Lolly," Maria plowed on determinedly, "was it you that made these breakfast scones? They are simply delicious!"

"May I have another one, Mother?" Gretl asked.

"You can't call her 'Mother,'" Brigitta snapped. "Not for another twenty days, anyway. And she's not your real mother, either."

Gretl's lip trembled ominously, and Maria steeled herself against the hurt feelings that welled up inside. Could it really have only been a few weeks ago that Brigitta had clung to her with utter and complete devotion?

"We've talked about this, Brigitta, remember? No one wants you children to forget your mother in heaven. She loved all of you very much, and your father, too. I am very honored that he asked me to be your mother here on earth. For those of you who can remember her, it is simply going to be a little different than it is for the younger ones. It's not going to harm anyone whether I'm called Mother now or three weeks from now and no, Louisa," she turned toward the girl, knowing what was coming next, "you may not call me 'Maria.'" She looked toward Georg's paper, hoping for reinforcements, but he didn't emerge from behind his newspaper.

By the next morning, things had taken turn for the better. Over breakfast, there were reminiscences of summer mountain picnics and plans for Christmas. Friedrich asked for her help with his Latin homework; Liesl asked her advice about a new belt, and Georg-

"Good morning, Lolly!" Georg exclaimed, smiling expansively. His usual newspaper was nowhere to be seen. "Tell me, are you responsible for these pastries? They are quite delectable!"

Maria blinked, astonished. Georg was usually quite cross in the mornings, and he wasn't the type to call anything 'delectable,' except maybe a warship. Grinning at the confusion on Maria's face, he waited until a blushing Lolly mumbled her thanks and left the room before asking, innocently, "Didn't you want us to make her feel welcome?"

"Well, yes, darling, of course," Maria answered, as he kissed her on the forehead and went off to tennis practice, leaving her to think back resentfully at the way he'd found fault with her in her early days at the villa, his face tight with disapproval at every meal. Perhaps love had made Georg a more generous person, Maria told herself, resolving to remain open-hearted in return.

So Maria could only be amused to find Lolly in the kitchen later that afternoon, hovering over a pan of freshly baked cookies.

"Are those for the children?"

"Heavens, no!" the girl retorted. "They're a special kind of cookie from Italy. My grandmother used to make them. Liesl told me that Captain von Trapp's grandmother was also Italian, and I thought that he might – I made them for him."

"Ah. I see," was all Maria said, but she smiled to herself. So little Lolly had a crush on the Captain. It wouldn't be the first time, Maria thought wryly, and then found herself distracted by a letter from Georg's cousin Anna who was bringing her daughters to the wedding after all, and of course they would all be the most comfortable staying at the villa. Maria closed her eyes and tried to count guest rooms.

That night, she dreamed that it was early days, again. There was no Max Detweiler in this dream, only Maria, sprawled across Georg's lap as he settled into the big chair behind his desk and pulled her close. There was the rough scrape of his cheek, and then his mouth found hers. Fire danced in her veins as she began to squirm against him, and he grew hard and urgent beneath her. But when she reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, instead of flesh-and-blood, her palm found only the cold, lifeless marble of a statue.

Her Captain had suddenly turned to stone.

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This story goes out with several belated-birthday hugs and lots of love to my very first TSOM pal from long-ago, lemacd. She gave me the prompt for this story, because angst.

I wrote big parts of this story over Thanksgiving weekend in the US, when the media was full of advice about how to avoid political arguments at the holiday table. I am happy to report that the happy conversation at our table, among Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals, old folks and young, blacks and whites, gays and straights, Jews and Christians, revolved around our shared love for guess what movie? Anyway, thanks for reading this story and please leave me a review! Don't own TSOM or anything about it, all for love.