Coming out of the bathroom, she was once again drawn by the view across the room. Everything outside was bathed in that soft golden colour that heralds the afternoon drawing to a close as it lengthens into evening. The end of September seemed a lifetime away, but, as she crossed off the days, she'd never grow tired looking out across the lake to the mountains.

Resting her hands on the windowsill, she watched the clouds in the distance. Gathering over the afternoon, they were now swirling around and swallowing up the peaks. Brewing ominously, there would no doubt be a storm somewhere tonight. Even after growing up in the Alps, the mountain storms still fascinated and captivated her, but still had her completely baffled. They were just so unpredictable; it was impossible to know which path they might take. Sometimes, they'd even travel against the fierce prevailing winds. A force unto themselves.

The bedroom windows were still open and a stronger gust of air, now heavy and sultry, ruffled her hair. She let out a little huff. She'd already spent too much time trying to tame it. She always thought short hair would be easier to care for, but she was sure the sister's deliberately cut it at odd angles with their heavy dressmaker's scissors, just to discourage young postulants.

Combing fingers through her fringe, she pulled herself away from the window and turned back to the bathroom. She glanced at the clock beside the bed.

"Oh, no!"

The big hand was already past the hour. She was late for dinner!

Rushing to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Brushing and patting furiously, she tried to force her hair back into place, but gave up. Again. Stopping to take one last look at herself, she could have sworn she saw Sister Berthe glaring back at her.

"Pride is the vice of fools, the fertile ground for every other sin."

The words sounded so sharp and clear; her imposing frame may as well have been filling the doorway. But there was no time to worry about that.

Turning, she raced out of the bathroom and flew through the bedroom door. She didn't hear it banging loudly behind her, nor could she hear her footsteps as she ran along the hallway that also served as the balcony, looking down onto the cavernous foyer. All she could hear were Frau Schmidt's final words of warning, the taunting words of Friedrich, and the Captain lecturing her about discipline and something about running the house. She smiled to herself, certain he hadn't meant running in the house. She reached out for the post as she came to the head of the stairs.

The dining room. Where was the dining room?

It was downstairs, that much she knew. She'd work out the rest on the way. She tried telling herself the Captain wouldn't mind if she were a few minutes late on her first night. Surely, he'd allow her that. But not entirely convinced, she took the stairs two at a time, trying her best not to fall down them...

oOo

Sitting in stony silence, he stared down the length of the table at the empty chair. He'd been worried that he might be late for dinner, but he shouldn't have been. It seems he was right. The new governess was as undisciplined as he'd feared. They must have been waiting ten minutes already, and still, there was no sign of her.

Five minutes ago, he'd answered Franz's raised brow with a nod and against all normal protocol, the first course had been served before everyone was seated. So, here they all were. Him and the seven children waiting patiently for her.

He let out a sigh, but quickly looked around to see if any of the children noticed. At his left elbow, Marta was staring hopefully through the door that led to the drawing room. She seemed so excited about the new governess. But then, she always had such high hopes for them. He wished he shared her optimism for this one.

At his right, Liesl stared blankly into the distance. She still wasn't happy, was still avoiding him as much as she could. She'd barely looked at him all day, even at breakfast and lunch when they'd sat next to each other. Sometimes, she was so like her mother, and then, at other times like today, they were nothing alike. She'd been wearing the same glum look since their talk yesterday. Although, he reminded himself, it hadn't really been a talk. He squared his shoulders, recalling their heated exchange before he'd dismissed her from the study for being so ridiculous.

God knows where she got the notion, she didn't need a governess. Young people these days! They thought they knew everything by the time they were sixteen. Nearly three times her age, he certainly didn't have all the answers. But, of course, he wasn't going to tell her that. Or anyone else for that matter. It was hard enough admitting it to himself.

Putting his eldest daughter's mood to the back of his mind, he turned his attention to the rest of the children. Friedrich, Louisa and Brigitta were staring at their plates of food in silence. His eyes narrowed at Kurt, who was staring at the doorway. Just like Marta. For a change, he seemed more interested in something other than what was on the table in front of him. His son had already been seated when he'd arrived in the dining room and, ever since, he hadn't stopped fidgeting in his chair. Obviously, he had something up his sleeve for the new governess.

Resting his chin on his thumb, he ran his forefinger along his jawline, trying not to wince as he inadvertently found the small nick in his skin.

God, when was the last time he'd cut himself shaving?

He'd been in such a rush. He'd been so distracted...

oOo

Already out of breath, she raced down the topflight of stairs to the landing. Holding onto the post, she swivelled and started descending the flight towards the front door. Where was the dining room? She remembered walking through the drawing room to get to it, but then, when they'd left by a different door, she felt like she'd been spun around. Reaching the landing at the front door, she paused for a moment and took in a deep breath. The short flight of stairs leading from the door down to the foyer were ahead of her, but she couldn't even remember if the drawing room was on her left or right.

Slowing down to take the last of the stairs one at a time, she stepped off the bottom step. She took a few uncertain paces, before coming to a stop in the foyer. Searching around, she tried to remember which door belonged to the drawing room. She held her breath, listening for the children's chatter. But she couldn't hear anything. It was so silent; she could have been the only person in the entire house.

Her eyes fell on the double doors to her right. The ballroom. The doors were still closed, just as the Captain had left them. She was sure the drawing room was on the opposite side to the ballroom, down the far end of the foyer.

Her feet started moving again…

oOo

Where in God's name was she?

Didn't she realise that even something as simple and mundane as mealtimes required a strict routine. In a large house, everyone and everything relied on things being done in an orderly fashion. She'd come from the Abbey, but surely, she realised food didn't just miraculously appear on the table whenever you decided to sit down. There was an army of people behind the scenes preparing and co-ordinating. The least they could do was be on time. It was such a small, yet important show of appreciation for their efforts. And apart from that, it was bad manners to expect everyone at the table to sit around waiting for you to appear when the mood finally grabbed you.

God knows what went on behind the Abbey walls. Truth was, he didn't want to know. But wasn't discipline, structure, routine part of what Mother Abbess taught these young women? He couldn't imagine she'd stand for sisters turning up to meals, Vespers, Mass or whatever else whenever they felt like it.

He'd give her two more minutes. If she didn't arrive by then, he'd tell the children to start. Stifling another sigh, his eyes fell on Gretl. Even his five-year-old daughter was capable of being on time. Surely, a grown woman could manage that much.

How old was the governess?

If she'd been to teacher's college, she must be more than twenty. She couldn't be much more than her early, perhaps mid-twenties. How long had she been at the Abbey…

oOo

Hurrying past the ballroom doors, Maria sprinted to the end of the foyer. Arriving at the last doorway on her left, she was relieved to see it was the drawing room. She turned sharply in the doorway and wound her way as fast as she dared between the settees and side tables, racing towards the open doors, on the other side of the room. Reaching the doorway, she grabbed hold of the doorframe with her left hand as she swung wide, taking the corner…

oOo

Good God, what was that noise?

It sounded like a herd of wild elephants. He looked over his left shoulder in the direction of the racket. The noise was growing louder, but he couldn't see anything. Resting his right elbow on the dining table, he swivelled his body in his chair. He was just in time to see a grey haze flying around the door.

"Oh!" Maria exclaimed, managing to somehow pull herself up before she propelled herself into the Captain. He was glaring at her. She paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at him, watching his eyes narrow. She quickly dismissed all hope of him relaxing his rules and giving her some leeway for running a little late on her first night. Feeling the eyes of the room on her, she dropped her head and took a few short, apologetic steps into the room.

"Evening," she mumbled to the Captain as she passed him. Gosh, where was she supposed to sit? She'd thought finding the dining room was the hard part. She didn't dare look at him, but she could feel his eyes follow her as she stepped slowly, a little unsteadily behind Marta. She didn't hear if the Captain responded. He may have. But she was desperately trying to catch her breath and, truth beknown, was a little giddy from running down the stairs. Still, she could feel his eyes burning a hole in her back. Relieved to see the empty seat at the end of the table, she straightened her shoulders and took in a few deep breaths, quickening her steps as she passed behind Friedrich and Louisa.

Georg continued glaring at her, following her as she made her way to the opposite end of the table. If she hadn't pulled up when she did, she would have landed on top of him. He doubted she was allowed to run around the Abbey, so he wondered why she decided it was acceptable to run from one end of his home to the other. Making her way to the other end of the table, she passed between the children and the credenza, which was laden with food, crockery and ornate silverware. He watched the candles in the candelabras flicker and waver dangerously.

"Good evening, children," she smiled at them as she rounded the end of the table.

"Good evening, Fraulein Maria," they chorused as one.

Desperate for everyone to forget she'd been late, and hoping they'd ignore her ungainly entrance, she gave them all a wide smile. Placing both hands on the table, she went to sit down.

"Ooh-ah! Ah-ah!" Squealing, she jumped back up as quickly as she'd sat down. What on Earth was wrong with her seat? Everyone was staring at her in shock. Especially, the Captain. Looking down at her seat, she was surprised to see an enormous pinecone. She frowned at it as it rolled innocently in the middle of the chair's seat.

"Enchanting little ritual," Georg was trying his best not to smile. In an odd way, there was actually something rather charming about her. "Something you, er, learned at the, er, Abbey?" Reaching for his linen napkin, he was actually starting to wonder if she'd learnt anything at the Abbey.

"No, er, it's, er..." she brushed off her skirt and frowned at the Captain who was straightening his napkin. His sarcastic tone made her wonder if he might not have planted the pinecone rather than his children. Although, instead of looking pleased with themselves that they'd made her look foolish in front of their father, seven pairs of pleading eyes stared back at her. "Er, um..." she patted her hip, "rheumatism."

She looked around the table at the children. She noticed they'd all changed out of their sailor outfits and the girls were wearing pretty dresses, while the boys were looking smart in their jackets. The Captain had also changed and was very dashing in a navy-blue suit. Now she understood why he assumed she'd be changing out of her grey dress. It seems they all wore different outfits throughout the day depending on what they were doing. The children's heads turned, and they were now staring meekly at their father, fearful of what he might say next.

Georg glared around at them all, leaving everyone in no doubt he'd had more than enough of the pranks and delays. They'd tried their pinecone trick on every other governess, it was getting rather old. But, he had to admit, her reaction had been the most amusing so far. Still, they needed to grow up. He glanced down the end of the table to the governess. She was now safely seated and unfolding her napkin, yet still a little out of breath. Having dismissed her question and telling her little more than two hours ago there was nothing wrong with his children, he wasn't about to reprimand them in front of her. He refused to give her the satisfaction of being right. Instead, he'd have a word with the older children later, after dinner. Although, with all the delays and distractions, it would probably be midnight before they finished this damn meal.

Picking up his cutlery, he stole another look in her direction and smiled to himself. Her cheeks seemed a little flushed. Probably after sprinting all the way from her room to the dining table. Or was she embarrassed? Finally, taking a mouthful of food, he looked at her again. Did she even know what it was to be embarrassed? He doubted it, otherwise she wouldn't just say anything and everything that came into her...

"Excuse me, Captain," Maria stared down the end of the table.

His jaw stopped moving. He hadn't even finished his first mouthful. Defiantly, he began chewing again and stared back at her. What in God's name was it now?

"Haven't we forgotten to thank the Lord?"

His stare quickly became a glare. He'd been polite when she'd been late, had even overlooked her screeching at the table, and yet here she was scolding him like a child. In front of his own children. Again! Damn this woman! Before he could stop himself, he rolled his eyes at her. Reluctantly, he placed his fork on the edge of the plate. The children followed his lead and placed their cutlery on the plates in front of them before clasping their hands together and waiting with eyes closed and heads bowed.

It had been years since they'd said Grace. Why would they? There had been no reason to thank the Lord. Not after what he'd taken from them. He looked to the other end of the table as Fraulein Maria bowed her head and clasped her hands together. He watched as she closed her eyes and bowed her head. She looked almost angelic. He almost snorted at the ridiculous thought, wondering where it came from. It wouldn't be long before the spell was broken. Irritated, his thumb drummed the back of his clasped hand impatiently.

"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."

"Amen," he scowled as her lashes fluttered and, once again, she was staring back at him with wide, blue eyes. Refusing to look away, he picked up his cutlery in defiance. He watched her look down, pausing over her cutlery for a moment, before deciding on the outside fork. Perhaps they weren't used to three course dinners at the Abbey. That might be why she looked so thin, and a little pale now the flush had left her cheeks.

He watched and waited as she took her first mouthful before finally relaxing and returning to his entrée. Chewing on his mouthful, he stole a glance down the table. Of course, with no other options, she was still wearing that God-awful grey dress. He hoped she'd approve of the materials when they arrived. He'd asked Frau Driller to send any colour, as long as it wasn't grey. Despite being such an irritation, she deserved to wear something nice.

But he did notice she was wearing something else tonight. A thick wooden cross hung around her neck. He'd finished his mouthful but continued staring at her as she looked and smiled at Gretl sitting to her left. The cross was hanging from a string of cobalt blue beads. They were so striking against the grey, highlighting her blue eyes, and playing against her strawberry blonde hair. As she nodded encouragingly at his youngest daughter, he had to admit she was attractive, in a natural, unaffected kind of way.

Suddenly, she turned away from Gretl and looked down the table at him. Oh, God, he'd been caught! He forced an uncomfortable half grin before burying his attention in the plate of food in front of him. As the awkward moment dragged into a comforting silence, the only sound around the table was the clanging of cutlery against crockery. A few more minutes passed and he even allowed himself to relax a little. It had taken a while, but order had finally been restored. Perhaps, just perhaps, this governess might turn out to…

"I'd like to thank each and every one of you for the precious gift you left in my pocket earlier today," Maria announced without looking up from her plate of food.

"Er…" the silence broken, Georg's eyes shot up angrily from his plate, "what gift?" He looked around at his children who had all stopped eating and were now looking decidedly guilty. With none of them offering anything, he looked back at the governess for an answer.

Maria glanced at the children, their looks wavering somewhere between fear and panic. Oh, the poor things, they're scared of their father. "It's meant to be a secret, Captain," she lowered her voice, and met his look along the length of table. "Between the children and me," she added, deciding she'd have to negotiate this carefully for the sake of the children.

"Ah-ha!" He responded as if he understood what she was on about, even though he had no clue. "Then I suggest, you keep it, and let us eat," he turned back to his entrée, a little embarrassed that he'd been waving his fork in the air at the governess, using it to punctuate his words.

"Knowing how nervous I must have been."

Before he could stop himself, like a reflex response, Georg looked up from his plate. Good God, did this woman ever stop talking?

"A stranger in a new household," ignoring the Captain's glare, she looked up and down the table at the scared eyes of the children. "Knowing how important it was for me to feel accepted, it was so kind and thoughtful for you to make my first moments here so warm and happy and pleasant." She smiled at the children as they squirmed in their chairs. Her attention was drawn back to the head of table by the sound of the Captain's fork banging on his plate. He was staring at her. Again. Actually, this time it was more of a glare.

How dare she reprimand his children in front of him! As if she read his mind, she gave him her warmest smile, letting him know that she had everything under control and didn't need any help from him. The audacity of the woman!

Although, he couldn't help wondering what trick the children had played earlier. Whatever it was, it probably explained that earlier, unladylike screech out in the foyer. He looked around at his children. None of them were brave enough to look at him, or her. He stared down the table at her, narrowing his eyes. There was something about this governess. She was meting out discipline, but in such a gentle way. Perhaps he'd misjudged her. Perhaps…

His thoughts were cut short by a sniffle at his left elbow. He looked down, horrified to see Marta put her fork down on the edge of her plate as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"What is the matter, Marta?" Georg asked, trying to be kind, but only managing to sound frustrated and annoyed. He hated tears at the table more than he hated noise and this woman's inane chatter.

"Nothing..." Marta took in a gulp of air as she swiped at her eyes.

Hearing a sniffle from another direction, his attention swung down along the other side of the table. Brigitta was rubbing her eyes, while Gretl was chewing at her trembling bottom lip. He knew what Fraulein Maria was doing. She was calling out the children and their pranks. But really, was this the way to go about it? It was hardly the time, or the place. His eyes moved between the older children. Liesl and Friedrich wore identical stony looks, staring at their unfinished plates of food. Louisa, never one to show emotion, looked like she was bravely holding back tears.

Georg looked from his children to the governess, horrified. They'd been sitting at the table barely ten minutes and she had most of his children in tears. What kind of a governess was she? How dare she upset his children like this over some harmless prank.

"Ah, Fraulein?" he forced himself to sound pleasant, despite his rising anger. "Is it to be at every meal, or merely at dinner time that you intend leading us all through this rare and wonderful new world of indigestion?"

"Oh, they're alright, Captain," Maria gave him a shrug and smiled innocently at him as she continued eating, oblivious to the growing chorus of tears around them.

He looked at her as if she'd gone completely mad.

"They're only happy!" She answered cheerfully, ignoring the children.

He narrowed his eyes at her. The way she was carrying on, anyone would think the children were laughing, not crying. She spoke, so sweetly, so brightly, he was sure she'd have no trouble convincing a man he could feel the warmth of the sun on his cheek in the middle of a blizzard.

Who in God's name was this woman?

oOo

By the time dessert arrived, an uneasy silence had descended around the dining table, apart from the occasional sniffle from Marta. The children's tears had all but petered out during the main course, much to Georg's relief. Not that he found any comfort in the relative calm. He rubbed his fingers across his aching brow.

He glanced at the governess, who seemed oblivious, blissfully unaware that tonight's meal was far from normal thanks to the chaos and mayhem she'd caused. She may have turned the tables on the children by calling them out so subtly for their pranks, but the result had been brutal. How did she hope to win them over now, after reducing most of them to tears?

He'd used similar tactics on cocky cadets. Break them down, knock some of the arrogance and misplaced confidence out of them, then slowly build them back up. But that was the Imperial Navy. These were his children.

He picked up his spoon and took a mouthful of the rich chocolate cake. He knew, deep down, that this wasn't just about her upsetting the children. Thanks to her, she'd reminded him of an uncomfortable truth. His children were scared of him. And worse still, he hadn't known how to respond. He hadn't defended them, that would have just condoned their behaviour. Hell, he didn't even know what they'd done. And neither had he been able to bring himself to console them. He hated tears. They reminded him of times when everyone's tears went on for days and weeks.

A sigh escaped before he could stop it. He glanced around, hoping it had gone unnoticed. He shouldn't have worried. It seemed he wasn't the only one looking for answers or comfort in Cook's dessert. Everyone was. Picking up his spoon and taking another mouthful, he took in the glum faces around the table. Now, everyone, except the damn governess with the sunny disposition, were feeling miserable. And it was all her fault.

He'd decided before the entrée plates were cleared from the table what he needed to do. He'd write to the Reverend Mother, thank her for her help, but explain as politely as he could that Fraulein Maria just wasn't suitable. He didn't know where he was going to find a replacement, he hadn't thought that far ahead. But it was clear this one wasn't going to work…

Maria took another mouthful of the delicious chocolate dessert. They rarely had dessert at the Abbey. In fact, they rarely had more than their main course, which was usually a soupy stew made mainly from vegetables grown in the garden, with the odd chunk of tough mutton, if you were lucky. She wondered if tonight's dinner was so grand because of her. A welcome to the family, of sorts. If these were the dinners they usually ate, she was going to have to get the children to spend some more time outside, and they'd all be running, not marching. Chewing her mouthful, she wondered if the children ever played. Really played. The Captain never answered that question.

She looked down to the end of the table. He seemed more relaxed now that everyone was eating in silence. He'd seemed a little disturbed to see the children upset, but she wasn't going to put up with bad behaviour. Now that everything had settled down, she was surprised there was no chit-chat around the table, no asking about their days, no discussion about tomorrow. She was suddenly struck by the thought that she hadn't heard anyone laugh since she'd arrived. Not even the children. She'd never imagined seven young children could sit around a table in such perfect, overwhelming silence. It was easy to believe the children weren't there. Was that what the Captain was doing? She wondered if he was always this cold towards…

She looked up as Franz entered from the drawing room. It seemed odd that the only interruption, and relief, at mealtimes was from the butler. Their eyes met, and she could have sworn it was a look of disapproval. He came to a stop beside the Captain.

"Telegram, Sir," he handed a small square of yellow paper to the Captain.

Georg placed the spoon on the edge of his plate and took the piece of paper from the butler. Opening the telegram, he leaned back in his chair and frowned as he started reading. It was from Elsa. God, he'd forgotten all about her. But then, it had been a most unusual dinner. He glanced up at the governess, the reason for all the distractions. Returning to Elsa's message, he frowned.

"Franz," Liesl called out to the butler, "who delivered it?"

Maria watched the butler turn at the sound of his name. He'd already made his way across to the credenza, moving as silently as had when he'd appeared in the room. "Why, the young lad Rolf, of course," he answered.

Maria watched on as the girl smiled to herself, before sitting back in her chair. She seemed to be weighing things up.

"Father, may I be excused?" Liesl asked in a sweet voice that seemed completely at odds with what she had on her mind.

Maria looked from Liesl to the Captain. But he was so engrossed in his telegram, he hadn't even heard his daughter's question, let alone noticed her interest in the telegram boy.

So, Georg smiled to himself, it seems Elsa couldn't resist his offer after all. But his mood quickly changed. He knew what this meant. God knows, there were some loose ends to take care of. Still, it couldn't be avoided, was probably inevitable.

"Children," he sat up straight and started folding up the telegram, "in the morning, I shall be going to Vienna." He placed the folded paper on the table and picked up his glass of red wine.

"Oh, no!"

"Not again, Father..."

The children's howls of protest became a chorus.

Looking around the table at his children, he quickly silenced them.

Maria was a little surprised at the children's response. As much as they feared their father, it was obvious how much they loved him and hated him not being home. It was strange, especially given how he treated them so coldly, so distantly. She guessed some bonds were impossible to break. Still, there must be good reason why they were so disappointed at him leaving. She gave herself a little shrug. Just add it to the growing list of things she was struggling to understand. Before she could think much more, her thoughts were interrupted by a little voice at her left elbow…

"How long will you be gone this time, Father?" Gretl asked.

"I'm not sure, Gretl, I'm not sure," he shook his head as he took a sip of wine. Of course, that would depend on Elsa.

Maria noticed Liesl pick up her glass of water. She stood up and walked slowly behind the Captain.

"Will you visit Baroness Schraeder again?" Louisa asked, looking unimpressed.

"Mind you own business," Friedrich snapped at the sister beside him.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Louisa," Georg nodded at his daughter. He picked up his spoon. Perhaps if he started eating again, the conversation might run its course.

Maria's eyes had been following Liesl, who was now at the credenza, filling her glass with water from the silver pitcher.

"Why can't we ever get to see the Baroness?" Marta asked earnestly.

Georg had just taken a mouth full of dessert. Chewing on the chocolate cake, he found it somewhat of a relief the children were so interested in Elsa.

"Why would she want to see you?" Kurt asked his sister.

"It just so happens, Marta, that you are going to see the Baroness. I'm bringing her back with me to visit us all."

"Good..." the children all answered as one.

Maria wondered who this mysterious Baroness Schraeder was. She was obviously a woman the Captain had been visiting in Vienna, but the children had never met her. Why? How long had the Captain been visiting her? Why was he bringing her back home this time? And she couldn't help thinking the children might be more interested in having their father back home than meeting the Baroness. Her head was so full of questions, it was starting to ache.

"And…" Georg paused, waiting for the children to settle down, "Uncle Max!" He rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Oooh! Uncle Max!" The children cheered, their faces lighting up at the news.

Uncle Max? Maria wondered who this Max was. The Captain's brother? Maybe his brother-in-law. Keeping one eye on Liesl, she watched her lurking around the credenza before, much to Maria's horror, she quietly slipped out the door. Her father hadn't noticed, but why would he? He didn't register his daughter had asked him a question ten minutes ago. She'd seen enough of the Captain to know he wouldn't approve of his sixteen-year-old daughter sneaking out into the night to meet up with the boy who delivers telegrams. He'd be mortified. The man really was lost in his own world. He didn't seem connected to his children at all.

With the children still buoyed by Max's arrival, Georg realised settling them down again would be near impossible. Especially with their stomachs now full and dessert all but eaten. "Alright, that's enough!" The children's noise came to an instant end as they looked to the head of the table. "Dinner's over," he motioned to the door behind him with his head. "Off you go."

Maria smiled at the children as they pushed out their chairs and scampered out of the dining room through the doorway to the drawing room. In the distance, she could hear them making their way up the stairs. Wondering what the children usually did after dinner, she looked at the Captain.

He had re-opened the telegram and was reading it again. His brow was furrowed. Something was troubling him. She wondered what it might be. He seemed so far away, and not just because they were seated at opposite ends of the enormous dining table. He seemed to have forgotten she was still there. Perhaps, now they were alone, it might be a good time to talk to him. But should she interrupt him? Weighing up her options, she wondered if it might be her only chance, especially with the children upstairs.

Deciding to seize the opportunity, she put her spoon down and opened her mouth…

"Er, Fraulein," Georg looked up, the sound from the end of the table reminding him he wasn't alone. She was staring at him with those big blue eyes, her lips parted. Was she about to say something? God, he hoped not. "You can leave too," he reached up and tugged at his ear.

"Actually, Captain," she gave him a little smile, "I was hoping to have a quick chat."

"A quick chat…?" Who was this woman? He didn't chat.

"Yes," Maria nodded brightly, deciding to plough on and ignore the look on his face. "I just have a few questions about the children."

"The children?" Georg's frown deepened.

"Yes, I'm just wondering…"

"I have things to do, Fraulein," he started folding up the telegram. Besides, he still had to get back to John about the drawings. But he had to be careful. He couldn't let it be known he was doing work for the Royal Navy. Perhaps he should contact John, let him know he needed a few more days. "I really don't have…"

"Oh, it won't take long, Captain," Maria reassured him, watching him pick up the napkin from his lap. Her eyes dropped as he wiped the corners of his mouth. It was a thin, hard line. She wondered when he last smiled, really smiled. What did it sound like when he laughed?

"Well…?" His tone was sharp and impatient as he placed his napkin a little too abruptly on the table. The sound echoed around them in the near-empty dining room. "What is it?"

"Oh, I was just wondering…" she gave him a quick smile, trying to regain her train of thought. "For the children's play, I was…"

"Play?" What was she on about?

"Yes, Captain," she answered enthusiastically. "You see, I've got some ideas and I just…"

"Fraulein, I've already explained the children's routine." Trying to ignore her eyes, but unable to look away his hand tightened around the napkin.

"Yes, but…" She looked down at the hand that held his napkin. His thumb was now drumming the table.

"The children have a strict routine," he cut her off. It was unnerving the way she looked at him. He had things to do, and listening to the new, soon to be old, governess wasn't one of them. Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood up and picked up Elsa's telegram. "Please excuse me, Fraulein, but my time is precious."

"Your time…" Maria's response became louder and more indignant. But her protest petered out before it began. The Captain just turned and walked out of the room. Within moments, she was sitting alone at the dining table. "Urgh!" She exclaimed to herself. His time was precious? What about his children?

Georg kept walking. He paused in the drawing room when he heard her indignant response, but he didn't look back, didn't stop until he reached the study door. Fumbling with the door handle, he let himself in and slammed the door behind him. Leaning back against the door, he let out a sigh.

That look in her eyes. He closed his eyes. But he could still see that look. He hadn't let her say anything, hadn't had to. He knew exactly what she'd been thinking. He saw that same look in his children's eyes a hundred times a day.

Disappointment.

Closing his eyes tighter. He sighed again.

He reached up and placed his hand over his heart, over the faltering words in the shaky handwriting. Promises made, pledges given. He hadn't realised the burden at the time. But he would have agreed to anything, given her anything.

His eyes shot open. Before he did another thing, there was something he needed to take care of. Striding across to the desk, he sat down in the leather chair. He pulled open the second drawer, his hand finding a sheet of notepaper, personalised with his monogram.

He picked up his pen and started writing. He'd only written a handful of words before he stopped.

Didn't they all realise he was trying his best...

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing.

Apologies for this chapter being so long. I did try splitting it, but in the end, it just made more sense to keep it as one.

Wishing you all the best possible Christmas and holiday season. No doubt it will be very different and difficult for so many of us this year. Let's all hope and pray for a better year ahead for everyone.

Take care, stay safe and strong.

I don't own TSOM, just having a lend.

"Immerse your soul in love"