The Fool
As she sat underneath one of the large oaks by the lake, Maria shielded her face with one hand as she gazed up at the clouds. They were drifting past in slow puffs as Gretl, who was lying in Maria's lap, pointed out shapes. There was a sigh from her left and she turned her head to look at Brigitta, who was engrossed in reading. Maria smiled as she watched the girl read with avid fascination, her brow creased in concentration.
"Enjoying it, Brigitta?" asked Maria.
The girl placed a finger, as not to lose her spot, and nodded emphatically. "Yes, Fraulein Maria." Then she hastily went back to her book, seeming to be able to ignore the commotion of Kurt and Louisa tumbling past and landing in a heap by her feet.
"How can you read?" asked Louisa, pushing her hair out of her face as she sat up. "We are done with lessons!"
With a huff, Brigitta placed her finger on the page she was reading again and glared at her older sister. "It's very good, that's why."
Louisa peered at the book's cover. "What is it called? I can't read it."
"You should be able to, Louisa," said Maria with a small frown. "We've been learning French the past three weeks!"
The girl gave a half-hearted shrug and scooted closer to her sister. "Well, Brigitta?"
"'Phantom of the Opera.'"
Louisa grinned. "Oooh! A ghost story, eh?"
"No," was the short reply.
"But it's called-"
"Louisa!"
"Let your sister read, Louisa," said Maria gently. "And, it's not really about ghosts, it's just a man. But everyone think he's this ghost that haunts the opera."
"Sounds great," said Louisa.
"He's obsessed with this girl called Christine and takes her into his lair," chimed in Liesl, who had been lying to Maria's right as she played cards with Friedrich. She looked dreamily out into the distance, clutching her cards to her chest. "It's all tragically romantic."
"Ugh," said Louisa, scrunching her face up. "Never mind. If Liesl likes it then it must be awful."
Thankfully, Maria was saved from the potential pulling of braids between the girls when a clear bell rung out from the terrace. With exceptional speed, all the children - except Brigitta - pelted across the grass and up the stone steps to the terrace.
"Come on, Brigitta," said Maria, standing up and dusting grass off her skirt.
The girl didn't move, but instead kept her eyes glued on the pages.
"You can get back to your book after lunch," said Maria, touching her gently on the cheek. "Come on."
With a sigh, the girl stood and followed Maria towards the terrace. Taking her hand, they walked up the stairs to the table and took a seat. At the end of the table, the Captain and his two guests were seated, Herr Detweiler talking loudly while the other children laughed. She smiled to herself and grabbed a sandwich off the table.
It was amazing to think how much things had changed. It wasn't too long ago that any meal time would be accompanied by stony silence and awkward tension if their father was present. But now, the Captain was smiling as Gretl pointed loudly to the sky, telling him about all the different animals she'd seen in the clouds.
"Can you stop reading that book for five minutes?" complained Louisa as she reached over and grabbed a slice of cake.
Brigitta, who had a whole sandwich held loosely in one hand, was staring at her lap. And when Maria leaned over she could see that she was reading the book under the table; but she abruptly looked up when Louisa snatched it away.
"Girls," came the warning tone from the Captain. "Please, eat your lunch." Louisa huffed and dropped it on the table, muttering an apology under her breath.
The Baroness caught sight of the book and let out a small laugh. "Oh, that story again!"
The Captain's face creased in confusion. "Again?"
The woman smiled and said, "My friend, Herr Brecht, was going on about it the other day."
"Herr Brecht?" asked the Captain, who was struggling to remember the many multitudes that occupied Elsa's friend circle.
"You know him, Georg," chimed in Max, "the one with the-" He made a gesture Maria didn't understand and that caused the Captain to clear his throat loudly and look pointedly at his children.
"Ahem, yes," said Elsa. "Well, his wife has become completely obsessed with it. And she wouldn't stop harassing him to get an organ for the home. And quite a large organ at that. Of course, once she got it, she didn't know what to do with it."
"They never do," quipped Max.
"Max, you're a beast," said Elsa, trying to hide a smile behind her glass of iced tea as she focussed her attention back on Georg. "I told him he should speak to you, darling."
"Captain, you have a large organ?" said Maria. "How come I haven't seen it?" And she was puzzled when Herr Detweiler laughed as the Baroness looked heavenward.
Georg, who had just choked on his drink, managed to turn it into a passable cough. He didn't dare risk taking a look at Max, whom he knew would be grinning from ear to ear. He could practically feel the impresario's knowing gaze on him. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke in calm tones.
"No, I have a Bosendorfer grand piano. Not a… large organ."
"Don't sell yourself short, Georg," said Max, earning a sharp swat from Elsa.
"Really?" asked Maria, perking up at the mention of a piano. "Where is it? I haven't seen a piano anywhere in this house."
"That's because it's in a room that is not to be disturbed."
Maria felt her eyebrows rise up into her hairline. When she had first arrived, so many rooms in the villa had been forbidden, just like the ballroom. But the ballroom was now open and currently being fitted with new chandeliers in preparation for the party to be held in just over a week's time. Another previously forbidden room had been the Captain's study. Frau Schmidt had told her that the study was strictly off limits and she hadn't set foot into it until the day the Captain had returned from Vienna. After their argument by the lake, and her subsequently being fired and then rehired, Maria had been invited into the study to speak with the Captain about the children after dinner. And from that day on she'd been in it at least once a day.
The only place she hadn't been to - well, excluding the master wing of the villa (that had been strictly forbidden) - was the attic. And while the Captain had become more amenable over the last few weeks, she had a feeling this was something she shouldn't dare cross him over.
It was a place that held lost memories and forgotten dreams. The children told her that's where a lot of their mother's possessions were kept. It was so tempting, though, to go and have a look. And not just because of her strange curiosity about the previous Baroness von Trapp, but because she knew the children were desperate to have anything of their mother's. She was absolutely certain that even an old hairpin would be treasured with more respect than any crown jewels.
But, her friendship with the Captain - and Maria felt that wasn't even the right word but it seemed the only appropriate one - was something she didn't want to lose. So, she hadn't gone up there.
"Oh," was all Maria managed to say and she resettled herself back into her chair, slowly chewing on her sandwich.
"It would be lovely if you put it in the ballroom, darling," remarked the Baroness. "Maybe you could play us all something at the party?"
"Are you any good?" someone interjected, and Maria was horrified to realise it had been her.
Georg turned his attention towards Fraulein Maria, who seemed to be holding her sandwich defensively in front of her face. She looked like a little mouse that had been caught stealing cheese - but a little mouse that was very determined to keep her cheese; as she didn't shy, though her face flushed ever so slightly, and she stuck out her chin in that defiant way of hers that he couldn't help but find arousingly charming.
"I've been told I'm tolerable," he said, still watching her. "But I am not performing at my own party. What would be the point of all this money I've spent on an orchestra."
If his talent for playing the guitar was anything to go by, and Maria was certain it was, she had a feeling the Captain was more than just tolerable. She snuck a glance at his hands, hands that had captured her attention ever since that evening of the puppet show. Lately she had begun to wonder how she had never noticed them before.
The other afternoon, he'd been teaching another song to Liesl on the guitar and Maria had been completely captivated as she watched him show his daughter the correct placements on the strings. It was slightly unnerving how much her eyes were drawn towards them. As she watched him now, his hands resting on the top of the table, her mind conjured up the image of him sitting at a piano. And it was an image that was hard to shake.
Two months ago - not even that - a week ago, she would have scoffed and laughed at the idea of being captivated by a man's hands. But that night, something had shifted for Maria. Maybe it had been the music, the sound of his voice, or - and most importantly - the way he had looked at her. She told herself it was probably all three. But there it was. For the first time, she felt like she'd really seen him.
It was terrifying. It was wonderful. It was utterly and completely confusing.
"Well, it seems such a waste, darling," said the Baroness, which managed to bring Maria back to reality. "You would be just as compelling as the 'Opera Ghost', I'm sure." She laughed, it was such an elegant sound and Maria immediately reflected on how much she hated the way her own laugh sounded. Why couldn't she laugh like that? "Though," continued the Baroness with another perfect titter, "I do hope you will not strangle anyone."
Despite the casual wave of a hand and the grin on his face, Maria thought that the Captain looked like he very much wanted to strangle someone.
Later that night, Maria found herself sitting up in bed, the duvet clutched to her chest as she strained to hear. She had been awoken by something and at first she hadn't been sure if she had actually heard anything. It was faint, very faint, but she could hear it - the sound of music floating invitingly into her room.
The notes were hauntingly beautiful and so she had thrown the duvet back and hastily pulled her dressing gown on.
As she tried to move silently down the dark halls, she came to a standstill. She questioned herself again, did she really hear anything? Or was her curiosity just dying for an excuse to go up into the attic? Was her head just too full of ridiculous stories? She didn't want to answer herself and so she settled for not listening to sense and continued on.
The door to the attic was now in front of her and she slowly pulled it open before she ascended the stairs. When she reached the top, there was nothing but more pitch-black darkness and she fumbled her way across one wall until she found a string, which she pulled on. There was a click and a small bulb flickered to life, casting just enough light to spill into the room. But there was no piano. How could there be?
The room was cluttered and small, there was no way a piano could have been brought up these narrow stairs and squished into this tiny room. It was just filled with boxes, some covered with dustsheets and some just with dust. The air was stale and hot, and the room was barely any bigger than her own downstairs; the ceiling was also incredibly low – it must be part of the roof of the house, Maria guessed. It was nothing like she had hoped. And she had hoped it would be like something out of Gaston Leroux's novel; that there would be a grand piano, it's sleek body shimmering underneath candlelight while a hauntingly debonair figure coaxed tantalising notes out of the keys.
But no, it was dusty, hot and smelled like mothballs. Maria sighed and made her way back down the stairs, making sure to turn the light off and close the door behind her.
It must have been her imagination, she told herself, as she slowly made her way along the corridor.
Or a ghost, a voice in her head whispered. But that was silly. She was spending far too much time reading novels full of mysterious plots that involved young women. At least now she knew for certain there was no mad wife locked in the attic - a thought that she hadn't been able to shake ever since Liesl insisted she read 'Jane Eyre'.
She had barely been paying attention to where she was walking and she stopped once more as she strained to hear; there was no denying it this time, she could definitely hear music. And it was the soft refrains of a melody played on a piano. Her pace quickened as she made her way down the hall, passing by windows that allowed the moon to illuminate her figure in the darkness as she passed. It dimly occurred to her that she had no idea where she was headed and as the music got ever so slightly louder, she realised she had never been in this part of the villa before. Finally, she reached a room with a door ever so slightly ajar; a slice of low light barely managing to slip out.
Taking a deep breath, she got as close as she could and listened. Again, more soft notes escaped from the room, the sounds filling her head with thoughts that shouldn't really be in that of a very nearly nun's. Visions of strong fingers dancing across ivory keys and then dancing across her own skin.
She shuddered.
There had always been something about music that seemed to seep into Maria's skin and possess her very being. It fuelled her, compelled her. And this music was compelling. But it was subtle and delicate, like the first few snowflakes of a winter storm. It infiltrated the soul, taking her by surprise before it seized full control. Maria told herself there was no ghost, but she couldn't deny the way her hand shook ever so slightly as she went to push open the door and slip silently into the room.
Her eyes darted everywhere and despite herself, she kept her hand 'at the level of her eye'. Just in case.
Of course, there was no ghost. And as she took in the room, she relaxed somewhat. It looked like a boudoir, an unused one at that. There were two red lamps that cast a hazy glow about the room. Most of the furnishings were covered in sheets, and a few dust motes sparkled as they floated down from the small, half covered chandelier. Some of the other furnishings had had their covers removed and the gilded furniture shone in the strange light. At the back of the room, there was a large ornamental fireplace, unlit, and next to it, nestled in the corner like some great sleeping panther, was the piano. It glittered in the light, but Maria wasn't really looking at it, she was too immersed in watching the person who was playing.
Shifting awkwardly on the thick carpet she went to open her mouth but was cut short when they spoke.
"Most people knock, Fraulein," said the Captain, lifting his hands from the keys as he tilted his head to face her, his eyes narrowed.
She shrugged with one shoulder and bit down on her lip. "Er, well, it seemed rude to interrupt and I thought-"
"Thought I was some ghost?"
It was Maria's turn to glare. "No." The Captain continued to watch her and she felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a fox. She dropped her shoulders. "Okay, it may have crossed my mind."
He tutted unapprovingly as he turned around fully to face her. "I didn't think you'd believe in ghosts, Fraulein."
"I don't," said Maria. "It doesn't mean that they can't believe in me."
"Hmm."
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
He smiled, it was slightly unnerving. "Who else would it be?"
"I didn't mean to disturb you, sir," said Maria, shifting from one to foot to another.
"But you did it anyway."
"I can leave if-"
"No, no, no," he said, smiling again in that same unnerving way. It made Maria feel like he was getting ready to pounce on her. "You haven't listened to me since you arrived so why start now?" The look on his face softened somewhat and he gestured to the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
Georg hadn't been able to decide whether he was angry with her or not. Part of him was furious that she'd interrupted him, and wanted to curse at her and send her away. Ha, he thought, she was the one thinking of ghosts, but it was he who was truly feeling haunted. Yet, not haunted by the things he should be. Which brought him to the other part of him; the part that wanted her to stay. The part that refused to send her back to her bed.
With an awkward smile, Maria walked further into the room, glancing around as she did. It was then that she noticed his state of undress – well, he had neither jacket nor tie on, and as far as Maria was concerned, she had been certain that he wore a jacket even to bed. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and the first few buttons undone at his throat; the sight of so much skin caused Maria's own throat to run dry. She swallowed hard.
"What are you doing walking about the house at this time of night?" the Captain asked as she inspected the details on a large gramophone.
"I heard the music," said Maria simply. "It woke me up."
The man said nothing but continued to watch her in that way that made her feel like he could read the thoughts in her head. Of course he couldn't, though she didn't know he desperately wished he could.
"I thought the piano was in the attic," said Maria after a moment of silence.
Georg let out a low chuckle. "The attic? Why on earth would I haul it up there? It wouldn't even fit up the stairs." He paused and his eyes narrowed. "You went up there, didn't you?"
Maria felt her face face flush with irritation. "You said it was in a forbidden room so I assumed-"
"Wrongly."
Letting out a puff of air, Maria crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't even know what this room is."
Georg relaxed a little and said, "It was my wife's." The governess's mouth formed that of an 'o' and she uncrossed her arms.
"Can you play the piano?" he asked softly.
"No."
"I thought you could do everything."
It wasn't a question, Maria noted, though it was no compliment. "I never claimed such a thing," she said.
The Captain turned away from her and began to play, the notes filling the room, and her head, with thoughts. It was as though she could feel it, feel it possess her. It was intoxicating. Though, she had no idea what to do. He had said she could stay but she wasn't sure whether she really should. Over the last couple of weeks, she had become to greatly admire and respect the man in front her. And she enjoyed his company immensely in the evenings that spent together discussing the children - and anything else they could talk (or argue) about.
But there was something in the air that made it feel different. Maybe it was the room. The music.
Or.
Maybe it was just something about him. With his tie and jacket off, he seemed more human, but then it just made him even more complex. He wasn't being 'the Captain' right now.
"What song is this?" Maria finally asked as she walked a little further towards the piano, letting her hand glide over the top of an armchair.
"'Liebestraum' by Franz Liszt," replied the Captain, his voice low as he continued to play.
She listened for a while, the notes capturing her heart without any effort.
"It's beautiful," replied Maria, feeling unable to speak any louder than a whisper.
There was nothing but the sound of the music for a while before Georg spoke again. "If I had known that this was all it took to keep you quiet, I would have done it sooner." He let his lip curl into a smirk as he glanced over at her.
She was now standing right next him at the piano, one of her hands gripping the top of the black veneer. Her eyes were fixed on the stand that was in front of him, though it held no sheet music.
It was a pack of cards, all of them lined up, their backs all on display - except one. That card had been flipped around. It was a fortune teller's deck, not just regular playing cards, and the one flipped around was 'Death'.
"Want to know your future, Fraulein?" he drawled, letting the last notes die away.
Maria frowned. "My future?" She gave her head a little shake as she dragged her eyes away from the card and to his face. "Why are there cards in here?"
"My wife thought it would be amusing. She got a whole book on it."
"Why?" asked Maria. She had never heard the Captain mention his wife so much - well, he barely mentioned her at all. And she was still surprised he hadn't banished her from the room.
Georg sighed. "When I was travelling in Egypt, a gypsy woman grabbed me and told me my fortune. Later when I was married, I told my wife this, and she became quite excited about it all. It used to be a little party trick of hers."
"What did the gypsy say?" asked Maria.
"She told me I would have two wives, ten children, see two world wars and live to be a hundred years old."
Eyebrows raised, Maria said, "Well."
"A load of nonsense."
"But…" Maria began but then she stopped
"Yes, Fraulein?" asked Georg, the dangerous tone evident in his voice.
"Well, another war doesn't seem to be that impossible," said Maria and she immediately regretted it as his face darkened. It was like a light had gone out and she instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder. His eyes snapped to hers. She tried to smile as she withdrew her hand. "And well, you have, uh, seven children already and then there is… the Baroness."
Oh, yes, Elsa, thought Georg. He kept forgetting about her. Which was awful. And she had a point, he admitted grudgingly, it was why he had brought Elsa here. To meet his children and become their new mother by the end of the summer.
But that was just it. It had all been about her being a new mother to his current children, not about having more. And also, it hadn't necessarily been about her being a new wife.
He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the room, or the fact that it was the middle of the night. But Georg felt oddly liberated, it was like being drunk except that he had complete control of his senses - well, at least he told himself he did. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to push her, he wanted to know whatever hid underneath those guileless smiles of hers. She was so open and honest, but still such a mystery to him. And he was desperate to know more.
"I suppose," he said slowly, picking up the card and staring at it. "I thought it would be amusing to pick a card and see what happened."
She simply tilted her head and gave him that inquiring look that made his fingers itch with the urge to bring her lips to his.
"Do you know what this card means, Fraulein?"
"Death," she replied instantly.
"It's not that simple, apparently," he said, standing up and grabbing a book off a covered table. He flicked it open to the right page. "It means new beginnings. It symbolises that you must end something in order for something new to begin."
"The Reverend Mother says when God closes a door he opens a window," said Maria, still staring at the card.
"Maybe she's just reading the cards," said Georg with a grin, delighting in the expression on her face. He placed the book down and then picked up the cards, plucking the one out of her hands as he shuffled them. "Curious?"
"I don't believe in fortune telling," said Maria, watching his hands as he shuffled the cards.
"You think I do?" He gave a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in the room as he came up to her. "But what if they believe in you?" he asked. "Just like your ghosts."
"It's paper, what does paper know of the future?" shot back Maria. "How is it more knowledgeable about future events than I?"
The man simply smirked at her, the red light casting eerily alluring shadows over his face. She couldn't recall being this close to him before, after all, why would she be? But she was close enough to see the shadow of stubble on his face, smell an earthy, yet spicy, scent and hear his even breathing.
It was far too intimate, but she felt like she was glued to the spot. She couldn't – she wouldn't, leave.
"Besides, the abbey probably looks down on that sort of thing."
"You're not in the abbey right now," replied Georg and secretly delighted in the way her face flushed.
"Fine," Maria managed to say as gestured to the cards in his hands.
Georg grinned. With exaggerated showiness, he shuffled the deck again and spread the cards out in a flourish along the piano keys. He took a step back and pointed to the long stool in front of the piano.
"Take a seat," he said, his voice low.
Maria hesitated briefly before taking her seat, feeling the Captain move to stand behind her.
"Pick one, Fraulein."
She stared at the cards and pressed gently down on one of them, the note ringing out as the key underneath was hit. Before she could reach for it, he was leaning over her and flipping it over. And she felt her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth as her senses stood on high alert. She could feel the heat of him behind her, and that coupled with the scent of him was distracting her at a rate that was slightly frightening. It was clear she was losing her mind. If Sister Berthe had any inkling as to what Maria was thinking about, she would have been kissing the floor until she turned fifty! The thought of the strict nun was enough to clear her head a little so she could focus on the revealed card.
It was a man, standing on the edge of a cliff, a large stick held over one shoulder with a bag hanging from it.
"Well?" asked Maria, her voice wobbling slightly despite her efforts to remain calm.
"'The Fool'," said the Captain, there was the rustling of pages being turned. "It represents a new journey, new beginnings. A choice to be made."
"Sounds like 'Death.'"
"No, 'Death' is about ending something in order for something else to begin," said the Captain above her. "This one means you have a choice between two important paths."
Maria made a small tutting noise.
"Relevant, Fraulein?" Georg asked, his teeth shining as he grinned like a tiger behind her.
"I don't know, you tell me, Captain von Tarot," Maria said, picking the card up and looking at it closely.
"He is the spirit of who we are, or something like that," came the voice of the Captain. "You're right, that paper cannot see the future. But what the Fool represents is that we must blindly go forward. Take a chance, Fraulein."
Maria scowled at the card in her hand and casually dropped it back onto the piano. She didn't need to take a chance. She didn't need to blindly move forward. She knew her path. And her path would lead her back up the steep stone steps to Nonnberg.
"I don't need to take a chance," she said. "In September I will take my vows and become a nun."
Behind her, Georg was staring at the top of her golden hair, trying with all his willpower not run his hands up her slim neck and bury them in her hair. He could smell her shampoo, it was sweet and reminded him of summer nights. How could this woman possibly want to lock herself in some convent?
"Are you sure that's the right path for you?"
"Yes!"
"No doubt, Fraulein?" he asked, leaning in next to her so he could prop the card up on the stand. He was sure he heard her intake of breath. "You have to listen to your heart. Wholeheartedly believe in your decision."
"Very good, Captain," said Maria in a slightly strangled voice, she'd been utterly bewildered by the feel of his breath brushing against her neck when he'd leant forward. "I'm sure with a crystal ball and some spangled jewels you'll make a very fine fortune teller."
There was a rumble above her as he laughed and Maria couldn't help but smile in response. It was such a pleasant, inviting sound and she found herself twisting around to greet it. As she glanced up, she felt her face go hot. He was smiling at her again, but it wasn't the same smile as earlier - not that predatory look - but a softer one. One she'd only seen a handful of times. It made her feel like she couldn't breathe. It was all in his eyes.
They stared at each other for who knew how long, she felt like she should say something - do something - but she couldn't move. She felt herself breathe again when he took a step back from the piano, though he was still looking at her.
Finally managing to drag her eyes away, Maria's hands moved to bring her dressing gown around her tighter as she stood.
"I think I should return to my room," she said, her voice sounding odd. "It's quite late. Thank you, Captain. Goodnight."
She moved for the door and had her hand on the handle when he called out to her softly.
"Fraulein?"
It wasn't fair, Maria thought. No man should be able to speak the way he did. It was in the way he said 'Fraulein', he managed to inflect it in a way that made it sound like so more than just an honorific. It had to be all in her head, she told herself. Too many hours spent reading novels about impressionable young women and devastatingly dark male leads, she told herself.
"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him once more.
"Please remember that this room is off limits, I think it best you do not return here again," he said, his voice back to normal.
Maria nodded. "Yes, Captain."
She slipped out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. And it was a request she intended to follow. She had no intention of ever going back into that room again. No. This whole evening was going to be something she desperately would try to forget, while at the same time going over every single detail for the rest of her life.
A/N This kind of story has been done before (and much better than this) but I had it sitting away for a while and recently came back to it. It was supposed to go into another story but it didn't end up fitting so I just kept it. For all its SOM clichés, I apologise – but I know we all secretly love them. Well, I know I do.
I've also been a little bleh in terms of inspiration lately, hence the lack of updates, but two lovely ladies have managed to raise my spirits and to them I say thank you.
The tarot reading was inspired by real events that happened to the Captain, it's mentioned in his book "To the Last Salute: Memories of an Austrian U-Boat Commander" and I wanted to use it for something. I've also been distracted by another fandom at the moment which is all to do with the major arcana so I wanted to weave them together.
Also, I took a lot of liberties with PoTO. Mostly based it on the musical and not the book, but shh. Also some lyrics borrowed from LND.
I own nothing, tra-la-la.