Underneath her wimple
A/N:
Thank you so much for reviewing my other story (The Baroness and the Pine Cone). Here is something else for you.
Georg/Maria/Elza interaction – and a little bit of Max. Scene happens after "Edelweiss" and before the ball. Several different points of view throughout the story.
Have fun!
Disclaimer: The usual – I don´t own anything.
It was Sunday, and it was Maria's day off. It was a beautiful sunny day, but for the first time in weeks she did not long for her beloved mountains.
It all began with that dream…
Dressed as a bride, she was finally ready to make her final vows. Feeling a confidence she had not felt since the day she left the Abbey to go to the Trapp Villa, slowly, she made her way to the altar. She was alone. Where were the other girls? She did not know, but she kept walking.
Maria never looked at the altar – instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the mother-of-pearl rosary in her hands. It was just like the one her uncle had shown her only once, saying it had belonged to her mother, only to snatch it away from her cruelly, saying it had to be sold in order to pay for her expenses.
When she reached the stairs, she finally looked up. But she did not see the Bishop waiting for her. She did not see the Reverend Mother, or Sister Berthe, the mistress of postulants. She did not see the priest who usually conducted the masses at Nonnberg. Instead, she found herself, face to face with…
Captain von Trapp.
Maria woke up at this point, startled. Confused, she did not know what the dream meant. Then, in a gesture that was typical of her, she shrugged, telling herself – it was just a dream, after all. A result of the unusual combination of schnitzel with noodles she had treated herself to the night before. And she would have forgotten about it entirely.
But the dreams came back. It was never exactly the same situation, but he was always there, appearing at the last possible moment, just before she woke up, only to keep her from making her vows, or from even entering the Abbey. He never said anything; he just… looked at her.
But what did it all mean? So he did not want her back at the convent. Did the dreams really suggest that she was not made to be a nun after all. But if not that, what else would she do with her life?
The dreams were becoming so disturbing that, lately, being idle was not something Maria looked forward to. And without the children, she had very little to do. She craved their chaotic company, the noise, the laughter. She loved being busy teaching them complicated songs. And even though at night, by the time she went to bed, she was so exhausted that sometimes she fell asleep before finishing her prayers, she was glad. Because idleness led her to thinking, and lately her thoughts had wandered in dangerous directions. Although she would not admit it even to herself, for the first time in her life, she was beginning to question her religious vocation. For the first time she was considering… no, she could not even allow the thought to take shape in her mind.
Even her beloved mountain did not offer her solace, because that was the place where she always used to go to… to think. And Maria did not want to think.
On Sunday, she decided to go the only place where she could be away from those nameless, ghostly feelings that bothered her, those thoughts she was fighting so hard to keep away.
Maria decided to go to the place that was the scenery in most of those dreams. Nonnberg.
Early in the morning, she left to go to mass, and then, maybe, to confession. Maybe the Reverend Mother would offer her some advice, some reassurance. Maria wondered if the old nun had her doubts, before making her vows. Sister Sophia once admitted that it was not uncommon, that it was normal to have such doubts when the time to make that final promise was near.
That was what Maria was thinking of as she got dressed. The sun had barely risen, but she would have to run, if she wanted to catch the first mass. She decided to wear her habit for the first time since the day she was called to the Reverend Mother. It gave her an odd sense of security that she suddenly craved.
Her excursion turned out to be frustrating. She was not able to see the Reverend Mother. Nonnberg had been struck by a minor flu epidemic, and the Mother Abbess and Sister Margaretta were among the nuns that were sick. Sister Berthe – to whom Maria spoke, too – assured that they were fine, and recovering well. When Maria insisted upon seeing them, the nun convinced her that it was not a good idea. There were seven children under Maria's care, and the last thing anyone would want would be for her to bring a flu virus into their home. For the first time, Maria had to admit Sister Berthe was undoubtedly right about something.
It was not only that – the conversation she had had with Sister Berthe had been… disturbing. It all began as Maria would have expected – with questions, then reprimands that ended in arguments. And a couple of kisses on the floor. Then, instead of questioning her about her work with the children, Sister Berthe insisted on knowing about the Captain.
She had gone to the Abbey to be reassured, and she had left with more doubts and confusion than before. Why did the Captain matter so much? She had been there for the children! Oh Lord, she hoped she was not doing anything wrong.
Maria returned to the villa in the middle of the afternoon, feeling tired and slightly depressed. But her mood instantly improved as she heard the children's voices coming from the back of the house. All troubles were forgotten, almost instantly, and she let out a sigh of sheer relief. Not bothering to go inside first, she raced towards the direction of the noise.
They were all there – the seven children were playing with Max. Elsa and the Captain watched them from the terrace, sipping some kind of exotic colorful refreshment that the Baroness had a fondness for.
Maria ran towards the children, meaning to join the fun, when Louisa playfully sneaked behind her and took the wimple from her head and fled, her laughter echoing behind her.
"Uuuh!" Maria groaned, giving up racing after the girl after only a couple of steps. "Sometimes I wish I..." She stopped muttering, only then realizing that two people watched her from the terrace. "Hallo!" she greeted them cheerfully.
"Good afternoon! Do join us, please, Fraülein Maria," The Captain invited, before he could think about what he was doing. Elsa shot him an exasperated glance, which he pretended not to notice.
Inviting a governess for a refreshment, indeed. Generations of von Trapps would be scandalized at the idea, Elsa thought, raising her aristocratic eyebrows. And yet he does not seem to mind one bit… He acts like it is the most normal thing in the world.
"Thank you, Sir, but I need to watch the children… and oh, recover my wimple. I can't help but wonder what Louisa has in mind for it! The last time she did that, it ended up in the flag pole…" her voice died, and she bit her lips.
The Captain chuckled - he remembered that day well. It about a week after she had nearly drowned his children because of her appalling nautical skills . It was early in the morning, and he was still in his bedroom, getting dressed. He had just finished buttoning his shirt, when something made him raise his head and turn to the window. And he saw her, his governess, hanging on the flagpole. More specifically, he saw her dangling legs, clad in those ridiculous convent stockings. Uttering a curse from his old days at sea, he ran to the window.
"Fraülein!" he yelled.
She was so startled that she let go from the pole. With an startled scream, she fell, and was miraculously saved from any serious injury by an overgrown bush – fortunately the garden had failed to show up that month. He looked down, and found himself unable to breath until he saw that she was all right; She lay among the branches, not very elegantly, muttering a few curses he swore he thought a nun in training would never know about. He could swear that some of her angry words were directed at him.
She too remembered the scene well, judging by her violent blush and the angry look she gave him, narrowing her eyes.
"They'll be fine," he dismissed, not meeting her gaze. "Max is with them, and I am sure your… what do you call it? - wimple is in capable hands. Besides, isn't today your day off, Fraülein?"
"It is? Humm, it is! I had forgotten about that". Out of the corner of her eye, Maria saw the Baroness, examining her fingernails, apparently oblivious to the scene.
"And haven't I told you, very specifically, that you should give yourself a break from the children when you had a day to yourself?"
"I believe you did, Sir, but…" The Captain gestured towards the empty chair facing him. "All right, if I must, I must!"
Maria sat down, very demurely, with her slight nervousness betrayed by her fidgeting hands in her lap.
"And how is the Mother Abbess these days?" the Captain inquired.
"I was told she's recovering quite well!"
"Was she ill? Did you not see her?"
"Yes and no. There was a flu epidemic and…" Maria stopped when she saw the Captain stiffen. His eyes widened in alarm. The Baroness looked up, sharply.
"Dear Lord!" she exclaimed, horrified.
"Don´t worry, Captain. And you too, Baroness. It was nothing too serious." Georg frowned. In his book there was no such thing as nothing too serious. When Agathe fell ill, they assured him she would recover in a week, and yet… He turned his attention to what Maria was saying again, firmly set on reprimanding her. "… and so I did not even dare to go inside. I could not risk – the children," she added.
"That was very wise of you, I am glad," he said, a bit taken aback, since he had been ready to give her a lecture. He gazed at her for a moment. Her face was bright red, and her breathing was heavy. He wondered if she had not caught that flu after all. If it had reached the convent, she could have caught it anywhere in Salzburg, and God knows she had been everywhere with his children. On the other hand, Fraülein Maria always looked somewhat flushed to him lately. Maybe it was the summer heat. Or maybe it was only the atrocious convent uniform she was wearing that morning. It was black, and it covered her from neck to toe. The fabric was coarse, and judging by the looks of it only, not very comfortable. And she still had to wear that contraption on her head.
No, he did not like to see her like that, and the fact annoyed him, because he did not know why. Something did not add up. It was as if she did not belong… In his house or in a convent? He did not know.
Only that something was not quite… right.