A/N: One shot, taking place two days after the "Edelweiss" scene. As usual, my thanks to my friends from the fan fiction forum, for their invaluable help and constant inspiration.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Sound of Music", etc...
Concerto n.o 21
A vignette
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He was close on to six feet tall, of military bearing and of such extraordinary vitality that young ladies asserted they could feel him ten feet away.
Hartley Grattan
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I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;
I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul
as it leads.
Sara Teasdale
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The concert began, and he assumed the bored stance he usually did when attending such functions. It is not because he did not enjoy the music, but probably because he respected it too much, no matter how dubious the quality of the performers was. There were just too many… distractions to keep him from paying attention to what they were playing, to listen to every note. After all, they were not in a sophisticated Viennese concert hall, but in Aigen, more precisely, the park next to the church, where, traditionally, outdoor concerts were held every summer (1). They were not sitting in velvet covered chairs, but in a rustic, wooden bench, a little far away from the crowd, but close enough to that the music reached them with startling clarity. Finally, it was not the Philharmonic playing, but a local chamber orchestra accompanying a still anonymous pianist. Not at all what he was used to.
"The children – you are doing this for the children," he reminded himself. They would be playing Mozart, and he was appalled to realize only days ago that his youngest child hardly knew who the composer was.
Their governess had somehow opened his eyes to the fact that their musical education had been horribly neglected since their mother died. He could not allow that to happen – he was an Austrian, his children were all Austrians. Music was part of their soul and he should not, could not allow them to grow up without being familiar with such an important part of their heritage. Austria no longer had its Empire, its Navy, but by God, it still had its music, and that no one would be able to take away from his country. Fortunately, he was clever enough to acknowledge some of the mistakes he had made in the name of the blinding grief over Agathe´s death in time.
Now, if the acoustics was not perfect enough to make the music enjoyable, all he could do was to sit back, relax and meditate about how his life was beginning to improve. Unbelievable as it was, he was as close as he ever was ever since he lost the Navy to being happy again. There was a sense of peace around him that was quite odd, considering not only the recent events in European politics, but the turmoil in his home caused mainly by a certain young woman who happened to be the one of the many distractions keeping him from concentrating on the music: the terror of the Benedictine postulants, the governess of his children.
He sighed.
He should be hearing Mozart in his mind, not her voice yodeling or singing an obscure aria in flawed Italian (2)!
It seemed that ever since she entered his life, he wasn't able to spend five minutes without thinking of the annoying brat that was Fräulein Maria. She always found a way to intrude upon his thoughts, she insisted upon it, when he had every reason to feel like the future was a sea of clear, tranquil waters in which he was about to set sail. He was close to his children again; he had found the perfect woman to help him with their upbringing, the perfect woman to spend the rest of his days with.
Looking at the top Elsa's blond head, leaning trustingly against his shoulder, he smiled and corrected himself in thought: Not happy yet, but content, in spite of it all. Once he had banished the governess from his thoughts, he would be in peace once more.
"September. Only until September," he reminded himself.
His shoulder twitched slightly, which caused Elsa to straighten herself. Sadly, the very woman responsible for his state of contentment, and the one he hoped would become his bride in the matter of a few days, did not look so comfortable, let alone in peace with the world.
Elsa von Schraeder gazed at him. He was smiling, but she never smiled back. His smile turned into a worrisome frown – she did not look good. He knew her long enough to know what it meant – it was one of her famous migraines, the only thing in the world powerful enough to defeat her. Her face was pale – ashen, as a matter of fact. In his eyes, she now appeared to be worn out, and he berated himself for not noticing earlier. Grimacing, he realized that, regardless his resolve on the contrary, he had just caught himself in the act of neglecting Elsa again.
"Oh darling," she whispered, taking his hand and entwining her fingers with his. "I hope that disgraceful little frown isn't meant for me."
"You know it isn't. As a matter of fact, it is for me!"
"If I were feeling any better, I would start a long and boring lecture about this nasty habit of yours. But this won't do, you know. I'm afraid I am feeling rather… rotten. Would you be terribly offended if I returned to the villa? It is this heat that made my headache return with such fury."
"Of course not, Elsa. I shall accompany you myself," was his gentlemanly suggestion. "I am sure Max will follow us, and Fräulein Maria may stay with the children, if she so wishes."
"No, I know how much you enjoy these things," she said, glancing towards where the chamber orchestra was playing.
"Elsa …"
"If there is one thing I learned from our dear Agathe was not to stand between you and your music. No, you stay here with your little ones. I am sure Max – who looks like the very heart and soul of boredom right now – will not mind escorting me back."
He kissed her hand softly before she left.
"Go and rest, darling. Because I'll stand by my promise – I am taking you to dinner at the Sacher in Salzburg tonight. It is not Vienna, but it is the best I can do in such short notice."
Her eyes brightened considerably. "Oh Georg! You know how much I missed it!"
"I reserved the best table in the house just for us," he added seductively.
Elsa left, escorted by Max, considerably relieved after his promise of an evening alone with him.
The children never noticed any of the small commotion.
Neither did her governess.
It was Fräulein Maria who held his full attention after Elsa and Max left. The orchestra was now playing the languorous second movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto n.o 21 – one of his personal favorite pieces - and she seemed utterly entranced by the music.
He wondered what the devil was wrong with her. Two nights ago, she had just changed. Before that evening, there were times when he almost, just almost, began to think they were actually becoming friends – even though the word sounded dismally inappropriate to describe the relationship between a governess and the father of her charges. Only now, he realized how much he enjoyed their late night conversations and their friendly banter; how much he missed her spark, her sense of humor, her unique lopsided logic and her unabashed sincerity.
It would all remain the same if not for that night. Nothing was the same after that. She had been the one who had coaxed him into singing, wearing that devilish slip of a blue dress – and apparently, that had been the beginning of her peculiar behavior. Then in the very next day, she had shown up for breakfast wearing her habit! He hadn't to hold on to his chair to keep himself from tearing the ugly, unflattering thing from her, but she had worn it again and again in the days that followed – except for today, and most probably only because of the excessive heat.
Whatever the reasons were for that not so subtle change in her, he wondered if he had any part in it. Had he carelessly allowed this odd attraction – purely physical, he was convinced of that - he felt for her become so obvious that, somehow, the innocent convent bred girl she was had perceived it?
Granted, it had been she who had distanced herself from him, not the opposite. Although wisdom demanded that, after that heated exchange of looks during the Edelweiss song, and after his conversation with Max, he should have done precisely that. If he were completely in his right mind, he would have fired her, like he had done with one of the previous eleven governesses, when the woman started showing an unusual interest in him (3). But he chose not to. She, on the other hand, was the one who was now avoiding him like if he had some kind of exotic contagious disease she was afraid to catch.
Before, she was never afraid to look him in the eye during their verbal battles. Now, whenever she was not quick enough to avoid his presence, there was always a certain tinge of blush and embarrassment. The guileless smiles with which she greeted him whenever they met were now a thing of the past. The innocent heat he saw in her eyes was now hidden from him. Her vivaciousness was now reserved for his seven children and no one else. He felt the most absurd twinge of… jealousy?
Of his own children?
Absurd.
Utterly absurd.
It was not even a question of asking himself why. God, he was sophisticated enough to know exactly why.
"Of course she noticed it, you bloody idiot," he admonished himself, his fingers wriggling irritably, following Mozart's accords. She may be a future nun, but she was first and foremost a female. There had to be a dormant instinct underneath that pure, ethereal surface that came alive that evening when he all but devoured her with his eyes...
However, the possibility was much too disturbing to be considered at the moment.
Knowing he was playing with fire, as Max had warned him before, he continued his observation of the young governess.
Chuckling, he realized that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his languid Andante had cast a spell upon her, because she had not noticed any of the commotion around her – and by that he did not mean only Elsa's untimely departure. He was only glad that they had chosen a place away from most of the crowd, but from where they could still hear the concert perfectly, because all the events taking place during the second movement would be enough to disturb the concentration any serious music lovers that happened to be in the vicinity.
It all began when two of his children blocked his view of Maria, who was sitting in another garden bench not too far away. Kurt and Brigitta were marching resolutely towards her.
He gazed at Fräulein Maria again. Interrupting her at this moment would be a terrible crime. As a musician and music lover, he knew the feeling well. He had no wish that one of his children broke that magical spell for her, even if, somewhere in the back of his mind he did consider the fact, as a governess, she was there precisely to be interrupted by his children. It was, in fact, her job to be interrupted, so that he could enjoy himself. Such was the logic of the situation, the way things should work, have always worked.
Not today.
"Brigitta, Kurt," interrupted, with a hissed whisper, but loud and commanding enough so that his son and his daughter heard it. "Come here."
They looked up at him, warily.
"Your Fräulein seems to be enjoying the music too much. We would not want to spoil that for her, would we?"
"We just wanted some ice cream. She said we could ask her and she would fetch it for us."
"I can do that," It was Liesl, sounding so much like Agathe that his heart ached.
"Then you do that, Liesl," he said.
"Should we bring some for you too, father?" asked Brigitta.
"No, darling. Now, try not to interrupt your Fräulein again before the concert is over."
The sounds of Mozart's reined once more. Amused, he noticed that Fräulein Maria saw or heard nothing of this. Her eyes never left the orchestra, she never noticed when Liesl left her side, and when he sat next to her. Not even when the third and last movement was finished, and she jumped up, applauding excitedly.
"Oh, oh, I would gladly trade my own voice for the ability to play like that, just for a day" she exclaimed, undoubtedly impressed by the pianist. "To be able to produce such beautiful music with the touch of your fingertips!"
She turned to her left so abruptly that she nearly lost her balance and fell back on the bench again.
"Liesl, who is…" he voice died, when her eyes rose to meet, not Liesl´s, but his. A fresh blush tinted her cheeks, already rosy with the excitement caused by the music. "Ooohhhh!"
"Don't do it," he said simply, trying impossibly hard to ignore how fetching and alluring she looked at that moment. "It would be a crime. Your voice is a precious gift, Fräulein, don't even think of trading it for anything else."
"Ooooh! Captain, I am so sorry, I thought you were Liesl." She averted her eyes, focusing on the orchestra in the distance once more.
He could not help but chuckling, even though… there it was again: her nervousness, her wariness around him.
"I don't know his name exactly, but he must be that young Russian who is taking Salzburg's concert halls by storm," he informed, trying to put her at ease.
"Frankly, I don't see why," he added critically. "He is quite promising, in fact, and maybe if he works hard enough he will have a name among the greatest some day."
It was a lie. The young Russian was an outstanding musician, with a brilliant career ahead of him. What he intended was to provoke a reaction in the governess – something, anything that caused her to react against him and not cower away like that. He did not like it. Maybe if she were just a little angry with him, she would react like she did in the old days.
"You, you… you cannot be serious, Captain!" She moaned her indignation. "I am sure if you could play half as well as that you would recognize his talent."
The barb hurt, and he had to bite his tongue not to bit back with equal force, having to remind himself that she did not know he could play the piano and well – at least he used to.
"It was lush, it was exquisite, it was…" she continued passionately. There it was again, the heated gaze. It was back, but this time it was not pointed to him. She was looking heavenward, dreamingly, as if remembering the handsome young pianist. The fact that she had almost the same look in her eyes as Liesl, whenever he mentioned the word "telegram" was… infuriating!
Well, he certainly had very effective ways to bring her back to earth again. And he planned to use them all.
"Uh - lush, Fräulein?"
"Yes," she replied, unflinchingly.
"It is hardly a word I would expect a future nun would use to describe a musical performance," he sneered.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest she faced him – bravely, at last. His smirk became a half smile, his brow raised challengingly.
"For your information, Captain, there are thousands of words in the German language, and in Nonnberg we are allowed free use of all of them."
"Uh… All of them?" he taunted.
"Well, most of them," she corrected, but nothing in her stance told her that she was granting him victory.
"Yes," the smiled inwardly. "Provoke her. If that is what it takes to bring her out of this infernal apathy towards you, so be it!"
"So you are allowed free reign with our use of our language. I see," he commented, cynically. "How exhilarating must that be for you. I am sure you take full advantage of the privilege."
Her mouth opened and closed again. She just rolled her eyes and looked away. But there was an angry flare in her eyes when she faced him again.
"Lush is a perfectly normal word," she said finally, sounding slightly offended.
"No, it isn't."
"It is! It means…"
"O-ho, I know very well what it means."
Yes, he did, but did she?
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her – lush could hardly describe the first half of the concert, but the word could certainly be applied to her.
Lush.
Luscious.
When he first saw her, he thought she was a scrawny little thing, wearing an unspeakable grey dress that was too big for her, and a fireman's hat that was too small for her. Soon enough he had to review his opinion, when she fell from the top of a tree on top of him… Two weeks later, when he returned from Vienna, Fraülein Maria could be described by many adjectives, the least likely being scrawny. Amusedly, he noticed that she too had been seduced by his cook's superb cuisine. Her figure was fuller, rounder and in all the right places – it was impossible not to notice that when she fell on the lake, and the dress clung to her like a second skin.
And now, she described that anemic pianist's music as being lush.
Indeed!
Chuckling, he could not help but wonder that, if she had reacted that way when she heard a Russian playing the music of the most celebrated Austrian composer, how would she react to him playing something Russian… Rachmaninoff, for instance, in all his passionate glory.
"Cheer up, Fräulein," he said, interrupting his own inappropriate musings. "Don't take it personally. I was merely questioning the man's rather average performance, not criticizing your unusual command of the German language. Didn't Max tell you just the other day that I can be a terrible brute of a critic when it comes to music?"
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows at him. She was dead serious when she spoke again.
"Yes, but I never imagined you could be so harsh. Maybe if you could play as well as he can, you would be kinder…" her voice trailed away, as if she had just realized that, once more, she had lost control of what she was saying. Now she was biting her lower lip nervously.
"And by that you mean…" Intentionally, he cast one of his dangerous looks at her.
"I mean that your performance with the guitar the other night was hardly more than… adequate. Captain."
All of a sudden, he was no longer merely teasing her – he was irritated beyond belief. Where his music was concerned, he had always been a perfectionist. Now this governess who probably learned the musical scales in an obscure Tyrolean church choir dared to question his abilities.
"Adequate?!" he spat, louder than he had intended, because a few people around then turned to look at them. He grinned at them, apologetically. His expression hardened again when he turned back to the infuriating little governess. She looked away, but not before he could see a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
The little witch was teasing him!
He was experiencing a peculiar myriad of feelings. He was annoyed, to say the least, because of her casual criticism of his music. At the same time, he was highly… amused because obviously she had noticed his irritation and was trying to bait him. On top of all that, he was undeniably… aroused.
He felt blood draining from his face when he remembered that he taken the last woman who had made him feel so many things at once to his bed – but before that, he had married her. When he realized that not for the first time he had caught himself comparing the little Fräulein to Agathe, he literally stopped breathing.
What was there to compare? Why his mind insisted upon that. One was dead, the other very much alive – that fact alone should stop any rational human being to attempt any comparisons whatsoever. No, he should not go any further, he should halt his mind whenever such preposterous ideas occurred to him. For the moment, that meant focusing on the brash governess standing in front of him.
"O-ho, Fräulein, I swear one of these days I'll make you swallow those words, one by one." His tone must have been unusually harsh, because she took a little step back.
"Where are the children?" she asked, frowning, looking around her uncertainly.
Yes. The children. Her safe anchor. Grimly, he noticed that she always mentioned the children when she felt uncomfortable around him.
"Liesl is treating them to some ice-cream as we speak," he informed, his tone much softer and more gentlemanly now.
Her frown deepened.
"W… why Liesl? I told them to ask me if they needed anything. It is my job to provide it, isn´t it?"
"Yes, but they did not wish to interrupt your enjoyment of such a luscious performance," was his sarcastic reply. Before she could reply to his provocation, he continued. "If there is one thing I learned a long ago was not to stand between a woman and Wolfgang."
"Wolfgang? I thought you said he was Russian."
"I meant Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, of course," he bowed slightly.
"Oh yes, yes, naturally." Her voice sounded weak, and she still fretted, looking around her. "Where is the Baroness?"
"She was not feeling well, I'm afraid, She suffers from these atrocious migraines once in a while. Max took her home."
Her nervousness increased, her hands fidgeted furiously.
"Well… she could need me…"
"Why the devil would she need you?" he blurted, then instantly regretted, because the hurtful look in her eyes told him that she had taken the question in the wrong manner.
What was odd was that he had seen that look before, and that had happened in that same accursed night. Right after the Baroness suggested the grand and glorious party… Maria looked clearly uncomfortable and subdued, when she reminded the children that it was past their bedtime. It was almost like someone had thrown a bucket of icy cold water at her, and it would not be until months later that she would tell her what she had felt that night and he would fully understand it. At the moment, he was only vaguely irritated because he only realized that it should not matter to him at all what was behind each of his governess's many facial expressions. Yet, it did!
"I did not mean to imply… whatever nonsense you may think I am implying," he said.
"But I could keep her company!" Her face brightened. "My aunt used to suffer from migraines too, and I know exactly what to do."
"Mmmm… Trust me, I know your intentions may be the best possible, but she will be all right with Max. God knows Herr Detweiler is much more patient with a female's fickle moods than I am! In the meantime, how about keeping me company now."
His playful request startled her. "You?"
"Yes. You were quite good at it, not long ago. Remember?"
"Was I?" She looked at him, incredulous. Dear Lord, she was blushing again! Obviously she was not used to the smallest of compliments.
"Why so surprised?"
"Ow, I never thought of myself as a brilliant conversationalist," she mused. Under his questioning look, she explained, shrugging. "I can't help myself. Most of the times, I just say things because they are there, waiting to be said."
"How… refreshing! Unfortunately, most of us are not used to so much frankness!"
"That is precisely why I don't think I would be very good company to you."
"Why not?"
Her response was one of her typical uncontrolled outbursts.
"Well, if you insist. I thought you were going to change now that you are close to the children again, but that did not happen at all. When you are not brooding, you are exasperated, with the most ominous black scowl on your face. It is not my wish to make your predicament any worse! You see, that is why." He could not resist it – he started laughing. "It is not funny, Captain! The other day, Franz told me that one of these days I would end up sending you to an early grave if I insisted upon contradicting you at all times!" His laughter increased.
Was that the reason for her aloofness towards him lately? No, it could be part of the reason, but certainly not all of it.
"Fräulein, I survived the great war shooting torpedoes and sinking enemy ships from a foul smelling metal tube under the water. I think I can deal with your with idiosyncrasies just fine without risking premature death! Be sure to inform my butler of that before he pesters you again."
"Mmmm," she moaned. "You really do not need to do that, Captain, but…"
He interrupted her.
"Mozart has been dead for…" he made a quick, mental calculation, "…148 years, but even dead he seems to be the only man who is capable of keeping you quiet for more than ten minutes. I intend to observe this interesting scientific phenomenon fully when the second half of the concert begins."
"I happen like Mozart," she stated simply, but in a challenging tone.
"I am not surprised. You are as unquiet as he probably ever was, and, like you, he is believed to have been… unconventional fellow."
Before Maria could reply to his comment, Liesl returned.
"Here, Fräulein," she said, handling Maria an ice cream come, which was already beginning to melt with the summer heat. "We were not sure which flavor you would prefer, but Gretl said that since you like pink, it would probably be strawberry."
"Thank you, Liesl, you did not have to worry about me." She gladly accepted the treat offered to her. "Where are all the others?"
"With Friedrich," said Liesl, already running back to her siblings.
Maria made a motion to stand up and quickly head towards her charges, but he stopped her with a gesture.
"Come down, Fräulein. You are not slacking. Even if you were, it would be because of my orders."
"Forgive me, Captain, but wasn't the purpose of this excursion to expand your children's musical education, as you said it has been sadly neglected for the past years?" she asked, licking some of the melting ice cream from her fingers.
"Delectable!" The word popped in his mind unexpectedly. Surely, it did not apply to the strawberry ice cream cone... His hands itched, he had to clench them into fists in order to make the temptation of taking her hand and licking the ice cream himself easier to resist. Her hand, and then her soft lips, to see if he could taste the strawberry flavor there as well.
"She is either an accomplished seductress or the ultimate innocent. She can't be aware of what she is doing… can she?!" he thought.
"Captain?" she asked, licking another finger, with such a guileless expression in her face that made him feel like the ultimate sinner for lusting after her like that.
"Ultimate innocent," he concluded.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked again.
"Well done, Captain," he chastised himself, grimacing. "Caught in the act of ogling a future nun like a desperate hormone driven young sailor who just reached his first port after months at sea! This just because you saw her lick ice cream from her fingers. Brilliant. Just brilliant. No wonder she sometimes acts like she wants to be anywhere on earth but near you. If she only knew what you were thinking just now…"
"Did I say anything I should not have said? Did you even listen to what I just said?"
"Yes. And no," he replied. "Forgive me, Fräulein. I was – uh - distracted for a moment." He looked down, tearing his gaze away from the governess, who looked much too alluring for her own good while savoring her ice cream cone.
"Mmmm. The children…"
"Ah yes. Don't worry," he said. "I am quite sure they are soaking themselves on Mozart while their ice creams melt. I only have no wish at all to be around when Friedrich sticks his cone into Brigitta´s hair, and when Kurt tries to steal whatever is left of Gretl´s ice cream after he is done with his." Maria looked a little horrified, and he laughed. "I've seen it all happen before."
It was again the wrong thing to say, because Maria started wiggling in her seat, giving every indication that she was about to get up.
"Well, in this case, it is my duty to keep that from happening in the first place, shouldn't I?"
"Stay here," he said. He meant it to sound like a command, but to his ears it came out almost as a plea.
There was a look of mischief in her eyes now.
"Whatever happened to order, discipline and dec…" He placed one hand on her shoulder, stopping her, feeling her tense under his palm. "… decorum?" she stuttered.
"Fräulein, one more word, one more move and you are fired," he said, harsher than he may have intended at first. "I mean it. Just… keep still and be quiet for a moment, will you?"
She was rendered speechless for a moment. His hand still rested on her shoulder, but he was no longer gripping her. Giving in to temptation, tentatively, he flexed his fingers, just lightly. Yet, as subtle as his touch was, she must have felt it. Her response was instant – she jumped from her seat, and, as a result, the melting ice cream ball fell down her dress.
"O-o-ooohhhh!!!"
She stared at her stained skirts, helplessly. Still speechless, bringing him the realization that it was not only Mozart, but he as well who had the power to silence her.
"I'm sorry, I startled you. How clumsy of me," he apologized. Reaching one of the pockets of his jacket, he handled a white handkerchief. "Here, Fräulein."
"Oh no! I mean… thank you, but… It's such a fine handkerchief, it would be ruined."
"Fair enough, since I ruined your dress – and your ice cream. Just take it, please," he insisted, a bit impatiently, thrusting it in her hand.
Her "thank you" was almost inaudible. Unlike the sigh of relief she uttered when she saw the children returning to their side.
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A/N: (1) This is completely fictional. I have no idea if outdoor concerts happened in 1938 Austria. I've never been to Aigen, but I was reminded of a photograph posted by one of the members of our fan fiction forum, where you can see the green next to the church – thus the idea for an outdoor concert. (2) See my story "Edelweiss". (3) Idea inspired by the synopsis of an unwritten and unpublished story by Max ("maxisback"), entitled "The Eleven Governesses". I hope she won´t mind the reference to it.