A/N: As well as being my first ever fanfiction, this story is part of the Proboard Gift Exchange, excellently dreamt up by Lemacd. My festive tale is dedicated to wildmeiling :) Merry Christmas to you, as well as everyone from the Proboard and anyone else who kindly gives this story the time of day. Please enjoy it. I do not own anything to do with The Sound of Music.
Secret Santa and the Golden Ticket
It was the very first day of November and Baroness Elsa von Schraeder had been laying low in her study for half the day. Usually, she only ever spent time in this particular room when dealing with her extensive portfolio of business interests, but today was an exception. Today, Elsa was a woman on a covert mission to do a good deed. Therefore, all the household staff, at her opulent estate in Vienna, had been briefed with strict instructions that she was NOT to be disturbed, not under ANY circumstances.
The study was a bright and breezy room. The walls were painted a cheerful lemon colour and above the cream, marble fireplace hung a gold mirror with cherubs guarding each corner. The bookcases and desk were hand-carved from oak and a large, antique, Chinese rug - in bold shades of blue and yellow - hugged the coffee brushed floorboards. Elsa always thought it ironic that this room was quite a relaxing place to spend time in, considering she used it essentially for when she was conducting high powered negotiations or cutting deals. Perhaps business can be mixed with pleasure, after all, she mused wryly, shaking her head and smiling.
Sitting comfortably at her desk, Elsa had been beavering away, all morning, at drafting her devious plan onto a piece of paper. Now though, it was time to get the ball rolling and put it into action, so she picked up the telephone, perused her long list of contacts and got straight to work.
As time flew by, it was as though Elsa was stuck on repeat - pacing back and forth frantically, making numerous phone calls to people in high places, taking a sip of Jägertee to ward off the bitter chill of Autumn, scribbling notes down on a jotter, adding a log to the fire to keep warm, puffing on a cigarette, and then going through the whole laborious process again and again.
Elsa would much rather be out to lunch with her circle of close friends at some high-class establishment or other, sampling only the very finest delicacies that Austria had to offer. However, she shoved that selfish notion to the furthest recesses of her mind and instead, refocussed on the matter in hand. Elsa was determined to push on with her scheme to make some magic happen during the impending festive season, as well as right a few wrongs.
Taking a quick break to pick at one of Chef's delicious Linzer cookies, Elsa smirked, amused by her own random thoughts. She was starting to sympathize with squirrels, who hibernate for the winter, nothing but a few nuts and berries to sustain them. She had only been stuck within the confines of four walls for a matter of hours and she felt positively glum, to say the least. I wouldn't like to be reincarnated as a squirrel, that's for sure, she reflected, rolling her eyes and chuckling.
Elsa despised being home alone. She couldn't stomach being haunted by the ghosts of a happy marriage past. After a long period of mourning her husband's unforeseen death, just over four years ago, Elsa had made a conscious decision to occupy her mind by attending lavish balls and swanky soirées, by gossiping gaily with her socialite friends and by soaking herself in Champagne whenever possible.
Elsa always theorized that staying active was the only antidote available for missing her dearest Sebastian so much. Some might say that she was running away from her grief and her memories, but reverting to the pampered lifestyle she had enjoyed before getting married provided her with a purpose at least, as shallow as it was. It was a simple equation really. . .if Elsa kept moving, she wouldn't have too much time to dwell on the wretched night a stroke had so cruelly claimed Sebastian's life. . .and in a way, hers.
Polishing off the last piece of her biscuit, Elsa cleared her thoughts, picked the telephone up once more, dialled the all too familiar number and waited for a response.
"Captain von Trapp's residence. . .Frau Schmidt, the housekeeper, speaking. How may I help you?" the courteous voice on the other end of the line asked.
"Ah, good afternoon, Frau Schmidt! This is Baroness Schraeder. I would like to speak to Herr Detweiler please. . .um. . .but the thing is. . .you see. . .I don't really want the Captain to know I'm calling. It's. . .ah. . .complicated," Elsa stated rather awkwardly.
"That might be tricky, Baroness. They're both in the salon with the children, immersed in quite a competitive card game of some sort or other, I believe," the housekeeper replied.
"Frau Schmidt. . .I know this is highly irregular, but could you perhaps inform Max that Sasha Petrie is on the line? That way, he will be quite pleasantly surprised when he hears my voice instead," Elsa suggested laughingly and hoped that the housekeeper would play along with her little, white lie.
The housekeeper was curious indeed. On the face of it, the Captain and the Baroness had parted ways 'amicably' a month or two ago, killing stone dead widespread rumours of a wedding on the cards for the long-term, courting couple. However, to contradict that popular belief, Frau Schmidt had been making her way upstairs to bed one evening, around two weeks ago and had heard a quick-fire of obscenities thundering out from behind the door of the Captain's study.
She had also heard testaments of hatred - such as 'That manipulative bitch!', 'I could throttle Elsa!' and 'If words could kill, I would bloody well spell out her name right now!' - turning the air blue at the villa. . .sentiments that were far from 'amicable'. Frau Schmidt was long enough in the tooth to know that there was a hell of a lot more to this situation than met the eye, particularly with Baroness Schraeder wanting to avoid the Captain all of a sudden.
The housekeeper did not really like the idea of deceiving the Captain. He had always been a considerate and very generous employer. The idea of being disloyal to the Austrian war hero did not sit well with her either, but in this specific case, she considered it prudent to err on the side of caution as she wasn't in possession of the full facts.
"Well. . .I don't see that it would do any harm, just this once. I'll go and get Herr Detweiler for you, Baroness," Frau Schmidt agreed.
(Silence)
Elsa tapped the toe-end of her stiletto impatiently against the wooden floor, while on hold, until she finally heard Max's annoyed voice upon the line.
"Sasha! If you're phoning again just to boast about stealing The Toby Reiser Quintet from under my nose, I have much better fish to fry!" he huffed and Elsa smiled, imagining plumes of steam whistling out of his ears.
"Aww! Poor little Maxi! And there was me thinking that Sasha Petrie would have to be an early REISER to get one over on you," she tormented and laughed, pretty proud of her clever pun.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Elsa! Ha! Ha! You want to be careful. If you are any sharper, you'll cut yourself," he jokingly fumed, before the penny finally dropped that he'd expected to speak to Herr Petrie, a fellow impresario and his fiercest rival. "Hang on a minute! Frau Schmidt said-"
"All part of my master-plan to not alert Georg to my call. Now, Max, I don't have any time to waste making idle chit-chat. I need your help. I'm Georg's self-appointed Secret Santa, so how would you like to be my 'Head Elf'?" Elsa interjected.
Max sighed heavily, "Elsa, darling, are you feeling alright? I am not sure it's MY help you need if you think you can win Georg back. Ever since Maria did her Harry Houdini act, he's been a right old gloomy-puss. If he smiled, he'd make his backside jealous! The only time he makes ANY sort of concerted effort to appear cheerful is when the children are around." He paused for a moment before his voice grew uncharacteristically serious, "Elsa, ah, listen, I had to tell him. . .WHY Maria left. . .I'm sorry. I couldn't sit back and watch him blame himself constantly."
There was a long, deafening silence before anyone spoke again.
"It's alright, Max. I'm only sorry I didn't have the courage to tell Georg what I did to Maria myself. He should've heard it from me. You did the right thing and I don't want to win him back. I DO, on the other hand, want to atone for my despicable actions and I intend on delivering the perfect Christmas gift to him. With your help, of course," she insisted.
"Jumping Jehosaphat, Elsa! Georg thinks you chased Maria into the arms of the Lord and just as he was about to sweep her into his! He won't be bought off with mere trinkets!" he snapped.
Max had a huge soft spot for Elsa. He admired her greatly, but was pretty annoyed that she was being so feather-brained about the whole sorry affair. As far as he was concerned, she'd planted a metaphysical grenade at the von Trapp villa on the evening of the 'grand and glorious' party. Then Elsa had walked away from the scene of the crime and had left him to deal with the fallout - primarily, eight casualties. . .whose lives had been adversely affected by the psychological warfare that Elsa had waged against Maria.
Max knew that underneath her cool exterior, Elsa had a good heart and wasn't a vengeful person. He knew that she had only pressured Maria into returning to Nonnberg Abbey out of a selfish desire to protect her floundering relationship with Georg and she had done so without thinking of the consequences. Despite all that, what peeved Max now was the fact Elsa was adding insult to injury by thinking that Georg could so easily be won over by material items, that he could be distracted like a cat with a shiny, new toy and just forget all about her subversive shenanigans.
Max knew that that was far from the truth. Georg's forgiveness wouldn't be forthcoming for the woman who'd chased away his true love. Max knew that because HE was the one who was having to sit up until the wee hours with Georg, night after night, watching him anaesthetize his body with alcohol to nurse the nagging pain of yet another broken heart. HE was the one who was having to watch Georg pretend to be happy in front of the children and then turn into a little boy lost - alone and vulnerable - once they had gone to bed.
As for the children, all seven had become somewhat subdued and withdrawn since Maria had left. Max was having to resort to bribery to even get them to sing these days, but as their adopted uncle, he was prepared to stick around and do whatever it took to cheer them up. He would be there to support them and Georg in their hour of need.
Elsa's smoky voice snapped Max from his depressing deliberation.
"Max, you misjudge me without a second thought. What I have for Georg is infinitely more precious than 'a mere trinket' as you put it. . .the gift I plan to drop into the Captain's noble, yet virile lap is. . .Maria," she revealed dramatically.
"Really, my dear? And pray tell, ah, just WHO is the time-travelling machine supplier that's enabling you to perform such an amazing feat? Is it Sasha Petrie? Is that how he's getting to all the best acts before me? I only ask, because the good Captain is adamant that Maria is now a nun and out of his grasp forever," he countered sarcastically.
"Poppycock! I spoke to the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg not an hour ago and according to her, Maria has left the Abbey. In fact, she lives and works in Mondsee. She is a dressmaker and doing well, so I hear. Now. . .I have a foolproof plan to reunite her with the Captain, all I need is a very charming accomplice. What do you say to that, Maxi, baby?" Elsa purred.
"I say. . .tell me every teensy, weensy detail of your plan. . .and by the way, just call me 'Head Elf'," he complied and chortled.
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