IN VINO VERITAS

CHAPTER 1

A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc.

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"In vino veritas" (In wine there is the truth).


Pliny the Elder

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Go, little book, and wish to all
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
A house with lawns enclosing it,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore!

Robert Louis Stevenson

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"What are we reading today, Gretl? Marta? Any ideas?" Maria asked, entering the nursery, carrying a pile of children's books she had chosen from the Library.

Gretl and Marta immediately started jumping up and down around her. "The Fairy Books!"

Their suggestion brought a smile to Maria's lips - Andrew Lang´s collection fairy tales, each book named by a color. Blue, brown, crimson, green, gray, lilac, orange, pink, red, violet, olive and yellow. They were a favorite of the von Trapp children, specially the little ones.

"I simply cannot disagree with that! A Fairy Book it is," Maria said, dropping the books on the table. "I don't have them here with me, but I can always go back and fetch them. Which color do you girls want this time?"

"Pink!" Marta exclaimed, without even blinking. "I want the Pink Fairy Book."

Kurt sneered, raising his nose from behind Jules Verne´s The Mystery Island, "You shouldn't have asked, Fräulein – she always wants the pink one."

"I want all of them," Gretl said firmly.

"All of them, Gretl?" Maria asked, incredulous.

"Hm mm."

"Are you sure?" she insisted. "There are eleven or twelve Fairy Books in all, if I am not mistaken. Don't you think all we need for the afternoon is one?"

"She is right, Gretl. There are forty stories in each book, and we would have…" Brigitta looked up, doing her math, "… four hundred and eighty stories to read."

Gretl was adamant. "I want all of them." The five year old had definitely taken after her father, when it came to voicing her opinions and knowing what she wanted.

"Oh well, then," Maria shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I'll go downstairs to the library to..."

"No!" Marta and Gretl spoke at once.

"No?" Maria looked at them puzzled. "Why not? What is it now?"

"I don't think they want the ones in the library this time, Fräulein," Louisa explained. "The want mother's books."

"Oh, they are beautiful, I would love to see them again, it's been so long!" said Liesl, clasping her hands. "She had a collection of the most amazing children's books from all over the world, with the most beautiful illustrations you can imagine."

"Oh, I see. And may I ask where the Fairy books you children want are? I do not recall seeing them anywhere in the library."

"The attic, Fräulein!" they replied in unison.

"Yes, father had the books moved there after she died, together with her other things," said Friedrich.

"He said that they were much too precious for us to ruin, but I think we all know the real reason why he did that," said Louisa bitterly.

"All right, I'll see what I can do about it!" Maria said, not without resignation.

Louisa approached her, smiling mischievously. "Are you going up there without permission, Fräulein?"

"No, Louisa, not if I can avoid it."

"But how…"

"I will ask your father's permission first," Maria said, already half way towards the door.

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"The attic," Maria thought helplessly. "Why did it have to be the attic?

Instantly, a voice, stern and brisk, echoed inside Maria's head.

"In the future, you will kindly remember there are certain rooms in
this house which are not to be disturbed!"

The words said by Captain von Trapp months ago rung in her ears as she hastily climbed the narrow stairs to the attic. The strict household rules had been slackened since her arrival, but there were still three rooms that, as Frau Schmidt would tactfully say, were not her part of the house. The Captain's study, the master bedroom - and the attic. As she told the children, she had every intent of asking him permission to go up there, with the specific task of getting the books, and nothing else. But he and Baroness Schraeder busy entertaining two of his friends who were visiting from Salzburg, and the last thing she would want to do was to interrupt them.

"I'll probably pay for this one later," Maria muttered, making her way towards the stairs leading to the attic. "And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions?" she mimicked the Captain's military tone. "And there isn't even a thunderstorm raging outside. When I will finally learn to say no when those children look at me like that? It is terribly wrong, I know. Even Sister Margaretta would abhor such bad use of educational methods."

If Gretl had chosen any other collection of fairy tales, she would simply convince her that not only one book only would supply enough reading material for an afternoon, but also that the collection in the library would do just fine. By that time, she knew how to show the children who was in charge when she had to, and even apply some mild discipline, if necessary – although her ideas about the meaning of discipline were much different than those of her employer.

However, Gretl had asked specifically for the Fairy Books… Maria just had to see them, had to touch one of them again!

No, they would not be the same ones she used to admire as a child, the ones that she inherited from her mother, kept under lock and key by her uncle. She used to think that he was afraid she would damage them, but the truth was that he intended to sell them to the highest bidder – which he did, eventually, to a book collector from Munich. She never saw the precious Fairy Books again. Sometimes she craved that sweetness. She had so few memories of her mother, and each little scrap of remembrance was dear to her. Maybe if she touched those books, smelled them, if she read then, if she looked at the beautiful illustrations, she would remember more.

Still mumbling, she headed towards the attic. The children used to sneak up there once in a while, especially Brigitta, who said it was the best place in the house to read. Maria always wondered if the Captain knew about their little transgression. She had been there only once before, in the early days while the Captain was still in Vienna with the Baroness, when Liesl and Louisa had dragged her there to see the family photographs (1). There was no other room in the house where Agathe's presence was so strong, almost like her ghost still lingered… The feeling got stronger and stronger, with every step that Maria climbed. Her worried about the Captain were replaced by much darker, equally disturbing thoughts. Maria began to imagine Agathe´s ghost, dressed as Empress Sissy in a white ball gown, with diamond stars in her beautiful long hair, just as she had seen her in one the pictures the children had showed, taken in the last grand and glorious party at the Trapp Villa, just a few months before her death. She knew that the dress would be in one of the many trunks stored there, the same one where Agathe´s wedding gown was kept – the girls had shown both dresses to her that day.

Maria shivered, and laughed at her own foolishness. Ghosts! It was a gorgeous day in Salzburg, and it was so clear and bright and beautiful outside it was almost hurt her eyes. It was the farthest thing from a gothic novel she could imagine, she thought. If there was one sensible ghost in that house, he or she would be outside enjoying the day, climbing up mountains and singing. Just as she planned to do, as soon as the children's afternoon reading hour was over.

Mumbling about ghosts and apparitions, and the absurdity of it all, she searched for the Fairy Books. "Let me see," Maria talked to herself. "Brown, crimson, red, orange, yellow, olive, green, blue, lilac, violet, pink – I must not forget this one - and gray," she said. "One, two, three… twelve!" she counted, shaking off the feeling that she was being observed. "Give up, I am not afraid of ghosts," she said in a louder voice.

She was about to run back downstairs, carrying the precious, twelve colorful volumes with her, when the grand piano caught her attention. It was covered with a very dusty old linen cloth. It was the one object in the room that the children never touched, and she always wondered what it looked like. She had heard the stories about the musical evenings in which the Captain playing that same piano. How could she not be curious?!

Maria gave in to temptation.

"Just a peek," the thought. "What harm can there be in just looking? It is not that I can even play it. I wouldn't dare!" She raised the cloth and looked underneath it.

"Don't - touch - it!" Captain von Trapp spoke sharply behind her. It was his old tone, the one he used during her first night in the house, and when he fired her after the boat incident. She jumped, letting out a small cry. The books fell from her arms and scattered all over the floor, and she hastily bent to pick them up. He made no motion to help her.

"I believe I already said that there are certain rooms in this house that are to be left undisturbed. I may have failed to mention that it includes whatever is inside each room," he gestured to the uneven pile of books she now clutched to her chest. "Although by now I am aware that your brain operates under a completely different set of logical rules!"

"You did... say it, Captain." she was trembling.

Ghosts, indeed! Maybe they were easier to deal than that brooding, angry sea captain. He had been watching her all the time, and she had been so distracted that she had not noticed it. What was more infuriating was that he seemed to be making a habit of that lately. But what was she thinking? He had every right to be upset. She was there, the governess, snooping through his wife's personal belongings. It was unforgivable.

"Wasn't I clear enough?" he asked curtly.

"You were, Captain, crystal clear, but things…"

He ignored her. "Since there is no sign of a thunderstorm outside, I cannot think of a plausible reason why you should disobey my specific orders".

"I'm sorry, but I thought… I thought…" She thought he had changed… He had, but not completely. Once in a while, a little something happened that was enough to remind her of that. "I thought things had changed," she answered truthfully.

"Some things never change, Fräulein Maria," was the bitter response.

She sighed, in defeat. "I did not mean to pry or to disturb your… the Baroness's belongings, Captain. The truth is..."

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, I had never seen a grand piano this close before, and I was - ehm – well, curious. As for being here, I was just looking for some books, and those are in full view in the shelf over there," she turned around to point at it. "I never opened any boxes or drawers; I promise you I did not."

"What were you looking for exactly?" His tone was still harsh, but there was just the slightest hint of softness, which was enough to encourage her.

"Fairy tales to read for the children."

"Did you find what you wanted?" She nodded, and showed him the colorful books.

"Hah! Lang's Fairy Books!"

"Yes. I had… my mother had this same edition when I was a child," she commented, with a sad smile.

"Oh?" Again, the raised eyebrows, which gave him an impossibly haughty air. It was not, however, a sign of irony this time. "Were they given to the poor, along with your clothes, perhaps?"

"No, I am afraid not," she replied, without being able to disguise the sadness in her voice. "I wish they had!"

"Now, don't tell me that the good nuns of Nonnberg burned your books filled with pagan tales of witches, fairies and – uh – maybe an innocent maiden imprisoned in a castle by a wicked evil dragon?"

"Of course not," she replied, appalled. "You may not believe it, Captain, but even in the Abbey, we do not live in the Middle Ages! They – we do not believe in burning books over there."

"Oh yes – I had forgotten all about your liberal education," he sneered. For a moment, Maria thought that he might question her about it all over again, like he had done before, or worse, to ask her about the fate of her beloved Fairy books. To her relief, he did neither. "We have all of Andrew Lang´s books in the library downstairs, brand new editions, in English and in German. Why these?"

"They…" Maria bit her lips.

"I am waiting, Fräulein. They what?"

She was extremely loyal to her little charges. The bond between them and their father grew stronger every day, and she would hate to be the cause of anything that could spoil it. The last thing she wanted was the Captain mad at Marta and Gretl. The Captain however, seemed suspicious all of a sudden, and not because of the children.

"What happened to your books, Fräulein?" he fired.

Her jaw dropped open in shock. 'Captain, are you suggesting that I…"

"Fräulein, you may aim your torpedoes elsewhere, because I am not suggesting anything. Like you, I am just suffering from a sudden attack of curiosity!

"Very well, if you must know, my uncle sold them to a book collector from Munich after my mother died… Why?" It was her turn to throw him a look of defiance. He started laughing, and the low sound made her uneasy. "What?"

He looked up at her. "Because I bought these from a book collector from Munich!" he exclaimed, with a dangerous smile.

"No, it couldn't be," Maria thought frantically. It would have been too much of a coincidence, one of those that even she would not believe in. Yet, she could not resist looking – there was something she needed to see. Quickly, before he could say anything to stop her, she placed the books on top of the piano, and picked the one which used to be her favorite – the blue book. Holding her breath, a she opened it in the first page of The Beauty and the Beast, fighting hard not to allow hope to overcome her.

"Those were not my mother's," she told him a second later, unable to hide her disappointment.

"Are you absolutely certain?" he asked softly. It was odd, but she could detect a hint of disappointment in his voice as well. It was almost, just almost, he wished that she had found her mother´s lost books.

"What difference would it make?" she asked herself. "He probably would not return the books to me, they are simply too valuable. Even if he did, I would not be able to keep them, for I would have to give them up as soon as I returned to the Abbey."

Closing the blue book, as she could not bear to look at it anymore. "Because there was a little drawing of mine in the first page of Beauty and the Beast."

"And?"

"And this one has not," she completed, doing her best to swallow the sudden knot in her throat, as she pretended to arrange the small volumes in a neat pile once more.

"Are you quite sure? Maybe you were mistaken, maybe you'll find your – uh - artwork somewhere else, maybe in another book."

"No, I am sure. Beauty and the Beast used to be my favorite story when I was little." There was that, of course, and there was also the fact that her uncle had given her the worst beating of her life when he discovered what she had done. Naturally, she could not reveal that to her employer now.

"Allow me, Fräulein," was his unexpected, gentlemanly offer. He reached for the books she had in her hands. She followed him down the stairs. They walked in silence, until they reached the hallway which led to the nursery. "Here," he said, handling her the collection. "I trust you to keep an eye on them, please. I don't wish to find any of my children's artwork in one of those pages."

"Thank you, I'll be very careful."

"I still fail to understand why they insisted upon those!"

"Because they belonged to their mother, you mule-headed oaf!" she wanted to yell. Instead, she held herself back, and even came up with a reasonable answer. "The pictures, of course. The books in the library are not as beautifully illustrated as these." He frowned at her. "Books are meant to be read, Captain. Read, touched and loved…"

"O-ho, brilliantly said," he mocked. The man who had not been able to disguise that he had been moved by her childhood story was gone. The martinet was back once more, and he was glaring down sardonically at her.

"What I mean is that it is a crime to keep such a beautiful collection here, to mold and feed bookworms, while your children could learn so much from it." His stillness innerved her, and she continued talking. "Which brings me back to that beautiful piano – it probably needs tuning and…"

"Don't you dare touching my piano, Fräulein, I warn you." Maria swallowed, as he practically shouted the words at her. "Just… take the blasted books and go. Now," he barked, and she rushed down the hallway.

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A/N: (1) Intermezzo II – Family Album – work in progress.