One more glance down the hallway convinced Elsa that only the raucous sounds of seven obscenely happy children had followed her. She slipped inside the room and closed the door and briefly leaned against it, relishing the blessed moment of rare and sudden quiet. She had to hand it to Maria: even though she clearly didn't have the makings of a nun, she was undoubtedly a saint.

But Elsa wasn't here to seek sanctuary, as appealing as that sounded. With a sigh, she straightened up and sashayed toward the wardrobe.

Elsa had been in Maria's room only once before, when she forced the young woman, half-dressed and distraught, to face the truth that she was in love with Georg von Trapp. Then, as Maria stood before her, laid bare in every sense of the word, she dealt the final blow, delicately insinuating Maria was responsible for convincing him he loved her back. What was it Elsa had said exactly? Something about a man being unable to resist a woman who was in love with him, she recalled with a wry smile. Maria had bought it, unsurprisingly, even though that part had been untrue. Elsa, having discovered herself to be inexplicably resistible where Georg was concerned, was living proof of that.

Elsa had congratulated herself for turning out a brilliant performance, especially considering her heart hadn't been in it. Maria's love for Georg fairly shimmered with purity and serendipity. Georg's love for Maria had reclaimed his heart from the shadows and restored his soul's luster. But it was necessary – absolutely necessary – that Maria find shame in what they felt for one another. It was the only way to get her to out of the villa and safely ensconced in the abbey.

It was the only way Elsa could keep Georg.

She thought it was something her conscience would let her get away with, and frankly, she probably could have lived with it. After all, she loved Georg. She could have made him happy.

Happy enough.

Alright, happily distracted, anyway.

Perhaps she never would have been nominated for a Mother of the Year award, and Max certainly wouldn't be pestering her to join his folksy little von Trapp singing group. Still, Elsa and Georg together would have been practically perfect in every other way.

Yes, Elsa Schrader was sure she would have slept soundly – every night, right next to the only man she had ever truly loved.

But Maria had returned, and she simply couldn't do it again – not to Georg, and especially not to Maria. She had been brutally unjust to the girl; it had been too easy, and she had hurt her too deeply. Elsa was now convinced that all was fair in love and war only among equals. Georg could certainly hold his own, but the little postulant was no match for her.

Why, even now, Maria was with the children as they ravaged their dessert. If she'd noticed Elsa was nowhere to be found, it was probably only to feel relief. It had likely not even occurred to Maria to take advantage of the opportunity to pursue Georg, who was currently all alone in his study.

He had retreated there, claiming an urgent matter needed his immediate consideration. It was code Elsa had long ago deciphered. He was really saying, I need to be alone. The inner workings of his mind were often a mystery to her, but she had no question as to what closely guarded thoughts occupied him this evening, what multi-faceted moral dilemma he now wrestled with.

No matter. Tonight would be the turning point in all their lives, and Elsa would orchestrate the moment, lessening the pain of transition for at least two of the parties involved. She would wear something spectacular to dinner. She would eat and drink and be merry and enjoy Georg's company for one more evening.

Then she would hand him over to Maria.

On her terms, of course. In her own way. Though the ending to this chapter had turned out to be beyond her control, she could at least arrange for a little plot twist and put her own witty spin on the dialogue.

She'd known that afternoon Maria had won, the moment Elsa saw Georg and Maria on the terrace, the air between them heavy and full with undeclared emotions. Georg knew it, too. Maria, bless her, was clueless, and had actually congratulated them on their engagement before charging into the house to resume her role as mere governess. She had conceded defeat with an honest grace that made Elsa wonder if she'd gotten it backward: perhaps she was the one who was no match for Maria.

That's how Elsa found herself in this room once more, standing in front of the wardrobe with the doors flung wide. She had returned to the scene of an unmentionable crime, determined to give the girl a gentle nudge toward her destiny.

The everyday dresses were not hanging up. Even as she prepared to flee, Maria must have thought to take them with her to be distributed to some needy souls.

Only two dresses remained.

There was the sweet little dress she'd worn to the party – not good enough for joining the adults at dinner, but fine for accompanying the children. And good enough for a semi-private dance with the host out on the terrace.

Fine for dinner tonight, too, but it was not the one Elsa wanted.

Next to it was the innocently infamous blue dress. Ah, yes. That was the one.

Elsa ran her hand down the length of it, admiring the fabric and the craftsmanship. Naturally, Maria had left it behind when she'd run away. A pretty, whimsical garment, it was of little use to a postulant, and probably just as irrelevant to those who were the recipients of the abbey's charity. Elsa felt a twinge at that thought. She was generally a pragmatic creature, but indulged in the romantic notion that every woman deserved at least one beautiful dress.

The dress would also have been for Maria a wretched reminder of their fateful conversation, evidence that someone had discovered her most desperate secret. No, Maria would not have taken it with her.

Elsa's hand reached the hem, then dropped to her side. She closed her eyes and stood still a moment. Oh, it hurt so much. Her heart – it wasn't a metaphor. Her heart hurt. She could feel it breaking.

She drew in a deep breath before opening her eyes again, then removed the party dress, leaving only the lovely little blue dress in the wardrobe. She didn't need to know what was in that old carpet bag someone had carried up earlier as Maria was engulfed by children. There was nothing in it that would be appropriate for dinner.

There was only one option in this room now, and Maria would have no choice but to wear it. One enchanting blue dress the Captain would not be able to keep his eyes off of.

Elsa draped the party dress over her arm, then quickly closed the wardrobe. She took a step back and, mustering every iota of confidence in her being, turned on her designer heel and swept out of the room.

Notes:

Thanks so much for stopping by to read!

I am happily indebted to augiesannie for her encouragement and for making a very important suggestion. However, I take full responsibility for any errors or inconsistencies you might find in this story.

I do not own The Sound of Music, its characters, or the lovely blue dress that, I confess, I might obsess over just a little bit.