Author's Notes:
Ownership of The Sound of Music belongs to 20th Century Fox.
The idea came from a conversation I had had with my mother that formed the question: What would have happened if the Captain had gone to the Abbey to see Maria?
My story slightly bends the events of the ball and then goes to an Alternate Universe from there. It borrows lines from the actual screenplay itself, written by Ernest Lehman. Anything in the A/U is my own idea. Also in disclaimer: I moved Maria's bedroom in the house. It fit the story more, and it makes more sense to me personally to have Maria's room near the children.
A HUGE thanks to my beta reader, Jelpy. From characterizations to grammar pointers, you have been a tremendous help in allowing me create something I can truly be proud of. One point of gratitude that I have to give special credit to you is the last spoken line of the story. It's perfect!
Any comments, flames, etc., please send my way.
A Matter of Trust
Chapter 1
"The Ball"
It just occurred to Georg that Elsa was missing. He was so irritated with Herr Zeller, that he had completely forgotten about his… what was Elsa to him again? Many would say she was his "companion" or, as his children would put it, his girlfriend. The thought failed to make him smile.
He walked over to the ballroom, a feeling of warmth flooding over him. A flash of music came to his mind, as he remembered the puppet show Maria and the children had performed just two weeks ago.
"Could that smile be caused by a certain blonde?" he heard Max near him and turned to his friend. "It's good to see you're not letting the ramblings of Herr Zeller ruin your evening."
Georg smiled. A certain blonde… Another memory flashed before him, more recent: dancing the familiar steps of his childhood with a most unlikely partner. He shook his head and realized with a start that it wasn't Elsa's face that came to mind when the words "a certain blonde" were thought about.
The realization made him stop short. He stared at Max as if he was seeing him for the first time.
"Georg," Max stepped forward, "are you alright?"
The Captain quickly recovered and smiled. "I'm fine, Max, thank you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a bit of air."
"Don't let Zeller get to you," Max continued. "You know I have no political allegiances, but this mustn't concern you. He's a minority, at least in this house."
"Max, I appreciate your help. If you'll excuse me," Georg insisted. He patted his friend's shoulder and made haste to the garden.
The new location did nothing to help his sudden troubled state. All it did was re-enforce the feelings he had while he was dancing with Maria. How could he feel this way about his children's governess? What was happening? He was paired with Elsa. Elsa had brought meaning back into his life; he had told her himself. He thought he felt that way. He thought it was true.
However, now, as he thought more about it, he knew it wasn't true. She filled a void, at least publicly. She was, in appearance, the ideal resolution to his unhappiness. She was rich, beautiful, and socially popular. They made an ideal couple. She was kind to him, pleased with his children, and friendly with his neighbors and acquaintances.
So why didn't he feel anything when he thought of her?
The sound of young laughter drew his head up to the upper levels of the house, where he saw the children's bedroom lights were still on; they were too excited to sleep. He smiled as he thought of them. How he loved them. He and Agathe were truly blessed with the birth of each one. He had forgotten what that feeling was like when she died. He was so consumed with grief that he cut himself emotionally from them. It wasn't until he had heard that sound of laughter at the beginning of the summer; during the thunderstorm, the mirth had threatened to take away the wall of security he had so carefully constructed.
He had been glad he was leaving for Vienna the next day. He had to escape that happy sound immediately. How dare she break his rules? She wasn't even there for one day, and she was having an affect on him. She had infuriated him with her stubborn refusal to obey. He had thought she would learn the rules by the time he had returned.
He was glad she didn't learn. It was she who taught them, taught him. She taught them to laugh again and how to love life fully, just as Agathe had. It was she who showed him the real meaning in his life: his children. How could he have been so wrong?
Maria had been far too generous for his own good. How easily she had forgiven him; her anger evaporating the moment he followed her to apologize. She had known that all he had needed was a gentle push back to his life.
Maria…
Another smile came to his face as he thought of her. She was intoxicating. From the moment she sat on that pinecone, he was captivated. Oh, he fought it with all his being at first. He had even escaped to Elsa that very first night.
When she opened his eyes to his children, his eyes started to see further. He began to realize that she was much more than a gift to his relationship with his children. She was a gift to him, if he would let her.
He was already starting to, subconsciously. He remembered how lovely she looked as he sang to his children. How soft and engaging she was, just standing there, her face totally captivated by him. The memory of dancing the Leandler with her flooded over him again. She felt so light in his arms; like Edelweiss itself. What had struck with him then was how right she had felt, how right they had felt. He had completely forgotten about the party, the guests, Elsa, and even his children as he looked into her eyes during their dance.
He loved her. The thought came upon him with a force of a strong wind, like a powerful wave. He loved her for her honest beauty and sincerity, and for her joie de vivre. She was the most engaging person he had ever met, and he realized that he craved her presence in his life more than he thought he could.
What he noticed the most about this realization was that he wasn't scared by the idea. It was quite the contrary. The thought that he loved this woman gave him a sense of clarity, of peace. He smiled, in spite of what came next, of how he should proceed.
What should he do? Did she feel the same way? Should he pursue this? Did she want him to? She was a postulant; she had decided to devote her life to God and to the Church. How could he possibly ask her to consider any life other than that? Did he have the right to do so? It would be unfair to her and to her future plans. Georg looked heavenward, as if to apologize and to ask guidance. Should he follow the same instincts that made him pursue Agathe all those years ago? What about the children? What about-
"Georg, there you are!" the soft voice of Elsa made him whirl around, feeling his face flush slightly.
"Darling," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "What is it?"
"Nothing, my dear," he replied, escorting her back into the ballroom. This would have to wait. He had to remain outwardly the same, despite what his heart had just revealed to him. Now was not the time to act like some lovesick crewman. "Would you care to dance?"
Maria had not shown up for dinner. No one would have noticed, save the empty seat next to Max, but even the vacant place didn't seem to bother the other guests.
Georg made an effort not to look at the empty chair or at the entrance way to the dining room. He kept trying, in vain, to keep his mind off of Maria by engaging in small talk with the other guests. A part of him was glad she wasn't there.
"Looks like our little Fraulein decided not to join us after all, Georg," Max commented, noting his friend's continuous glances at the entranceway, waiting for her.
"Was that servant going to join us for dinner, Captain?" Herr Zeller asked in a haughty manner. "I must say, this has been a most unusual evening."
The Captain stiffened at the veiled insult about Maria and opened his mouth to reply. Fortunately, Max spoke first.
"I invited Fraulein Maria, Herr Zeller," he said casually.
"Somehow, that does not surprise me, Herr Detweiller," Herr Zeller replied. "You always had a taste for the unconventional. Eating with peasants…"
At this, Georg spoke without thinking about his composure. "While you regard people for their social status, Herr Zeller, it is not the case in this house. Fraulein Maria is an invaluable member of my home. Her presence would be very agreeable, I'm sure you would find."
Elsa quickly put her hand over Georg's to so show support. Inwardly, she was concerned. This was going to be more difficult than she had initially thought.
"The girl deserves some pampering," Max added.
"Perhaps one of the children needed her," Elsa offered.
"Yes," Herr Zeller nodded. "She certainly would not want to neglect her duties for a dinner, would she? Or perhaps the thought of eating with those of a higher class frightened her."
"Herr Zeller," Georg said slowly, removing his hand from under Elsa's. "Once again, you prove that we have very different views on many affairs."
"I hardly think global matters are of the same importance as a governess joining her superiors for dinner, Captain."
"Maybe I should go and inquire after her?" Max offered quickly.
Silencing the entire table, Georg rose suddenly. "No, Max," he said, looking carefully at his friend. "I will see to the matter myself."
Exiting promptly, Georg exhaled to let his anger dissolve. Once he was in the main hallway, the cooler air helped him calm down. He knew that Herr Zeller was simply baiting him, but he didn't like anyone he cared about being insulted unjustly.
His thoughts turning to Maria, he frowned in concern. Where was she? She would have given word that she wouldn't be attending the dinner. Maybe she wasn't feeling well. She had looked a little red right after they had danced, and she seemed a bit frazzled after the children went to bed. But why wouldn't she send word?
He stood there, debating his next action. What was he going to do? Run into her room? Declare his feelings? Hell, he wasn't even sure of his feelings himself. If only he could simply sit down, alone, and think.
Looking up in the direction of her room, he was surprised to see the door leading to the children's corridor open. His heart began to tighten. Why was it open? If she had retired, she would have kept the door shut.
He looked around the room. Something on the bureau next to the far wall caught his eye. The tightness around his heart started to get stronger. He wasn't sure how he walked over to the bureau. Talking the letter out of the envelope addressed to him, he slowly read Maria's final words to him, to his children.
He immediately, without thinking, sprang into action. Bolting up the stairs and through the front door, he paid little mind to the slew of chauffeurs standing in a circle, their heads shooting up at the unexpected site of the host flying through the entrance way. He ran past them outside the front gate.
"Maria!" he called, his nerves finally catching up with him. He shouted her name again.
Nothing.
The tightness around his chest returned, only this time, it was stronger. He felt as if the life was being sucked away from him. Without even knowing why, he had lost her. After just realizing how much he needed her, how much he cared for her, she was gone.
How on earth was he going to survive this a second time?
"Here you go, Maria," Sister Margaretta's tired, but calm voice said softly as she led Maria to her room. It was a different room, apart from the quarters assigned to the postulants. Had she been more alert, and not so grateful, Maria would have requested she be placed back to where she used to stay; where she belonged. She realized that these quarters were for guests. She wasn't here to visit. She was here to stay; to fulfill God's will.
"Thank you, Sister," she tried to smile, but her mouth was only capable of forming a weak, disheartened grin. "I am so sorry to trouble you and the other -."
"Nonsense, Maria," the elder nun interrupted her. "Just get some rest. I'll notify Mother Superior and tomorrow, I'm sure she'll be happy to discuss-"
"No!" Maria exclaimed. "Please. I just want to be alone for a little while." When her friend looked at her with growing concern, she looked down, unable to meet the other's eyes. "I'm fine, really. I just need to collect my thoughts. I need time to pray alone, please. Just for a day or two." She finally looked up. "Please," she begged.
Sister Margaretta stood still, examining Maria for a moment. She truly seemed distraught and upset. The happy gleam was gone from her eyes, and she was trembling. She didn't seem to be physically suffering, but the tolls on her emotions were clear. Talking with someone would definitely be in her best interest, but Sister Margaretta had to respect her wishes.
"Very well, my dear," she said, walking over to Maria and putting her arm gently on the young woman's shoulder. "Please, just get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Maria."
Maria nodded her head in silent gratitude. She walked quickly to the door after Sister Margaretta left and locked it. Turning to face her small room, she realized that she was finally where she wanted to be. She was finally alone, safe, and protected.
The thought did not comfort her. That realization scared her more than she could bare.
The memories of him came flooding over her. The warmth in his eyes as he stared into hers when he sang to his children. The gentle laughter that would come from deep within his chest whenever he found something she or the children did amusing. The love in his face when he looked at his children. The gentle, yet masculine sound of his voice when he spoke, or, more noticeably, when he sang. The feeling of security when he held her in his arms while they danced. Even the cologne he wore came to her head and she breathed the air in, as if she could smell it right then.
The Baroness was right. The socialite hadn't said it, but she had implied it. Maria was in no league with the Captain. She didn't belong to his world. It was best she leave before she messed up this man's life any more.
The thought only made her feel more pathetic.
What was happening to her? What had she done? She was there to teach his children. She was there for God's will. How could things have gone so wrong? What had she done to mess things up so desperately? How could they ever forgive her for betraying them? Those precious children, who had so much room and so much need for her, and her for them. She had deserted them all. She had failed all of them.
She missed them terribly. She missed him terribly.
Despair washed over her, and she couldn't handle it. She collapsed next to the bed. Sobs of anguish exploded out of her. Feeling more isolated, scared, and desperate than she had ever been before, Maria felt as if she had no one.
She was alone.
