Chapter 2: Into the lion's den

Oh Heavens!

Maria looked through the heavy iron gates at Captain von Trapp's lavish mansion, her bravado and playful plans crumbling to dust at her feet. She swallowed hard, feeling as intimidated and overwhelmed as if she were about to enter a lion's den.

But then she took a deep breath and gathered every last scrap of her valour. She clanked open the gates determinedly, bolstering her flagging courage with her song.

"I have confidence in confidence alone

Besides which you see I have confidence in me!"

She rang the doorbell boldly, breathless with anticipation, and eager to confront head-on whatever travails awaited her. After all she'd always longed for adventure, to do the things she'd never dared. And this was definitely going to be an adventure and so there was absolutely no need for her to be so worried! Was there?

She felt a bit deflated moments later by the butler, who turned out to be just as big a snob as the Baroness. He looked down his patrician nose at her, unimpressed by her cheery greeting, clearly finding her wanting. "Wait here please," he told her brusquely as he went to find the Captain.

Maria gazed in wonder at the sumptuous decor. Overcome with impetuous curiosity she opened some double doors.

She gasped in awe at the beauty of the Captain's ballroom, her hands at her face as she looked at the gilded walls and magnificently painted murals. She would often waltz on the way to Mass out of a sheer joyful exuberance that she could never suppress, but here her imagination really caught fire, stunned by the grandeur of the room.

It was if she was being transported into a magical world with muted lighting and swirling music, where the scent of expensive perfumes wafted in the air and the gentle clink of cut crystal champagne flutes could be heard. She could almost hear the rustles of silk of ladies in shimmering iridescent ballgowns, dancing elegantly with distinguished gentlemen.

Caught in her fantasy Maria bowed with absurd flourishes to an imaginary dance partner and then she was floating around the room in a swirling waltz as she sang softly to herself.

"I could have danced all night,

I could have danced all night

and still have begged for more.

I could have spread my wings

and done a thousand things,

I've never done before."*

Elsewhere in the house Franz approached the Captain in the drawing room with his guests.

"Captain, the new er… 'governess' is here sir." Franz's hesitation and the delicate way he said governess spoke volumes about his disdain for the new employee, though his face remained impassive. "She's in the anteroom sir."

Georg sighed, exasperated. What was wrong with the governess this time he wondered irritably. Surely the Reverend Mother would only send him the very best of her postulants? He was fed up with all governesses who had traipsed through his house with not the faintest idea about discipline and how to manage children. Was it really so much to ask for a governess to have a modicum of common sense and the ability to follow simple instructions?

"Right thank you Franz. Elsa, Max please excuse me while I see to my new charge." He made his way to anteroom already feeling annoyed. He had spent the last hour placating a highly strung Elsa after the incident in the tea-house, and he still couldn't fathom what all the fuss was about.

At the back of his mind he couldn't help wondering uneasily if Elsa would be even more difficult and neurotic if he married her. She seemed so different here in the country-side, away from her natural habitat of Vienna's genteel soirees where she presided with such majesty and cultivated charm.

On top of that, her interactions with the children over the few days since she had met them, had been lukewarm at best. He was grateful however, that at least the children had not pulled any tricks on her. No doubt the severe lecture and dire warnings he had given them before-hand had been effective. Perhaps the new governess would help them all warm to each other.

He stood in the anteroom, perplexed. Now where was that governess? Good God, had she bolted already? That would certainly set the record for the shortest employment on his staff. He looked around suspiciously to see if he could spy his children lurking, perhaps hiding after playing a prank on the governess before she had barely set foot in the house.

His eyes were caught by the ballroom doors which were ajar. What the hell? Surely she wasn't wandering around the house without even asking permission, entering rooms that had been left untouched for years? Of all the blasted impertinence. The anger slammed into him like a freight train.

He strode towards the door ready to give her a piece of his mind, and then he heard it and stopped dead with his hand halfway to the door knob – the sweetest purest voice he had ever heard. The tonal perfection was so effortless, so unwavering, as if the singer could never falter. It had such depth and range and such exquisite cadence that it would be the envy of any of the finest opera singers he had heard perform at the Vienna Opera House.

He stopped breathing for a moment as he listened transfixed to the achingly beautiful voice. He hadn't heard singing for a very long time, not since Agathe. He had deliberately shut it out of his life to avoid the pain of the tender memories of his immortal beloved.

The lilting notes, paradoxically both light and rich, floated on the air towards him filled with joy and yearning.

"I'll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight
I only know when he,

began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced all night"*

Rooted to the spot he could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickling and his heart thudding heavily as the ethereal sound encompassed him. He felt his whole being responding to that voice as it tugged at his soul, everything else fading away except for those haunting notes.

One of the children's doors upstairs banged, shocking him out of his stupor, and leaving him disoriented. The anger rushed in again, a defensive reaction to the depth of emotions that he had not felt in a very long time, re-awakening feelings that he had thought had died with Agathe.

How dare this governess intrude on private areas of the house and even worse than that, on private areas of his mind that he kept locked away, where even he was not allowed to tread. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and irritated with himself for having had such an unprecedented and ludicrous reaction to a mere voice. He felt unwilling to admit to himself how disturbed and shaken to the core he felt. The anger found expression in the force he used to slam open the doors to glare at the intruder silently, intimidatingly.

Bang

Maria jumped, startled out of her romantic daydream. Her waltz and her song came to an abrupt halt as she looked up to see a very irate Captain looking at her with restrained fury. Oh dear! She hurried past him out of the room nervously wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on the rough material of her dress.

He stared at her intently, clearly livid but there was also an underlying curiosity too. He informed her icily "In the future you will kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house which are not to be disturbed."

Maria nodded her understanding, swallowing down her nervousness.

His derisive gaze flicked over her clothes and although he refrained from commenting, his eyes did not hide his distaste for her outfit.

Maria felt her indignation growing at his high-handed attitude, remembering his equally scornful lady companion. Really, they deserved each other she thought crossly. Two insufferable peas in a pod.

Well now she understood why he had never been able to keep a governess, if his rudeness and arrogance were anything to go by. He may be rich, famous and titled, but really he could use a lesson in manners. Surely he must realize how nervous she must be to be a stranger in a new household? Would it really be so difficult for him to be a little bit welcoming and pleasant?

What if the children were as ill-mannered and beastly as their father? And dear heaven there were seven of them! It was going to be a very long summer.

Meeting him only added to her resolve. If he thought she would be intimidated, he had another think coming she decided with more bravado than she actually felt. She stared back at him with wide, deliberately innocent eyes, refusing to give in to the tension.

Perhaps it was time now to shake up the very stiff formal Captain, she decided resolutely. The impulsive plan that she had come up with on the bus had floundered upon her arrival at the luxurious villa but now it stormed back to her.

Their first meeting was not getting off to a good start and was about to get even worse. With eyes full of impish humour she put on the thickest, broadest provincial accent she could conjure up and blurted out:

"Cor blimey it ain't half plummy in here innit?" She gazed around the beautiful décor to stop herself from giggling at the look on the Captain's face. From the corner of her eye she could see with satisfaction that his very proper and respectable mouth had dropped open in shock.

She suspected that it was a rare event for him to be so utterly floored and speechless. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe his ears. Maria had to suppress her laughter. He obviously so rarely came in touch with 'peasants' as his lady companion had sneeringly called them.

The Captain cleared his throat as he struggled to find his composure, but he recovered soon enough.

"Er, yes, I suppose you might say it is rather 'plummy' as you point out." He pronounced the slang word for 'elegant' delicately as if such a vulgar word had never passed his lips before and no doubt it hadn't.

Maria relished the opportunity to educate him, though she felt a shadow of guilt that she may be letting the Reverend Mother down. But really why on earth had she sent her here in the first place? She was so obviously unsuited to the position. The Reverend Mother of all people knew that Maria was no more able to curb her disciplinary transgressions than hold a moonbeam in her hand.

The very strict and stern Sister Berthe would have been far better suited to the position. She would no doubt have been able to get the household into shipshape and have the children obediently kissing the floor within days of her arrival and possibly even their arrogant father.

She wasn't really doing anything wrong she reassured herself guiltily, by pretending to be a simple country girl from the backwaters, just teaching these people who were far too rich and elevated above everyone else, a little bit of humility. Surely God wouldn't mind if she had a bit of fun while she did His work?

After all, didn't the Bible say that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to pass into the Kingdom of Heaven? Perhaps if the Captain learned a little more about people less privileged than himself it might make him into a better person.

But what if the Captain fired her straight away, thinking she was too common to look after his children? She took a deep breath, she may as well take the bull by the horns as it were.

"I hope you don't mind that I don't talk proper, I mean like a Viennese lady an' all, but I can take care of your children right well. Don't you worry 'bout a thing Guv'ner."

"You may call me Captain" he said testily as he found his voice. "And no of course the way you speak has nothing to do with your abilities. You come highly recommended. The Reverend Mother wrote that you have a degree in Education from the Vienna Teaching College is that correct?" he asked, almost as if he wondered if she had lied about it.

"Right you are, Guv, - er Cap'n. I got top honours an' all. Top of me class I was. You can call the college and check. They'll remember Maria Rainer they will," she said proudly.

"Yes, I have no doubt they will," he agreed dryly with a barely perceptible roll of his eyes. "I am sure you leave a significant impact wherever you go Fraulein," he said ambiguously, though she chose to interpret it in a positive light.

"Thank you Cap'n," she responded cheerfully.

Again he seemed at a loss and she almost felt sorry for him until she remembered the poor waitress Eliza - out of a job and out of money. But he hadn't fired her – Maria - yet, so perhaps he wasn't a complete snob, she thought with relief.

"Well it's good that people from your background are able to gain higher education." He probably meant it in a kind way but he had no idea how condescending he sounded, Maria thought to herself with more amusement than annoyance.

"Ta ever so much. You're a right good 'un, you are. The Reverend Mother said you were a fine man, a right 'onourable sea captain she said. You're a real credit to your background too." She couldn't resist her own patronizing little dig with a cheeky smile, topping it off with a jaunty little salute that visibly set his teeth on edge.

He pulled himself together, glared at her with his mouth tight with irritation, then launched into a speech that he had obviously said many times before, by the way he recited it devoid of emotion. Staring at the walls around him as he paced, he set out his instructions, speaking at her rather than to her. When he got to the part about the number of governesses that had preceded her she couldn't help interrupting.

"What's wrong wif 'em then?" she asked genuinely worried, "not quite right in the head are they?"

That got his attention. He turned his fierce gaze on her. "There's nothing wrong with the children," he retorted, annoyed, "only the governesses."

He continued his well-worn spiel, talking over her when she tried to interrupt again, as if her opinions were entirely inconsequential.

Then to her utter shock he blew a whistle that made a daunting number of children come banging and crashing out of their rooms, lining up in formation to march down like little soldiers - or rather sailors since they were all in bland naval uniforms.

Her heart went out to them, so solemn, so serious, so un-childlike. Where was the joy, the laughter, the innocence of childhood? It made her heart ache, and she vowed to do everything in her power to make their lives a bit more joyful.

Maria watched, astounded, her mouth agape, as the children recited their names in a detached manner. Good heavens, no wonder God had sent her here. The Captain really did need a thorough shake up.

The Captain handed her a whistle with terse instructions to learn how to use it.

She looked at it dubiously but took it, and said provocatively with her eyes dancing with laughter, "Ta ever so much Ducks."

He paused, clearly debating whether to respond to her saucy insubordination, but thought better of it, contenting himself only with a roll of his eyes before turning on his heel and walking off, thoroughly vexed. She almost giggled again. She was very sure that the very uptight, buttoned-up Captain Ritter von Trap had never been called 'Ducks' in his life.

The children let out huffs of delight and surprise once he was out of earshot. They had obviously never seen their father spoken to in such a way. They stared at her as if she were a fascinating creature from another world, but then the masks came over their face once more as she asked them to introduce themselves again. Their stiff, cautious responses to her ranged from caginess, deceit and slyness to sweet open acceptance from the little ones.

"Why do you speak that way?" Marta asked with innocent curiosity, after the introductions. She got a severe rebuke from Kurt

"You shouldn't say such things. You can't criticize the way people talk," he reprimanded her.

"I wasn't," Marta said in genuine distress. "It's just I've never heard people speak like that before and I like her. I wasn't being mean." She looked ready to cry

Maria quickly reassured her, softening her accent slightly to something closer to her normal tone, but keeping enough of it that she could pull it off with the Captain again. "That's quite alright Marta, it's a good question. I come from the mountains and this is the way people speak there. It's just different that's all."

She smiled warmly at the two little ones, her heart already bursting with tenderness for them. "Now you two speak like real little ladies from the finest of Vienna's salons don't you?" The two little girls glowed with pleasure and gave delighted giggles.

"Your accent was stronger when you were talking to Father," Louisa said suspiciously.

"Well perhaps your father makes me nervous," Maria improvised.

That was an explanation the children clearly understood because they all nodded and asked no more questions about the way she spoke.

She was relieved when the housekeeper Frau Schmidt shooed them outside because Maria was starting to feel closed in by the seven children surrounding her, some with hostility and others with watchful curiosity.

It was going to be a very long summer, she sighed. But at least she had the satisfaction of startling their aloof father, though perhaps only temporarily. He looked far too astute and intelligent to be fooled for long.

She would have to be very careful, she realized uneasily.

ooooooOOOOOoooooo

A/N: Again, please bear with me and imagine Maria is speaking the Austrian equivalent of a cockney accent. Thanks so much for the kind and encouraging feedback. I would love to know what you think of it so far.

*'I could have danced all night' Music and lyrics by Lerner and Loewe, My Fair Lady

I do not own TSOM or MFL