FOUR
It was less than a week before the first murmurings of scandal reached the Von Trapp villa. Society was alight with speculation about Captain Von Trapp and his children's governess, Max had revealed awkwardly on his return from the capital. Rumours were abounding, he had gone on regretfully, and phrases of dishonour, impropriety, and deflowering, whirling around the Viennese elite in abundance. It seemed that Elsa, he had eventually confessed, had made it her business to reveal the engagement after all, a fact which Georg was undeniably furious about. However slighted the Baroness might have felt, he had declared angrily, she had had no right to begin spreading her version of events before he had made any formal announcement himself.
Max had wormed his way quite nicely out of expressing his opinion, and Georg had not pursued the matter any further - the subject of Baroness Schräder was, after all, still a most uncomfortable conversational point.
For the first few days Georg stood firm – after all, he had no qualms about what any rumours might do to his reputation, and the matter only reconfirmed to him how much he utterly loathed gossip, the lifeblood of the upper echelons of society. No, he did not mind what anyone thought about him, but Maria was different matter.
The gossip about her made him as angry as he had ever been.
Eventually, and after some careful chiding from Max, Georg was forced to conclude that more chaperones were needed in the villa, and as quickly as possible. For it was indeed true, he had at last conceded to the impresario, that the word of his best friend would not carry the same weight to the gossiping socialisers as that of well-to-do people entirely unrelated to the happenings in Aigen. Especially not, as the impresario had pointed out, when the version of events being spun around the Viennese drawing rooms was so much more interesting than the truth.
Andreas and Marie Ebner* had been Georg's first choice and they had been more than happy to accept his invitation. They had arrived with the reassurance that they did not believe the stories for a moment - Maria was most definitely not with child, Frau Ebner had declared the moment she had laid eyes on his fiancée, 'after all, look at her!' she had gestured towards Maria's figure theatrically. It would be plain for anyone to see, Herr Ebner had continued, that this was a match being made for love- if only they would be bothered to look properly.
Next to arrive had been Baron and Baroness Ebberfeld. Perhaps not strictly needed, Georg had suggested rather desperately to Max, envisioning the villa becoming a hotelier service for Salzburg's elite, but the impresario had insisted- the Ebberfelds were great friends of the Ebners after all, and they did, he assured Georg, need someone else for Herr Ebner to talk to. They would all be bored to death otherwise, he had remarked ironically.
Lastly Georg invited his sister, Sophia Von Trapp. His motivation for this was, he admitted to Maria rather sheepishly, born entirely from the knowledge that Sophia was an old romantic- eccentric, forth-right, and determined that societal conventions existed only to be broken. She would be a good adversary for Baroness Ebberfeld, he had decided, who had made her opinion on the match very clear the moment she had arrived.
Against the backdrop of all of this of course, there was still a wedding to be planned, a task which Sophia Von Trapp and Frau Ebner revelled in. Maria, although strictly in charge of the proceedings, seemed rather secondary when these two women would get to talking- never mind that she was to be the bride. He wondered in fact, when he heard them conversing, whether the ceremony would eventually be removed from the day altogether. It was infinitely less important it seemed, than the reception and social occasion which simply had to live up to expectations.
It was a horrible and rather unnerving glimpse into the life he had almost embarked upon with Elsa.
xx
Three weeks after the chaperones had arrived, Georg was cursing their presence with more venom than even he had expected. His life had become a farce, he decided one evening, filled with larger than life characters, all resolutely pursuing their own ends like automatons set loose on the world. If he were not hearing from Frau Ebberfeld – a woman born with blue blood flowing through her veins - that he must reconsider his marriage altogether, it was Sophia Von Trapp cutting her off to tell her that she was 'a heartless old battleaxe'- the latest insult he had heard the two women exchange- and if not them then he was confronted with all manner of unintelligible babble from Frau Ebner- concerns of table settings, napkins and flowers which seemed to have taken on a global importance - or drawn into long, protracted, and often excruciatingly dull conversations with Andreas Ebner and Alfred Ebberfeld. Of all the chaperones, only Max Dettwelier provided truly good company, though the impresario was the most annoyingly zealous of all of Georg's houseguests in ensuring that he could not spend longer than a minute alone with his future bride without being interrupted.
That was the main mission of all the automatons, of course, and however distracted they seemed to be by their own individual concerns, Georg knew not to be fooled by this. He had never, in all his life, known the villa to be overflowing with so many people, all with one purpose in mind.
And they were exceedingly, frustratingly, and infuriatingly good at their task.
He still saw Maria of course. In fact with the children now back at school, they spent almost all day together. But it was most definitely not the same. There were always people around, and even if they were not engaged in the same conversation, their very presence precluded any chance for even the most innocent intimacy. Even walking by the lakeside at night- the fondly remembered activity which they had shared long before they had realised their feelings for each other- had become a more frustrating than enjoyable pastime. Andreas and Marie Ebner would always appear on the path ahead of them, or they would be aware that Max, Baron Ebberfeld, or Sophia Von Trapp were watching from the terrace or one of the balconies.
The privacy which they were allowed had also become rather awkward, for the idea, in those few minutes that they were left alone, that everyone knew exactly what they were doing and would quite possibly be discussing just how long they should be left by themselves to do it, was distinctly off-putting.
They both knew that they would wait until their wedding night before consummating their love – there had been no discussion needed there. Yet now, the less and less time they had truly alone was making the effort more and more difficult. The quick stolen moments that they had together, away from the simpering eyes of the chaperones and without their tacit agreement, were becoming rather dangerous, Georg mused, remembering the last such time, now over a week ago, when they had run into each other in the salon. It had taken less than a second for them to realise that they were suddenly, finally, alone, and less than a second after that, and without a single word being spoken, for them to fall into an embrace, kissing each other with abandon.
In that moment Georg had not been restrained at all- making up for lost time, he had rationalised to himself. And he knew that they would no doubt be interrupted in a matter of minutes when someone realised that both he and his fiancée were missing – yes, someone would suddenly develop an urgent desire to ask him something, request something of Maria, or simply to take a walk through every room of the villa until they were found…. And, sure enough that blissful moment had lasted less than two minutes before he had heard Max clearing his throat from the other side of the doorway and had pulled away from Maria to meet the impresario's amused smile with a look of fury.
Max had just chuckled, finding the whole situation incredibly amusing.
xx
Everything came to a head one evening.
It had been a frustrating day anyway, and not only because of the chaperones. The newspaper had arrived that morning, bearing the distinctly sombre news of Nazi uprisings in Austria's formerly more conservative areas. Much discussion had then followed, and although no one exactly disagreed with Georg's adamant diatribe against the Nazi regime, they did not wholly concur with him either. The tetchiness which Georg had felt during the past few weeks had thus found a wonderful outlet, and he had spent most of the afternoon arguing politics with anyone who dared provide an opinion.
By the time dinner was concluded, an unspoken agreement had been reached that nothing more would be said on the subject, and they retired to the salon to pursue- Georg was sure- one of the same indomitably recurring conversations which he now seemed to find himself engaged in every evening.
He wondered, as he took his usual seat with Baron Ebberfeld, Andreas Ebner, and Max, who would have the pleasure of a monologue on this particular occasion.
Max, it transpired quickly, and his preferred subject was, of course, the world of talent-spotting.
"... and then Sasha Petrie had the nerve to tell him that he wouldn't recognise talent if it came up and hit him in the face!" Max was saying, recounting a conversation between two of his rival impresarios.
"Was he the one who discovered that girl from the Mid-West?" Baron Ebberfeld replied, "Scarlett... what was her name again?"
The more stories Georg heard, the more Max reinforced his opinion that it was not so much talent exploration which the impresario engaged in, but talent exploitation.
"Scarlett Brucker," Max quoted proudly, "And not exactly- he found her on a recommendation from me I'll have you know," he chuckled and took another sip from the glass of port he was holding, "It took quite a considerable amount of persuasion to have her come over here from America, and it was no thanks to Sasha Petrie, that's for certain. Superstition or not though, she is making Von Schubert quite a considerable fortune..."
"Which you no doubt have a commission in?"
"Well of course!" Max laughed, "And he didn't have to steal her from anyone either!"
Baron Ebberfeld laughed along with him, "Then however did he manage it?" he asked.
"Ah, well let's just say that old Von Schubert had a number of different, uh... methods of persuasion..."
"That old scoundrel!"
They all laughed and Georg belatedly joined them, realising that he had hardly been listening to the conversation at all. He cared little for Sasha Petrie, Baron Von Schubert or any American singing sensation and was becoming increasingly tired of trying to feign interest in all of his houseguests' many pastimes.
His eyes slowly wandered from Max and the other gentlemen as they took up the conversation again, finding their way across the room to Maria. Unlike Max's story, she captured his full attention. Sitting on a chair in the corner of the salon and listening to Marie Ebner, Baroness Ebberfeld, and Sophia Von Trapp's relentless chatter, she wore all the tell-tale signs of being just as disinterested in their guests as he was. He smirked, his mind wandering pleasantly away as he contemplated the far more interesting things they would do when all the meddlesome chaperones had been sent on their way….
xx
Maria had always believed herself to be a fairly well educated woman, but she was beginning to realise that there were some things that she simply knew nothing about. Fashion was one of them.
It was all rather baffling. The idea that she would need 'at least a dozen' summer dresses and 'at least half a dozen ball gowns' was utterly alien to her. Frau Ebner had even given her the name of her own personal couturier and insisted that Maria must come with her for an appointment. Eventually Maria had agreed though only out of desperation when Baroness Ebberfeld had declared that this was indeed the only 'proper' thing to do.
It seemed that the Baroness had now resigned herself to the fact that if Maria was indeed to marry such a staple of aristocratic high-life, it was her duty to do her level best to transform his new wife into someone she- and society- would deem acceptable for the Von Trapp name.
Even Sophia Von Trapp had agreed on this, though she and Baroness Ebberfeld had been most alarmed to discover that there actually was something in the world which they shared the same opinion about.
With this uneasy alliance in place, the three women were now discussing exactly what she would need in her new wardrobe, and Maria had long since become irrelevant to the conversation.
After all, what did she know about the fashion of the upper classes?
It was not long before Maria sensed that someone was watching her, and looked up to see her husband-to-be staring at her from across the room.
The moment their eyes met she knew exactly what he was thinking about.
It was enough to make her blush bright red with embarrassment-
-and of course to occupy her own mind with thoughts of exactly the same nature.
The mindless chatter of the chaperones faded away and suddenly it felt as though they were quite alone in the room.
The moment lasted just a few minutes before abruptly, and inevitably, someone noticed.
"He has the look of the devil about him, that one!" she suddenly felt Sophia Von Trapp's hand on her arm and jumped slightly, turning away from the Captain.
The older woman cackled in delight and Maria grimaced in embarrassment as almost everyone in the room shared a laugh.
"It's quite late," Georg said suddenly, standing up from his chair, "If you will excuse me please."
Max smirked as the Captain rose, exchanging a knowing look with Baroness Ebberfeld as Georg began to walk out of the salon. Maria watched as he strode past her and towards the door.
She wondered if she would be seeing him again before the evening was over.
*characters from my second story, Revelations.