The Twelfth Governess

Chapter VII

A/N: "Let's start at the very beginning…"

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Sound of Music", etc, and I also do not own "Die Trapp Familie.

--

"What will this day be like?
I wonder.
What will my future be?
I wonder.
It could be so exciting,
To be out in the world,
To be free!
My heart should be wildly rejoicing.
Oh, what's the matter with me?
I've always longed for adventure,
To do the things I've never dared.
Now here I'm
facing adventure
Then why am I so scared?
A captain with seven children...
What's so fearsome about that?..."

R. Rodgers I Have Confidence
--

"Oh help," Maria murmured, gazing at the Trapp Villa for the first time. The house looked beautiful, although utterly intimidating to her.

She had made her way from Nonnberg as fast as she had been able to. The nuns had instructed her to go to the Residenzplatz and take the bus marked Aigen. The driver had been kind enough to explain to her how to reach the von Trapp mansion. Once more she heard the words one of Austria's greatest heroes, this time coming from the driver.

"Where have you been living, Fräulein? The North Pole?" The man didn't understand how any Austrian didn't know of Captain von Trapp.

"Nonnberg," Maria replied simply.

"You´re a nun?"

"I´m a postulant," she explained. "A… a… nun in training."

"That could explain it. Because there is not a well informed soul in Austria who doesn´t know about the Ritter von Trapp and his military feats. Quite a man he is, and he would be an Admiral today, but the war was lost, Austria lost its Navy and the Captain lost his submarine. As if it wasn´t enough, his young wife died."

"The poor man! What happened to her?" asked Maria, suddenly interested in the apparently complex man who would be her employer.

"The scarlet fever epidemic three years ago. The Baroness did not have a chance." He looked at Maria insolently again. "And what could a girl like you want with the Baron?" the man had asked, looking her up and down and noticing her dowdy appearance.

Baron? She wondered. He was also a nobleman? Oh Lord help she thought.

"I'm the new governess," Maria replied, proudly, in spite of her inner worries.

The man shook his head, in disbelief, and resumed his driving, muttering something about how they did not make governessess like they did before the war.

The bus left her at the Aigen train station. From there it would be still quite a walk – nothing much to someone used to climbing mountains whenever she could. All along, she spoke to herself, muttering encouraging words to build her confidence. When that hadn't been enough, she had begun singing. She practically ran the rest of the way, stumbling and tripping because of the weight of the carpet bag that carried her few personal belongings, and her guitar, until she found the house number 53 in a deserted road, surrounded by inviting trees.

It was indeed a beautiful place – not which, in her opinion, any place around Salzburg could be called ugly. But the road where her new employer lived had a peace and tranquility that beckoned to her, as the nearby hills usually did. She did not recall being there during her walks, but if she had, she would have certainly been attracted by the shady road, bordered by trees. There were some horses running on a field nearby, and she wondered if they belonged to the Captain.

Cautiously, she walked closer to the iron gate of number 53. The sight of the house made her loose all of her confidence instantly. No, it could hardly be called a house – to Maria's eyes, it was a palace. She wondered if it wasn't nearly as big as Nonnberg… or as the Mirabell Palace she loved so much. No, certainly not – but it was just as intimidating.

Her hands clutched the gates and she only started at the ochre colored mansion for a while.

"It is just a house, nothing more than a house," she told herself, trying to calm down and to slow her breathing, after the long walk from the station. She remembered the words of the song she loved so much:

"Strength doesn't lie in numbers.
Strength doesn't lie in wealth,
Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumbers,
When you wake up, wake up
!" (1)

Her confidence partially recovered, she took a deep breath, opened the gate, and moved forward.

"When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window," she whispered.

She took one final sprint across the circular gravel driveway and stopped at the front door, setting her luggage down and pressing the door bell firmly. Out of breath, she leaned on the wall by the doorbell, her hand over her heart.

She waited. The place was so silent it was almost eerie. Only the sounds of the birds could be heard. From inside the house, not the slightest bit of noise was heard. It was hard to believe that seven children lived inside, and she began to worry if she was in the right place.

Is the Captain going to answer the door himself? She wondered. How does one greet a Captain who is also a Baron? Should I curtsy, or should I just take his hand? Oh help!"

Maria censored herself for not having asked the bus driver about it. He might have known about the proper way of addressing a sea captain who was also a war hero, and an aristocrat. She considered a few possibilities, and wondered which one of them would come to her lips when the moment came.

Sir… Your Lordship? Your Captainship?

Most Honorable Captain? Reverend Captain?

Baron Captain… Captain Baron?

Sir Captain Baron?

"Oh dear,"she moaned, her hand scratching her head. She had no clue. Well, I'll see what comes out of my mouth – he will certainly tell me if I call him in the wrong manner. All I'll have to do will be to apologize for being disrespectful. He must be reasonable and understand that the last time I encountered such a distinguished member of the peerage was… never she thought.

When she was about to ring for a second time, a dour-faced gentleman wearing white gloves opened the gate. He was the most intimidating figure Maria had ever met, and she instinctively straightened. His face seemed to have been carved in stone, since it was expressionless to the point of being hostile.

Maria was not intimidated. That was something she could very well deal very well with – ugly faces. Angry faces.

This is much better than I could have imagined, she thought, immensely relieved.

"Hello! Here I am!" she exclaimed, vibrantly.

The butler remained silent, but he took in her appearance with one unappraising look, noticing her appalling clothes. He cast an openly doubtful glance.

Noticing the man's hesitation, Maria explained. "I'm from the convent. I'm the new governess, Captain."

"And I'm the old butler, Fräulein," he replied stiffly.

Missing the man's jibe entirely, Maria could not hide her disappointment – if he had turned out to be the famous sea captain, as intimidating as she thought he was, she could very well deal with him. Her uneasiness returned, as images of her idea of a tobacco chewing, blasphemous, angry sea captain haunted her once more. But still, she tried to make the best of it.

"Well, how do you do?" she said grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly. The butler's expression did not change, and he did not say a word to acknowledge her greeting. Instead, he stared at the hand that had grasped his as if it were a poisonous snake.

"Hmm," she mumbled, wondering if it the dour-faced employee did not terrify the children and the other governesses that the Reverend Mother had said were there before her.

Since the butler had offered her no help – not that she would have expected any - Maria picked up her guitar case and carpetbag and followed him into the house.

Maria's eyes widened as she looked around at the scantly furnished but opulent front hall.

"You are expected, eh - Fräulein. You'll, uh -- wait here please," the butler said, and, with a last dubious glance at Maria, he stalked away.

As if in a trance, Maria walked slowly down the front stairs and set her baggage down. She stared at the gilded furniture and glittering crystal chandelier on the ceiling high above. There were stairs, with banisters which looked amazingly inviting for her to slide down. The double staircase led to balconies, which lined the upper walls on either side of the vast, spotlessly white room.

It seemed that the butler was taking forever to return, and Maria was not the kind who could be still in one place for too long. She began pacing around the gleaming wood floor, and stopped right in front of double doors which, like every other door in sight, were high and imposing.

Much later, she would come to the conclusion that she could not possibly be blamed for what had happened next. After all, the doors had not been closed – not completely. They were only slightly ajar. All the other doors were open, so she could see no logical reason why these had to be closed. Leaning forward, Maria peered in through the crack. Her jaw fell open with the sight that greeted her. She gently pushed the door open and stared into a semi-dark, ornate ballroom lined with gilt-edged mirrors and dusty windows. Cloth dustcovers hang from the two crystal chandeliers.

Maria stepped forward into the room, forgetting, for a moment, where she was and why she was there. She could not help but clasp her hands together in excitement. Why such a magnificent room seemed to be in such a state of neglect, while the rest of the house she had seen so far was virtually spotless, was a mystery to her. The ballroom belonged in a fairy tale, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it in its full glory, full of gentlemen in white ties and ladies in glittering jewelry and elaborate ballroom gowns waltzing.

Playfully, she dropped an exaggerated curtsy to an imaginary dance partner, then switched places and bowed deeply, assuming the place of the gentleman. She was about to attempt a mock rendition of a waltz when, all of a suddenly, the doors to the ballroom flew open with a loud crashing noise.

Maria jumped, straightening from her bow, her eyes wide, staring at the tall, elegantly handsome man standing at the open door. The light was coming from behind him, so all that she could see was his silhouette.

He wasn't yelling blasphemies or chewing tobacco, but he was surely angry. His stance left her no doubt this time – it was the Captain.

So this is how it feels, to be an insect under an entomologist´s lens she thought. Although she could not see his face clearly, somehow she knew she was being subjected to a quick, but very thorough, scrutiny, during which no detail of her shabby appearance was missed. Self consciously, she patted her dress, trying to rearrange it in the best way possible.

All she could do now was to scurry out of the ballroom, and back where she came from. The Captain did not say a word, he moved aside for her to pass through the door.

While he turned around to firmly close the doors, she took the opportunity to give him a full look. Maria couldn't help but being curious about the man, considering all the bits and pieces of information she had heard about him. She was not a short woman, but she quickly noticed that the Captain towered over her by at least one head. He also appeared to be extremely fit, his military stance haughty.

As for his face…

He had a classic profile, his features, though sharp and aristocratic, were not exactly perfect, but the little imperfections were there only to make it more… interesting. His hair was dark brown, almost black, with just a touch of grey here and there. However, it was his eyes that caught her attention the most – they were of a deep, midnight blue.

Those eyes were watching her now. She held her ground firmly – she could not have moved, even is she wanted to. Her legs felt like lead, and she felt like she was glued to the floor.

"Why are you staring at me that way?"

--

A few moments earlier, in the privacy of his study, an almost entirely relaxed Georg von Trapp had just told his soon to be fiancée, on the phone, that he would leave for Vienna the next day, as early as possible. He had just received a call earlier that morning from the Reverend Mother, informing him that the new governess was on the way to Aigen.

The previous evening, after they had admitted to the pranks, he had given the children their properly deserved lecture, sending them to their rooms without dinner. His ship could not be running any more smoothly. There was no sign of a storm on the horizon - none whatsoever. Elsa's voice coming from the other end of the line, distorted as it was, sounded like music to his ears.

"You must stay in my house this time, darling. It pains me to think of you all alone and miserable in some big bed in a little hotel room."

"I'm terribly sorry, Elsa, I already made my usual reservations at the Sacher," he said apologetically.

"Then at least tell me you reserved the Presidential Suite this time. You know – the one with the big bed…" her voice became husky, and he smiled. He honestly did not know how long he would still be able to keep Elsa at arm's length. Worse, he also did not know how much longer he would be able to resist – he had been without the loving touch of a woman for too long now. Tempting as her offer was, he was a man of principles. His intentions with Elsa were honorable he meant to marry her – that entirely excluded the possibility of making her his mistress.

"Elsa…" he warned gently.

"Yes, I know! Sometimes I do wish you would stop being such a gentleman all the time. It is adorable, you know, but so frustrating." Her sigh on the phone was audible. "Oh well, you can't blame this girl for trying, can you?"

He was still chuckling, as he heard a knock on the door. "Hold on a moment would you please, darling?" And then he called, covering the receiver with his hand. "Yes?" The butler walked in. "What is it now, Franz?" he asked impatiently, since he had specifically asked not to be interrupted.

"Eh – the girl from the convent, Captain. Your… uh - governess" Georg raised his eyebrows, unsure what to think of Franz's strange hesitation.

He nodded towards the door. "Thank you, Franz." Turning his attention back to the phone, he continued. "I'm sorry darling, I must hang up now."

"Don't tell me – the children again!"

"No, not the children this time." He took a deep breath. "The new governess is here."

"Well, finally!"

After a few more words, he ended the call. Rising from his desk, he tapped the breast pocket of his jacket, as if to make sure that his boatswain whistle was there – he would certainly need it to summon the children. Opening a drawer, he picked another whistle– this one was to be given to the governess, to be used according to his instructions.

He left the study, marching to meet his new employee, mentally ready to perform the same routine for the twelfth time now. The fact that this one was coming from a convent would ensure that discipline and decorum would be maintained at all times. After all, that's what nuns were known for.

The sight that greeted him when he reached the front hall was the first indication that, this time, things would not exactly go as planned. His keen eyes scanned every detail – the room was empty. There was an old, worn out carpet bag and a guitar case, also in a bad state, lying on the floor, next to the far staircase. Other than that, there was no sign of the new governess.

"What the devil…" he muttered. Hadn't Franz told the woman to wait for him? For a brief second, he thought that perhaps the children had really outdone themselves this time, and scared away the governess even before he met her. Highly possible, since they knew that he was just waiting for her arrival in order to be able to leave for Vienna. He was about to call the butler to inquire about the woman, when he noticed something else – a very important detail which had escaped him before: all the doors were open. Including the door to the ballroom.

His instructions to all employees of the house and to the children were that those particular doors were to be kept closed at all times, no exceptions. The reason was simple – the ballroom had been Agathe´s room, his wife's favorite place in the house. She used to spend more time there than anywhere else. It was to the ballroom that she took the children to play when the weather was bad outside. It was in the ballroom where he had taught her the steps of the Ländler, where he had taught Liesl how to waltz. Agathe had been in the ballroom with the children when she felt the first symptoms of the disease that would end up taking her life. And even on that day, it had been a room full of joy, laughter and music.

It was odd, but he had little trouble sleeping in the same room, in the same bed they had shared after she died – he supposed it was because she had not occupied it for about a month before it happened, having been taken to the hospital in a vain attempt to regain her health. The ballroom, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

Georg knew, realistically, that he would have to deal with the ballroom again one day, and with some other closed rooms in the house, especially now that he was seriously considering another marriage. Certainly Elsa would not be able to live in Salzburg for more than a month without throwing a couple of lavish parties. But choosing the moment for opening those doors was his decision and not anyone else's.

Letting out a low curse from his wild early days at sea – something he dared to do only when he was alone – he walked briskly towards the ballroom, his hands clenched into fists. He looked inside.

There was a woman dancing in his ballroom. No, not a woman – a mere slip of a girl, dowdy and gangly. If he were not so angry at the invasion of his privacy, he would probably have laughed at the ridiculous way in which she performed first a curtsy, then a bow. Her clothes were equally ludicrous – her antiquated gray dress was probably already out of fashion ten years ago, and it looked like it was a couple of sizes larger than it should have been. The burlap jacket she wore, on the other hand, appeared a size too small. She wore an old leather hat of an unspeakable color, which covered most of her head – all he could see was that she had unusually short hair.

Not allowing himself to be amused, he took hold of both doors and opened them with full force. The sound resonated all over the silent house.

The woman – or girl – straightened immediately. The light fell squarely on her face. She was young, yes – perhaps too young, which would probably explain her unforgivable fault. Not exactly a conventional beauty, although there was no logical reason why he would expect one. A slight blush tinted her cheeks, due to the circumstances in which he had surprised her. Big, clear blue eyes stared openly at him, with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

Patting down her dress to straighten any imaginary wrinkles, she ran past him, giving him another fearful glance. When she did that, the same particular perfume reached his nostrils – lavender. It was only when he followed her with his gaze, back to the front room, that he noticed the black boots and stockings, and he knew it immediately:

The Reverend Mother had sent him the black sheep of Nonnberg!

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A/N: (1) R. Rodgers, I Have Confidence. My usual thanks to Mellie, one of the top betas in the TSOM fandom, and to Max for her helpful comments.