Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
A/N: As always I have to thank my beat Trapper. This time she had really had to do a though job!
Chapter 21: King of the jungle
May 1943
Liesl had felt almost relieved as she managed to swallow the last bite of the chocolate cake Maria had served as a dessert. Although her mother had really outdone herself with cooking Liesl's favourite dishes – vegetable soup, followed by Tafelspitz with horse radish sauce and boiled potatoes plus her famous chocolate cake – Liesl had only picked at her food. Her appetite had been gone as soon as they had arrived in the yard and she had seen her father standing in front of the door, both arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his handsome face. His look had made clear that he would have preferred spending his Sunday removing cobwebs in the stables – a task he normally loathed and never did without complaint.
She would have liked very much to scowl back at him, but there had been Christopher who had lain his hand on her back, whispering in her ear. "Be a good girl, Elisabeth, will you? For me?" And then he had granted her one of his rare boyish smiles and a twinkle. "Pretty please!"
Despite the knot in her stomach she had smiled back. She had still heard his voice in her head: "I've started to care about you."
A few weeks earlier she wouldn't have thought it possible, but she had become fond of him too. It actually had begun when he had fallen sick. First she had looked after him because she had felt obligated. He was her husband, after all, and he had saved her and her child from a horrible scandal. But then, seeing him so vulnerable, she had wanted to help him feel better. His fever then – she had suffered with him and she had become afraid for him. He had twice fallen unconscious and every time Liesl had feared for his life. On that night she had become aware that she, despite his aloofness, had come to trust him as a friend and that she wanted to get to know him better. And now he really was her friend and her ally and it was comforting to have him on her side.
She couldn't help grinning at him. He had eaten himself through lunch with a hearty appetite, had even taken a second helping of the chocolate cake, and was now singing the cook's praise with eloquence and in detail. Yet what amused Liesl was how he carefully avoided calling the mistress of the house by her Christian name though he had mostly done so the last time they had met. But now he said "Baroness" all the time, knowing exactly that his father-in-law wouldn't like hearing Christopher using something more familiar.
However, Christopher was Christopher and a master of bending rules. He showed his father-in-law his respect by addressing his wife properly, but at the same time he flirted with her in a subtle way. And Maria, the same Maria who hadn't even registered once that one of Liesl's classmates had developed a mighty crush on her, the same Maria who hadn't noticed the young officers in Annapolis behaving like mating peacocks when she appeared at the port, flirted back, obviously not immune to the famous Fenswick charm. She giggled, blushed and looked like a girl being courted by the high school's most popular boy.
Liesl didn't mind but was amused. She knew that Maria wasn't even aware that she was flirting. She was so totally and utterly in love with her husband that the idea of looking twice at another man never crossed her mind.
Yet said husband already looked rather grim and was working on his cake as if it were the enemy.
"Darling," Maria addressed Georg. "What shall we do with the afternoon? The weather's so nice – I thought we should go outdoors."
"I intend to," Georg answered. "I need to work the horses."
Louisa opened her mouth to say something, but received a severe look from her father that made her close her mouth and study her cake as if she hoped to find the old riding masters' long lost secrets written on its top.
Georg was smiling at Christopher now – and his smile reminded Liesl at the cat who suddenly had found herself alone with the canary. "Christopher, wouldn't you like to help me with the horses?" He managed to sound totally innocent, but there was a certain glitter to his eyes. "As an Englishman you certainly are a rider, are you not?"
Liesl looked in alarm at Maria. She knew only too well what her father was up to and she certainly didn't want to take her husband home in a box. Stretching, she kicked Christopher's shin under the table to warn him. Only her aim had never been too good. Instead of Christopher she hit her father's leg and promptly got scolded. "Elisabeth, I actually thought I'd taught you years ago not to fidget under the table!"
"Sorry, Father!" Liesl tried telepathy now, concentrating on her husband. Why didn't he look at her?
Yet Christopher seemed only interested in the crumbs on his plate. He collected them with nerve-robbing deliberateness, chewed, swallowed and finally raised his head to turn to Georg. "Well, sir, back in England I did a bit of horseback riding. I think it would be nice to try it again. Only I'm afraid I'm not properly dressed today, sir."
Liesl let the breath she was holding out in relief. Trust Christopher to see through her father's scheme and to find a way out! Even Georg couldn't expect his son-in-law to ruin a pair of perfectly fine flannel trousers by riding!
Tomcat Georg looked as if he had now swallowed the canary and found it very delicious. "Oh, that's no problem. You're a bit taller than me and you've got – if you'll forgive me saying so – a bit more around the middle, but I have a pair of Jodhpurs that are a bit too wide for me. They'll suit you nicely. And you're wearing boots, aren't you?"
At last Maria had caught Liesl's gaze. "But Georg, what about Lord Fenswick's jacket and shirt? They'll be ruined – and I don't think he could wear anything of yours. I think he's got a bit broader shoulders than you."
"Oh, don't you worry, Baroness," Christopher smiled. "The weather is so pleasant and the Admiral hopefully won't mind seeing me in shirtsleeves, will you, Admiral? My shirt can be easily washed."
"I can lend you a sweater," Georg offered. "We'll certainly find one that's big enough."
"Well, then …" Christopher stood up. "Thank you for the wonderful lunch, Baroness!" He rubbed his hands together, grinning at Georg. "I've actually eaten a bit too much. Your wife's cooking is too delicious! So a nice hack out is just what my digestion needs."
"I'm looking forward to it!" Georg announced and got up too. "Let's go upstairs and change, shall we?" With an all-too-sweet smile at Louisa he added: "Would you be so good as to fetch the boys? And please, change the stirrups on Pluto Bona's saddle. The ones he has aren't long enough for your brother-in-law. Just look for the pair Friedrich always uses." With a cheerful wave he shooed Christopher out of the room, leaving the rest of the family behind.
Louisa was the first to speak. "Liesl, how good is your husband in the saddle?" she asked anxiously.
"Don't ask me!" Liesl sighed. "I really don't know."
"Let's hope he's good! I was studying for an exam last week and father was rather busy too. I did only a bit of dressage with Bony on Friday and yesterday he was out in the meadow all day. Knowing him, I'd say he's as hot as blazes today." She stood up and marched to the door. "I'll give your husband a curb – let's hope he can handle it. It increases his chances of coming back in one piece."
Maria had gotten up and was collecting plates. Liesl took two bowls and followed her to the kitchen. "Mother, you have to do something! I don't want Christopher getting hurt!"
"I think he knows what he's doing," Maria replied. "Besides one should never interfere with a male contest like this one. Our men are just doing the 'who's king of the jungle' thing."
"Only Christopher is at a disadvantage!" Liesl cried. "It's not fair! Father is a pro in the saddle and he knows his horses like the back of his hand while Christopher probably hasn't been on a horse in years! Really, Mother: If Christopher gets hurt, I'll definitely never speak to Father again! He's really overdoing it now!"
Maria turned around and laid a hand on Liesl's shoulder. "Liesl, you should trust your father a bit more. He wouldn't risk your husband getting seriously hurt. If your Christopher falls, your father certainly will see to it that he only hurts his pride."
"I'd rather not have him falling from a horse!" Liesl insisted.
"Don't worry so much, Darling. Your husband is a big boy – he can look after himself!" Maria said.
Liesl tried to trust in her husband, in Maria, in her father and in his horse, but nevertheless she got more nervous every minute. It had been almost three hours now since Christopher and Georg had disappeared and now she asked Maria for the twentieth time: "Shouldn't they be back now?"
Maria, knitting a little jumper for her first grandchild, patted the chair next to her. "Sit down, Liesl! They won't come back any earlier because you're running holes in the porch!"
"Mother, I really would like to know what Father was thinking!" Liesl nagged. "Don't you worry about them too?"
"No, I don't. I think they need some time on their own to get to know each other better. They have a lot to talk about," Maria answered calmly.
"With Christopher sitting on a horse who is – quoting Louisa – hot as blazes?"
"Come on, Liesl! My knowledge about horses is rather restricted, but even I know that Pluto Bona doesn't run for three hours. He let his steam off long before now," Maria rejoined.
Liesl was still pacing the porch. "I only hope Father really doesn't risk Christopher's neck." She rose on her tiptoes to look over the meadow to the woods behind. Suddenly she saw something white through the trees. "They're coming back!" she cried and stretched over the rail.
The stallions had just come out of the forest, both with their riders on their back, looking rather relaxed, walking with their heads comfortably down. The men were obviously talking and now Liesl saw how Christopher put the reins down and clapped Pluto Bona's neck with both hands. He was now close enough that she could see him smiling – and even from that distance she recognized this one as a genuine, cheerful smile. Turning her attention to her father then, she registered that he looked more relaxed than she had seen him in months. He was even smiling back at Christopher and then said something that made his partner laugh.
"Absolutely undiplomatic, sir, but from the bottom of my heart," Christopher was now so close Liesl could understand him, "Pluto Bona is a marvellous horse and I do admire how well you've educated him. If Lipizzans only were a bit taller, I would probably want one now."
"I actually don't think he's too small for you. He covers you," Georg answered.
"Yes, with this neck and posture he does – and I've even ridden smaller horses. In India I once had an Arabian stallion. Nevertheless I like it better when I can use the spurs without being in danger of drilling them into the back of my knee. Besides I have to admit: As much as I adore your Lipizzans' talent for dressage, I have a fondness for thoroughbreds – probably because I'm English and used to cross country riding. You know, we're not really good in dressage," Christopher explained.
"Oho – I don't think you're bad at it. Would you like to try once? Pluto Bona's just learned the a'tempo changes and does a rather nice piaffe and passage. And Conversano Theokratia does the airs over the earth, except the Levade – but we're working on that," Georg told him.
"Oh my – I think I can still master a'tempo changes, and pi and pa is fine too. But don't ask me for the airs over the earth," Christopher laughed.
"Wouldn't you like to try? The offer stands!" They'd arrived in front of the porch and Georg raised his whip to greet Maria and Liesl.
"Sir, I think you want to see me flying!" Christopher waved at Maria and Liesl. "Nevertheless I feel like taking up your offer. I shall ask my wife when she can do without me for a few hours."
Liesl was so relieved to see him back in one piece she needed to fight against the impulse to run down and to throw herself into his arms. Instead she watched how he dismounted Pluto Bona and petted him again. "Thank you, boy. You're really a pleasure to ride." Looking at Georg, he added: "And I have to thank you too, sir. I have very much enjoyed your wonderful horse. You know I'd almost forgotten how good it feels to ride."
"You should do it more often then." Georg was down from his stallion too and opened the saddle girth. "Let's get the gentlemen back to their meadow."
Maria had risen up. "And how about tea then? You look as if you could do with a bit of refreshment."
"Tea sounds wonderful, Baroness!" Christopher called up before he followed Georg to the stables.
Liesl couldn't help it. Bending to Maria she asked quietly: "Now, who's king of the jungle?"
"The score is even, I'd say." Maria grinned. "In any case I think your husband has just won a bit of your father's respect. He's obviously a good horseman."
"Oh – and that makes for winning father's respect?" Liesl snorted.
"Well," Maria put her knitting aside. "Will you help me in the kitchen?"
"Of course, Mother." Liesl followed her into the house and then into the kitchen, reaching for a tray and putting cups, plates and cutlery on it while Maria filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove.
Liesl shook her head. "I'll never understand father. Christopher marrying me to save us from a scandal didn't impress him. But Christopher on horse back does."
"Oh, in this case I find it's rather simple," Maria said, spooning tea leaves into the pot. "Your Father doesn't suffer cowards gladly and he certainly dislikes bureaucrats. Your husband just showed that he's neither."
"Christopher was an officer and served in India! If he hadn't been injured …" Liesl started to defend her husband.
"I know!" Maria interrupted her with a smile. "And I've told your Father."
"Still, he thought Christopher was a coward?" Liesl shook her head once again.
"I don't think he's considered him a coward ever since he learned that Christopher can't serve anymore," Maria replied calmly. "Although I have to admit, your husband being a civilian while his country is under attack didn't sit well with your father at first – and I don't think you can blame him for that. When he, as a man of almost fifty years and as a father of eleven risks his life in this war, he can expect other men to do their duty as well, can't he?" She put a cake on the tray.
Liesl sighed. "Of course. And even I was kind of relieved when I heard that Christopher isn't a funk."
"See?" Maria poured boiling water in the tea pot. "And as far as the horsemanship is concerned: Must I really explain to you that riding a horse or being with horses means more to your father than a simple sport? It's true: He judges people on how they handle a horse. But he also judges people on how the treat their servants or inferiors. The philosophy behind that is similar: He expects people to show responsibility and a certain degree of 'noblesse oblige' towards beings they're trusted with. And if you want to insult him for that, so be it!" There was a certain edge in Maria's voice. "At least you'd be in accord with your husband in that."
"Christopher insulted father in front of you?" Liesl couldn't believe it.
"Yes!" Maria confirmed.
Liesl looked at her in wonder. She knew how fiercely protective Maria was of her husband. "And you forgave him?"
"Yes. In a way I understand why he thinks so. Besides, who am I to deny a husband the right to worry about his wife and to get angry at someone who hurts her? I think your Christopher cares a lot …"
She was interrupted by Georg entering the kitchen. Kissing Maria's cheek he informed her, "I've sent Lord Fenswick up to our bathroom. He needs to shower."
"Oh, he'll need something fresh to wear then," Maria said and looked at Liesl. "Do you have an idea which of your father's sweaters would suit him? I think he's definitely broader in the shoulders. Or shall we have a look at Friedrich's wardrobe?"
"Why don't we ask Kurt? He's got a few wide shirts," Liesl suggested. "I'll go up and look for one."
"Ahm, Elisabeth?" Georg cleared his throat. ""When you're back I'd like to have a word with you in private. Would you please join me in the study then?"
Liesl wasn't sure what to make of his formality. She would almost rather have him command her. Him ordering her was something she could deal with. Although he had rarely done it in the last few years, all von Trapp children, even the youngest, knew that their Father using a certain tone meant that the answer was either a "yes, sir" or a "no, sir", but certainly not a "But, Father …"
There was something in Liesl that rebelled against his tone. She wasn't a child anymore but a married woman who would be a mother soon! Yet she remembered what Christopher had asked for, swallowed her pride, and answered with a firm "yes, sir."
Running up to the attic where Kurt's room was, she felt a flutter in her stomach. What could her father want from her? Had Christopher told him that he had asked Liesl to apologize?
Liesl didn't like this thought much. It made her feel handled and manipulated. On the other hand she trusted Christopher, knowing that he really wanted her to reconcile with her father. Only, she wasn't sure if she would be happier then. She knew that she couldn't simply forget about all the hurt and – yes, it was still there – the shame. And she was sure her father couldn't either. He would never look at her as he had done before her pregnancy.
And what about the child? Her Father had often teased his offspring by telling them that he expected each of them to provide him with at least six grandchildren because he had always wanted a big family. If she would have gotten pregnant in a real marriage, he would have been head over hells. And certainly his first grandchild would have become his absolute darling. He would have doted over it as he had done with his own children.
She had always looked forward to that. Sometimes, when she had dreamed about her future, she had seen herself sitting in a bed, surrounded by flowers, wearing a beautiful nightgown and proudly presenting her father his first grandchild.
Well, she had also dreamed of walking down an aisle in a white dress on her father's arm. She remembered how she had thought of that while walking in front of Maria through the church in Salzburg. Her father had looked so dashing in his Austrian dress uniform and, looking at him, she had imagined the day when he would lead her through a church and up to the man she would marry.
All those dreams were shattered. There only remained the hope that he wouldn't let her child feel how little he approved of its father. And there was the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to forgive him otherwise. She could bear whatever he did to her, knowing that she had disappointed him greatly. But if he let her child feel his disapproval, he would lose her for good.
Kurt had a sweater for his brother-in-law. Liesl thanked him and went down to her parent's bathroom. Knocking at the door she called: "Christopher, I have a clean sweater for you."
"Oh, fine!" He opened the door, standing in front of her with a towel around his hips.
"Christopher …" She chewed on her bottom lip and proceeded in a whisper, "Father wants to have a word with me in private."
"Come in!" He grinned at her. "There's nothing you haven't seen before."
"And if I haven't seen a naked man before I should be grateful that I get to look at such a fine specimen now!" Liesl quoted.
"Huh? Who said so?" Christopher turned, showing her his back and using the towel to dry his wet hair.
"You did!" Liesl laughed and turned too to give him some privacy. "Don't you remember? On the second night of your malaria bout I helped you change and Yates got rather fussy about me seeing you in your birthday suit. Then you said that."
"I plead non corpus mentis – I was feverish!" Reaching for his silken boxer shorts he slipped into them, groaning as he did so. "I think I shall sleep in my study tonight. Tomorrow I certainly won't be able to even crawl down a staircase."
"Are you injured?" Liesl asked anxiously.
"No, no. But I'm developing the mother of all muscle aches. Besides I've certainly got a sore sport on my bottom." He grinned at her. "I think you shouldn't let your father wait too long, my dear. And," now he crooked his head, "you'll apologize?"
"Did you announce I would?" Liesl asked.
"No. That's between him and you." Christopher slipped into his socks and shoes.
Liesl watched him and couldn't help asking curiously. "Why don't you put your trousers on first?"
"Oh, that." He grinned. "Just ask your father. I'm pretty sure he does socks and shoes first too." He took the sweater she had brought for him. "Elisabeth, you really should go down to your father!"
"Yes, sir!" She sighed and turned to the door. "Should I perhaps say my prayers first?"
"Elisabeth!" Christopher was laughing and pointed to the door. "Off you go!"
Slowly Liesl walked down the stairs. Maria was on the porch with the children. Liesl could hear their chatter and Phillip's cheerful squeals. She suddenly longed for tea – what would she had given to join Maria and her siblings now! Yet she needed to go to the study.
Breathing deeply, she knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
"Here I am, Father." Why did she feel as if she should stand at attention?
"Close the hatch and have a seat." He pointed to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.
Sitting down, Liesl looked at him. He was still in his riding gear: brown boots, beige jodhpurs, linen shirt, blue tie and a beige tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Liesl was glad about his casual look – in uniform she always found him a bit intimidating. Coming around to the fireplace, he now placed himself behind the other chair, his fingers drumming on its back. He obviously was nervous too and this discovery made it easier for Liesl to speak.
"Father, I know I've hurt you and …" She needed to breathe deeply, but bravely proceeded, "I'm sorry! I don't lack trust in you, but under given circumstances …" Now she was searching for words, knowing that he usually didn't take what he called "lame excuses" kindly. He had always expected his children to stand up to their wrongdoings "without babbling about it." So, bracing herself, Liesl finished: "I apologize for not talking to you before I married Christopher."
"It seems," he started his reply slowly, "your husband is more aware of American military law than I am." Coming around the chair, he leaned against the mantelpiece. "From his point of view, you hardly could have told me as long as Lieutenant Carson was alive. It would have meant handing the father of your child over for court martial." His eyes hardened. "I think he would have deserved it."
"Too bad he's dead!" Liesl said sarcastically and promptly earned one of her father's very stern looks and a raised eyebrow. However, she wasn't a child anymore and she didn't intend to duck. Instead she braced her shoulders. "Father, I'm sorry for the distress and hurt I caused Mother and you, but I'm certainly not sorry for loving Finlay and having been loved by him."
"Loving someone means a responsibility. On this account you and Lieutenant Carson were lacking," Georg stated and added with a sigh: "I was not responsible for Lieutenant Carson's upbringing, but for yours. So it's probably my fault too."
Liesl swallowed, fighting against tears. "What I am to do now? I'm not proud of what I've done, but I can't change it anymore."
"No, you can't change it anymore," Georg repeated slowly and went over to the little table where he poured himself a glass of soda. "Some water too?" he offered.
"No, Father, thank you." Liesl didn't know what to say now.
"It's actually quite ironic," Georg sounded as if he were speaking more to himself than to Liesl. "You fell in love with the wrong Fenswick – the irresponsible, reckless one. But you married the right one. I only wonder if you are aware of it yet."
"I appreciate my husband and I am grateful to him," Liesl replied stiffly.
"Appreciation and gratefulness – do you think that's enough for a marriage?" Georg asked.
"I don't believe my lord and master wants more." Liesl had tried to sound casual and even a bit flippant but didn't really succeed. She was fighting tears again and her voice almost broke as she proceeded, "He only married me to avoid the scandal."
"Elisabeth …" Georg breathed deeply. "Aren't you aware that the scandal wouldn't have bothered him much? There aren't many people in Washington who know that the American Lieutenant Finlay Carson actually was the half-brother of the English Lord Fenswick. And even if the press would have gotten wind of the fact – who could have blamed Lord Fenswick for what his half-brother had done? Your Lord only got to know his half-brother when Finlay was already 18 years old." He emptied his glass and put it down on the table. "I think your husband really is a gentleman for taking over a responsibility no one could have expected him to make his."
"I know," Liesl said. "And I can assure you that I do respect Christopher very much."
"Good." Georg got up again and walked to the window, looking out at the meadow. "Elisabeth, I have to admit that I find it rather hard to overcome my disappointment in you. I understand – thanks to the talk I had with your husband – that at least a part of your silence towards me was born from your wish to spare me. I also began to believe that Lord Fenswick was right about thinking that your marriage was the best solution." He fell silent, his shoulders tensed and his fingers drumming on the windowsill.
Liesl watched him for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity. Slowly she rose up then, feeling suddenly drained and exhausted. She hadn't been aware how much she had hoped for a reconciliation, but now she only wanted to leave this room and this house and to hide herself in a dark corner and cry. "I understand, Father. You don't need to say more. You can't forgive me. Well, I won't bother you any longer."
"Liesl!" He had turned and his voice sounded firm and strict.
"Yes, Father?" She wondered how she was still able to face him.
"You haven't only found yourself a great defender in your husband, but in your mother too. Just a few hours ago she reminded me once again of an important fact: whatever happens, you're my child and I love you. And no," there was a hint of humour in his eyes, "you don't need to tell me that I have an odd way of showing it. That's what I get to hear at least twice a day from your mother. Heavens, this isn't about forgiving anymore, Liesl! I certainly wasn't the father you would have wished for at such a difficult time. It's," now he looked almost awkward, "about forgetting and probably …" the little smile he produced now looked almost shy, "… about learning at last that my baby girl has become an adult woman."
"Father!" Now Liesl couldn't keep her tears back anymore. Swallowing a sob, she looked at him. "Sometimes I do so wish I could still be your baby girl!"
He didn't answer in words but by walking towards her and opening his arms. Liesl ran to him, throwing herself at his chest and burying her head in his shoulder, happily inhaling the familiar smell of horse, leather and lavender soap. "I love you too, Father!"
"I know, Liesl – and somehow we'll make it through. We're a family, after all!"
Maria felt like singing and dancing. She was sure she would never forget this Sunday, starting from the morning when she and Georg had made love – and no, in their case five years of marriage and three children hadn't dimmed the passion, but made it only more intense – and then a wonderful afternoon. As Georg and Liesl had come out of the house to join Christopher, the children and her on the terrace, she had immediately seen that they had reconciled. Of course it would need more time before the wounds on all sides would be healed, but her daughter and her husband were talking to each other and even now and then smiling.
After tea the "men" in the family – including Johannes who was utterly delighted to have the attention of two grown-ups – went down to the yard where they prepared a camp fire because, so Georg had explained, a proper barbecue needed to be done with a proper fire. For the amount of wood they had collected then Maria had teased Liesl that her father obviously didn't only intend to butcher a calf for the homecoming of his daughter, but an ox – and that he wanted to grill it in one piece.
When the fire had finally caught, Maria and Liesl had learned that not only sailors were good at peeling potatoes. The family had wanted potato salad with their steaks and as Maria had come out to the porch with a big pot of steaming, boiled potatoes it hadn't only been Georg who had reached for a knife, but Christopher too. Liesl had asked him then if he knew how to peel potatoes.
Christopher had raised an eyebrow: "My dear, you're underestimating me." Taking a potato he had proven that he didn't need any instructions. "After six years in a boarding school one knows well how to do that. Our headmaster strongly believed in efficient detentions. Why write stupid lines if a boy could make himself useful in the kitchen? And I wasn't exactly the teacher's pet student, so I landed myself in the kitchen so often that the cook started to think about giving me an apron of my own." He had grinned at Georg. "Let me guess, sir: your method of acquiring your skills with potatoes was pretty similar?"
"What? I was always a model pupil!" Georg had laughed and then confessed. "With me it was the drill sergeant on my first ship. He was good friends with the cook, so whenever one of the cadets had done something wrong, he spent his watch below peeling potatoes. Once I did it for six hours a day for an entire week."
"What had you done, Father?" Louisa had asked.
"Tricked myself through the nautical lessons," Georg grinned. "I found it rather boring to do a complete positions calculation every day. So I always marched up to the bridge before the lesson and asked there for our position and course. After a week the sergeant found me out – and so it was potato peeling for me."
Now the potato salad and the steaks were eaten, the younger children were in bed while Louisa, Kurt and his girlfriend had left for the cinema. The kitchen was cleaned, and so Maria had gotten a chance to sit down on the porch with her husband, Liesl and Christopher. Georg had opened a bottle of French red wine, Liesl and Maria shared a pincher with lemonade – not pink, of course – and everyone seemed content. Georg had even loosened his tie and lain his arm across the back of Maria's chair, now and then touching her neck with one finger and twinkling at her. Liesl and Christopher in the meantime shared the bench and Maria watched with quiet delight how Liesl had, during the last hour, shifted closer to her husband until they almost touched. Besides she couldn't help feeling slightly amused by the sight of her son-in-law. Considering how immaculately dressed he normally was – only one week earlier Georg, seeing a photograph of Christopher in a newspaper, had ironically commented, "Oh, look – Saville Row's poster boy!" – seeing him in a blue- and red-striped sweater that was a tad too tight around his shoulders was funny, though she actually liked him in Kurt's sweater. He looked younger and more approachable.
For a while, they had watched the sun going down in comfortable silence. Now Georg, sipping at his wine, stretched his legs and looked at his son-in-law. "Christopher, I must admit I'm curious about your horsemanship. You're really quite good. Who taught you?"
"Drill Sergeant Clarence McKerry," Christopher answered dryly. "And I can tell you, sir: it wasn't a picnic. Most of his pupils – including me – came to him in the belief that they were already quite good. After a week with him we all felt like worms – and we even moved like it!"
"Drill Sergeant?" Georg raised an eyebrow, then slapped his palm against his forehead. "Of course, I forgot: you were an officer once! Major, wasn't it? Which regiment?"
Now Christopher was grinning. "The Blues."
Maria didn't have the slightest idea what that meant, but Georg obviously knew. Raising his glass, he said, "Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense."
"That's embroidered on the flag in your office, isn't it?" Maria remembered.
Christopher nodded. "Yes. The flag is my regiment's and that's its motto: shame on him who thinks this evil."
Georg swallowed his wine. "I admit defeat and beg for forgiveness. Challenging you was rather silly."
"You couldn't know, sir." Christopher was generous. "The only time one gets to see me in uniform is at funerals and weddings."
"I nevertheless should have known. When I met you the first time, you were even wearing your regiment's tie, weren't you?" Georg said.
"I must admit, I'm not very creative when it comes to my ties. I mostly wear the regiment's or my school's tie," Christopher replied.
Maria looked at Liesl who shrugged her shoulders. "Would one of you perhaps explain to the unknowing womenfolk what you're talking about?" she demanded with a smile.
Christopher and Georg exchanged a look. "After you, sir!" Christopher grinned.
"Well, then I'll unbosom my shame," Georg laughed. "With the British being our allies, I actually should be able to recognize the colours of their important regiments – like blue and red for the Royal Horse Guard, called 'The Blues'(1) for short because they – in contrast with the Life Guards whose colour is red – wear blue uniforms. The Blues and the Life Guard together comprise what is called the Household Cavalry – the regiments sharing guard duty for the English king." He looked at Christopher. "Right?"
"Exactly, sir – with one small addition: The Household Cavalry contains three regiments. The third are the Royal Dragoons."
"Hmm – I still don't understand," Liesl said.
"Cavalry, Liesl – your husband is a cavalry officer. Cavalry means soldiers on horseback," Georg explained. "And a naval officer trying to outdo a cavalry officer on horseback – especially one who's served in one of the most famous regiments in the world – truly is a fool." Georg looked a bit sheepish.
"Well, with said naval officer being a former pupil of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, the retired cavalry officer, who hadn't been in the saddle for at least four years, certainly didn't find it easy to cope," Christopher raised his glass. "To you, Admiral!"
"Christopher, the only person in this household who's allowed to call me by my rank is my wife," Georg said. "In your case I'd prefer my Christian name."
"I feel honoured, Georg." Christopher bowed his head.
Maria actually felt like kissing her husband, but knowing that he wouldn't like such a display of affection in front of his daughter and his son-in-law she smiled at him instead. "Now Liesl and I only need one more explanation: the ties."
"That's easy," Christopher answered. "A member of an English regiment is allowed to wear a tie with the colours of the regiment – in the case of the Blues, blue and red stripes – when in civilian attire. Also, former pupils of public schools may wear a tie in their school's colours. I attended Harrows, so it's blue and silver. And I actually like wearing my school's or regiment's ties because I'm a bit colour blind. With these two ties, I know exactly that they fit most of my suits, so I can't go wrong with them."
"That's actually one of the things I like about wearing a uniform," Georg said. "You never have to bother about matching ties or fashion."
"The secrets of men's clothing!" Maria laughed.
"There's another one I'd like to have revealed," Liesl chuckled. "Father, what items of clothing do you put on first? Trousers or shoes and socks?"
"Socks and shoes!" Maria replied promptly. "It's one of his little quirks I've always wondered about."
"It's one he shares with Christopher," Liesl said.
Maria glanced up at Georg, who for a brief moment furrowed his brow. He obviously wondered too how Liesl knew about her husband's dressing habits. Was there more to their relationship than she let on?
"I'd really like to know why you do that!" Maria asked.
"Oh, it's rather simple: because we don't want to spoil our creases," Christopher explained. "In a mess dress they're expected to be very sharp. Sitting down to put on one's socks and shoes would spoil them."
"How complicated!" Liesl said. "And here I thought nothing would be trickier than a sleeveless evening gown!"
"You never tried a nun's habit!" Maria sighed. "I should be thankful that your father spared me from fighting the white wimple every morning."
"Oho – was that the reason you married me?" Georg laid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her a bit closer. "And here I thought you liked me!"
Maria couldn't resist any longer. She was so happy to see him in such a good mood, she kissed his cheek. "You know, Georg, sometimes I do. One gets used to you after a while."
"Well, on that note, I hope Elisabeth will get used to me soon because I intend to take her home now. It's already after baby's bedtime," Christopher said.
"And bedtime always should be strictly observed – no exceptions!" Maria laughed and stood up. "For more lessons on how to foster the discipline without which a household cannot be properly run, just ask your father-in-law!"
to be continued
(1) Yes, you're right: Nowadays the regiment is called "The Blues and Royals," because in 1969 the Royal Horse Guard (the Blues) and the Royal Dragoons became one regiment – the Blues and Royals. Before that, it was only "The Blues" and with our story being set in 1943, Christopher was an officer in the Blues.