The Unexpected Return.
The music came waltzing in on the night air, through open windows overlooking the lake. It reminded Maria of gowns billowing in the ballroom below her, the smell of scent and cigars in the hall, and the exquisite embarrassment she had felt when Max asked for her to stay for dinner. "You can if you want to", the Captain had said to her nonchalantly, almost uncaringly. But then of course, Maria knew Georg had to make light of the matter after the Baroness' discovery of their clandestine courtship dance on the terrace… and she also knew that nothing between them would ever be the same again.
Retreating to her room, Maria had resolved to decline Max's invitation, so when the orchestra struck up again after dinner she felt relief in her heart: relief that her place at the table would no longer seem so empty, and relief that the diners would find new gossip to enthral them, another scandal to dissect. She would remain in her quarters until the morning brought a more predictable routine to the household; for now, though, she would remain content to listen to the laughter and lilting melodies, and think less of the idle rumours which might be floating between guests in the ballroom below.
But then a knock at the door broke into her thoughts, and the face of Frau Schmidt appeared.
"Are you alright, Fraulein?", she asked. Maria nodded. The housekeeper looked at her carefully for a moment to assess whether she was telling the truth.
"The Captain asked me to lay an extra place for you at dinner, but you didn't come down. Those crowds can be a bit much, I know. But you won't have had anything to eat, and there is plenty of food left over; shall I bring up a tray for you?"
Maria sounded enthusiastic.
"Glass of champagne?"
"Champagne?" she echoed.
"Oh, you won't have heard: Herr Detweiler stood up after dinner and proposed a toast to the newly- engaged couple; the Baroness and the Captain are going to get married." She smiled as though on command.
"Get married?" Maria's eyes widened.
The housekeeper saw her consternation and commiserated in a confidential tone,
"Yes, it was on the cards, I suppose , those poor children won't be happy but we'll have to go along with it", and gave Maria a knowing look. "Now, champagne?" Maria shook her head: the last thing she could consider was to celebrate. "Then I'll just bring you a little food", the woman said, disappearing out of the door.
"Just the smallest amount, please, Frau Schmidt." She hadn't the heart to say her appetite had absconded completely.
The housekeeper left, leaving Maria's world shattered. Her relationship with the Captain had undoubtably been contentious from when she had first arrived at the house, numerous vexations always emerging with which to spar against him. But in the ensuing weeks, it was as though a balm had settled on their relationship, gently transforming it into something more considerate, more respectful as they both found islands of common ground to share in their river of misunderstanding. And finally when he had found her on the terrace and asked her to dance that evening, it had felt as though their worlds were colliding; slowly, softly, creating something they couldn't deny, a deep sensuousness between two souls.
But now the engagement of the Captain to the Baroness had rent that relationship apart.
"Frau Schmidt, do you think I should resign as Governess now they are engaged?", Maria asked when the housekeeper returned with a tray laden with delicacies.
"Well, I've heard the Baroness has plans to send all the children away to school. But until then they will certainly need someone like you to look after them: those two will be off partying to celebrate their engagement..."
A fitful night followed, those words revolving around Maria's head time and again. It wasn't clear to her: could she bear to see the Captain again now he had proposed to the Baroness? Could she bear to leave when she had so much planned with the children? Was abbey life for her at all? The truth was that time spent at the villa had allowed her a different existence, and the time spent with the children was time she had loved more than she would have believed.
When morning came, she had decided to take Frau Schmidt's advice to remain at the house and to make the most of her remaining days as governess - even if it meant keeping a distance from her employer and his fiancée: something which proved far more difficult than she had anticipated.
Crossing the terrace the next day, she had approached the door to the hall and almost ran into the emerging Baroness, followed closely by the Captain. Maria took a deep breath and turned to them to offer the couple her congratulations, only for Elsa to sweep past, her eyes firmly on the outdoors. But Georg held back to let her through the door before him, and as her eyes travelled to his face, he met her gaze just as he had in the hall when she had first met him. But this time, there was a look written into his expression, as though he needed to say something, something important …until Elsa's sharp call interrupted from the terrace. The moment lost in a breath, he hesitated, turned and slipped out past her through the door, joining his wife-to-be at the balustrade. Watching the elegant couple, Maria swallowed hard. Things were going to be awkward from now on.
She did her best to keep out of their way; not easy with seven children, she found, but she managed by staying indoors and upstairs with them as much as possible. Even so, she was still taken aback one day at catching a glimpse of the couple on the terrace sharing the ubiquitous pink lemonade with visitors. Through the window she watched for some time the Baroness pouring it into flutes and handing the drink around while the Captain stood behind, so quiet, so reserved… so detached. Then, as if already the chatelaine, Elsa waved her hand in the direction of the house, their guests looking up, forcing Maria to retreat quickly to avoid being seen. Yet the dark figure remained within her line of sight. She watched him, motionless. What thoughts were going through his mind? What had he wanted to say when they had met in the hall?
As the days went by she did her best to avoid the engaged couple, but still couldn't ignore the flicker of Georg's eyes as she herded the children into lunch, the turn of his head as he talked to Max, the feeling of being watched as she cut flowers for the schoolroom … just as the sun's yellow shafts were fingering the lawn between the lengthening shadows, just as she snipped the blooms for her basket, she felt eyes upon her. She turned round to see who was there, but saw no-one. Except…her eye was caught by a flicker of movement through the balustrade of the balcony. Was that someone moving back to the house, or a shadow cast by the sinking sun?
And then as Maria carried her flowers up the stairs to the schoolroom, there came that glare from the Baroness…
Maria watched the perfect square of sunlight in her room, projected from the high window behind her. As the hours passed, it traversed the wall above her, gently sinking into the far corner and gradually sliding askew. Every afternoon at the abbey since she had been back, she had been supposed to read in isolation and perfect silence from two till four. It was this silence which she found most difficult, having been surrounded by the clamour of children at the house for so long. Except, around three o'clock, the silence would be broken by the chatter of children passing outside her window on their way home from school, their laughter dancing in through the iron bars to remind her so cruelly of the seven she had left behind.
Unable to keep her mind on the page of religious text for long, she kept seeing Georg's face in the patterns of the words, kept hearing his voice from the last time she saw him in his study.
"Fraulein", he had begun, looking at her directly from his desk, "… your efforts here at the villa have been greatly valued." She had begun to feel a glow of pride until he had continued, "However…it seems your time here is drawing to a close." He had listened patiently whilst she told him how much she and the children still had to do together before her planned return to the Abbey, his eyes watching her every move.
Maria smoothed the page of biblical writing in front of her as though soothing her own feelings, remembering what had come next. He had drawn himself up to his full height, his voice developing a little edge: "Fraulein, the Baroness and I have decided it would be for the best that you should leave us sooner, rather than later." She was taken aback.
"What do you mean?"
"We will have many visitors here as a result of our engagement, and the children will be with us too, so in all, we thought it…fitting…that you should return to the Abbey."
"But when?" she had exclaimed.
He missed a beat. "Today." Seconds ticked away while she realised what this meant.
"But we won't have time to do all those things the children want to do…", she protested , feeling her eyes welling up. They looked at each other, those brown eyes of his deep, indecipherable pools . "And it's Gretl's birthday on Saturday…" she said as a hot tear of protest ran down her cheek. Elsa had a hand in this.
Tears - such gentle things, so capable of throwing a mortal stab at a man's heart! Georg turned away, a hand rising to his cheek as though he had been slapped. He paused, then turned back and they looked at each other in wordless silence, slipping back to the time when they had shared that deep sensuousness they couldn't deny. But like a true military man, moments later he had steeled himself and remained adamant.
"I'll barely have time to say goodbye…" she had pleaded.
Maria looked at the sunlit shape on her wall, out of true in the corner of her room. Its sagging lines made her wonder whether everything which starts off so right ends up so wrong? Having to say goodbye to the children had been heartrending; all she could do afterwards was to pack her things and hail the first bus into Salzburg, the journey back filled with memories of life at the villa, and doubts about what she would do now.
One thing did seem clear to her, though, as she sat trying to read at the abbey: the ensuing weeks there had told her she was not disciplined enough for a lifetime in a convent. Being with the children had been a joy, though, so she resolved to apply for a teaching position for a couple of years. She wrote a letter to a missionary society, later setting off for the lodge to buy a stamp to post it.
"This came for you today", said the post room clerk, slipping an envelope under the wire grille. Maria peered at it with its neat, round writing, so familiar to her, and opened it quickly:
Dear Fraulein Maria, Villa von Trapp
Please come and see us on Gretl's birthday. Meet us at the gazebo on Saturday at 11 in the morning. Father and the Baroness have gone away for three days.
Love from Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta and Gretl x
Then, in another large, unsteady hand that she recognised from Marta:
We hav made presnts for you.
Maria held the letter to her heart, leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She so desperately wanted to see them again: that short, heartbreaking farewell she had bade them was a travesty after the months she and the children had been together. And she could just about make it: tomorrow would be quiet before the busyness of Sunday, and if she went to Vigils, did her chores in the kitchen, then said she would be reading in her room until the evening, she might just not be missed. But scanning the bus timetable later, her heart sank: there was no connection back to Salzburg on a Saturday afternoon. Slipping into the post room phone booth unnoticed, she ordered a taxi to bring her back from the villa at three o'clock the next day.
So the next morning saw her on the same postbus to Aigen that she had taken that sunny day in June, alighting at the same stop that she had used before. It was all so familiar as she walked down that leafy avenue, the trees' flickering shade, the birdsong, but this time, no role to look forward to at the house, for after this visit she would be gone forever. Stopping short of the iron gates, she let herself into the garden through a door in the wall; she made her way to the gazebo behind shrubbery to avoid being seen, aware she was trespassing not only on land, but in the lives of the von Trapps themselves.
But when she arrived at the glass rotunda, the welcome was overwhelming; she and the children chattered until lunchtime, swapping drawings and corn dollies and a simple palm cross for the birthday girl. But as they talked, she sensed an air of wistfulness she couldn't ignore.
"What shall we do this afternoon to cheer you all up?" she asked. Their choice was to take the boat down to the far end of the lake, away from such cares. "Then let's go together," she said, "but not a word to anyone!", and watched them trail ragtag across the lawn and into the house for lunch.
The villa's elegant façade regarded her with an air of reproach, as though asking why she'd returned. It saddened Maria not being part of the landscape anymore, and battling the knowledge that the house now had a life in which she no longer featured, she felt dismayed, disarmed. Disowned.
Sitting out of view in the boat to await the children's return, she listened to the wind in the trees whispering words she couldn't understand. The branches around her reached down almost to the water, the lake swelling and slackening beneath the leafy boughs, the skiff rising and falling in sympathy. How like fingers the twigs were, she thought, as though they were reaching out to touch the water's smooth surface…just like someone almost touching the softest cheek, but not quite daring. It reminded her of how close the Captain had been when they danced; that touch of his hand as he took hers, the look on his face, their intimacy. Then a greater swell came and the water rose up and submerged the green leaves for a moment, like a kiss which lingers for a while until the lovers fall away. Maria sat motionless, remembering that time when she was at one with him and the rest of the world faded from their thoughts. Then, still watching the boughs, the water having receded, she saw glistening drops of water falling from the twigs to the lake, just like the tears of bitterness which had burnt her cheeks when she had last seen him. Perhaps she was a fool to dream. Perhaps it was all in her imagination? She closed her eyes and allowed the soothing shift of the skiff to remind her of the magic of dancing on the terrace together.
The boat nudged against the quay, the jolt dislodging the thoughts from her mind, her attention changed to what her life would be like as a missionary; the people she would teach, the places she would live. Would she ever be able to settle after this? Running footsteps interrupted her ideas, and seven children tilted across the lawn towards her.
"Why are you wearing a mac in the sun, silly?" Kurt asked the smallest one.
"Frau Schmidt told me to", Gretl replied. "I said we were going on the lake with Fraulein Maria this afternoon." There was an exasperated chorus from the rest of the children.
"It was meant to be a secret!" they shouted.
"Yes, but she said Fraulein Maria wasn't here, so I couldn't be going on the lake. But she made me wear a mac if I was going outside because it's going to rain." She scowled. Everyone looked around at the blue skies and shook their heads.
"Never mind, Gretl", said Maria to the child. "Frau Schmidt is really good at keeping secrets, so you mustn't worry!" The girl looked relieved and made towards the boat.
They took turns paddling, and once out of earshot, began the harmonies Maria had taught them over the summer months. It was just like times past, their chatter and laughter carrying over the water on the fickle breeze which darted in and out of the reed beds. But talk inevitably settled on their father's impending marriage to the baroness.
"She doesn't care about us!" protested Louisa.
"She'll just take Father away from us", said Friedrich.
Maria tried to console them but with limited success, and just as the skiff drifted over the water, their conversation drifted on to the prospect of boarding school and their likely separation. The more they talked, the more a tangible air of despondency descended upon them, like the storm clouds gathering over the lake and the raindrops making rings in the water. They began paddling in best style back home, heads down as the rain intensified so as they reached the landing, each one of them was soaked to the core - except for Gretl who sat with a satisfied smile upon her face, bone dry under her dripping mac and hood.
Tying the boat up, Maria checked her watch and gasped:
"Children, I have to go soon! My taxi back to the abbey will be here before long. Oh, and look at you! You're so wet! Creep upstairs and get changed quickly; give me your wet shoes and I'll put them to dry in the Coat Room. Then come down to meet me there so we can say goodbye." There was a chorus of disappointment as they crossed the terrace, but she held a quieting finger to her lips. Having checked the hall was empty, Maria gestured for them to go upstairs in silence. Then she headed to the Coat Room, with its rows of jackets and coats for all sports and seasons, and that reassuring smell of tweed and old leather. She arranged the seven pairs of shoes around the warm boiler, dried herself as best she could, then as she waited for the children, cast her eyes around her.
There were boots of all sizes, hats for riding, hand muffs, gloves and scarves. She spied a cupboard full of skates and curling stones, sticks for ice hockey, pucks and paddles. On the wall were coats of all colours hanging on rows of hooks, steadily increasing in length as they reached the window in the corner: long winter coats in wool, tweed and the finest mohair with the softest feel for her fingers as she reached out to touch them. How lovely was the braid on the collar and cuffs she felt, a luxury she had never been lucky enough to afford…
A noise behind her made her spin round: someone was hanging up a jacket near the door. She froze. Staying silent in the hope that she wouldn't be noticed, she watched as the man searched through other jackets hanging nearby, her heart beating so loud she thought he would hear it. Perhaps he did, for he stopped and glanced in her direction, then stared. She was in deep trouble.
The man turned in her direction and paused. She had to say something – anything - to give herself an excuse.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I shouldn't be here." It all came out in a rush. "It's just that the children asked me to come back for Gretl's birthday…" He kept staring at her, saying nothing, while Maria heard herself saying, "I'll be leaving very soon, Sir, as soon as my taxi arrives…and I won't bother you again, I promise." He shook his head a little and took a step towards her, expression serious. She was desperate, now fearful of his response, wondering how things had gone so wrong.
"The children said you wouldn't be back till tomorrow, Sir", she stammered "…I wouldn't have come if I'd known…"
"We came back early", he said quietly. There was silence as they eyed each other, his gaze intense. Then he glanced away through the window and took a deep breath before looking back at her and saying, "It wasn't working, Maria". She watched his handsome face, not knowing what to say. He took a step closer and whispered, "I couldn't forget you after you went back to the abbey." It was as though they were standing in the crowd in the hall once more, staring with that intensity, looking into each others' eyes and realising they were two halves of a whole, made for each other, to share forever.
"Franz, I'll be with you in a minute…", Frau Schmidt's voice called out from the hall. "… I found a wet mac lying on the terrace". Georg stiffened as they heard her shoes click on the marble floor, walking towards the Coat Room. Should they stay and face her, knowing they would have to explain themselves both being there? What would they say?
"Won't be long, Franz. I'm just hanging up Gretl's mac." As the housekeeper neared the room, the look of alarm on Georg's face changed into a strange expression, almost one of mischief. He placed a hand on Maria's shoulder and guided her towards the window in the corner.
"Soaking… can't think how she got this wet", muttered Frau Schmidt as she entered the room, holding the waterproof out in front of her. Hanging it up beside the boiler, she took a step back and nearly tripped over the pairs of wet shoes on the floor. She peered at them for a while, then straightened up before stepping aside to take a look at herself in the mirror on the wall beside the boiler. She had been caught unawares earlier when the Captain and the Baroness had returned early from their sojourn; Elsa had disappeared to her room, asking her to bring up her suitcases; meanwhile there was so much that needed doing that the housekeeper had had no chance to tidy herself. She began adjusting hairpins in her bun, then stopped suddenly, and with her hands still in her hair, slowly turned around to take a look at the coats in the corner behind her. Nothing seemed amiss. Frau Schmidt turned back, buffed up her hair and leant forward with a pout to check her lips, until again something in the mirror caught her attention; this time she turned round quickly, and took a step towards the long curtain at the window in the corner.
Her eye travelled down the length of the thick drape to the floor strewn with snow boots and walking shoes. All was as normal, except at the gap at the bottom of the curtain she could see a pair of men's shoes and a pair of canvas ladies' shoes. Facing each other.She recognised the brogues from the many times when Franz had cleaned the Captain's shoes, then laid them out in rows for polishing. But she knew those wet canvas shoes did not belong to the Baroness. Gradually the penny dropped as she put all the happenings of the afternoon together: Gretl's chatter, the discarded mac, the pairs of wet shoes, this strange case of the moving curtain in the mirror.
"Well I never…!" Frau Schmidt exclaimed.
She weighed up what to do: whether to leave as if she had seen nothing, or whether to take advantage of the situation, as her instincts were telling her? She felt strongly there was something which needed to be aired.
"Captain", she announced loudly to the curtain in the corner, "having known you since you were nothing, I feel it is time I said my piece. And it is that I don't think that Baroness will ever make you a good wife." She paused, pursing her lips a little. "You should marry someone who will be a good mother to your children, and who will make you happy." She hesitated, looked at the shoes, and then added with feeling, "…someone like Fraulein Maria." She waited. "Now, I've said my piece, so I'll be off – there's work to do!"
As the sound of the housekeepers' footsteps faded away, there was no movement to be seen in the corner of the room. But behind the long curtain, the Captain and Maria had stood still together, hoping they would not be discovered as Frau Schmidt had entered and hung the wet coat up to dry. And while the woman had been looking in the mirror, Georg had drawn Maria further into the corner so they wouldn't be seen, sliding an arm around her waist until they stood close, just touching, breathing. Then as the housekeeper was speaking her mind, their eyes met, just listening, believing. And once she had gone, he kissed her hair softly, then leaned down and whispered into her ear,
"You can if you want to…" but this time, not nonchalantly or uncaringly, but with a gentleness Maria had not heard from him before. She looked at him quizzically as he slipped his arms further round her, drawing her to him.
"Marry me", he said with a new earnestness, "I'd love you to marry me." It was as though they were at the end of the Laendler dance again, at the moment where the lovers pause. And as his lips touched hers so tenderly, she responded with a passion the Lord would have been proud of.
But an impatient horn hooted in the courtyard, and once again when there was no response. "Taxi waiting!" called the housekeeper, "Who called a taxi?" Georg looked at Maria, eyebrows raised, asking her a question... but her expression told him all, and he held the curtain aside and called out:
"Frau Schmidt, pay the taxi driver please, and tell him he's not needed. Fraulein Maria will be staying!" The older woman stood in the hall, eyes widening at the news, a smile creeping onto her lips. She thought for a moment, and then began climbing the stairs: it had occurred to her that the Baroness might now be the one in need of a taxi. And just as she disappeared down the corridor, seven pairs of stockinged feet entered the Coat Room, as arranged, to meet up with Fraulein Maria.