THE DINNER HOUR
"You are back to – uh-" Georg fumbled, "to stay?"
The girl turned back toward them with a shake of her head. "Only until arrangements can be made for another governess," she said, before scurrying into the house, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.
Over the course of her weeks in Salzburg, Elsa Schrader had come to appreciate the countryside's serenity. So lovely and peaceful! At times, when Georg's children were tearing about the place, she might even have wished for a bit more peace and quiet. At this particular moment, however, things were a little too tranquil, and so still that she could hear the lake lapping at the shore.
Elsa forced her gaze back to Georg's haughty, austere profile, half-afraid of what she would see there. Not that there was anything to be afraid of, not from a slip of a girl, a flibbertigibbet really, who by her own account would soon be on her way back to Nonnberg Abbey.
But Georg's eyes remained pinned on the door that had slammed shut behind the little governess.
It seemed like an awfully long time before he turned back toward her at last, smiling, and reached for her hand. Elsa would have liked to linger on the terrace a moment longer, just the two of them. But she let herself be led back toward the house, warmed by the squeeze of his hand and the gentle pat of reassurance. Not that she required reassurance, she reminded herself again. Why, Elsa and Georg were to be married, and in just two weeks' time! It had all been settled, just yesterday afternoon, on the drive home from tea at the Eberfields.
"Frau Schmidt?" Georg called as they entered the house. Unwilling to pull her hand from his, Elsa found herself towed behind as he strode toward the kitchen.
"Captain von Trapp!" the housekeeper emerged from the kitchen. "I was just about to come looking for you. Brigitta said something about skipping their dinner?"
"No, no," Georg chuckled. "That was only a bit of a practical joke. No, I was only stopping by to inquire about what Cook is preparing for tonight."
"But Georg," Elsa interrupted, "we're going out tonight, remember?" Elsa had been looking forward to their night out together all week, a chance to drink champagne, dance, and to recapture the kind of attention Georg had paid her back in Vienna.
"O-of course, Elsa darling." The hesitation was so slight, she might have imagined it. "I only inquired after the menu because – well, the children will want to celebrate, don't you think?"
"You're speaking of Fraulein Maria's return?" Frau Schmidt smiled fondly. "I spoke to her myself, only a few moments ago. If only she were back to stay! As for the menu, Captain. There will be soup-"
"With the little dumplings?" Georg broke in.
"Of course, Captain. Fraulein Maria always loved them, so that ought to do well. And the beetroot salad, wiener schnitzel, potatoes – the fried ones that she always likes - and carrots. The usual."
"Very good, very good. And for dessert?"
The two continued their conversation, but Elsa had lost interest. Since when had Georg had taken such an interest in dessert? The wine, yes, undoubtedly the wine, but not the dessert. She let her eyes drop to where their hands were still joined. Her naked ring finger would be wearing a wedding ring in only two weeks' time. It seemed an impossibly long time to wait, but in the meantime, at least there was tonight. Suddenly, she could hardly wait to escape the villa's majestic setting, the measured pace of its days, the cozy serenity of family life. Elsa wanted to dance, to drink, to swoon with delight. She didn't only want it: she needed it!
"Georg, darling," she interrupted, tugging at his hand. "I've got to go get ready for tonight."
"What? Ah! Elsa! Of course!" Georg exclaimed, as though he hadn't remembered she was standing there, even though her hand was still encased in his. She followed his gaze downward: he was staring at their joined hands as though they had nothing to do with him.
"Drinks in the salon in an hour, darling?" she said lightly, breaking the awkward silence. She eased her hand from his. "Just like always. Then we'll give Max the slip and be on our way into town." She left Georg to his negotiations with Frau Schmidt and continued through the corridor and into the foyer.
Elsa had spent her entire life surrounded by luxury. Even so, the villa von Trapp never failed to impress – the magnificent ballroom, the extraordinary grounds, the inviting library, and most of all, the elegant foyer, bursting with light that reflected off sparkling crystal, gleaming gold, and ice-white marble. Even the smallest detail achieved perfection, from the bedchambers furnished with the finest linens to the fresh flowers displayed everywhere. She slipped up the grand staircase, casting a wary eye first toward the staff wing, where she had last encountered Fraulein Maria the night of the party, and then toward the family wing, where she would be taking up residence in only two more weeks.
It seemed like a very long time since that day that Georg had brought her from Vienna. "And the guest quarters are over there. We've just done them over," Frau Schmidt had chattered away while escorting Elsa to her room. "I hope they're to your liking. I'm sure you'll find the views spectacular."
Elsa had known from the start that she was in Salzburg "on approval," just as she'd told Max. But she had been foolish enough to hope that this audition for the role of Baroness von Trapp would extend to the more intimate aspects of the role. It had come as a bit of a disappointment, but she really shouldn't have been surprised, to learn that she and Georg would occupy separate quarters while under the same roof as his children. She was beginning to think Georg would never run out of excuses to stay out of her bed.
Georg's staff had seemed certain from the start that she was to be the next Baroness von Trapp, even if Elsa herself hadn't always been sure. Now that she'd observed Georg in his natural environment, there were some things about him that were less of a mystery, but for most of the summer, he'd still run hot and cold in a way that confused, irritated and occasionally hurt Elsa. She had thought those doubts were behind her after yesterday, when he'd asked her to marry him. The proposal had been terribly unromantic, coming as it did in broad daylight, while they were driving home from the Eberfields. Georg hadn't even taken his eyes off the road! But at least Max had been out of earshot, and what did it really matter, anyway? Elsa and Georg had both been married before. She knew what mattered in a marriage, and what you could live without.
In her room at last, Elsa kicked off her shoes, collapsed into an armchair and lit a cigarette. She disregarded the view, which was magnificent, but hadn't changed during her time in Salzburg and wasn't ever likely to, either. Instead, she flipped idly through the stack of boarding school brochures she hadn't yet summoned up the nerve to share with Georg. Every one of them looked lovely, a vast improvement on the conditions she had been forced to endure years ago.
It wasn't as though Elsa disliked children in general, or even Georg's specifically. The little ones were adorable. The oldest girl, Liesl, with her spectacular eyes, would do very well in society in another year or two. The next one, Louisa, was a bit of a troublemaker, but then Elsa herself had been the same way as a girl; it might even be fun to smooth away the rough edges and let the girl's natural beauty shine through. Elsa didn't quite know what to make of Brigitta, the bookish one, or of the boys. Elsa had had no experience with boys until she was old enough to flirt with them.
The whole boarding school idea had been Georg's in the first place, she reminded herself. That was back in Vienna, when it seemed that his children were out of control and nothing but a constant, painful reminder of his late wife. Even Elsa, the only child of an indifferent father and a bitter, boozy mother, could see that the bonds between the von Trapp children and their father had grown stronger this summer. It really was very sweet, and everyone gave the well-deserved credit for it to the little governess from Nonnberg Abbey.
Elsa had come to regret that little scene in Fraulein Maria's bedroom – a tactical error on her part, she could see now. She hadn't intended to chase the girl away entirely, just to warn her off her crush on Georg. It wasn't her fault that the girl had overreacted! But once she was gone, her absence had filled every corner of the villa, sat like a cloud over every meal, every conversation, every moment of the day.
Thank heaven for tonight's plans in town, which would put some distance between Elsa and Georg on the one hand, and the drama surrounding the little governess and his children on the other. Only a half-hour left before cocktails now. Moving quickly, Elsa shed her silk day dress, kicking it into the corner for the maid to see to, and went to wash her face and reapply her makeup.
But the intrusive memories of the grand and glorious party were harder to wipe away. She should just have looked the other way! Any man, even a nearly married man, could be forgiven for being distracted by a charming, fresh-faced girl like Fraulein Maria. The irony was that Elsa had given the girl solid advice: he would have gotten over it soon enough. It wasn't like anything would ever have come of it. For heaven's sake, the girl was a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey! It was an annoyance, really, and nothing more.
It took only a few moments to repin a few stray curls into place. Now to the wardrobe, to choose her dress for tonight. She pushed aside all the things she'd brought with her from Vienna, all of it packed with a heart full of hope. Every dress and suit had been carefully chosen to suit her sophisticated tastes while projecting an interest in country life and even a bit of a maternal air. Her fingers lingered over the ivory satin dress, ordered from Vienna especially for the party, a night she wished she could forget about, even if it had made the desired impression on Georg's friends, and his enemies as well.
Aha! This would be exactly the thing! The red dress hung reproachfully on the hanger, untouched and unworn since her arrival in Salzburg. Elsa remembered adding it to her wardrobe at the last minute, knowing it was all wrong for the country, but feeling wistful, and maybe a little panicky, to be leaving behind the gay life she'd enjoyed with Georg in the city. This dress was just the thing for tonight, when she and Georg would get a rare chance to recapture their particular brand of magic, to tighten their connection before the pre-wedding madness set in. Tonight, there would be no talk of boarding school or governesses, only of wedding gifts and honeymoons.
It was the perfect choice for tonight, she thought, and reached into the wardrobe.
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It was the perfect choice for tonight, she thought, and reached into the wardrobe.
But Maria's arm froze in midair, remembering the last time she'd worn this dress, the party, the Laendler and its humiliating aftermath. Even now, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment at the thought that Baroness Schrader, along with probably everyone else at the party, had been able to see through the dress and her best governess demeanor, exposing her secret feelings for Captain von Trapp. This dress, one Maria had made specifically for the party, was her favorite, although of course she'd left it behind along with the others when she'd fled to the Abbey. No matter what lay ahead for Maria - and she had no idea what that was - she would never wear this dress again.
The whole custom of changing clothes for dinner was ridiculous, anyway. There was nothing wrong with the dress they'd given her when she'd left the Abbey a few hours ago. But Maria had no choice but to change for dinner, not after her encounter with the Captain in the nursery a few minutes ago.
She had gone directly to the nursery when she'd left the Captain and his Baroness on the terrace, knowing that if she fled to her room and let the welling tears flow, she wouldn't have been able to stop crying. The tears would surely have flooded her room, cascaded down the stairway, through the foyer, across the terrace and into the lake beyond.
Once she'd made it to the nursery, notwithstanding a skeptical glance or two from Brigitta, she had been able to immerse herself in their joy at her return. Children could be so self-absorbed sometimes, but in this case, it was a blessing. They barely registered her warning that she wasn't back to stay, let alone ask about her future. She let their affection wash over her, welcoming the distraction, letting the hugs and kisses soothe her broken heart. At least until –
"New postulant at the Abbey?"
Even while the Captain stood in the nursery doorway, his tall, commanding presence somehow filled the room.
"Sir?" she managed to reply.
"You've got a new dress on. It suits you. Better than the first one," he smiled.
"Father! Can we have Salzburger Nockerel tonight? Because it's Fraulein Maria's favorite."
"We'll see, Marta. It might be awfully complicated for Cook to arrange something like that at the last minute. By the way – ehrm," he had looked down at his feet then, "you children will probably be just as glad to hear you'll have your Fraulein to yourself this evening. I'm afraid that Baroness Schrader and I have a prior engagement."
The air had filled with groans of disappointment.
"No!"
"But Father!"
"Why can't you-"
Maria's relief at the idea of an evening alone with the children quickly turned to dismay as the Captain agreed to cancel his plans for the evening, so that they could all dine together.
"Father? Can we skip lessons tomorrow so that Fraulein Maria can take us up to the mountain?"
"Let's ask her, shall we?"
"Of course, Captain," she murmured, before hearing herself ask to be excused so she could change for dinner. She'd have done anything to get away from him before the threatened tears started to fall again.
Which was how Maria had come to find herself standing before the wardrobe, needing to change her clothes for a dinner she'd rather avoid entirely –
Oh! The blue dress! Yes, she'd wear that one instead. It would be turning time backward to wear that dress, back to the evening of the puppet show, back to a time when she'd barely formed a harmless crush on her employer. Back to when no one, including Maria herself, would have considered her to be anything but an innocent girl from Nonnberg Abbey. Back to when the Captain regarded her with gratitude, and admiration, all perfectly suitable emotions. Back before the different looks, darker yet more tender and intimate, looks that had made her heart pound and her skin go shivery.
She clicked the wardrobe door closed, thinking about how the gates to Nonnberg Abbey had shut just as firmly behind her, only a few hours ago. Maria was never going to be able to go back there, not after admitting to Reverend Mother that she might, just possibly, be in love with Captain von Trapp. If she were perfectly honest with herself, she could see now that her life at Nonnberg Abbey was not the life she was born to live. But why, why, oh why had she rushed to reassure the Captain that another governess was on her way? She'd surprised herself with how the words had dropped from her lips, composed and business-like. Of course, there wasn't any question of her staying, but why had she created this further predicament for herself?
Sighing, Maria carefully arranged the blue dress on the bed and went to wash her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she ought to practice answering questions about the hypothetical new governess, in case anyone asked. Because, of course, there were no arrangements being made for a new governess. At this very moment, Reverend Mother was probably waiting in her office for a triumphant call from the villa, announcing – what? A wedding invitation? The audacity of such a wedding made Maria flinch with embarrassment. How could Reverend Mother have been naïve enough to suggest there could be a happy ending for Maria Rainier and Georg von Trapp? And how could Maria have been foolish enough to take romantic advice from an elderly nun?
Maria let that little bubble of anger fill the spaces inside hollowed by grief and disappointment. Anger at Reverend Mother. And at Baroness Schrader, too. Maria could see now that she'd let herself be played by the Baroness. It was too late to wonder what would have happened if she'd stood her ground and joined the Captain's party for dinner, instead of letting herself be chased away. Not that anything ever would have happened with the Captain: she knew that from how indifferently he'd behaved toward her later in the evening. She tried to hang onto her outrage while she finished dressing, but the emotions kept slipping away from her, anger giving way to shock at how quickly her life had spun out of control, and sorrow at the thought of leaving the von Trapp children yet again. It would have been better for everyone if she'd never returned.
She was getting the younger children settled at the table when the others arrived in the dining room. Wanting to avoid any interaction with the Captain, Maria busied herself with Marta's hair ribbons, but it was hard not to notice Baroness Schrader's splendid red dress, which seemed at odds with the sullen expression on her face. "It's just that I was so looking forward to going out," the Baroness was saying, but she was interrupted by Herr Detweiler's delighted greeting.
"Fraulein Maria! No one told me you were back! How good to see you! I thought I'd scared you away at Georg's party!" Maria smiled her thanks, grateful not only for the warm welcome, but for the excuse to avoid acknowledging the Captain.
Maria had hoped to survive the dinner hour by attending to the children's antics, but they were disappointingly well behaved: though she'd been gone only a few days, Friedrich no longer slurped at his soup, Gretl had learned to chew with her mouth closed, and Louisa spoke politely and even kindly to her siblings. She turned her attention to the food, forcing herself to shovel in one mouthful after another, even though she couldn't taste a thing. She did not allow herself even a single glance at the other end of the table, but she found herself straining to overhear the conversation, even while dreading any mention of weddings. But from what she could hear, Herr Detweiler was doing most of the talking, and he spoke only of the Festival. The Captain, who could usually be counted on for a dry joke or astute observation, was so silent he almost might have left the room entirely, not that Maria was going to look to the other end of the table and confirm that impression.
Up on her mountain, Maria had taught herself to pay attention to details – the lark's song, the shape of the clouds, the shifting shades of green as the light played on leaves and grass. Those details had kept her company when her mind wandered during the long days at the Abbey. Now she forced herself to soak in the details of what might be her last dinner with the von Trapp family: the soft thump of serving dishes on the padded table, the vinegar bite of beetroot salad, the smoked trout smelling faintly of the sea, Franz's unctuous murmur, Herr Detweiler's hearty laugh, the crackle of knife slicing into schnitzel, the scrape of silver against porcelain, the children's lively chatter. She would hold onto these memories and take them with her into the unknown future.
"Fraulein? Fraulein Maria?"
"What – I'm sorry, Kurt. You were saying?"
"I was asking. How long can you stay?"
"Only until arrangements can be made for another governess," Baroness Schrader broke in. Maria's eyes flew to the other woman's face, but the look in her eyes was unaccountably kind, her expression frankly regretful.
"But Father said we wouldn't need another governess!" said Brigitta. "Because we're going to have a new mother instead."
"I don't need a governess," Liesl protested.
"Baroness Schrader," it was impossible to miss the smirk in Louisa's voice, "do you think we need a new governess?"
Maria couldn't help staring at Baroness Schrader, trying to make sense of her expression, when the Captain broke his silence.
"Look, Marta! At what Frau Schmidt has got here! Salzburger Nockerel!" It was the Captain, his voice a little too hearty and oddly enthusiastic on the matter of dessert, a course Maria had never known him to indulge in.
"It was your father that requested it," Frau Schmidt bustled, helping Franz with the serving. "And at the last minute, too. But he insisted on it. For Fraulein Maria's return, he said."
Maria could no longer keep her eyes from the other end of the table, where Captain von Trapp was reaching for his wineglass, looking unbearably handsome in his dark suit.
"That isn't exactly what I said," the Captain protested with an embarrassed little shrug, but it was impossible to miss his expression, the way his blue eyes had gone soft and tentative when they met hers.
It was written all over his face, Maria saw, and she felt her face flush red. She hadn't imagined it, after all. The Baroness' warning echoed in her ears, he'll get over it soon enough, but she could hardly hear it over the roar of her heart in her ears, so loud she thought everyone must surely hear it.
"I – ehrm - Franz! Another bottle of wine!" the Captain bellowed suddenly.
"Or maybe open the Zweigelt?" Herr Detweiler said hopefully.
"Why not champagne, Georg, since we're all celebrating?" That was the Baroness.
He'll get over it soon enough. Maria's neck prickled with an uncomfortable mix of pride and shame. The big dining room, which had always seemed so spacious even with a dozen or more at table, suddenly seemed unbearably confining. She could hardly catch her breath! It really was terribly warm in here. Underneath the blue dress, a trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades and down her back.
"Fraulein?" Herr Detweiler said. "Are you well?"
"Thank you, yes. I'm just not used to so much excitement. And the food – isn't the Nockerel delicious, children? Finish your dessert, and then after you're settled, I'll go out and get myself a bit of fresh air."
It would be an hour, Maria told herself. Or even less, if she were lucky, and then this ordeal would be behind her. She would have given anything to be back on her mountain, with the sky stretching blue above her and the cool breeze on her face. But the gazebo would have to do.
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It would be an hour, Georg told himself. Or even less, if he were lucky, and then this ordeal would be behind him. He would have given anything to be back at sea, with the sky stretching blue above him and the cool breeze on his face. But the balcony overlooking the lake would have to do.
From the moment he'd entered the dining room, and throughout the interminable dinner hour that had followed, he'd been trying to catch Fraulein Maria's eye, but he seemed unable to command her attention. Instead, she had remained focused on her meal, expertly chasing the little dumplings around her soup bowl with a big silver spoon, and slicing viciously into her schnitzel, with no sign that she'd ever required Gretl to guide her through the array of silverware before her.
The room was so warm, he could barely draw a breath. Georg needed to get away, away to somewhere where he could get control of his thoughts, which scattered in a million directions all at once. Amidst the chaos of the dinner hour, try as he might, he could not summon his wits sufficiently to assess the situation in the deliberate manner that had once won him every battle he'd ever fought at sea, and a chestful of ribbons to show for it. His silence had conveniently gone unnoticed amidst the clatter of silverware against porcelain, the children's bickering and joking, and Max's boastful talk of the Festival. The noise barely registered against the roar of his own thoughts, which had not subsided since he'd come upon Fraulein Maria on the terrace earlier today, surrounded by his children.
At first, he had simply been relieved to see the little governess standing there at the bottom of the steps. If anyone had asked, he'd have said it was relief on the children's behalf, but it was impossible to pretend otherwise: he really was awfully glad to see her. But his relief and joy were quickly overtaken by the deep shame he felt for having been the cause of the shock and anguish that was so plain on her face. She had a face like a window, Fraulein Maria.
Whatever momentary impact the news of his engagement to Elsa had had on her, she had recovered almost instantly, calmly offering her congratulations on the engagement before informing them in a firm tone of voice, untouched by regret, that she'd stay only until another governess could be arranged. Although Georg, who noticed everything, hadn't missed the telltale shimmer of unshed tears before she scurried back into the house.
Of course, he'd known for some time that she had a bit of a crush on him, but that was hardly a new experience for him. Georg had years of practice gently but firmly discouraging unwanted admirers. He'd only let himself flirt back with her because what did it matter? She was going to return to Nonnberg and become a nun! Perhaps he had been curious to see if he could shake her up a little bit, forced her to reexamine a vocation for which she was clearly unfit. And if he'd had the stray indecent thought about the girl, well, he would hardly have been a man not to notice her lush mouth and lithe figure. He'd found himself intentionally teasing her, just for the pleasure of watching her cheeks flush that lovely innocent pink, even though it had becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the long-dead sensations stirred to life by that blush.
He'd put all that behind him very quickly once she'd run away, of course. By the time he gave into the children's pleas and called the Abbey to inquire after her, Georg had rewritten the summer's history in his mind to erase any unseemly attraction. He had been able to convince himself that his feelings for Fraulein Maria were entirely due to her success in reuniting him with his children.
But now he could not remember why he had ever tried to deny the memory of how she had felt in his arms during the Laendler, how easily they had moved together, the tender feelings that welled up within when she broke away. Why had he acted so dismissively toward her in the aftermath, pushing her away when he had wanted to do the opposite? Why hadn't he chased her upstairs and confronted her?
The reason, he knew, was Elsa, who now sat beside him, pale as death in her blood red dress, silently and methodically working her way through an enormous plateful of schnitzel. Georg owed Elsa a great deal; he'd meant it when he'd told her she was his savior, having stood by him for the four long years it had taken him to climb out of the bottomless pit of his grief. He had been the one to ask her to come to Salzburg this summer, having set a course he thought best for his family. Until, in a matter of moments earlier this afternoon, he suddenly realized that he'd been blown so far off course he couldn't even remember his destination, or why it had mattered. Elsa had done nothing wrong, but he saw now that she was neither the mother he needed for his children, nor the wife he wanted for himself.
He'd watched Elsa's face go uncertain and vulnerable when he cancelled their plans for the evening, and the only emotion he could summon was confusion over why, exactly, he'd blurted out that hasty proposal yesterday afternoon on the way home from the Eberfields. As though he'd needed the momentum of the drive to get through it. But it was no use, he saw now. When two people talked of marriage –
Georg reached for his wineglass, emptying it in a few swift gulps, and forced his attention to the conversation at hand. Fraulein Maria and Elsa seemed oddly focused on each other, speaking of governesses, the talk of Fraulein Maria leaving and a new mother for the children and-
Hastily, he interrupted the conversation to announce the arrival of the Salzburger Nockerel, only to find himself offering weak denials of having ordered it in the first place. When Fraulein Maria's eyes met his - at last! - he wanted nothing more than to drown in the hurtful reproach he saw there. It was nearly as hard to bear as the tears she'd held back earlier today, out on the terrace.
And why tears? He was pretty sure he knew why those tears, and he knew why she'd come back, too. She wasn't sad to have left her Abbey. He didn't believe that, not for a minute. She might be sad at the thought of returning, though. If she had come back hoping for -
Even as he called for more wine, his mind was racing, considering possibilities he'd barely allowed himself to think of, but that now seemed obvious. The girl was suffering, and visibly so. If he were right about the cause, he had it in his power to put her out of her misery. But what if he was reading her wrong? He'd have to take the risk, that was all there was to it. If there were even a chance –
There would be talk, of course. For an honorable man like Georg von Trapp to – and speaking of honor, he'd have to deal with Elsa first, of course. That was the honorable thing to do.
The familiar feeling washed over him, the instincts returning as though his last battle at sea had been ten days ago rather than ten years: the keen anticipation, the well-mapped out strategy for every contingency, the determination to win, the slightest edge of fear. His thoughts ought to have been muddled, after all that wine, but they were achingly clear.
Exhaustion had given way to resolve. Without another word, Georg pushed away from the table and hurried from the room.
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I am thrilled to be back with my first story in two and a half years! Over that time, my life has changed a great deal, quite aside from the miserable pandemic, but throughout, I was buoyed by my first Sound of Music family, the Proboards fanfiction forum, which recently celebrated its ninth birthday. Even though I keep up with the TSOM times on other social media, and even though Forum members have come and gone over the years, this is still where I go to be entertained, inspired and moved. I did do quite a bit of writing during my time away, most of it for a dark Georg story so dark I doubt I'll ever publish it. But a brief Proboards discussion of the "missing moments" dinner scene, including a specific comment by Chris and Byng, got me thinking. The result was this story, which also owes something to a story called The Balcony that I wrote a long time ago. I hope you enjoyed this story.