I feel a little less weird about these short chapters when I can post multiple at the same time, so here you have another instalment! This particular series is one of my favourites.

(from the stack of letters tied up with string in Fraulein Maria's carpetbag)

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Dear Fraulein,

Are you goading me on purpose? You might have sent word you planned to come after all.

Your presence was so sought after I did not get a chance to ask why you changed your mind. Whatever the reason, I want to thank you for coming.

The villa has been quiet after you left, but I had no idea just how much. I don't believe I've heard as much shouting, singing, and laughing in all the time you've been away than the one hour you were here. You really have made the children very happy, and I am grateful for that. I never thought I'd be thanking anybody for making more noise, but there you have it.

Might you, from time to time, if the Abbey can spare you, consider doing it again? For the children, you understand. I've come to find your wild ideas have created a void in the household I do not have a hope of filling.

Gratefully yours,

Captain Georg von Trapp

PS. There is no need to apologize for not sending felicitations, as you tried to do several inopportune times. (I'm sure you know better than I a proper conversation cannot be had with seven excited children running amok.) Knowledge of the engagement has not been made public, so there is no way you would have known, especially cloistered in the Abbey. – G

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Fraulein,

I think you will find I do ask nicely, most of the time.

CvT

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Dearest Fraulein Maria,

Father has left for Vienna at Baroness Schraeder's request. He has left Uncle Max in charge for the week.

I wanted to ask you about something. Fraulein Maria, what do you think about us entering the festival? Uncle Max says he will enter us and says father will be proud once he sees us on stage. Uncle Max says one has to see it to believe it – only with father one has to see it to accept it. Do you think we should? We would be singing the songs you taught us in the summer – there's really nothing unwholesome about that, is there? And the Salzburg Folk Festival is really a lovely family event. Would father be very angry about it? We feel bad going against father's wishes, but it would be so wonderful to sing in the festival. What do you think?

With love,

Liesl

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Dearest Fraulein Maria,

I had a feeling you would say it is wrong to enter the festival behind father's back. You and father always worked well as a team and he was far more agreeable to your ideas. Do you think you might write father to see if he will relent? If father didn't mind us singing for his friends at the party, I feel certain you could convince him to let us sing at the festival.

You've always told us we need to face our problems, and one of our greatest problems is missing you. I remember the fun we had rehearsing for the puppet show, and we all loved when you would teach us a new song to sing for father, Uncle Max, and Baroness Schraeder. It brought everyone together. Perhaps now that you are no longer here, father might see that preparing for the concert can be a way to carry on, don't you think?

With love,

Liesl

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My just and instrumental Fraulein Maria,

I am appropriately chastised. In hindsight, I do admit entering Georg's children into the Salzburg Folk Festival without his consent may have resulted in grievous injuries to everybody concerned, and one Max Detweiler may have been banned from the grounds forever.

And so Fraulein, I am in dire need of your assistance.

The children want to sing in the festival. I want the children to sing in the festival. Can you, who single-handed brought music back into the von Trapp house, think of anything more providential then the sweet voices of the children singing in the festival? You know Georg's temperament – he is not so much against it than against the very idea of being anything but against it.

Please, mademoiselle, the deadline for entry is this weekend. I am enclosing Georg's hotel address in Vienna.

Forever in your debt,

Max Detweiler (huge flourish)

PS. Thank you for sharing the name of your favourite bakery in town. The strudels you brought to the party were divine. I'm about to make that baker a very rich woman, and myself a very poor man. Even more so if you manage to convince Georg to let the children sing – we shall celebrate in style!

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Dear Fraulein,

Your letter did find me at the correct address. I've never employed a governess who was so concerned about the children's wellbeing to write me in Vienna – unless it was regarding their resignation. Of course, none were so forward as you, nor as infuriating.

I may just have gotten used to it, during your stay. In any case, it was not necessary to pre-empt the contents of your letter. I am not angry.

When I referred to your wild ideas, entering my children into a public singing event was not amongst them. It fills youngsters' heads with drivel and makes them far too excitable. Did Max put you up to it? Even you would not have been so presumptuous. You are all ganging up on this old man.

I will acknowledge you speak some sense. Of course I noticed how well the children sang for Elsa. Or have you forgotten how acutely it caught my attention, even when you were intent on fraying my every nerve? Oh-h, the grand party. Yes, they did practice diligently for that party, although it wasn't entirely necessary for Friedrich and Brigitta to take apart my heirloom cuckoo clock just to see how the bird jumped. I'm still looking for someone skilled enough to repair it. Now, the puppet show I know was more your effort than any of theirs, but I'll admit they did put on a good show in a very short amount of time. I do appreciate that even children need a goal, a destination, to hone their focus and their efforts.

Don't think for one moment I don't know you're appealing to my vanity. I'm very flattered you compare their voices to mine, but if that were truly the case, I would worry more for the audience of the Salzburg Folk Festival. I can only conclude you must have been distracted during my performance of Edelweiss – I know you, and it wouldn't be the first time.

Thankfully, under your tutelage, the children's chorus is lovely.

I'll tell you what I will agree to. Let me think about it. Sleep on it, after I return from dinner with Elsa's niece's godmother. Perhaps I might just let you change my mind. No guarantees, Fraulein. Don't you dare let Max enter the children into the lineup without my expressed say so.

Yours in careful contemplation,

Captain Georg von Trapp

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Dear Fraulein,

Yes, I stick by my earlier letter, you are both of those things, forward and infuriating. And I am, at times though perhaps not as often as I should be, grateful for it. While you are no longer governess in name, my children may have found a lifelong ally in you. Max might have as well, given how patient you are with his absurd schemes.

I have never denied I enjoy music. In fact, I enjoy it very much. I just don't particularly care for putting on a grand show. I never have. It has nothing to do with my wife. We have simply never been a family that performs in public. Even in those days, I could rarely be coaxed to play for any audience. I may have been the most surprised of anyone that evening when a certain infuriatingly persistent governess forced my hand. I suppose, like any subordinate, there was a certain desire to impress my children's gifted music teacher.

You've really thought this through, haven't you? I can tell you are dead set on backing the children. If I don't give in, I wouldn't put it past you and Max to collude behind my back. If the children do perform, my expectation is they do not let the excitement get to their heads. Warn them if they behave erratically or cannot observe their usual routine including studying or bedtime - especially bedtime - I won't hesitate to scrap the whole thing. This is to be a strictly one-off engagement. And yes, I would prefer to see them smartly attired, though I'm not sure what you mean by my having a veneration for uniforms. I have a perfectly healthy respect for uniforms, befitting a naval officer. If you are willing to find a seamstress who can make them new costumes on such short notice, I would be agreeable. They need not wear the ones they have. For the last time, do not call them straitjackets. And no curtains or tablecloths or whatever else you might find discarded, under any circumstance.

I would request one thing, before I agree. I would like to see you attend the concert, as well. After all, these complications started with you.

It is very very late where I am, my mind is a little addled from sleep-deprivation and a fine French vintage (a little too much of it, judging by the contents of this letter), and I've just returned from seeing a performance of the Viennese Boy Choir, which has somewhat sweetened me to the idea of children singing in public. Please make sure I don't live to regret it.

Yours in surrender,

Captain Georg von Trapp

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(telegram sent from the Grand Hotel Wien to Maria Rainer, Nonnberg Abbey)

You're welcome, Fraulein

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(telegram sent from the von Trapp residence, the same afternoon, to the same)

Your concern is well placed – (STOP) – I am already regretting it – (STOP) –

Max is insufferable

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Dear Fraulein,

I have just been made aware the front rows have been reserved for family of the performers. Our designated seats are in the left centre block, second row, 13 – 32. I think they may have counted the children twice, and then some. Please feel free to join us in this section, it would be a shame to see these excellent seats go to waste.

Captain von Trapp

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