Another one. :) A few more instalments to go.
(from the stack of letters tied up with string in Fraulein Maria's carpetbag)
xxx
My child,
It has come to my attention that Captain Georg von Trapp is no longer affianced. I do not imagine this bit of local news will have reached you in Groningen.
Reverend Mother
xxx
xxx
My dear child,
I am only an abbess. I do not presume to dictate how people should live their lives on God's green earth (though perhaps I may have moved a few pieces in my time).
My intention of sending you to the von Trapp family was for you to go out into the world and learn what you wanted of life. My intention in wanting to send you back was so you could find it. My daughter, no matter how things change, it is still you who must do the learning, the finding. Maria, it is you who must look for the life you were meant to live.
I have corresponded with Edith, who is really quite pleased to have you stay on with her pupils. She enthuses you are an asset to their establishment, and you will have a home there for as long as you see fit.
Wherever your heart leads you, whether you choose to return to Austria or remain in Groningen or travel the grand world beyond, I believe wholeheartedly you will continue to do the work of God, and do it exemplarily. God bless you, child.
Reverend Mother
xxx
xxx
(Telegram sent from Berkeley Square, West End, London, to Maria Rainer, Groningen)
Arrival information received – STOP – What an infernal hour – STOP – Meet at terminal entrance 10am
Max
xxx
xxx
Dear Fraulein,
It's finally snowing. It's less than what the icebox makes, but the children are outside enjoying it all the same.
Christmas is approaching. I'm sitting here in my study, and the house is too quiet, too still – sombre, somehow, although I believe now I know what it needs. I regret that I didn't see it sooner, and worry it might be too late.
I'm rather relieved my schedule is no longer cluttered with holiday parties and late-night soirees, but perhaps those days filled with activity also served as an excuse not to examine what I really should have acknowledged sooner. Fraulein, I would like you to take a seat, instead of pacing about like I know you usually do. As I've said, and despite what you have said, writing letters is not my forte. But you are in Groningen, and I am here, and I have no other way of sitting you down and getting you to listen to me for any length of time (not that I ever did, as I recall). I have cleared an entire afternoon for you, and as they are gleefully freezing to death outside, I do not expect any interruptions from the children.
You may have heard that Elsa and I have called off our engagement.
Maria. I am not a man who is flippant in my affections, nor am I a man who lightly backs away from commitment. I want you to know this, for I'm starting to realize that of everyone I know, your opinion of me is the one I have come to hold in the highest regard.
Our engagement was a mistake. It's difficult for me to admit (don't you dare roll your eyes). Realizing this has brought some measure of relief, and I imagine contributed no small amount to my suboptimal mood you'd picked up on these past months. A union between us would have led to resentment and unhappiness, not only for us, but for the children. Elsa does not care to be a mother, and I do not care for being a social gadabout. Perhaps you're wondering, how do two people who have already been happily married once find themselves in such a quandary? On paper, the marriage made sense. Elsa needed a husband. I needed a Baroness, and the children needed a mother. But I have learned since the children do not simply need a mother in name.
I have also learned that I need more than simply a Baroness.
Now, who would you think taught me that? The same woman who arrived like a whirling dervish and turned the villa upside down. The same woman who brought music, laughter, warmth and light into the house – that time you set the tablecloth on fire conducting a science experiment with the children notwithstanding. The same woman whose departure left the house and its family with an inexplicable sense of emptiness.
Maria.
You came as a governess. Of course, you were incredible with the children. Any outsider could see that, and Max never misses a chance to rub it in. But you were also playmate, confidant, role model, and – I swear to this day I have no clue how you manage it – an effective disciplinarian in your own way. You showered the children with love and affection, even though they were not your own, the type of affection that does not end when you stop being their governess, as evidenced by the last few months. You insisted on accountability from their father, and gave him hope, which was far more than he deserved. Because of you, he is proud to be their father.
You were never simply the governess.
You came as a postulate. You were on loan from the Abbey to look after my children. You were devoted to God. But when we sat across the dinner table and you made the children laugh with jokes at my expense, when I sat in the office only to find myself drawn to the window because I could hear you laughing outside with the children, when we argued and you would glare at me and bite your lip and flush a delicious pink, I did not see a postulate. All those meetings in the mornings, all the reports you had for me at night… I could never bring myself to tell you we didn't need half as many.
When you left, I think we both knew there were moments, at least, when you were not thinking about God.
I should have known it then.
Your trouble may have been saying goodbye. Mine was evidently giving you reason enough to stay.
And so, I'm asking you again. I've asked you once, at the beginning. And with each letter since, if not on paper, then in thought. Please, stay.
I want you to stay.
Come home, at least for the holidays. Let me outline for you exactly what I believe this family needs. What I need. I have many faults, but I never make the same mistake twice.
Thinking of you, always,
Georg
xxx
A/N: I thought I had a fairly decent grasp of Georg's voice (it comes easily to me, at least), but boy, was this letter a challenge. Would love to hear your thoughts!