Chapter 5: A stormy night at the opera
O what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive
(Sir Walter Scott, 'Marmion' 1808)
"Well Maria me girl, you've gotten yerself inta a fine old pickle, ain't ya?" Maria mocked herself in the bedroom mirror as she put on her phony accent. "Bloomin' 'eck you're gonna 'ave to talk like this for two 'ole months. Serves you right for bein' so impulsive. You're a right old flibbertigibbet you are." Then she fell into a fit of giggles as she realized that she didn't even know what that was, but it was something Sister Sophia had said once.
She looked at herself with self-deprecation. What were some of the other things the Sisters had said about her, mostly in a kind and teasing way, but sometimes in a scolding way? Now what was it….? That's right: that she was unpredictable as weather, as flighty as a feather,…. a will o wisp, and.. er…. yes, a clown. Well they were right about that one.
And what were the other things? A headache? Well she certainly was a headache to the Captain and the Baroness. Then there was something about driving a hornet from its nest and out-pestering any pest. True enough she admitted to herself. There were at least two people who would wholeheartedly agree with that. No make that three – including Sister Berthe. The good Sister had been right after all - Maria's behaviour was as frustrating and impossible as trying to keep a wave upon the sand. For a moment she wondered whether she should drop down and kiss the floor even in Sister Berthe's absence.
With a guilty smile she tried to imagine Sister Berthe's face if she ever heard about this latest scrape Maria had gotten herself into. She would probably faint from disbelief and horror. Maria could just picture the other Sisters waving smelling salts under poor Sister's Berthe's nose and patting her hand frantically.
She missed the Abbey, she realized wistfully. She thought fondly about the infinitely wise Reverend Mother. How Maria adored her with her gentle twinkling eyes and her soft, calm voice. No matter what Maria's transgressions were the Reverend Mother had always been so loving and so compassionately forgiving, though she must have felt exasperated at times.
Maria spoke to her silently. I'm so sorry Reverend Mother, I don't know what came over me to come up with this hare-brained scheme to teach these people a lesson. It just seemed so wrong – about what happened to poor Eliza, but I suppose I should have come up with a better solution. Oh please help me find a way out of this mess.
Try as she might she couldn't think of a single way out of the situation she had created. She put her hand to her hair in consternation as she looked at herself crossly. Well she would just have to see it through to the end. Two months wasn't all that long was it? She sighed. Yes it jolly well was. This one day alone had been exhausting enough. For a moment she contemplated marking an X on each calendar day like a prisoner. Well it's a good penance for being so deceitful she told her mirror image sternly.
While the guilt and remorse at her deception were starting to bother her, at the same time she was rather thrilled to have shaken up the Captain and the Baroness. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth twitched at some of the ways she had annoyed them in just a few hours. Herr Detweiler on the other hand had been such a dear. She was certain he was a kindred spirit with his warmth and outrageous humour.
And the children had turned out to be so delightfully sweet in their music lesson. They had had so much fun they hadn't wanted to stop. But she had insisted. She knew she was already skating on thin ice with their father. They reluctantly finished their music lesson after extracting promises they could do it again tomorrow. Maria had given them fifteen minutes of free time before their appointed bedtime, saying she would be along shortly to supervise lights off.
She heard a knock at the door over the sounds of the rain pelting her windows.
She opened it to see the children already in their night clothes. "Oh sorry children, I didn't realise it was time already, I'm just coming."
"No, we wanted to talk to you first," Friedrich began tentatively, and Liesl continued.
"We wanted to apologise for the way we behaved earlier. We hope you won't think of leaving because we were so horrid."
"Yes Fraulein Maria," Louisa put in boldly. "We want you to stay." Then realizing how much like her arrogant father she sounded she amended humbly, "I mean we hope you will stay."
"Thank you children, that is lovely to 'ear. I would love to stay. But I can't understand 'ow children as nice as you can play such awful tricks on people."
"Well how else can we get Father's attention?" Liesl replied as all the children nodded.
"Oh I see. Well we'll 'ave to think about that one. But let's get you all to bed. If your father finds out you're still up 'e will 'ave me ears."
"Wait, there's something else," Brigitta said anxiously. She hesitated as Maria looked at her questioningly.
Liesl bit her lip. "It's just that Kurt overheard Baroness Schrader speaking to Uncle Max…." She stopped, not quite sure how to continue.
"Oh?"
"Yes," Louisa continued in a rush. "Apparently she wants to get rid of you because you talk differently."
"Oh I see." Maria looked at them thoughtfully, touched at how they were clearly trying not to hurt her feelings by imparting this news. Well it certainly wasn't surprising that the Baroness wanted her gone. But what would the Captain do? Would he fire her for the way she spoke? She was starting to have doubts that he was as big a snob as the Baroness. The man might be maddening, infuriating and insufferably smug, but maybe he was rude and arrogant with everyone, regardless of their background.
She smiled at the children. "There's an old saying that eavesdroppers never 'ear good of themselves, and in this case - of others. Not to worry, I am sure everything will be fine."
"But the things is, we aren't so sure it will be fine. And for once we actually want our governess – that is, you, - to stay," Louisa responded.
"So we thought of a brilliant plan just now and we think it will work. We are going to teach you how to speak High German," Friedrich said enthusiastically, as all the children nodded. "We'll keep it a secret and then you can show them how you can speak just like the Baroness."
Maria felt wretched. Here she was deceiving these innocent children and now they were trying to protect her and help her. It was rather wicked of her to have played this game on them all she realized regretfully. It was just meant to be a bit of fun. And while the Baroness did deserve a bit of pestering after the terrible way she had treated Eliza the waitress, it was getting decidedly messy.
She ruefully remembered the line from the Scottish poem 'Marmion':
'Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.'
You were certainly right about that Sir Walter, she acknowledged remorsefully to herself.
"I don't know children." She sighed, in a quandary about what to do.
"Oh please try Fraulein Maria. We know there's nothing wrong with the way you talk, but it seems to be important to the Baroness and she has influence over Father. It will be easy, we promise," Brigitta pleaded.
"Yes," even little Marta spoke up earnestly as Gretl nodded eagerly. "It's mostly the 'h's' you have trouble with so all you would have to do would be to repeat sentences like 'In Hanover, Hallstatt and Hollabrunn, hurricanes hardly happen.' We'll help you."
Friedrich added, "And also things like 'The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain.' It will help you pronounce 'a's properly."
Maria felt her heart melting at the sweetness of these children. Bless their adorable hearts. She couldn't resist hugging the ones nearest to her, and cupping the faces of the others tenderly. She felt unbearably moved by their efforts to support her. She obligingly tried it with a smile, enunciating each word carefully: "In 'anover, 'allstatt and 'ollabrunn, 'urricanes 'ardly 'appen."
Kurt chortled with laughter. "We'll have to practice Fraulein Maria." She laughed back at him as the other children giggled with happiness around her.
Maria's eyes were shining with love. Was it possible to fall in love so quickly she wondered, astonished. These children certainly seemed to have stolen her heart in a very short time. "Alright children, you can teach me, but not now. Let's get you all into bed. I know a loverly lullaby that me mother used to sing to me that will make even the most recalcitrant child go to sleep. Do you know it – it's the Brahm's lullaby?"
She started singing softly. "Guten abend guten nacht, mit Rosen bedacht..."
She stopped singing abruptly at the shocked and disturbed looks on the older children's faces. "What is it?" she asked puzzled.
"Mama used to sing that to us every night and sometimes Father would join in too." Liesl said quietly with tears in her eyes.
"Oh I'm so awfully sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Maria felt terrible for having hurt them.
"No, no, please, we would all love you to sing that at bedtime, wouldn't we?" Liesl asked the others and they all nodded vigorously.
"You have the most beautiful voice," Gretl finally spoke, shyly. "It sounds like an angel singing. I wish you would sing all day long," she said adoringly.
Maria gave her a tender hug. "Thank you Gretl, that's very sweet of you, but I know all of you will be able to sing just as well soon. Now I know your father and the Baroness won't be 'ome for a few 'ours but I want to get you all in bed on time. It's important for your father and I think I've been troublesome enough for 'im for one day. Come along, let's all sing it together as you get into bed. We can try it in a two part 'armony to make it sound really wonderful."
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The rain lashed at the windscreen wipers making it hard for Georg to see more than a few meters ahead. With the wind howling around them and the thunder rumbling overhead it was mercifully easy not to make conversation. The atmosphere inside the car was frigid.
Elsa sat next to him, anger in every line of her body. She looked rather like a half drowned cat after getting drenched in the storm, her immaculate hairstyle was ruined and plastered to her head. Georg's overcoat and umbrella had offered pitifully little protection for her against the storm as he helped her to the car after the opera. Georg sighed. Their night at the opera had started surprisingly well and then it had all gone horribly wrong.
At the start of the evening Elsa had come down the stairs wearing a magnificent gown, looking stunning. Surprisingly, she had smiled at him as he complimented her. "Oh Georg darling, let's not fight anymore. Let's just enjoy this evening and forget about our disagreements for the moment. I do hate arguing with you." She squeezed his arm gently, her voice husky with affection. "And I know how painful going to the opera will be, reminding you of your wife, but don't worry darling. I'm right here."
Georg felt an enormous well of gratitude for her understanding and patience, as well her sensitivity to his heartache. Thank goodness he would not have to contend with constant sniping between the two of them as well as his memories of Agathe, he thought with relief.
As they took their seats in the theatre, waiting for the overture to begin, Georg was able to remember what had drawn him to Elsa in the first place. She looked so lovely, and here amongst her peers, with the elite of Salzburg society at the opera, she had been witty, charming and graceful.
He looked around at the grandeur of the Opera House, full of aching memories. He had been dreading coming back here. Across the other side were the balcony seats where he and Agathe always used to sit together, tenderly holding hands through the performance, exchanging loving glances. He could almost hear the tinkle of Agathe's laughter as she teased him about something.
The pain lanced through him and he felt the clutch of agony in his heart. The weight of the grief from the memory felt unbearably heavy, suffocating him. But for once he faced it head on, feeling it take hold of him as the pain washed over him. His chest felt tight with suppressed anguish and his breathing was constricted. But slowly, ever so slowly he could feel the pressure easing as the pain began to dissipate to a dull manageable ache.
By the time the lights dimmed he was surprised to discover that he was able to breathe almost normally again. With dizzying relief he realized he could do this. He settled back and immersed himself in the magic of the performance.
The singing was exquisite and the production was entrancing. Involuntarily that brought to mind intrusive thoughts about the new governess. He remembered her glorious singing in that crystal clear voice that had the power to ensnare and bewitch. She would have been able to sing any of the arias performed here tonight effortlessly, with a powerful projection of her voice and a perfect clarity of notes. He shifted uncomfortably and tugged at his ear. She seemed to have gotten under his skin or at least her singing had.
But why did she have to be so aggravating? She was maddening, infuriating and insufferably smug, he thought irritably. Not only that, but disrespectful and insubordinate. If she had been one of his crew he would have had her scrubbing the decks and cleaning the engines for hours to curb her willfulness. His mouth twitched at the rather pleasing image of her undergoing Navy discipline. Her eyes would undoubtedly be spiting fire and defiance at him like an enraged kitten.
Somehow he didn't think it would break her spirit though, it would probably just make her even more cheeky and unruly. So why did that tug at something inside him? He usually could not abide a lack of discipline. It was puzzling. And why was he thinking about her at all he wondered, annoyed at himself. He deliberately pushed thoughts of the impudent young Fraulein out of his mind.
Guiltily he became aware of Elsa beside him. Elsa was not so enraptured with the performance. Her gaze wandered frequently and he knew she liked to be seen and see who was watching her. He tolerated it with rueful resignation. Elsa, after all was from the cream of Viennese society, and mixing with Salzburg's elite was important for her. He had never given a damn himself though, especially recently since he found himself isolated among his peers in opposition to the coming Anschluss.
Elsa put her hand on his arm, and he patted it fondly, if a bit distractedly. He was relieved that their evening was turning out so well. It felt good to get his equilibrium back. Everything was once more on an even keel.
But it was to be short-lived. At intermission, disaster struck in the form of his arch nemesis Zeller. It threw Georg's, mood once again into a vortex of displeasure and animosity.
Georg had brought two flutes of champagne back for himself and Elsa when he found her talking to Zeller. Georg swore inwardly to himself. For the love of God, that was all he needed. Could this day get any worse than it had already been, he wondered in disbelief. He could feel his blood begin to boil at the mere sight of Zeller.
"Ah Captain, how nice to see you here," Zeller greeted him with a thin smile and his usual oily charm. He snapped his heels together in a Teutonic manner.
Everything about Zeller annoyed Georg. His rodent-like face, feral eyes and greased back hair brought to mind images of a rat emerging from the sewers. It was probably an apt analogy, Georg thought to himself wryly.
"Herr Zeller," Georg acknowledged curtly.
"I was just talking to your charming companion Baroness Schraeder, about the extraordinary gifts the Germanic culture has given the world. Surely the finest poets, musicians, philosophers and playwrights the world has ever seen. The mastery of the Aryan race is beyond question."
For a moment Georg felt as if the lid was about to blow off his temper. Like all fanatics Zeller was incapable of a single original though in his head, instead slavishly parroting the vile ideas of his adored Fuhrer and his government. Zeller was baiting him, even he could tell that, as the furious response hovered on his lips.
But then from nowhere came the startling image of his young governess with her eyes full of laughter. He thought of her gentle mockery and soft taunts. He paused. Perhaps he too might have a bit fun toying with Zeller and instead reduce him to a helpless rage.
"Yes, I agree with you Herr Zeller, that Austria certainly is blessed with many fine artists, musicians and composers," Georg replied calmly. "But isn't it extraordinary how so many of them are Austrian Jews? Where would be without the magnificent works of Mahler and Schoenberg? Oh wait a minute, haven't they already been banned in the Third Reich, as 'degenerate artists' by Goebbels and his Ministry of 'Culture'?"
He gave a satisfied smirk at the colour flooding Herr Zeller's neck and face. Georg continued with a smile like a knife.
"I understand that Germans are also no longer allowed to listen Mendelssohn and so many other great composers. And haven't many of Germany's best conductors like Otto Klemperer and Bruno Walter already been forced to flee to the United States? And that's not to mention the irreparable loss to Germany of such great scientific brains as Albert Einstein's."
Zeller's face contorted with rage and his nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his temper. Georg discovered that it was quite amusing to inflame him. It was so easy to rile such a simple-minded zealot.
"Captain, your views are as always provocative and out of step with reality," Zeller responded thinly. "Chancellor Hitler holds art and music in the highest esteem. It is for the good of all that he wants to weed out its degenerate elements and leave only what is pure and good and strong."
Elsa was moving restlessly beside them. Georg could feel her tension. But like a dog shaking a rat between its teeth Georg was unwilling to let go yet.
"This idea of 'degeneracy' in art is so new to me Herr Zeller, and it seems that the list of banned musicians, writers and artists is ever-growing. I am so interested in how your Fuhrer's apocalyptic vision will play out in our intellectual life. Are we to see the mass burnings of books of our great writers and philosophers, as we see throughout Germany? And tell me Herr Zeller, if the Anschluss does come, will we have to replace the mastery of Klimt in our galleries with pictures of your Fuhrer's own 'quaint' watercolours? I understand he considers himself quite the artist."
Georg's anger had evaporated as Zeller's grew. He looked ready to explode, his eyes bulging with fury. Elsa though, was looking nervous and tense. She put a pleading hand on Georg's arm imploring him to stop.
She gave a falsely bright laugh. "My goodness gentlemen, please let's not ruin this evening by talking politics."
Georg responded mildly. "If only that were possible my dear, but it seems politics is invading everything these days. I can't help thinking that if we are forced into the Third Reich we would not be able to enjoy a glorious evening at the opera like this, since many of the performers and orchestra here are Jewish. I can only imagine we would instead be forced to endure endless Wagnerian operas or third-rate Oompah bands because Herr Zeller's dear leader loves them so much."
"Georg please," Elsa hissed, "this is not the place to have such a discussion."
Zeller was seething with rage and his face had gone a peculiar shade of puce. "Captain." he paused, struggling to remain calm. "We shall see if you still hold such risible views when the Anschluss comes. And believe me Captain it is coming. Chancellor Hitler will be your leader soon enough. You forget of course he is one of Austria's greatest sons."
"Unfortunately Herr Zeller, I can't forget such an ignominious fact that your beloved Fuhrer is Austrian, however much I try."
To Georg's disappointment the bell rang signaling the end of the intermission, just when he was getting started, he thought wryly.
"Saved by the bell." Elsa gave a titter of brittle, uncomfortable laughter as she tried to pull Georg away.
Georg couldn't resist a sarcastic parting shot. "I do hope we can continue this stimulating discussion again soon Herr Zeller. It has been so enjoyable and I know how much people of your er... 'beliefs' love debate and discussion. Your people are so tolerant of different points of view." His mouth twitched at his own irony. He smiled sardonically and gave a patronizing little bow. Clicking his heels mockingly he left Zeller behind looking apoplectic with rage.
"Really Georg you were outrageous. Why on earth did you bait him like that?"
Before he could respond Elsa continued, trying to mask her ire with a polite public smile.
"You're just impossible when you are like this," she snapped in a furious undertone so they wouldn't be overheard. "You are far too outspoken. It's one of your worst faults. You have to learn to get along with these people or at least pretend to. Herr Zeller will undoubtedly be very powerful when the Anschluss happens and we must keep on the good side of him."
Georg's amusement disappeared. "You can't seriously be thinking that I would give up my principles to toady to that imbecile?" he asked incredulously. "I'm a military man. I gave my oath to defend Austria to my last breath as a young graduate of the Naval Academy. I will not shirk my responsibilities to preserve Austria's independence."
"I don't take an interest in politics, you know that Georg. It's all so vulgar and déclassé. But even I can see that you only want to see the bad things about the Third Reich. Since Hitler came to power five years ago in Germany he has done extraordinary things. The economy is thriving, and no-one is hungry anymore. He has given the German people their pride and self-respect back. Even you can't deny that."
"But at what cost?" Georg asked bitingly. "Thousands in exile, prison or killed. Children being encouraged to report on their parents if they say anything against the regime. The intellectual heart ripped out the country. Everyone mindlessly parroting the idiotic phrases of their fanatical leaders. God in heaven, is that what you want for our country too?"
"I don't wish to speak about this anymore Georg. It makes me too angry." Elsa hissed tightly, as the lights dimmed for the second half of the performance.
Georg was distracted throughout the rest of opera. He felt bitterly disappointed by Elsa's failure to stand by him on a matter of such profound importance. How would a marriage between them work? Would they be at constant loggerheads? He had a feeling that Elsa was having as many doubts as he was about a union between the two of them. Could they salvage things? He sighed. The night at the opera had started so well and then rapidly disintegrated.
Again, his thoughts drifted to the new governess. He remembered what she had said at the dinner-table about the ugly threats facing Austria. How extraordinary that she was able to see it so clearly and she had been unafraid about speaking her mind about it. Despite her cheekiness there was a depth to the Fraulein that he had to give her credit for, he realized thoughtfully.
As much as he silently applauded her outspokenness about Third Reich – the only thing he did appreciate her provocativeness about - he felt a twinge of worry for her. Would the cloistered walls of the Abbey be enough to protect her if the Anschluss came? The terrible stories from fleeing exiles from the Third Reich had already shown that even religious orders were not immune from persecution.
His thoughts turned back to Zeller. However entertaining it had been to induce a near apoplexy in him, he knew Zeller represented a deadly threat. He could not afford to bury his head in the sand like an ostrich. The country was in political turmoil with the government desperately trying to shore up its defenses against the Third Reich, but the walls were crumbling. And internally, Austrian Nazis were becoming more strident and fanatical, unafraid of raising their voices despite being banned by the Government.
He needed to strategize for the sake of the children. Perhaps he could send them all to boarding school in England, close to their grandparents and out of harm's way while he remained in Austria.
But if something happened to him, they would be orphans and they would be parceled off to various relatives. Then again, if he married Elsa, she would be able to take care of them. The idea of marriage was still distasteful to him, however much he usually admired Elsa, but for the children's sake he needed to consider it.
Elsa had already discussed with him the need to send Liesl and Louisa to Finishing School, to teach them how to be proper ladies, as she had put it. She promised that she would use her contacts for them to gain entry into the exclusive Finishing School in Switzerland that she had attended herself.
While a part of balked at the thought of breaking up the children, he knew that the way he was handling things was not appropriate for girls. Marching and lining up were all very well for boys but not for girls. He didn't know the first thing about raising daughters. Though surprisingly, Elsa had not complained about seeing them lining up. If anything she seemed comforted by the children's rigid discipline.
She had also pushed for the boys to be sent to military school. She had been using her contacts to find places for them in the Theresian Military Academy. But then what if the Anschluss did come? The boys would be swept up into the Third Reich's formidable military machine and he would not be able to protect them. Perhaps boarding school in England would be the best option for all of them. But what about the little ones?
He was startled by thunderous applause. Without him realizing it, the performance had finished and he had missed most of it, lost in his thoughts. Elsa was still furious and cold with him as they made their way out. Although he did his best to protect her from the rain, the heavens had really opened up and the thunder boomed overhead. They were both drenched, sitting in the car shivering with icy water from their hair trickling down their necks. Back at home Elsa wished him a frosty goodnight and stalked off.
Georg sighed. What an utterly turbulent day it had been. When things slipped from his control, chaos ensued. Tomorrow he would ensure everything was firmly back in order but for now he needed a drink. He changed out of his formal evening-wear, and into his more comfortable smoking jacket and sat back with a sigh in the drawing room, studying his brandy glass. Finally, some peace and quiet, despite the storm raging outside.
Bang. Thump. Thud.
What the devil was that? Georg stood up instantly, listening and alert for danger. But then the unmistakable sounds of children's laughter could be heard through the gaps in thunder rumbling overhead. He looked at his watch incredulously. Why the hell were they awake at this time of the night? And was that singing?
That blasted governess! She had promised to have the children in bed on time but she had defied his instructions. This was really too much. The anger rushed back in. He strode up the stairs ready to severely reprimand his outrageously undisciplined, infuriating governess.
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A/N
Yep, I know – not so much humour in this chapter, but it's hard to joke about Nazis. Hopefully the next chapter will be more humorous.
Thanks for reading. As always I would love to know what you think so far.
I do not own TSOM or MFL