A/N: Thank you so much for the inspiring and encouraging feedback. It means so much!
You may have guessed from the previous chapter that I am including small elements of a tiny, humble tribute to Dame Julie Andrews in this story. In my view, she is someone who has made the world a better place by giving untold joy to millions with her singing, her acting roles and her genuine warmth and grace.
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"I just remember one thing and that is a young lady many years ago standing alone on a stage on Broadway, singing in one single light, in a shimmering moment of magic. It was one of the most magical moments that has ever been locked in my memory in the theatre. She was singing 'I Could Have Danced All Night.'"
- Christopher Plummer recalling watching Julie Andrews sing on stage in MFL in the early 1960s.
(Ella Awards speech)
"I fell in love with her when I was sitting in the balcony watching her do 'My Fair Lady.'"
- Christopher Plummer, (Variety interview, TSOM 50th anniversary)
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Chapter 9: 'A shimmering moment of magic'
Georg was dreaming. Surely it was a dream? He could hear an angel singing so sweetly, so purely it made him feel as if his whole being was being wrapped in softest, most delicate gossamer material, soothing his soul, offering a gentle comfort.
Was it Agathe he could hear in his dream? But no, it couldn't be. While Agathe loved music she had always despaired that she couldn't sing as well as she would have liked. This voice was almost unearthly in its beauty.
He resisted coming out of the dream, thinking he would lose contact with that voice and he would be left bereft, but eventually he blinked himself awake. The singing, thank God, was still there. It floated across to him from the library. A singularly spectacular voice singing Schubert's Ave Maria. It was utter perfection. Single notes hovered in the air and he felt himself holding his breath, waiting for the next note and then sighing with satisfaction as it arrived.
He observed distractedly that it was early morning but it seemed as if even the birds had stopped twittering to listen, as if nature too was holding its breath as that voice filled his world.
He knew that voice. How could he not? Fraulein Maria was singing. Memories of the previous evening came to him, of his volcanic rage at the ridiculous idea that there was something going on between his governess and Max. The anger had given way to blinding relief and then shock at the stunning grace of her voice. He had heard her sing before but he had pushed it out his mind, but there in the library listening to her sing the Polonaise he could not deny its impact any longer.
He remembered being unable to move a muscle. Her singing had resonated deeply within him. He realized in an almost detached way that this must be what an addict feels like to taste that first heady, intoxicating shot of opium, immediately craving for more.
He had gone to bed afterwards dazed and unsettled, tossing in a restless sleep, distracted by the voice that haunted him. And like an addict, he wanted to hear her sing again, to satisfy the need at least temporarily. But like an addict he knew that once more would never be enough, or even twice, on and on into an endless, voracious cycle.
His thoughts turned to Agathe as the music wrapped its delicate tendrils around him. She had loved listening to Ave Maria. It had been performed at their wedding, at the start of their beautiful, but all too brief journey together as man and wife. It should hurt unbearably to hear it again, with the jagged edges of memories cutting into him like they usually did, but surprisingly it didn't. It felt almost healing, a balm to his aching soul, a reminder that joy could continue in the world even in the face of death. All this time he had thought that keeping the music at bay would shelter him from the pain, but he had been wrong. The music was cathartic.
Du lächelst, Rosendüfte wehen, In dieser dumpfen Felsenkluft,
[You smile, and a scent of roses floats over this airless abyss]
He thought of Fraulein's Maria's smile, so full of impish, irrepressible humour - or at least it had been when she first arrived, though it was still there for the children. Unbidden, the thought came to him that Agathe would have liked Fraulein Maria very much. Despite her own impeccable, aristocratic pedigree, Agathe had never been one for stuffy pretentions. She would have enjoyed the Fraulein's wit, intelligence and humour. Her playfulness would have appealed greatly to Agathe's sense of fun, and she would also have loved her musical gifts. But most of all she would have loved how much Fraulein Maria adored the children. Agathe would be in peace knowing that the children were in such good hands. The thought was enormously comforting, though he didn't want to dwell on the fact that Fraulein Maria was only with them temporarily.
Almost as if on cue, the singing stopped and he felt the sudden chill of its loss, a void forming inside. He waited, hoping for more, only reluctantly getting out of bed when it was clear it was over.
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"Enter." Georg responded to the knock on his study door, looking up as Fraulein Maria came in. He had been so distracted by her singing that he had forgotten that he had demanded that she see him in his study in the morning.
"Ah Fraulein," he studied her thoughtfully as he sat back. "So it seems as if at least one mystery has been revealed," he drawled.
"I'm sorry for keeping the music lessons a secret Cap'n, it was wrong of me."
He noticed she did not cast any blame on Max, undoubtedly out of a misguided sense of loyalty.
"There is no need to protect Herr Detweiler," he said dryly. "I have no doubt that he swore you to secrecy, but I do not appreciate subterfuge of any sort. It can get you into all kinds of trouble." There was a thread of warning in his voice.
"I'm sorry sir." She was looking at him warily as if she expected him to go into one of his towering rages. But try as he might he couldn't muster any real anger or even annoyance at her and it puzzled him why. Usually his temper was on a short fuse, and it didn't take much to set it off, at least over the last few years.
He stood up and walked around his desk, pausing to look out the window for a while. "Did you not realize what people would think Fraulein?" he asked as he gazed out at the garden.
"What people would think Cap'n?" she repeated, confused. "What would they think?" she looked at him blankly as he turned to look at her.
Was she really that naïve? he wondered in exasperation. Yes, perhaps she was. Or maybe the idea of anything untoward going on between herself and Max was simply too preposterous for it to occur to her. He tugged at his ear uncomfortably, remembering his own outrageous thoughts.
"Yes, well…. er.. never mind." He cleared his throat. "How long have these lessons been going on?"
"Since the first week I got 'ere Cap'n. 'err Detweiler was ever so kind offering to 'elp me. I've learned so much from 'im and I'm so grateful. I 'ope you will allow me to continue them?"
Georg stared out of the window again for a while, scowling his annoyance. That blasted Max. He really was a wily fox, going behind Georg's back like this, after he had been explicitly warned to keep away from the Fraulein. He would haul Max over the coals later this morning for his deception, and he would also set Elsa straight about her poisonous insinuations. To be fair though, she had genuinely thought that something was going on.
But what concerned him more now was what Max was up to. He rarely did anything that wasn't in his own interests. Perhaps Fraulein Maria had cast her spell over him just like she had with the children, and Max was so enchanted he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart. Or perhaps not. He dismissed the idea. What was the crafty devil up to?
Fraulein Maria was looking at him anxiously probably wondering if he would put an end to the lessons. She spoke up pleadingly.
"It would mean ever so much to me Cap'n. I've always loved singing, it brings me such 'appiness. When I was a little girl… well I didn't 'ave the 'appiest childhood. Things were difficult. But singing gave me a sense of the beauty that could rise above it all. It gave me purpose and a sense of identity. I feel like it's a part of who I am.* It's also one of the things that drew me to the Abbey. I used to listen to the Sisters singing on the way to Vespers and I longed to join them."
He felt something shift inside him at her revelations, moved that she was confiding in him, trusting him with something that she usually kept deeply hidden. Unlike on other occasions her words rang true. There was no mischief in her eyes to make him doubt what she was saying. He realized he hardly knew anything about her at all, this mysterious governess who spoke like a fishwife and sang like an angel. He imagined her as a lost little girl, using singing as a comfort in her loneliness and fear. It tugged at something deep inside him, thinking of his own children and their terrible sadness over losing their mother. He acknowledged the stab of shame and guilt at his neglect.
How could he refuse her, even if he was concerned about Max's scheming? More than that he did not want to refuse her for his own sake. Her singing had affected him powerfully and it had forged a driving need in him to hear it again. Like opium, the craving was surging in his blood.
"Alright you can continue Fraulein." He noted her gasp of delight and held up his hand. "But I am warning you, you must be very, very careful with Herr Detweiler. He tends to get carried away by his enthusiasm. You may find yourself agreeing to things under the force of his dubious charm and persuasion. I know you are a very strong-willed young woman and I am sure you are quite capable of standing up to him," he added dryly.
"Oh thank you Cap'n," she clapped her hands together joyfully.
She was so excited she moved towards him and for a startled moment he wondered if she was actually going to hug him in delight. Even more astonishingly he was not taken aback by the idea as he should be. Quite the contrary. In fact he was holding his breath as anticipation surged through him and his arms yearned to wrap themselves around her, his whole body almost longing to feel her softness pressed against him.
But she seemed to remember herself in time and stopped abruptly before reaching him, leaving them both confused and unnerved. They both cleared their throats awkwardly as he scratched his neck uncomfortably and she put her hand to the top of head in consternation and embarrassment. Both of them wondering what on earth had almost happened, but convinced themselves that it had just been their own imaginations.
Fraulein Maria turned to leave, but he stopped her.
"Wait!" he ordered, still slightly off balance. "Please," he added tentatively.
She waited for him to speak, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, puzzled as he hesitated.
"This morning I heard you singing Ave Maria, the Schubert version. It was my wife Agathe's favourite piece." He paused, not meeting her gaze as her eyes filled gentle compassion. "I wonder if you might sing it again in the mornings? She also loved Schubert's Serenade, Pie Jesu and Plaisir d'amour. Do you know them?"
"Of course Cap'n, they are exquisite pieces. There is such a delicate serenity about them. It would be a pleasure." She hesitated a moment and then as if taking courage she asked quietly "If I could be of any 'elp?"
"You have already," he muttered gruffly. "More than you know." He turned away again to look out the window and she left him to his thoughts.
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"Fraulein Maria is joining us for lunch," Brigitte announced happily to her father. The children seemed to be full of excited plans, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. They couldn't hide they were up to something.
"How delightful," Elsa and Max said at the same time, but with decidedly different intonations.
The children pulled a reluctant, smiling Fraulein Maria forward as Franz set a place for her at the table. He was thin-lipped with the disapproval that he could not voice.
"Come on Fraulein Maria, you can do it. Don't be frightened," Marta encouraged in a loud stage whisper.
Maria smiled tenderly at the children, bright laughter sparkling in her eyes as she obligingly said to Baroness Schraeder with overplayed refinement: "How Kind Of You To Let Me Come." Her pronunciation was slow and meticulous as the children looked on with proud joy. Gretl even clapped her hands enthusiastically.
Baroness Schraeder responded with a gracious, if patronising, "Delighted my dear. How nice that you feel able to join us again."
Friedrich escorted Maria to her place and pulled out her chair for her like a proper gentleman. She sat down with far more elegance than her first pine-cone troubled meal. She thanked Friedrich with contrived dignity, smiling conspiratorially. "Thank you, young man."
She noticed with amusement that the Captain and Herr Detweiler were watching this little performance with bemusement, and the Baroness with annoyance. The Captain rolled his eyes but he did not appear irritated for once. For a moment she could have sworn his mouth twitched but she must have been mistaken.
The children prompted her again. "The weather, talk about the weather," Kurt hissed quietly.
Maria obliged, putting great emphasis on the 'H's' in her enunciation as she spoke with an affected haughtiness. "Hasn't it been unseasonably warm? I have heard that in Hanover, Hollebrunn and Hallstatt hurricanes hardly ever happen. But I Hear that the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain."
The Baroness was looking at her as if she feared Maria had gone insane at her ridiculous chatter, while Herr Detweiler was chuckling into his drink. The Captain appeared to be hiding a small smile behind his napkin, which he covered with a discreet cough as the Baroness looked at him, perplexed. He winked at his daughters, showing he understood the children's efforts to turn their governess into a genteel lady, and they smiled back at him joyfully.
Brigitta whispered loudly to Maria. "Talk about their health."
"I Hope you have been well Baroness," Maria intoned with ladylike dignity. "I do Hope that there won't be more influenza this coming winter. My classmate in college caught it and we Had to pour gin down her throat."
The children looked concerned and exchanged alarmed glances as Maria went off-script. The impulsive mischief in her couldn't resist, now that she was interacting with Baroness again and seeing her thinly veiled contempt.
"Gin?" the Baroness echoed faintly. "That seems like a rather unlikely cure for influenza."
Maria smiled sweetly and said in elegant tones. "Gin was like mother's milk to her. Why I remember we went to the races together once and she Hid a bottle in her petticoats. I don't drink myself but we had a simply marvelous time. I remember we placed a bet on a Horse called Dover."
Maria paused gleefully, her eyes dancing with mischief. "He won the race and I am sure it was because we shouted at him "Come on Dover, move your blooming -""
The Captain immediately interrupted as if he could tell what she was going to say. "Erhm...Yes, well, I don't think we need to know what you shouted, Fraulein," he said darkly.
The children were giggling at their governess' naughtiness. Although they weren't quite sure what she was going to say they had a suspicion it was something outrageous by the looks on the adults' faces. The Baroness looked as if she was ready to faint.
"It was nothing unseemly Captain," Maria asserted calmly. "We shouted to Dover to move his blooming legs, that's all." She looked at the Captain with deliberate innocence, though she couldn't hide the playfulness in her eyes, as he raised disbelieving eyebrows at her and snorted.
"Doesn't Fraulein Maria speak well?" Gretl asked her father proudly.
"Yes, it's quite astonishing Gretl," her father agreed dryly.
"Thank you Cap'n, the children have been teaching me to speak proper like."
Herr Detweiler said with amusement, "I am sure we could pass you off in the finest salons and glittering balls of Vienna or even at the exalted Salzburg Music Festival."
"You are speaking well my dear," the Baroness agreed condescendingly. "But I am afraid it takes more than a few speech lessons to be a real lady. But you are doing very well. It's so nice not to have to listen to that dialect. What an improvement!"
Maria could see the sour looks on the children's faces at the Baroness' words so she did not respond in kind, but said politely, "Thank you Baroness, the children have been wonderful teachers."
"How very droll to have the children teaching the governess. Heavens, whatever next? Perhaps the gardeners can show the Captain how to run the estate, or I can teach Cook how to make the schnitzel." The Baroness gave a tinkle of laughter, unconcerned that no-one else joined in.
The Captain spoke, ignoring the Baroness' jibes. "Well done children, you've done a wonderful job with your governess. I suspect she was a most troublesome student." He winked at them again, making them giggle and regain their humour.
"Oh no," Marta said loyally. "She was very good and she worked so hard."
Maria smiled at Marta and said, "The children have another surprise for you Captain. They want to sing for you and the Baroness this afternoon. They have been practicing every day."
The children nodded eagerly, excited about showing their new musical talents to the adults.
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The children's singing was a triumph. Maria felt as if her heart would burst with pride and love at their sweet, innocent voices soaring to The Sound of Music song.
I go to the hills
When my heart is lonely
I know I will hear
What I've heard before
My heart will be blessed,
With the sound of music
And I'll sing once more.
She wasn't the only one affected. She could see how unbearably moved the Captain was as he too joined them in singing a verse. Afterwards he gathered them close in an all-encompassing hug. Maria looked down, touched at the sight of the Captain and his children re-forging their bonds of love, almost feeling as if she was intruding on an intensely private family moment. She discreetly wiped away a tear that was threatening to fall.
She could leave now, she realized with an aching sadness. Her work was done. The Captain had found his way back to his children. She could confess her deceit to him. No doubt he would send her back to the Abbey immediately.
She felt the twist of agony in her stomach at the thought of leaving the children. Perhaps she could allow herself a day or two more to say her own private goodbyes to those beloved children who had stolen her heart. She hoped that their father would let them visit her in the Abbey occasionally, unless he was too angry to forgive her deceit. She still did not know whether to confess to the children as well or to just let them keep the pride and joy of having taught her how to speak like a lady. But at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that the family were together again and nothing would tear them apart.
Or so she thought. Only two days later she was proven how wrong she could be.
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Maria could hear a tremendous commotion downstairs. She opened her bedroom door to hear the Captain roaring, "Come back here this minute Louisa! Apologise to the Baroness at once!"
Good heavens, he must be agitated to be bellowing like a raging bull since he hated shouting so much, Maria realized with alarm. She rushed out, shocked and horrified. What could possibly have happened? She saw Louisa storming up the stairs, her face a blotchy, red colour, streaked with angry tears, as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Louisa, what is it, what's happened?" Maria asked with concern.
"I hate her!" She gulped through her sobs. "And I hate him too. He's just been pretending to love us but he doesn't want us around at all. He just wants to get rid of us as always. Just so they can go to their stupid parties all the time and not have to bother about us."
"Louisa I know that's not true. Your father loves you. Of course he does."
"Does he? Then why is he sending us away then?" All of sudden the anguish became too much for her. Brushing the tears from her face furiously with her sleeve, she stormed to her room and slammed the door with an almighty crash that made the doorframe judder. In that at least she was similar to her father, Maria thought with a wince, even as she fretted over what might have happened.
Liesl came up the stairs slowly, white-faced and distressed, tears welling from her lower lashes, ready to fall. "Baroness Schraeder just told us that Louisa and I are going to be sent to her old finishing school in Switzerland as soon as the summer is over," she whispered, almost as if the shock had robbed her of the strength to speak louder.
"The way she said it, it was as if she expected us to be happy and excited about it," Liesl said in disbelief. "How could Father do this to us? Why does he want to split us all up?"
Maria stared at her dumbfounded and appalled, then behind Liesl she could see the Captain striding up the stairs, enraged.
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A/N: Sorry to end on that explosive note.
I'm afraid the scene at lunch will only make sense if you have seen MFL and the iconic scene where Eliza goes to the Ascot Races and yells at Dover to move his blooming ar..!
Julie Andrews has performed Bach/Gonoud's version of Ave Maria with Placido Domingo. There's a shot of a woman weeping in the audience. I know how she feels.
*In her autobiography and in a number of interviews Dame Julie has said how much her singing defined her sense of self even as a little girl and it was a great source of comfort to her in her troubled childhood.
Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts.
I do not own TSOM or MFL