Chapter 16: Fear
"Besides, do any of us understand what we are doing? If we did, would we ever do it?"
- George Bernard Shaw, 'Pygmalian' (My Fair Lady)
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The ballroom was crowded, overwhelmingly so. Georg realized with frustration that he had lost sight of Fraulein Maria and Max. He felt the tight knot of worry in his stomach for her. Although her singing was beyond compare, surely she must feel overwhelmed to be here, at the opening ball of the Festival, amongst Austria's aristocracy, foreign dignitaries and royalty.
He cursed Max once again for letting his ambition and unscrupulous scheming thrust Maria into the spotlight like this. How could a naive young postulant possibly cope with all this attention? It was a world away from the gentle, cloistered haven of the Abbey. He needed to be close by, to protect her if she faltered, if it all went horribly wrong and she got stage fright.
An ominous sense of foreboding loomed over him like thunder clouds. The crowd pressed oppressively against him, and the cloying scent of expensive perfumes felt suffocating. He swore inwardly, where the hell was she? Dread lay like a stone in his stomach.
He heard Max make the announcement and turned in that direction. Pushing through, he saw her in the distance. He was puzzled why she was still wearing her velvet opera cape. Why hadn't she taken it off when she arrived?
She looked splendid though, all sparkling blue eyes and creamy skin, the white cape a perfect foil for her luminous, natural beauty. As always, her hair looked soft and silky, it's sheen far more lustrous than the jewel-encrusted tiaras glittering on the heads of many of the ladies present.
Almost as if in slow motion, Georg watched Max help her off with her cape. The silence thundered, and time stood still for just a moment. He froze. Around him he could hear shocked gasps, embarrassed murmurs mixed with the sneering titters of laughter, leering faces crowing with delight, and malicious whispering amongst some of his peers.
With shock, he saw that she was wearing that awful dress she had worn when she arrived at his home – brown, drab, shapeless. She was certainly lovely enough to carry it off – her wholesome radiance was undimmed by the dreary sack-like garment, but still, he could see her distress. The pain in her eyes battled with the fear, as her gaze sought his and telegraphed her panic.
Incensed at the crowd, Georg pushed through once more, finally reaching her with a Herculean effort. He snatched the cape off Max and draped it gallantly around her. Feeling fiercely protective and seething with rage, he picked her up in his arms and strode out of the ballroom as she sobbed helplessly against his neck.
Georg shot bolt upright with a gasp, drenched in sweat. He was lying in his bed. Hell and damnation! It was just another blasted dream, he realized with relief even as his heart still pounded with fire and fury. Tonight was the damned ball. His worries about his governess were seeping like poison into his dreams. He often woke up even more tired and bad tempered than when he went to bed.
A glance at his watch told him it was 2am. God-damnit, he needed to get back to sleep. It was going to be a very long day. With the adrenalin still surging through his body, sleep eluded him at first but then it wrapped its tendrils around him once again.
This time Georg knew he was dreaming but he was damned if he was going to wake himself up from this one, not when he felt as if he had been parachuted into heaven on earth.
Fraulein Maria was lying on the same luxuriant velvet cape, and he lay beside her. Her ivory skin seemed translucent against the soft white cape. The material was draped beguilingly over her, but even its velvety smoothness was no match for the silken softness of her skin. It was obvious from her bare shoulders that she wore nothing underneath.
With his body hungry with desire, he saw that her face wore that enraptured look she had whenever she sang: that captivating mix of serenity and joy. Lying there, she looked paradoxically both alluringly passionate and sweetly innocent.
A delicate flush bloomed in her face when he kissed her lush mouth, savouring its sweetness. As he trailed his mouth along that graceful swan-like neck, he felt her body moving restlessly, almost feverishly, yielding to him. She welcomed his caresses as she murmured soft incoherent words of longing. Her eyes were alive with pleasure; a newly discovered confidence in her blossoming sensuality chasing away the initial shyness.
Willingly he plunged into a vortex of intense desire, the swirling passion engulfing him, making him feel as if he were drowning. But it felt only exhilarating. Georg's mouth moved lower, worshipping her fragrant skin, his fingers exploring with heady delight.
Slowly, seductively, he slid the cape away until she lay before him in all her feminine beauty, allowing him to feast his eyes on her loveliness. His heart was hammering so hard he wasn't sure he could stand it. He watched, fascinated, and in an agony of need, as her pale, delicate fingers began their own voyage of discovery, trailing over his darker-toned, hair-roughened skin, caressing him in turn. Then with a rapturous smile, she cupped his cheek tenderly and pulled his head down for a kiss so intoxicating it made his head spin.
Georg woke up, chest heaving, cursing as he was dragged away from the dream. He closed his eyes again, fighting wakefulness, hoping the tantalizing wisps of the dream would lull him back to sleep. But like smoke in the wind, they disappeared.
He was left with a void, a feeling of profound loss about dreams that could never be realized. Frustratingly, his body was painfully tight with yearning. Worse still, reality intruded. He always returned from his forays into the forbidden with feelings of remorse and shame. Fraulein Maria would be shocked out of her mind if she had even an inkling of his dreams and thoughts.
As the fog of desire cleared he had a moment of perfect clarity: how could he possibly marry Elsa when he did not love her; when his nights were consumed with tortured, impossible dreams of another woman? Even if Fraulein Maria could never belong to him it was utterly unfair of him to even contemplate marrying Elsa. With guilt he realized he would have been using her for his own ends – to see to the children if something happened to him.
It was suddenly so obvious how unsuited he and Elsa were, he wondered why it taken him so long to realize it. In his defense he had been so worried about the future, and completely distracted by his governess that he had not been able to think straight over the last weeks.
Georg sighed regretfully. He would have to break it off with Elsa, but not today. Not when she had been so enthralled at the idea of going to this blasted ball. Throughout his life he had done his best not to be a swine to women in his relationships and he was not going to start now. She would be arriving back from Vienna by lunchtime, no doubt eager to prepare for the ball. Tomorrow would be time enough to tell her.
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Later that evening, Georg paced impatiently, dressed in white tie and tails, ready for the ball. Elsa and Maria were still getting ready. He felt tense and on edge, his worries about his governess weighing him down.
Max came in looking confoundedly complacent, which served to infuriate him even more. Didn't Max realise what was at stake here? If Fraulein Maria faltered she would be crushed and humiliated. It was too painful to even contemplate her devastation.
Oblivious, Max spoke cheerfully. "I've just seen Fraulein Maria. I tell you Georg, she is a vision to behold. I thought I would need to hire expensive jewels for her gown, but as that English writer, Shakespeare, once wrote, there is no need to "gild the lily." She looks ravishing as it is. Liesl has lent her a simple pearl necklace."
He preened with self-congratulation. "I must say I've done an extraordinary job with her dress."
Georg eyed him with menace. "I never asked you about her gown. It had better not be inappropriate or revealing."
"Not at all," Max replied smugly. "It's modest, in chaste white, and entirely befitting a postulant. Even her Reverend Mother would approve. But still, it's marvelous: soft, flowing, glorious. Believe me, even Elsa's couturiers in Vienna would be struck dumb by it. Perhaps I should change my career and become a designer instead. But on second thoughts, that sounds rather too much like hard work."
"Career?" Georg scoffed. "Is that what you call your shameless exploitation?"
Max merely smirked to himself. He felt as pleased as punch. Fraulein Maria had looked so ethereally lovely, even he had been taken aback. Half the men at the ball would need to be carried out on stretchers when they saw her, and the other half when they heard her sing. He couldn't wait to see Georg's reaction.
Georg continued dryly, "I have no doubt you will be sending the bill for her gown to me."
"Actually Elsa has offered to pay."
Georg looked at him, astounded. He couldn't even begin to try to understand why that would be. Elsa disliked Fraulein Maria intensely.
He said curtly, "That won't be necessary. Send the bill to me. Fraulein Maria is my responsibility."
"Very well. I got local seamstresses to make it to my design. Don't worry I won't charge you for the design," Max added, cheekily.
"How very generous of you," Georg said ironically.
Max went over to a side table where Franz had laid out a small tray of boutonnières. He selected a tiny sprig of edelweiss rather than a traditional carnation or rosebud, and placed it in his lapel.
"I used edelweiss as an inspiration for her dress," Max explained with a self-satisfied air. "Pure and innocent." He held another sprig up. "Despite its delicate sweetness it has hidden strength and resilience and tenacity. How else could our national flower survive the harsh environment of the mountains?"
Georg raised sardonic eyebrows. "You sound almost patriotic, Max. How very unlike you."
"Ah well, our dear Fraulein brings out the best in all of us. Me included. But she does remind me of edelweiss, with all her sweetness yet inner strength."
He went on thoughtfully. "I think that is what is going to appeal to her audiences. Fraulein Maria is symbolic of everything that is good and pure and decent. They are all going to fall desperately in love with her."
He could see Georg's jaw clench at the thought. He couldn't resist provoking Georg a bit more. "When you see her, you'll realize that we are going to have to stay close by - what with all those rakes and cads wanting to fawn all over her at the ball tonight. We both know there will be plenty of wolves eager to devour her."
With satisfaction he saw Georg's eyes flare with white-hot fury.
Max continued, "Anyway, she's ready but still very nervous, so I suggested she sing something in the library to warm up her throat and calm her down. She can also practice all the breathing techniques I've taught her."
Georg started pacing again. "Do you have any idea how daunting this is going to be for her?" he bit out. "What if she's frightened or overwhelmed? Are you prepared for that?"
"Georg, you need to have faith in your doubts. She is going to be fine. No, she's going to be sensational. I have fully prepared her. She knows how to visualize. I've told her if the panic starts she needs to close her eyes and think about something she loves dearly or a place where she feels at peace, like her beloved mountain."
Georg continued to pace angrily, snapping his gloves agitatedly at his side.
Max watched him, wryly. "Why don't you have a glass of port – it will help ease your tension."
"I am not tense!" Georg snapped. But he went over and poured himself a drink anyway, knocking it back with one slug. He was just pouring another when the first haunting notes from the library reached him. He paused, about to pour, as the exquisite singing reached him and enveloped him in that now familiar gossamer blanket of peace and euphoria.
She was singing from Schubert again, Georg realised, touched. Ever since he had told Fraulein Maria that Schubert was his favourite Austrian composer she had seemed to make a point of including at least one song from his work when she had a lesson with Max. It was almost as if she was giving him a priceless gift each day. It enabled him to escape, even for a short while, into the tranquility of her singing, letting the music work its soothing magic, allowing him to slough off his worries about the future, and temper his grief about the past.
He sank into a nearby chair, the drink forgotten. Max observed his transformation with quiet glee. Georg closed his eyes as the notes cascaded over him. He always felt as if the gates of heaven opened whenever he heard her. She was like an angel, singing with such purity of notes it was almost frightening. This time she was was singing Schubert's Serenade.
Frustratingly though, Max seemed intent on disrupting his pleasure.
"Don't you just love this piece Georg? It's a lament about the torture of unrequited love."
"I know what it's about, Max," he retorted irritably. He closed his eyes again to block out his annoying companion.
"Leise flehen meine Lieder, Durch die Nacht zu dir;
[Silently my song pleads through the night to you;]
.
In den stillen Hain hernieder, Liebchen, komm zu mir!
[In the quiet grove, Darling come to me!]"
Usually the Serenade began with the rich sounds of cellos, deep and mellow, resonating almost mournfully; the cellos would then be joined by the delicate whisper of violins for added poignancy, and finally, overlaid with the reverent, caressing notes of a piano. But Fraulein Maria needed no such accompaniments. Her voice was able to carry all those distinct timbres effortlessly, her range flawless. It made Georg's blood surge, like an addict getting another shot of an opiate. It emptied his mind of everything, befuddling his senses until all that was left was a lingering sense of serenity.
But Max, it seemed, was unwillingly to be quiet and let him enjoy it in peace. He interrupted again, setting Georg's teeth on edge.
"Did you know our little Fraulein is a four octave soprano,* with barely any training at all? She's quite extraordinary."
Georg ignored him. He already knew how gorgeous that voice was. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and sent shivers down his spine.
"Hörst die Nachtigallen schlagen? Ach! sie flehen dich,
[Do you hear the nightingales sing? Oh! They implore you,]
.
Mit der Töne süßen Klagen, Flehen sie für mich.
[With the sounds of sweet laments, they plead for me.]
.
Sie verstehn des Busens Sehnen, Kennen Liebesschmerz,
[They understand my heart's longing, the torment of love]"
.
Maddeningly, Max kept prattling on. "Such a poignant song," he sighed theatrically. "One can't help but be moved by such stirring sadness."
"Max!" Georg snapped, riled beyond endurance. "I am trying to listen. If your intention is to be extremely aggravating, you've succeeded admirably."
Max merely sighed and murmured something that he didn't quite catch about Georg being obtuse. Georg didn't even bother to try to ask him what he meant, too irritated that Max was spoiling his repose.
"Laß auch dir die Brust bewegen, Liebchen, höre mich!
[Let them stir your heart, Darling, hear me!]
.
Bebend harr' ich dir entgegen! Komm, beglücke mich!
[Trembling I await you. Come, give me bliss.]"
The final notes faded away, with Georg feeling the weight of their loss. Each note seemed to have pierced his soul with its beauty. For a while the silence echoed with those last evocative sounds. Max, for once, remained quiet, but then the distinctive noise of excited children came from the staircase.
"Ah," Max smiled. "I think our Cinderella is coming down." He went to the doorway to watch.
Georg followed slowly, curious about how she would look, and ready to give her confidence a boost with a few kind compliments.
He looked up and stopped dead. The children were beside themselves with excitement, shrieking and talking jubilantly over each other, creating an exuberant entourage for their governess, as she carefully made her way down the stairs.
Georg didn't hear their cacophony. Nor did he hear Max speaking beside him. Everything in his world seemed to have faded away, except for the stunning sight of his governess. He was simply thunderstruck by the vision of her, dressed as gracefully as a princess, and looking so enchanting he felt as if he had turned to stone. He couldn't have moved a muscle even if he tried.
Although Max was technically correct to say the dress was modest what he hadn't mentioned however, was that it was made with a soft, shimmering material that lovingly hugged Fraulein Maria's enticing curves when she moved, giving subtle hints of a lush, stunning sensuality.
Georg's throat was dry, and he wasn't sure, but he wondered vaguely if his heart had stopped beating. His mind was empty of all thoughts. He simply stood, speechless, unaware of the giggles of children, and the knowing looks from the older ones, at his dazed reaction. Then as if a switch had turned on, all the sounds of his ecstatic children came roaring back to him, but he still couldn't speak. He wondered what he would say anyway since his mind was blank.
His fair governess was looking at him self-consciously, seemingly heartened by his stupefied reaction. It seemed to give her courage when she saw that although he opened his mouth to say something, nothing came out. Her eyes twinkled with delight, amusement even, a soft blush colouring her cheeks as they stared at each other.
When Max prompted him jovially, "Doesn't she look lovely Georg?" he could only nod, dumbly.
Pleased at how flabbergasted Georg was, Max took Maria's opera cape from Franz to put it on her himself. It was a deep royal blue.
Georg finally spoke as he stared at the cape stupidly. "It's blue," he murmured, aware they were the first words he had spoken and they were idiotic ones.
Max and Maria looked at him, confused.
"Yes," Max agreed, puzzled. "It brings out the colour of eyes."
A fragment of Georg's dream came back to him, of his governess lying on her cape, a smouldering sensuality in her eyes, passion waiting like glowing embers ready to burst into flame. Yes, the rich blue of the cape would work just as well as white, Georg realized, still reeling. An unwelcome surge of longing coursed through him, and he felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. But then he admonished himself sternly. He needed to pull himself together. He was already making a spectacular fool of himself.
Clearing his throat he said, "You… ah.. look wonderful, Fraulein." He felt relieved that the words came out coherently. Considering how staggered he felt, that was quite a feat.
She smiled back at him. He was peripherally aware of the continued raucous chatter of the children but he and their governess seemed to be encased in a bubble, aware only of each other, as if no-one else existed.
Then Elsa came down the stairs and the spell was broken. Georg scratched his neck uncomfortably, fidgeting guiltily with his gloves as he turned away from Maria.
Elsa looked magnificent. Her couturiers had done her proud and she looked as elegant and glamorous as ever. This time the compliments flowed easily from Georg's mouth because he was so unaffected by her appearance. Elsa preened, pleased, knowing she was in her element. She gave a patronizing smile to Fraulein Maria.
"Oh my dear, how nice you look. I do hope this evening won't be too overwhelming for you. I can imagine you must be quite paralysed at the prospect. But if you need any help I'll be happy to help you."
Maria murmured demure thanks, quivering slightly with the enormity of what she was going to undertake. But Max was right beside her, patting her hand reassuringly as he escorted her out.
Georg had to grit his teeth at Max's presumptuous over-familiarity with his governess. He tried not to resent their easy warmth with each other, and the way she looked at Max constantly for guidance. He wished…. well, he didn't know what he wished, he realized disagreeably. But he did take offence at how easily Fraulein Maria and Max had slipped into the affectionate, informal way of addressing each other with the German 'du' rather than the formal 'Sie' which would have been far more appropriate.
Later, Georg barely remembered any of the carriage ride. Luckily, he was able to make automatic responses to Max's witty remarks and Elsa's sophisticated banter because they didn't notice anything amiss. He was however, acutely aware of Fraulein Maria, as she looked out the window, as if in a trance. She was silent, trembling slightly like a frightened dove, and so achingly lovely he felt as if a fist were squeezing his heart. Her hands, encased in arm-length, snowy-white gloves, were held tightly in her lap to control her nervousness.
Before he knew it, they had arrived and their names were announced by the footman at the door.
"Captain Ritter von Trapp and Baroness Schraeder; Herr Detweiler and Fraulein Rainer."
Maria looked around in wonder at the lavish spectacle. She was unable to contain her gasp of awe at the groups of refined ladies, rustling in iridescent silks and sparkling with jewels, while elegant gentlemen milled around. No doubt she must seem very gauche and foolish she realized self-consciously, as she gazed around, since no one else seemed overawed by it all.
The whole evening so far had seemed like a dream right from the moment she had seen her dazzling gown and gloves, draped on her bed. She had touched them reverently, almost in disbelief at their delicate beauty. A part of her mind seemed to have detached itself, floating above her, watching the proceedings as a spectator. That part of her observed everything; bemused and mystified, as a girl from the Austrian mountains, transformed, as if by magic wand into lady, fit to attend a ball in the most exalted company. This was the same young woman who had clowned around in the Captain's ballroom, dancing absurdly with imaginary partners, and singing her heart out about dancing all night. That young woman had never imagined that some day she might actually attend a real ball herself.
How was this all possible she had wondered, hazily. It was all too surreal. The children's excitement as they helped her get ready had barely penetrated, though she had been touched by their joyful enthusiasm. When she had looked, bewildered, in her bedroom mirror she wasn't quite sure who this elegant person was, staring back at her with her own face. Was this her or was it a fraudulent copy of herself, pretending to be something she wasn't?
The feeling of unreality had persisted, until Herr Detweiler arrived to check on her. Sensing her disorientation and fears, he had encouraged her to sing in the library before coming down. That had given her peace, calming her taut nerves. Although Schubert's Serenade had given voice to her sadness over her impossible dreams, mourning a love that could never be, her singing anchored her again, giving her back her sense of self.
And the Captain's reaction when he saw her had made it all worthwhile. No amount of well meant compliments could match his floored speechlessness. He had been as staggered as he had been when he first heard her sing the Polonnaise in his library. It had secretly thrilled her, and gave her the courage to believe for just a moment she could do this.
It hadn't escaped her notice how handsome he looked in his formal evening wear, so tall and distinguished with his medals. She had been so mesmerized that she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him when they stood together at the bottom of the stairs. Heaven only knew what the children and Herr Detweiler must have thought.
She felt her cheeks colouring. She wasn't even sure what she thought about it. It was all so confusing. Surely the Captain shouldn't be looking at her like that, and she at him, if he was about to get engaged to the Baroness? It hurt her head to even try to understand the mysteries of this situation. But now was certainly not the time to think about it. Not when she was expected to perform any moment. She came back to the reality of standing in the magnificent ballroom, about to undertake the most frightening thing she had ever endeavoured.
Max smiled warmly at her. "Now remember what I said about breathing, my dear. I just have to go over and gloat. I can see that scoundrel Sascha Petrie over there." He chuckled gleefully as he left her to talk to a man with rather wild looking hair.
Baroness Schrader was nearby, speaking to a couple, who, by the deferential way she engaged with them, must be important. Maria was left with the Captain, his solid presence reassuring somehow, but it almost seemed as if he was shielding her from prying eyes, she realized. She had noticed people peering at her curiously, no doubt wondering who this fraudulent intruder into their elite midst was. Was it so obvious she didn't belong here? She could feel her heart beating again, as tentacles of anxiety snaked up her spine and wrapped themselves tightly around her chest.
The Captain spoke quietly but she still heard despite the noise all around them.
"Fraulein," he paused as if picking his words carefully. "I just want you to know, that… well…. I don't have the ability to express it adequately… but your singing... is heavenly. I've said before that it creates a shimmering moment of magic, but it's even more than that. It's been a balm to my aching soul, and it has given me peace where I have found none before."
His words made Maria want to burst into tears, she felt so touched by his unexpected gentleness and sincerity. With her tightly coiled tension, his kindness was almost her undoing. She felt precariously close to weeping. In the time she had known him they had sparred and teased and argued and tormented each other. But this was something new altogether. He was obviously trying to reassure her and give her confidence, and it made her heart swell. Was it even possible to love this man even more than she already did, she wondered, achingly.
"Thank you, Captain," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
A fanfare of trumpets from the orchestra heralded the arrival of the Queen of Rumania and the Crown Prince. All the guests parted respectfully, bowing low and curtsying as the entourage passed while the national anthem of Rumania played. Remembering her protocol lessons, Maria curtsied low, looking down. She looked up afterwards to see the back of a dignified elderly lady's head, jewels sparkling on her crown.
Maria swallowed hard. She was starting to feel overwhelmed again. Her moment was drawing near she knew. How could she possibly do this? She was a girl from the mountains; someone who preferred to sing and dance joyously in grassy meadows and mountain streams. How on earth had she ended up here?
Panic started blooming. She was suddenly sure her mind was blank and she would never remember the lyrics. Her breathing was completely out of kilter – short, hitched breaths as she desperately tried to draw more air in. Her chest felt tight and her heart was beating frantically. She felt faint, light-headed, and sick, her stomach churned. From a distance she could hear Max seek everyone's attention. In a daze, she made her way automatically to the orchestra as he spoke.
"Your Majesties," Max bowed deeply in their direction. "Your Excellencies and Ambassadors, Lords and Ladies, ladies and gentlemen. It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the Opening Ball of the Salzburg Festival of Music.
"Every year, as you know, we are given a chance to celebrate the musical genius of Austria. Mozart, Haydn, the Strauss family and Schubert are just some of the glorious gifts our land has given the world. These city walls have echoed to some of the greatest music ever created. So where better than Salzburg to open our hearts to a new generation of fine composers, musicians and singers.
"This year's programme is packed with outstanding performers, and over the next four days you will hear music that will stir your souls. But before I ask the Mayor of Salzburg to open the Festival and the Ball, may I ask you all to honour the national anthem of Austria. Here, to lead us in this, is a sensational new discovery. Until recently, she was hidden away in our beloved mountains. I give you: Fraulein Maria Rainer."
Maria stood frightened and overwhelmed, trying to tamp down her panic as all eyes turned to her. Her throat felt closed up and she felt sure that not a sound, except perhaps a croak, would emerge.
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A/N. Sorry! That was a really annoying place to stop, wasn't it? But the chapter was so long. Hopefully the next one won't be too far behind. Thanks so much for reading and I would love to know your thoughts.
I changed the cover photo of the story to show the drop-dead gorgeous gown Audrey Hepburn wore in My Fair Lady, in the scene where Eliza attends the Embassy Ball and dances with the Prince of Transylvania. Please imagine Maria wearing it.
*Julie Andrews was a four octave soprano until a botched operation robbed her of her singing voice.