A/N: I'm conscious that it is now 2 years since I started this (yikes!). All I can say is that if you're still reading - I'm extremely grateful and humbled that you haven't given up on the story.
A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and PMed about the previous chapter and came up with great ideas, and also endorsed that Maria should dance with the prince. So, it's time to put on the dancing gloves…
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Chapter 18: "Sometimes I feel the world is ending…"
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"Dancing is the perpendicular expression of horizontal desires"
-George Bernard Shaw (Nobel Laureate, author 'My Fair Lady')
Max observed Georg worriedly as he, Sascha Petrie and Georg watched the Prince's Equerry escort Fraulein Maria back into the ballroom for her dance with Prince Ferdinand. Georg's whole body was rigid with suppressed emotions and festering anger. Before this, Max had been wickedly gleeful, needling Georg throughout the evening about the endless numbers of admirers wanting to pursue Maria after hearing her sing. Max had hoped it would finally provoke a revelation in Georg about how he felt about his fair governess. He continued to be astounded at Georg's capacity for self-deception and his ability to bury his feelings.
But now Max wondered if he had gone too far. Georg's tension was coiled so tight it could snap at any moment, and like razor-sharp barbed wire, it might ricochet back on all of them in a disastrous way. He only hoped that Georg's legendary self-control, and the decorum and discipline that had been drilled into him all his life would hold strong, and he wouldn't do something scandalous like attempting to cut in on a prince. He put a hand on Georg's arm as he looked ready to follow Maria into the ballroom.
Unfortunately Sascha chose that moment to start gushing about Prince Ferdinand.
"Oh, how romantic!" Sascha gasped ecstatically, his hands clapped to his cheeks in delight. "It's just like Cinderella meeting Prince Charming! Our adorable Fraulein is sure to fall desperately in love at first sight with her devilishly handsome prince."
He seemed unaware of Max's covert, but agitated efforts to shut him up and continued rapturously.
"Did you see the prince? Why he's positively dreamy!" He fanned himself dramatically with one hand as if ready to swoon. "Warm, chocolate-brown eyes, skin like golden honey and locks of dark, wavy hair. So young, so dashing!"
"Sascha," Max muttered in an appalled undertone. "Not now."
But Sascha was oblivious to the fact Georg had turned and was staring at him with a glare so ferocious it was a wonder that Sascha hadn't gone up in smoke. He kept blathering on.
"Just think Max, of the publicity this will generate when we… er… that is, you, launch her music career. Romanced by a prince! It's too good to be true! Oh! Ouch! Max why did you stand on my foot?" he demanded petulantly.
"What music career?" Georg bit out rigidly through clenched teeth. His tone was as ominous as the seismic rumbling just before a volcano erupts.
"Ah!" Sascha suddenly became aware of the full force of Georg's intimidation and made a sound that was very like a squeak of fright. He seemed pinned down by Georg's incandescent rage, unable to say a word.
Max hastily intervened. "Er… Sascha, you've obviously forgotten that Fraulein Maria is a postulant, so of course she isn't going to have a music career, nor will she get involved with a prince."
He gave an uncomfortable laugh as Georg continued to give Sascha a deathly stare.
"Sascha, why don't you go and see how the ball is going?" Max suggested.
Sascha nodded mutely, glad of the excuse to flee. He scurried off like terrified rabbit.
Georg turned to go into the ballroom but Max stopped him. "Georg why don't you stay here with me. The night air is so soothing don't you think?"
"What?" Georg looked at him as if he had gone insane.
"Georg wait. Look, er…. You're not going to do anything rash are you – you know, like make a scene?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I don't make scenes." Georg snapped, icily. "I simply need to check that Fraulein Maria is alright. We don't know anything about this prince. I've come across a few princes in my time and there seem to be two varieties. There are the debauched ones who use women as a sort of bed sport and discard them without a thought afterwards. And then there are the more honourable ones; but even they would never have anything more than a casual liaison with a lady not of royal blood."
"Good grief Georg, he's only asked her to dance not propositioned her."
Georg rolled his eyes impatiently. "You know how unworldly she is. She could have her head turned easily by any charming rogue, royal or not."
"Nonsense Georg, she is very sensible and you underestimate her strong character and morality. And I know for a fact she would never fall for any of the men in there. How could she when she- " Max broke off, unwilling to reveal what he had guessed about Maria's feelings for Georg .
"When she what?" Georg snapped
"When she is planning to be a nun," Max finished lamely.
Georg turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Max to hurry after him.
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Maria's stomach was cramping with anxiety as the Equerry escorted her to the Prince. She tried desperately to remember all the protocol rules for dealing with royalty that Max had taught her. Don't look them in the eye, don't speak unless spoken to…. Oh, what else? she wondered worriedly. Pardoxically, her mind felt both frozen and frantic. She felt sick with nerves. What if she made a terrible faux pas, or stepped on his toes, or tripped over? She hadn't waltzed since she had learned how to do it in school. Like every Austrian, she knew how to dance since Austria was the birthplace of the waltz, but still, she hadn't practiced in years.
More than that, there was only one man's arms she wanted to be in, and she had left him outside, his face curiously set like stone for some reason. She only hoped that he would want to dance with her afterwards, that is, as long she didn't make a disaster of her waltz with the prince.
She was vaguely aware of passing the Baroness who at first looked confused and then malevolent as she realised that Maria was going to meet a foreign prince. Maria would have gladly swapped places with the Baroness at that moment.
Then she stood before Prince Ferdinand, her heart thudding nearly out of her chest as the Equerry presented her formally. She curtsied low, keeping her eyes down. The Prince stepped down and took her hand as he bowed elegantly over it.
"Enchanted, Fraulein Rainer. Thank you for accepting my dance." Prince Ferdinand spoke flawless, slightly accented German.
"I am honoured, Your Majesty." She kept her eyes down, feeling that strange 'out-of-body' sensation she had felt throughout the evening.
Dazedly, she felt her feet moving automatically when he led her on to the dance floor as other couples parted respectfully to give them room. The orchestra began The Blue Danube and Maria's heart sank as she realised it was one of the longest of the Strauss waltzes. Oh heavens. These were probably going to be the longest ten minutes of her life. Please don't make a mistake she wished to herself fervently, willing it to be over with quickly.
She put one hand tentatively on his shoulder, over the satin sash, resplendent with the Rumanian colours, that was draped diagonally down to his waist. She felt the Prince's hand on her back and she made a concerted effort not to recoil at the intimate contact of his gloves through her gown. It was unnerving to have any man touch her. It felt wrong somehow, as if her body knew there was only one man who could touch her. But she squashed that thought firmly.
She didn't know where to look so she kept her eyes demurely on the row of medals on his chest. It made her think of the Captain's medals, and her heart gave a little lurch as she thought longingly of dancing with him.
Prince Ferdinand led her masterfully so she didn't have to consciously think of the steps as the music flowed and eddied around them. The Blue Danube, so beloved by Austrians, calmed her somewhat. It's restful tempo was astonishingly and deceptively simple despite being so complex. She knew it was comprised of five different melodies, intricately woven together to create a rich tapestry of notes layered over each other. It surged through her blood, as serene and joyful as the flow of the river itself. Her body felt as if it were floating delicately with the shimmer of violins and the haunting notes of the horns.
Music was her ally. It was so much a part of her being, that in its presence she felt she could manage anything. The purity of the notes cascaded through her soul, giving her tranquility in this stressful situation. That is, until the Prince started speaking and her tension ratcheted up dramatically.
"Fraulein your singing of the Austrian anthem was simply lovely."
"Your Majesty is too kind," she murmured modestly, blushing.
"Not at all Fraulein. Your voice is extraordinary. In fact, I would like to invite you personally to Rumania to perform. My wife, Princess Marie, and I would be delighted to welcome you."
Oh heavens, what was she to say to that? She wasn't going to have a musical career, so how could she refuse diplomatically?
"Thank you, Your Majesty, it would be a great honour." Thinking fast, she fell back on the fact that she was still officially a postulant, even though she knew very well she would not be taking her vows. "It's just that I am a postulant…." It was technically true, but Maria cringed inwardly at how disingenuous she was being.
By his tone, the Prince appeared surprised. "I didn't know that Fraulein. If you don't mind me saying, I am sure that a great many of the gentlemen here would be disappointed to learn that."
Maria's cheeks turned scarlet with embarrassment. She was speechless and felt gauche and ridiculous that she couldn't think of a suitable response. She rued her awkwardness, that she wasn't sophisticated like the Baroness and able to engage in worldly repartee effortlessly. Perhaps the Baroness had been right when she had said that despite all the lessons Maria would never be a proper lady. The Prince must think her terribly foolish, she thought, mortified.
Tongue-tied, she whispered, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
But he was already apologising. "Forgive me Fraulein, that was certainly an inappropriate thing to say to a postulant."
She shook her head. "Not at all, Your Majesty." But her cheeks remained red despite her valiant efforts to will the colour away.
After that, the Prince seemed to make a greater effort to put her at ease, talking about his wife, explaining that she could not travel to Austria to attend the Festival because she was expecting. Maria started to relax again as she realised he was as human as anyone else. By the time he was telling her about his scampish young son Prince Michael and his escapades with his nannies, she was even laughing. Her loyalty to her von Trapp brood wouldn't allow her to tell the Prince about the pranks that they had pulled on her but her eyes shone with amusement at his anecdotes.
Despite her protocol lessons it seemed that the Prince did not mind when she looked at his face and found genial brown eyes observing her. It was all starting to feel magical again. Who would have thought a girl from the mountains would end up dancing with a prince, she thought, astonished. But what would make it perfect would be if she could dance with the Captain. The very idea enthralled her, making her eyes sparkle with wonder and excited anticipation, and kept a soft blush blossoming on her cheeks. Nothing would make her happier than to be whirling around in the Captain's arms, if only for one evening.
Georg stood watching, at the edge of the dance floor, with Max hovering anxiously by his side like a pesky fly. He knew Max was dreadfully worried that he might make a scene. The very idea was untenable of course. A former officer of the Imperial Habsburg Officer Corp always behaved with the utmost decorum. Still, he couldn't recall a time when had felt so aggravated and out-of-sorts at a ball. The stress of dealing with Maria's singing at the start of the ball and then fending off all the brash young cads asking after her was already too much, and now he felt the urgent need to protect her from the attentions of some foreign prince he knew nothing about.
He saw that others were speculatively watching his young governess dancing as well, gossiping in groups. He felt the headache throbbing at his temple. Elsa, thank goodness was waltzing with a duke, but he felt nothing but indifference.
Fraulein Maria looked enchanting, dancing as gracefully as a princess. No doubt the Prince was charming her because Georg could tell she was progressively relaxing and gaining confidence, her cheeks flushed delicately. He felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach as she laughed at something the Prince said. Georg's jaw clenched hard as he wondered what the hell he was saying to her. Was he trying to woo her? Was he flirting? Did she even know how to flirt back?
The damned waltz seemed to go on forever as Georg waited interminably for its end. Finally it was over and the Prince was kissing Fraulein Maria's hand in thanks while she curtsied as effortlessly as if she had been born into the aristocratic world. Georg strode over purposefully, pulling on his dancing gloves.
He bowed to the Prince then to Maria. "May I have the next dance?" The request was terse as he offered his hand.
He was still unable to shake off the tensions boiling and seething inside him. His governess smiled at him as she accepted the dance, a captivating blush on her cheeks. her eyes were alight with pleasure. He felt a flash of rage, what the devil had that blasted prince been saying to her to make her look so radiant?
Had the Prince asked to see her again? Over his dead body would he allow that, he decided with grim resolve. Georg felt a surge of unreasonable anger towards her. Didn't she know she was like an innocent lamb, wandering heedlessly into a den of wolves, oblivious to the danger. The anger reached out to scorch Max too. It was his damn fault that Maria was being dangled here, like a delectable morsel to be devoured by predators.
But the worst thing was his anger at himself, as a wave of unwelcome desire stormed in, breaching his defences. The weeks of suppressed attraction, yearning for the forbidden and battling with himself was exhausting him and stretching his control to its limits. As a result his face remained a cold, forbidding mask. Even when he saw his governess' luminous smile waver uncertainly as she saw his austere expression, he couldn't thaw the glacial ice in his eyes.
He clasped one of her hands and put his other gloved hand to her back, feeling the heat searing through the delicate material of her dress, as if he were branding her, or perhaps she was branding him.
He could feel the trembling of her hand in his, and her eyes had dropped to hide the hurt he had glimpsed there at his harsh demeanour. But still, he couldn't shake off his black mood as he led her in swirling circles. He was vaguely aware that they were dancing to Strauss' Voices of Spring waltz, one of the composer's more vibrant and romantic pieces, but nothing could get through the impenetrable wall he was encased in.
He resolutely ignored the fact that she felt wonderful in his arms, moving with him gracefully despite the fast pace, as light as a breeze. It felt so utterly perfect, as if she had been born to dance with him, as if she belonged to him. If she were his, this waltz would only be a seductive prelude to a night of passion, allowing them to soar to the heavens together. He cursed inwardly, ruthlessly crushing the thought.
Maria was desperately trying to hide her hurt. She had yearned for a dance with the Captain all evening, and her anticipation had reached fever pitch by the time he had approached her. But now he couldn't make it clearer that he didn't want to dance with her, that he felt nothing but obligation.
She could feel the fierce anger and resentment radiating from his whole being. She couldn't understand how his mood had changed so dramatically from the teasing of earlier. For the whole evening he had been unusually kind, bolstering her confidence when she had appeared in her ballgown, giving her the strength and courage to sing to the audience, complimenting her and giving her tantalizing looks afterwards that made her feel as if her heart was ready to burst. But now, this. She felt confused and deeply upset.
He didn't even look at her, his blue eyes like Arctic ice as he looked over her shoulder. She knew he was moody and mercurial but it cut her deeply that he couldn't even make the effort to pretend to enjoy the dance. It served her right for falling in love with such an unfathomable, difficult man, she scolded herself, trying to keep the tears that she could feel clogging her throat, from making an appearance. The disappointment of it all was crushing her. Her spirits, which had taken flight with giddy abandon when he asked her to dance, now plunged into a crevasse of misery.
Being in love made a person vulnerable, she realised belatedly. Earlier she would not have been bothered by his inexplicable behaviour, in fact she would have taken the opportunity to subtly mock him and prod him. But now it felt as if every hurt and slight were magnified, cutting her to the core.
In a brave attempt to honour the spirited young woman she had been, she finally spoke; the first words spoken between them since they had started the dance.
She hoped the layer of frost in her voice would hide her hurt as she said, "There was no need to ask me to dance if you didn't want to Captain."
The Captain finally looked at her and she actually wished he wouldn't as his bone-chilling, wintery gaze made her shiver.
"It's better that you dance with me than with any of those impudent young pups who have been coveting a postulant."
Before she could respond that she could take care of herself, he continued.
"So, what did the Prince say to you?" His face was unyielding, aloof.
Maria gave a nervous, incredulous little laugh. "Well he invited me to sing in Rumania. It's quite ridiculous of course-" she began but then gasped out a sharp "Oh!" as the Captain's hand holding her waist seemed to jerk involuntarily and she felt the fingers of her other hand being crushed for a second by his. But a moment later the pressure eased as if it hadn't happened. She almost thought she had imagined it except for the faint bruised throb of her fingers.
"Did he indeed?" The Captain's gaze had turned even more glacial. It reminded her of the sudden chilling alpine wind that could cut through her clothes to pierce her skin like icy needles.
"And what did you say to that?" The question seemed to be forced out of him through stiff lips.
"Well I said that I was a postulant." She hesitated, puzzled by his line of questioning. "Why? Do you think I should accept?"
There was a pause as if the Captain had to unlock his jaw to speak. "You can if you want to Fraulein," he replied, as if he couldn't care less what she did.
It was such a contrast to the protective concern he had displayed towards her over the last ten days since she had decided to attend the ball and the Festival. The pain of it lanced through her, leaving her feeling desolate and stunned.
"What else did he say?"
Maria blinked at his brusque interrogation, still reeling from his biting detachment. She replied stiltedly, "He spoke about his wife, but mostly about his young son and the mischief he gets up to with his nannies. It made me smile."
"His wife? He has a wife?" For some reason the Captain seemed astonished by this but Maria did not even bother to try to work out why. She was too hurt and bewildered. Even though she felt a subtle shift in him as if he was starting to relax, she didn't care any more. She wanted the dance to be over with and not be trapped here with this complicated, brooding man who could wound her so easily.
Mercifully, the waltz was over. "Thank you for the dance Captain," she said with frigid politeness as she dipped into the traditional curtsy.
She ignored him as he said her name quietly, in a tone that seemed to be threaded with regret and frustration, though she did feel a prickle of shock that he used her first name.
She made her way to the powder room, forcing herself to walk slowly with her head held high to hide her distress, when really all she wanted to do was break into a run. She would be happy to run all the way back to the villa if she could, and even further. Anything to try to escape her sudden anguish. She heard the tail-end of the Baroness' conversation with someone as she passed.
"…. yes, it's extraordinary! When she came to us she couldn't even speak Hochdeutsch. She spoke the most dreadful provincial dialect. It could shatter glass. What a transformation it's been," the Baroness said patronisingly.
Funnily enough, Maria wasn't even bothered by her words. At this moment she felt that the cold-blooded Captain and the Baroness deserved each other. At least that's what she tried to convince herself, though her treacherous heart told her she was deceiving herself.
Inside a stall she spent long minutes composing herself, taking deep shaky breaths and wiping away errant tears. She scolded herself for being so emotional and taking things so hard. It was just a dance for heaven's sake. What had she expected after all? That he would give her ravishing looks while dancing with her, the way he had earlier in the evening? That he would compliment her and say tender things so she could have more things to treasure in the years to come, where-ever she may end up?
Yes, that is exactly what she had hoped, a timid voice inside her confessed. He hadn't even teased her and taunted her the way he had from the time they had met. He had been devoid of all humour, with no sign of the playful banter that she had become used to. Even his sarcasm would have been welcome. She may as well have been dancing with a block of ice. With a sickening jolt she wondered if he had guessed that she had fallen in love with him, and this was his unequivocal response.
Brushing away a few more tears, she eventually felt calm enough to leave the powder room. To her immense relief she found Herr Detweiler close by and she smiled bravely.
"My dear, what is it, what's wrong?" Despite her efforts she hadn't fooled him.
"It's nothing really. I'm just exhausted. It's been such an eventful few hours, what with singing and everything… I feel completely limp now. To be honest I would like nothing more than to be in my bed." Curled up in a ball of misery, a little voice in her head added.
"If you could please find a way for me to get home," she whispered.
Max looked at her with concern. "Did that insensitive clod say something stupid to you?" he asked quietly, not needing to identify which clod he was speaking about.
Maria just shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak, her tenuous grip on her control slipping fast.
"Come with me, my dear." Max led her to the cloakroom to retrieve her opera cape, all the while muttering under his breath about idiot captains. "I'll just go and tell Georg that we are leaving early."
"No, please, don't. Couldn't you leave him a note, or perhaps you might want to come back after you have taken me back to the villa?" Maria pleaded.
Max wrote a note and gave it to a liveried footman to deliver to the Captain in twenty minutes.
He chatted inconsequentially on the carriage ride home not needing any responses from Maria, as she sat huddled, wrapped in her aching sadness. Max effusively praised her singing. But Maria didn't feel elated, she felt flat and depressed, the hurt sitting like a heavy weight in her chest.
Back at the villa Franz opened the door, and Frau Schmidt was there to greet them too, bustling around in her dressing gown. Maria managed a little smile as Max immediately drew the startled housekeeper into a little waltz, humming a Strauss melody off key. Maria suspected he was doing it for her benefit to cheer her up.
Frau Schmidt gave a dignified little shriek though she was smiling. "Really, Herr Detweiler!"
"Frau Schmidt, Franz, our darling Fraulein was absolutely magnificent," he crowed. "She sang like an angel and she even danced with a prince!"
Frau Schmidt looked delighted as Max regaled them with tales of the evening, though Franz was as stony faced as usual.
Maria watched, reluctant amusement pushing through her heartache as Max sat at the piano in the parlour and sang a farcical song as if the triumph had been all his. It seemed he wouldn't rest until he had elicited at least a giggle from Maria before she retired.
"I did it! I did it!*
I said that I would do it and indeed I did!
…you should have heard the ooh's and aah's
Everyone wondering who she was…
…And when the Prince of Rumania asked to meet her
And gave his arm to lead her to the floor
I knew that I had done it!"
He gloated. "Hah, you should have seen Sascha Petrie's face at my success. The blaggard tried to steal you away from me but he couldn't."
"…Oozing charm from every pore*
He oiled his way across the floor
Every trick that he could play
But still he couldn't steal her away…"
Maria did manage a laugh at his antics, then, with exhaustion seeping in, she wished him a goodnight. On impulse, she hugged him - this dear man who had been nothing but kind to her, teaching her and guiding her, despite his professed self-interest. She smiled as he looked both absurdly pleased and self-conscious.
"You know Herr Detweiler, you're nothing but a big fraud. All this time you've been pretending that you only care for yourself, but I know better. You're a big softie with a heart of gold."
"Now, now, my dear, don't start spreading such slanderous stories about me, you'll ruin my reputation!" he responded glibly.
Maria chuckled quietly.
"Goodnight Maria, I am sure it will look a lot better in the morning," he said gently.
ooooOOOOoooo
Georg felt untethered. There was no other word for it. All the draining emotions from the whole damn evening had robbed him of the ability to think straight. He felt unanchored, adrift, unable to make sense of anything through the maelstrom of emotions. There had been times when his U boat had been attacked, causing it to spin wildly by the force of the water and the pressure. At such times it was almost impossible to find his bearings, to tell what was up and what was down, because the disorientation was too profound. That was exactly how he felt at this moment.
The only thing that was clear was the he felt angry with himself that he had hurt his governess. He should have made an effort to throw off all his turmoil of the evening and let her enjoy the waltz. But then he had mistakenly thought that the Prince had propositioned her and he hadn't been able to shake off the demons driving his incendiary mood. No wonder she had left early without saying goodbye.
On the ride home with Elsa he diligently avoided taking the bait as Elsa made sniping remarks about Maria. He was already on the edge of his self-control. Now was not the time to find himself embroiled in any more drama. In any case, tomorrow he would be breaking things off with Elsa as he had resolved the previous night.
With a headache pounding, the last thing he needed after he said goodnight to Elsa was Max appearing in his study, condemnation on his face.
"For the love of God, Max, not now," he said defensively before Max could speak.
"You hurt her Georg. I don't know what you said to her but she seemed quite devastated when we came back."
Georg was silent, his body rigid, sick with regret. "I know. I'll apologise in the morning."
Max was in an uncharacteristically blunt mood, his concern for Maria over-riding his usual flippancy. "You need to pull yourself together Georg, and stop being so damn obtuse. I know you have spent all evening fending off her admirers but it doesn't excuse your behaviour. Maybe you should start asking yourself why you are so insanely protective of her."
Georg immediately blustered. "I have to be protective of her because she is so young and so damn naïve, she's a postulant, and she's my responsibility as my governess…."
But Max was gone with an exasperated shake of his head, muttering a terse goodnight, leaving Georg annoyed and offended that Max had walked out on him. How had things shifted so dramatically without him realising? All this time it had been Georg protecting his governess from Max, but now their roles seemed to have reversed.
"Damn, damn, damn."
He stood staring into the empty fireplace, sipping a whiskey. Remembering the shimmer of tears in her eyes when they were dancing, he felt the pressure of fierce emotions in his chest. Before he could control the impulse he had flung the cut crystal glass into the fireplace where it shattered. It felt vaguely satisfying to let the reins of his self-control slip for a moment. The tinkling of breaking glass brought Franz into the room but Georg waved him away.
"It's alright, I dropped a glass. It can be cleaned up in the morning. That will be all for tonight, Franz."
Tomorrow he would apologise. He only hoped she would forgive him.
ooooOOOOoooo
A.N: Prince Ferdinand, Prince Michael and Princess Marie of Rumania were real historical figures whom I have shamelessly dragged into this chapter.
*You did it! Lyrics and music by Lerner and Lowe, My Fair Lady (with some lyric adaptation for this story)
Thank you for reading. I would love to know your thoughts.
I do not own TSOM of MFL