DISCLAIMER: Sound of Music isn't mine

TWO: CONFESSIONS

Sunlight had filtered into the empty hallway, bathing it in its golden light, brightening even the darkest of corners. Yet the occupant pacing the hallway, though appearing perfectly composed and as golden as the world outside to an outsider's eye, looked grim to those who knew her—eyes losing its sparkle, eyebrows furrowed, and nails digging into her palms.

Turning her head, she walked to the heavy door that was the entrance to the study. She lingered behind the door for minutes, trying to further delay the conversation—delay because she knew that it was inevitable. He simply had to know, she thought as she took a deep breath. She had been tossing and turning all night, somewhat bothered by the news she had just received. She hadn't told anyone of what she knew just yet. Clutching the paper in her hand, she mustered up all the courage to knock on the study's door.

At the sound of the familiar "come in," she gulped, smoothing her dress, and turned the door knob.

"Ah, Liesl, darling, what can I do for you?"

She gave him a small smile as he removed the glasses perched on his nose and then motioned for her to take a seat. She clutched onto the paper tighter, her nerves getting the better of her. She wasn't normally this nervous, but—

"Father," she began. "I must tell you something, but I really need you to stay calm. Please promise me that you'll stay calm," she slumped slightly onto the seat.

Looking at her with an eyebrow raised, but slowly softening his gaze when she met his eyes with her red-rimmed ones, lips trembling, and hands shaking. He thought he knew what was going on until his twenty-one-going-on-twenty-two-year-old daughter pushed a folded piece of paper across his desk. Gently picking the folded paper up from the desk, and unfolding it curiously, Georg took in a deep breath before he fully opened the piece of paper.

When he opened the paper, his mind went blank as he stared at the two words at the top of the paper, written in the loopy, feminine handwriting that he knew—that he couldn't bring himself to forget.

"You've been corresponding with your Fraulein," he said simply, quietly, curtly, his tone clipped.

"I have," she replied quietly.

"And how is this any of my—"

"Did you even read the letter?"

"I don't have to," he answered coldly, pushing the piece of paper across the table.

"I just thought that it would be fair for you to know that she's in town," Liesl folded her hands on her lap.

"I already know," he said simply. Before Liesl could ask him questions, he was making his way to the door, grumbling about being late to whatever garden party it was that they were invited to.

Liesl stared at the paper in her hands, reading the words over and over. Of course, she had known that this was difficult. She wasn't blind, nor was she oblivious of the things that were happening around her that fateful summer five years ago, but she didn't realize that she had still affected him so. She felt sorry for her father, in a way. She barely knew a thing about romantic love, she now realized—only of the fictionalised romances she read in novels, or those that she watched in films with her friends, but she had known that her father had fallen in love that summer. She had her suspicions then, yes, but she had confirmed everything that fall, when she caught her father's eyes glancing longingly across the room, and she, glancing at him in the same way. That day, she had known, and she assumed he had also. But alas—

She read the words again, words that swam in her head and swirled around like a tornado she just wanted to escape from.

Why did it have to end so badly?

Why couldn't have things been different?

o0o0o0o0o0o

If there was one thing Georg hated more than a party, it was a garden party, but he supposed a little bit of dreaded socialization was better company than the images his mind conjured at night as he read his journals, or of the figures that followed him into his dreams.

Lady Grey had yet to appear, though the Count (Georg didn't bother to remember his exact title or where he was from) had tried to mingle with his guests. The man, Georg guessed, was a thirty-year old. He had a perfectly-shaven face, and perfectly-styled hair that made people flock him. That was the only thing distinguishing about him, though, Georg thought. Georg didn't find him quite as charming as Elsa had claimed him to be on the ride to the party, and he clearly wasn't quite as handsome as everyone else said he would be, but people crowded him nevertheless, and in that crowd was his wife.

Georg sighed as he sipped on his tea, his mind trying to comprehend whatever it was that was happening (and wishing that he was drinking his whiskey rather than the tepid tea in his cup), and whatever it is that the Count's great-great grandaunt, Muriel (who was still miraculously alive), was trying to tell him. Just a few moments ago, she was talking about this dog, and then he zoned out for a second or two, and she was talking about something else entirely. As of the moment, he was just saying "yes" and "yes, of course," and praying that he was saying it in all the right moments. His mind was completely elsewhere now, naturally, and it all had something to do with Liesl and that damned letter.

What had Liesl meant by corresponding with Maria, anyways? It wasn't as if he actually cared, he thought to himself (lies), yet it wasn't as if it were completely not any of his business. What had Liesl meant by showing him the letters? Had she ever suspected a thing?

It was true, of course, that he found himself quite deeply attracted to his children's governess then. In fact, now that he looked back, he hadn't been quite as discrete as he originally thought he was, and no doubt, Liesl, being the romantic she was, was able to catch all the signs. But that was five years ago now. So why? What was Liesl's purpose of showing him her letters with her former governess? What was Liesl's purpose of warning him that she was in town? Telling him that she was in town meant that she hadn't been in the area for quite some time. What had that meant?

He had seen her once, and of course, there was a chance that they will bump into each other from time to time, but—

Oh, what was the use? The reason why he attended this damned garden party was to get his mind off the memory of her, was it not? Then why in the world had he begun to think of her again?

Liesl and that damned letter, he shook his head.

"Oh, and did you know that our little Robert is marrying a woman from England? Of course she's Austrian, but she moved to England around three, four, five years, is it? Five years ago," she said out of the blue, pulling Georg immediately from his thoughts. "Poor dear, she was an orphan and had to fend for herself for quite some time until a long lost uncle—bless his soul— found her in Vienna, teaching. Well, naturally, he brought her to England with him, and he and his wife—they were childless—taught her to become a lady," Old Aunt Muriel sighed, taking a sip of her tea. "Well, according to them, she had learned quite quickly, but simply refused to be in the spotlight. She despised balls, and she did not like to dance. She sang quite well, though, but only for friends and family. She didn't like her photograph taken, or any of that. A good woman, she is, but very private. Very charming, very witty, very headstrong she is, too," Aunt Muriel smiled fondly.

Georg had stopped listening to Aunt Muriel, and simply stared at the teacup he was holding, now half-empty. His mind was now reeling with the new information the old woman across him. Orphan? Teacher? Singing? Charming? Headstrong?

Sounds an awful lot like—

"Oh, there she is now. Always late, that girl," Georg stared as Aunt Muriel looked to the right and laughed heartily. "Ahhh, dear boy, do you mind helping me up?" He scurried to the other side and tried to help the woman stand, letting her lean her weight on him.

Once she was able to stand, she patted his arm fondly, thanking him for his help, and slowly, she made her way to the person whom he supposed was Lady Grey.

From where he was standing, all he could see was her back—well, a portion of her back. She was immediately crowded by society women. He could hear their laughter, some of them exaggerated, some of them, soft, like twinkling bells. He saw her take off her hat, if only for a moment, probably to fix its placement, but he had been rooted on the spot.

He knew that hair.

He saw the Count kiss her cheek and place an arm around her shoulder. He turned away, not wanting to see more. He heard the Count say something, only to be followed by peals of laughter coming from everyone else, including her.

It wasn't even funny, he thought as he sat down and poured himself a cup of tea.

So much for attending a garden party, he scoffed.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Georg wandered in the gardens of the large villa, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight, lips pressed into a thin line. He took a deep breath, then eyed at the rose bush nearby. He immediately thought of the couple he saw the week before. Frauds.

He was one of them, and so was she.

He sighed and looked up to the sky.

For four years, he had repressed every memory he had of her, placed the journal with every written memory of her at the very back of his drawer, had the puppet show kept, and the governess' room repainted, her dresses put in the attic. He had tried. He tried to forget her, with the intention of banishing whatever he felt for her. He succeeded for four years, and imagine, with only a glimpse of her face, everything was thrown into chaos.

"Why did you have to go?" he whispered to himself.

"I told you, the reason no longer exists," her voice, strong and clear. He turned around to see her hands clasped gently in front of her—calm, yet her eyes told him a different story.

"You! You're supposed to be in the abbey," he exclaimed accusingly, raising an eyebrow and staring at her curiously. Was she even real? He thought to himself.

"Hello to you, too, Captain von Trapp." she managed a small smile. "I see, you're examining dear Agnes' roses. They are beautiful this time of the year, are they not? She really does have quite the green thumb You see, she insists on caring for her roses herself and then pressing the flowers into books. Sometimes, she does remind me of Brigitta. Did you know she pressed rose petals into her books? How is she? She must be around fifteen by now? It—"

If there was one thing that didn't change about the fraulein, it was that she was still as talkative as ever, and was still as damn good at changing the subject when she didn't want to talk about it.

"Fraulein—"

"Yes?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're supposed to be at the abbey."

"I was," she replied softly. "You see, I… I—"

"Maria, darling, I thought I just might find you here," a man unfamiliar to Georg was making his way to them, holding his hand out to Maria, who gently placed her hand on his open palm. He kissed it gently, and then pulled her to him.

Did that mean that she wasn't Lady Grey? Well, then what was going on? This was more confusing than—but the other man—what—

"Ah, if it isn't the legendary Captain von Trapp! Robert Schneider, at your service. It's an honor to finally meet you, sir," Georg shook the man's outstretched hand. "I see you've already been acquainted with my bride, over here," he motioned to Maria, who was now fidgeting with her fingers.

"Er, yes. As a matter of fact, we were just talking about Agnes' roses. They are very pretty this time of the year, aren't they, darling? I told Agnes that she simply has to put them in her bouquet for the wedding," she immediately jumped in, somewhat with a frantic note.

"I'm afraid I don't have much interest in roses," Schneider admitted regrettably. "But yes, they are beautiful this time of the year. Darling, I—"

"You go ahead, I—we haven't finished talking about fertilizer yet," she gave him a small smile, which he returned with a small kiss on her forehead.

"Of course, now if you will excuse me, Maria, Captain von Trapp," he gave them both a small nod before going back the way he came from.

When Maria was sure that her fiancé was out of earshot, she gulped and faced him.

"You haven't answered my question," he said simply, earning a sigh from her.

"Look, captain, all I have to say is that I left the abbey a few months after I returned, after that, I left for Vienna and then to England with my uncle and—"

"Why did you leave the abbey—you—was it the money? Was it the title? Why, Maria? I just wanted to know why."

"How dare you!" her jaw was set, and her shoulders squared. "If you are forgetting, I was a postulant who was willing to dedicate herself to a life of simplicity. I didn't want money. I wasn't cut out to be a nun either. It just so happened that the nearest relative I had happened to have wealth. Besides, if I had wanted money in the first place, wouldn't it be much more believable if I had thrown myself at you?"

The instant the words flew out of her mouth, she regretted them immediately, almost throwing a hand over her mouth, but she hadn't. She had stood her ground, straightening her back even more, making sure to stare at him in the eye.

"If you had, would money have been the only reason?"

"No," she breathed, then her eyes widened in fear (and Georg realized that five years and appearance changes did not change a thing about her—she was still the same governess that he so loved to wind up). "Yes!" she changed her answer quickly. "What do you expect?" She snapped. "What other reason would I have?"

"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders, and gave her a half-grin as she squirmed under his scrutiny (much to his pleasure), and twisted the ring on her finger.

"Since even you do not have an appropriate answer to my question, then I suggest you let go of it," she turned her face in the other direction. "Now if you would please excuse me, Captain von Trapp. I believe my fiancé is waiting for me," then with a saucy huff (that she must have learned while training to be a lady, Georg thought), she sauntered off to her fiancé, leaving Georg alone with the roses.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Dearest Liesl,

Thank you for replying to my previous letter. It's been great to have been able to catch up with an old friend.

I'm terribly sorry that I haven't been able to send a letter the past few years. You see, I've been quite busy. After leaving the abbey a few months after I left your home, I stumbled upon a teaching post in Vienna, and things just went hazy from there. My mother's brother, with whom she had no contact for years before I was born, found me, and we were reunited, and I was brought to England. I found out only then that I was of aristocratic lineage. Imagine? Me! As clumsy as I am, a lady.

They've all been extremely gracious. To an extent, they remind me of all seven of you—welcoming me with open arms, but of course, they didn't leave a precious gift in my pocket, nor did they cause me rheumatism with a pinecone on my seat.

Well, as for your question about my nearing wedding, we will be married in the winter, when snowflakes will, no doubt, fall on our lashes. It won't be as grand, of course. We couldn't compare to cousin Josef and Agnes. I've been hearing that it would be the wedding of the century, or something like that. Robert and I won't compete with them, that's for sure. We're quite happy keeping the ceremony much simpler. But one thing I would make sure, of course, is that all of you will be invited. And if I may, I do ask you to be my maid of honor. It would mean a great deal to me should you accept.

Anyways, would you want to catch up some time? Please do phone me when you're available. I simply cannot wait to see you again.

Also, please forward my regards to your father, and of course, to the Baroness, and please give Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, and darling Gretl a kiss and a hug from me, will you?

Sincerely yours,

M. Rainer

Hello!

I'm on a very short school break right now, so I took the chance to write something! Haha, if you haven't noticed, I don't like being too predictable, and when I re-read the first chapter after the final draft, like Georg, I realized that I wasn't as discrete with what I was feeling, so I made it a point to fix everything (meaning, changing some parts [ehem, most] of the plot). I hope you liked the little "twist" I put, and that you're alright with this currently-disoriented Georg.

I hope you liked this one hehe, and that it's not letting you down. If you did like it, please leave me a review/fave/follow (or all three, but that's up to you!)

Stay safe,
Hope