CHAPTER 12: CONFIDENCE
She heard the squeal of the taxi's tires against the pavement and its horn blare a warning to oncoming traffic as it pulled out into the road and toward the harbor. After that, all fell silent. The loudest sound in the lobby was the slow, insistent tick-tick-tick of a grandfather clock standing tall in the corner.
Tick-tick-tick.
Maria wanted to scream, but could not draw a breath. She wanted to cry hot tears, but an icy fist gripped her heart. She wanted to get to her feet and flee, to run away, anywhere, but a great weight held her down.
Tick-tick-tick.
All she seemed able to do was to sit, pinned in the big leather armchair, eyes squeezed shut as if she could blot out the final image of the von Trapp family parading, single-file, out of her life.
Tick-tick-tick.
Minutes passed, or perhaps an hour.
Tick-tick-tick.
"Drink this."
The scent of brandy wafted underneath her nose. Without thinking, she opened her mouth to swallow, and only when the burning liquid slid down her throat did she let herself accept that the voice was real.
"Captain?"
"Another sip," he commanded. "You look like hell."
She pushed the glass away and struggled to her feet.
"I thought you were gone!"
"You thought I left, just like that? After that lecture I delivered on proper goodbyes? And in any event, I believe there is some unfinished business between us."
He must be talking about the money, Maria thought vaguely. But hadn't he arranged that already, along with a room for her? And wasn't the ship about to leave?
"I don't understand. What are you doing here?"
He looked away from her, shrugging.
"I am here because, despite his heroic efforts, John's arrangements sprung a leak. It turns out that His Majesty's government was willing to take in a late subject's children, but they drew the line at me. I was her husband, yes, but I also happen to have fought against the British Empire in the last war, even if my side went down in defeat. They'll probably let me into the country eventually, but it's going to take a bit more wrangling on John's part. Meanwhile, he and I were in complete agreement that it was prudent for the children to go on without me."
"Oh, no! The poor dears!" The worry and fear welled up in her instantly. "How did they take it? To be separated from you again?"
"They'll manage. I explained it all to them. It won't be long, hopefully, and you saw how they are with their grandfather. And at least now they know that I – ehrm - care for them. Not like before. Thanks to you."
Maria strained to summon a brave smile. But suddenly, it was all too much for her – last night in the cave, with its dazzling heights and crushing disappointment, the hasty departure from the forest, the final, heartbreaking parting from the children, and the mental picture of their faces as they set sail for England and left their father behind on the dock.
"Are you all right, Fraulein?"
When his eyes found hers, the warmth and concern she found there unnerved her even more than last night's icy anger or humiliating rejection had. The Captain took a cautious step toward her, she saw his arms open, and then – with a mixture of relief and mortification – she fell into his embrace and collapsed against him.
The little governess cried inconsolably for a good ten minutes, standing in the middle of the busy reception area, while Georg glared at any of the hotel staff who dared to come near. It seemed impossible to calm her, so he only murmured comfortingly and allowed himself to ghost his hands against her bright, rumpled hair. They had been in the forest for so long, he realized, that it might be possible to braid it, purely for the pleasure of unbraiding it again.
He let these pleasant thoughts distract him until after a while, she took a few last shuddering breaths and quieted. Georg was wise enough to anticipate the backlash that was sure to follow, when she would seek to reclaim her pride. Soon enough, Fraulein Maria could be expected to recover her composure, remember that she despised him, and push him away. All he could do was prepare to offer her a handkerchief and wait.
"Thank you, Captain." She blew her nose, noisily. "I apologize for my – ehrm – outburst. It's only that I'm very fond of the children, as you know, and I'm afraid my concern for them expressed itself most inappropriately. I appreciate your kindness and concern for me, but it doesn't mean that anything has changed, or that I could possibly forgive-"
Maria rattled on, talking as fast as she could. Not an hour ago, she had lamented that there would be no opportunity for a final confrontation, but now that the Captain had returned, she shrank from it.
"Now if you will only inform me as to the location of my room and the arrangements for my money, I will-"
"Not so fast, Fraulein Maria."
Having cut her off, the Captain fell silent, studying her carefully. Maria could practically see him strategizing. What could he be planning, exactly? Surely he wasn't the sort to go back on his promise of payment. After last night, it was clear that he had no more interest in her that way – she felt her cheeks turn pink at the thought – and she felt the same, of course. But there was something about the resolved set of his shoulders and the grim determination on his face that filled her with dread.
"Much as you're in a hurry to get to Vienna and begin your new life, there is nowhere else for either one of us to go until the morning, when the trains go out. I have some errands to do in the town, and then it would please me if you would dine with me tonight."
"No, thank you, Captain. I'll find something in the hotel."
"There is no restaurant here, only meals served in the rooms for those who can pay for them."
"Then in town."
"Oh, no, you won't," he said grimly. "Did you see the sort of town this is? You wouldn't last a moment out there, and I forbid you to even try." Before she could object, or offer an alternative, he cut her off again. "I'll see you in my rooms at seven, Fraulein. Good afternoon."
A red-headed housemaid showed Maria to her room, which sat tucked under the eaves, up three flights of stairs. While tiny, it was impeccably clean, with a big window that offered a magical view of the sea. Even accustomed as she was to the majesty of God's natural creations, Maria couldn't get over the magnificent sight spread out before her, and she spent the rest of the afternoon transfixed by the tumbling, glittering waves, the sunlit blues and greens, and the mystery of what lay over the horizon.
The sight of the sea, of course, led her thoughts straight back to Captain von Trapp. Last night's experience in the cave, its shameful delights and terrifying conclusion, were still fresh in her mind, as was his kindness earlier in the afternoon. Oh, why did everything about him have to be so complicated? Did she even want an explanation for his bewildering behavior last night? Was she ready for what she might hear? What difference could any explanation make now? Or would it be better to put it behind her for this one final evening together? She had gotten in over her head with him and if she were smart, she would –
She would what?
The sun still lingered over the horizon, but the sea had grown flat under the fading light when she prepared for her dinner with the Captain. Although there was little preparing to be done, Maria thought despairingly, not when she could barely force a comb through her unruly locks, and when the only dress she owned was the ridiculous pale-blue, high-waisted dress she'd worn when she'd left the Abbey, much the worse for wear after many weeks in the forest. Once she had her money, her days of hand-me-downs and hand-mades would be behind her, and she could buy some new clothing from the shops. Of course, he would be long gone by then, and why did she care what she looked like for him anyway?
The Captain's suite was on the ground floor at the back of the hotel. Maria trudged down all three flights of stairs and followed a long winding corridor that led away from the lobby. When she knocked on the door, it flew open immediately.
It was like a magic trick: the man who greeted her and motioned her into the spacious parlor had been turned back into the Captain she'd known in Salzburg. Gone were the rough shirt, worn trousers and boots he had worn in the forest. Instead, he was dressed in a formal suit-jacket and tailored trousers, gleaming white shirt and tie, and low polished shoes. He was clean-shaven, with his hair neatly combed.
"What have you done to yourself?" she exclaimed, feeling as out of her depth and out of place as she had the moment they had met in his ballroom. She reminded herself of their recent history: the shared confidences, the kisses, the shocking intimacies – but it was really the sheepish look on his face that put her at ease.
"I went into the town and did some shopping."
"You bought yourself clothes?"
"Not only clothes," he said defensively. "Presents for the children," he nodded at a neat pile of wrapped gifts on a nearby desk, "and a good French brandy, and some books. And some other things. Were you hoping I bought something for you as well?" he teased her in a strangely half-hearted fashion.
"Of course not," she flushed. "Although now that you mention it, about my money, Captain-"
"Were you this mercenary at the Abbey?" he frowned. "Why don't you come see what there is for supper first?"
He motioned toward a low table which held a bewildering variety of covered dishes.
There were soup, bread, two meats, potatoes, vegetables, fish, two cold salads and a three-tiered platter of little cakes. There was so much food that the breadbasket and the soup tureen had to sit on the floor, along with two bottles of wine and one she thought might be his brandy.
Maria let out a little noise of astonishment.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like," he mumbled, reaching for the first bottle of wine and filling two glasses near to overflowing.
After they seated themselves, she on the couch and he in an armchair, and spread snowy napkins over their laps, things went smoothly enough for a while. The food was excellent. Maria realized that she hadn't eaten a proper meal since before Gretl had tumbled into the creek – had it only been yesterday? The food and wine kept them occupied for a while, but soon enough, without the children to distract and entertain them, and with the weight of the encounter in the cave between them, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
"So!" she said at last. "What books did you buy, Captain?"
"Hm? Oh. Well, there's an excellent bookstore here. They stock items in a half-dozen different languages. I bought several volumes of poetry."
"Poetry. Of course," she muttered, remembering his nightly recitations to the children in the forest. "Although why you need poems printed in books, when you're carrying so much of it around in your head, is beyond me."
"Perhaps I get tired of hearing it in my own voice, Fraulein. Perhaps I wish someone would read to me on occasion instead."
The curious suggestion hung in the air while Maria pondered and decided she'd best ignore it.
"Well, then," Maria began again. "Tell me about Vienna."
"Vienna?" he said blandly. "Ah, right. Vienna. Well. There is the opera, of course, and the theatre, and concerts. The museums. The café life is very gay, of course, and then there are the shops if you like that kind of thing." He paused. "Do you really like that kind of thing?"
"Shops? I don't really know. I think I will like the music, though. Are there parks?"
"Parks? Well, yes, I suppose there are. The palace gardens, if nothing else."
"For someone who spent so much time there, Captain, you don't sound very enthusiastic about Vienna."
"I wasn't," he grimaced. "But that's all in the past. Look, Fraulein," he said abruptly, "I didn't ask you to dine with me so I could advise you about Vienna. I'm sure you'd be quite capable of figuring all of that out without any assistance from me. I asked you here to-"
"To settle our accounts, I hope."
Captain von Trapp was an honorable man, but he was in a strange mood, and she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that his promises to pay her would somehow go awry. She'd never cared a thing about money, probably because she hadn't had any, but how was she to get to Vienna and survive until she could find a job?
Maria watched as he splashed a healthy measure of brandy into a snifter and tilted it toward her in invitation. When she shook her head no – she'd already had two glasses of wine and needed her wits about her - he shrugged and drained the snifter in one long draught.
"To settle our accounts? Yes, Fraulein, in a manner of speaking, yes. That is exactly what we need to do. But that means I would need you to-"
After that, no further explanation was forthcoming.
"What is it you want from me, Captain?"
"What do I want?"
He tugged at his ear.
"What I want, I have no right to. Not after last night. You see, Maria – that is, Fraulein Maria - I've been thinking and wondering-"
"Yes?"
"I want you to stay," he blurted, and then immediately caught himself. "I ask you to stay."
"Stay?"
"With me. Tonight."
She looked around the comfortably furnished parlor, with its wall of windows that overlooked a narrow stretch of beach and, beyond, the sea.
"Here?"
"No, in there." He nodded toward double wooden doors that stood half-open at the end of the room. "In the bedroom."
Maria's stomach dropped through the floor, and her mouth went so dry she could barely choke out the single syllable.
"What?"
"I want you to lie with me. Tonight."
"No," she croaked. "Never again. No. After last night, how could you even-"
"No, not like last night," he agreed. "I promise you that. I want us to," he cleared his throat, "to be together."
She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am."
His voice was deep and rich, like velvet.
"It must be the brandy talking."
"Undoubtedly the wine, and the brandy, give me the courage to ask it of you, but I know what I want."
"B-but the marriage!" she stammered.
"I believe it was you who pointed out to me that it hardly matters, since neither of us wishes to marry again."
"And you said-" It wasn't hard to remember, not with every humiliating word etched into her memory, "You said that it would only make things more difficult."
"That is a risk," he said gravely. "One I'm inclined to take if you are."
"Can I-"
"Can you what, Maria?"
She licked her lips.
"Can I have some of that brandy after all?"
He poured her a drink and sat back in his chair as though prepared to wait patiently for her answer, fixing her with the same melting look the first night he'd sung the edelweiss song to his family. It took one sip, another and then a third, before Maria could tear her eyes away from his. She went to stand by the window, staring out at the gathering dusk, listening to the waves lap at the narrow beach, waiting for the brandy to slow her racing mind and heart.
She was going to say yes. She already knew it, even with the lingering memories of last night's debacle, even though it was hard to admit it to herself. What had happened to her? While he had magically turned back into Salzburg Captain von Trapp, it seemed that Salzburg Maria, Nonnberg Maria, was gone for good.
She was going to say yes, even though her first time might be much worse for being her last. It was madness, what he was suggesting; she knew she'd be hurt, but what would hurt more: her heart when – not if, but when - he broke it, or a lifetime of regret for turning him away? There would never be anyone else for her, she knew that instinctively; she wanted this man to be her first, and if she couldn't have him, she'd die a virgin, never knowing what it was to lie with a man.
She was going to say yes, because it was impossible to resist him, not after last night. There was nothing else to consider but the chance to know the feel of his skin, to have his mouth on her again, everywhere. It had been unnerving, and maybe even a little frightening, the power of what had been unleashed in the cave: words like rapture, thrill, or ecstasy held new meaning for her now. A feverish wave washed over her at the unimaginable thought of what would happen if she followed him into the bedroom.
Although her back was turned to him, with the weight of his eyes on her, she felt as naked as he had been under the waterfall.
The air around them nearly crackled with intensity. Georg watched her struggle with herself, feeling a certain amount of sympathy for her valiant and foolish effort to resist the inevitable. He knew now, even if she didn't, that they'd been headed straight for this moment, ever since – since when? Since the beginning, it seemed. His present need for her was so urgent, it seemed nearly impossible that he hadn't already had her.
From the start, the little governess had been exasperating, infuriating, even irritating at times. Tonight, her rough dress and unkempt appearance concealed what he knew to be her considerable charms. But all Georg could think of at the moment was the ebb and flow of her confidence. During the golden days of their summer in Salzburg, Fraulein Maria had rushed about, singing at the top of her lungs, as though she couldn't wait to get where she was going next, even when she didn't know where that was. He and his children had followed behind, enchanted.
The Maria he'd taken from the Abbey and married had been a very different girl, one who'd moved cautiously, uncertain and wary of whatever awaited her. The escape to Italy and the long weeks in the forest had revived her spirit: she'd kept his family safe and whole, proved her mettle, and even learned a little bit about how to flirt along the way. She might nearly be his equal when it came to audacious bluster, in fact: why, the dressing-down she'd given him this morning outshone even the one she'd given him the day she'd swamped the rowboat and dumped his children in the lake.
Still, watching her debating his proposition, it was clear that that in a few brief, brutal moments in that cave, he'd taken something from her. Now it was his responsibility to restore it. But how? Georg could not even begin to fathom what it was he needed from this young woman. How could he explain it to her? He would have to, eventually.
She turned away from the window to face him.
"Can I have another drink?"
"No," he shook his head, "any more, and it will be the brandy deciding, instead of you."
She nodded, accepting. Her face formed another question.
"It's just-"
"It's just what, Maria?"
"If we – it would just be this one time."
A statement, then, not a question. He would leave it at that for now.
"It's your decision," Georg said quietly. "You would be doing me a very great honor. I know it's overwhelming to consider after last night, but even after everything that's happened, I think you know you can trust me to look after you, Maria."
"It's not that," she said. "I was only thinking-"
"Are you afraid that there might be a child?"
Her blue eyes went wide.
"No! I hadn't even-"
Georg cursed himself for having introduced this complication, and hastened to add, "You don't need to worry about that. I know how to prevent it."
She nodded again, and then after a moment, she muttered, so low he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, "it's all right."
"All right? You mean you'll-"
"I said all right! I'll do it! On one condition."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'll do it. Go to bed with you, I mean. On one condition."
The rising tide of relief and anticipation flooding his veins quickly receded, while his mind swirled with the alarming possibilities. Maria was too innocent to make a demand that offered any erotic prospects.
"What condition might that be?"
"My condition is that you tell me about them."
"Who?"
"Those women."
"For God's sake, Maria," he groaned, but she cut him off.
"I want to know how you could go with them when you were so – you loved your wife. Just look at you! You are still broken by her loss. But somehow you just – and now you want to with me, and I want to-"
"It's different with you. I told you that," Georg said.
Dread bloomed in the pit of his stomach, knowing that the moment of truth was approaching, that shortly, he would find himself trying to explain things to her, things he didn't understand himself. 'I took off my wedding ring, you see, because-' 'I keep dreaming of a tidal wave-'
But this was the price of having her in his arms again, a privilege he'd give his fortune for. He took a deep, steadying breath.
"All right, then. Why don't we sit down, and have another drink, and I'll try to tell you all about it, if that's what you require. I'll try, all right?"
"No. Later."
"What?"
"Later. You can explain it to me later. I think we'd better – ehrm – get it over with first. The other, I mean," she said, casting her eyes toward the bedroom door.
"Get it over with?"
Despite the absurd circumstances, a laugh bubbled from his lips. The last time Georg had heard that phrase, it had been from one of his grandmother's housemaids, and he'd been – what, fifteen or sixteen? 'Sure, why not? I've got a few minutes before teatime, love. Come on, let's get it over with,' she'd said.
"Before I lose my nerve," Maria summoned him from his memories. "Because I'm still not sure this is a good idea."
"Neither am I," he said grimly, taking her by the hand and towing her into the bedroom. "Neither am I, but we're going to do it anyway. Because after last night, we both know that you want me as much as I want you." Although Georg didn't see how that could possibly be true, since at this moment, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.
The bedroom was unlit, draped in violet shadows. A wave of primitive possessiveness swept over him: he had her where he wanted her now, just a few meters from a wide, comfortable bed. She was his to do with as he pleased. He knew he should step back, test her willingness by letting her take the lead. But her blue eyes pleaded with him as clearly as if the words had come from her sweet lips. What to do about her, this problem called Maria? She needed confidence, but he saw now that she drew her confidence from him.
"Can you," his voice came out more roughly than he'd intended, "can you undress for me?"
She opened her mouth, but when nothing came out, she shook her head from side to side.
"For me, Maria. I can't do it for you this time. I know you don't want to, but you've got to. You need to do it for me. Please."
Please was a magic word, she was always telling his children, and it worked: her fingers skidded to the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head.
"That's right," he praised her. "Now the rest of it. Come on."
She fumbled and tripped her way out of patched undergarments so ugly they made him wince. Perhaps he ought to – but he was struck motionless, and speechless as well.
Maria stood quietly before him, a luminous beauty: an awkward angel, all pale limbs, unruly golden hair and a bashful smile, glowing in the twilight's gloom. He let himself stare at her, watching with an odd kind of pride as she battled and overcame the urge to cover herself with her hands – last night's first lesson, learned well. The room was so silent that, through a barely-cracked window, the sea could be heard rushing up onto the beach.
When he came up close to her, and traced the line of her throat with his finger, he felt her shiver. With desire? Or with dread?
"Up on the bed, Maria darling."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
I know, I know, I know! What a cruel place to end an update! But don't worry, the next part is already nearly complete, it was just getting too long! The good thing is that all of these chapters seem to be longer than I planned so perhaps we have more than three chapters left after all.
Although you are all on a review holiday, I do thank those who review, especially since without you, I probably would have failed to notice that in the last chapter, Georg left without saying goodbye after criticizing Maria for doing the same.
Anyway, I don't own anything about TSOM.