The Vienna Incident

Chapter 2

A fortnight later, Elsa was pushing the remains of her food around her plate. Not exactly Viennese standard, she thought, but then this was Salzburg, and as with many things, she had learned not to expect too much. But…that last meal had not been a success. Georg had become taciturn whilst the three of them ate together, then she and Max had begun discussing the new theatre in the capital, upon which Georg had excused himself and left the room. Maybe the reason he was away so long was because he was insisting Frau Schmidt found a new cook. Elsa slid her food to one side, laid down her fork and told Max she was going to her room to powder her nose.

Arriving there, she went to close the curtains against the dying day, laying a hand on a drape to each side of her; the string of lights along the far side of the lake painted wavering white lines on the water below. She shivered: the off-the-shoulder number she had worn to catch Georg's interest had failed in its purpose, and now she was chilly. Or maybe it was because the colourless scene before her reflected their cooling relationship. He always had been such a riddle, Georg: she knew he had found her attractive, and at times, still did. Maybe he didn't like her friends, or didn't like Vienna… Her curiosity was caught by the smallest of red lights. Nearest shore of the lake under trees, to one side of the landing. A navigation light, maybe? Unlikely. She looked for its pair on the other side of the landing without success, looked back, and it was gone. Elsa closed the curtains with some vigour and turned back across the room.

xxxxx

Twilight found Georg resting against the balustrade on the lake. Conversation at dinner with Elsa and Max had been stilted, awkward, so when he ran out of words, he had taken his leave and wandered down to the water to take some air. Reaching inside his jacket, he brought out a small cigar and lit it, puffing gently to release the aroma which relaxed him and enabled him to think clearly. Often coming to that place in the garden after Agathe had died, he had relished resting quietly under the trees, thinking his own thoughts, allowing things to filter through his mind.

The fanlight above the hall doors lit up aglow. Must be eight o'clock, he thought, knowing Frau Schmidt would be turning on lamps in the salon next. A low gleam arose first in one window next to the loggia, followed by another. He knew she would proceed round the house as she did every night, lighting the same rooms in the same order she had followed for most of her lifetime. He watched successive windows light up, seeing how it threw the rest of the house into darkness, feeling quite detached from the goings-on inside. Then listening to the pulsatile rhythm of the cicadas and slowly tapping the ash from his cigar, he watched it as it fell to the ground, glowing red in the dark for a few moments until it extinguished, and he wondered whether David and Miriam's lives had similarly been extinguished by now.

Georg had been unable to do anything to help, or even to trace the Rubins in the days since they had disappeared, so he knew he had to commit himself further: he would enlist the Resistance for their help, and in response, his military training and high level briefings would be invaluable to them. He had to do something to save them and the world he knew, fast disappearing since the Anschluss. But there was his dilemma.

He had come to sit beside the lake because he found himself at a crossroads, not knowing which way to turn. Elsa had come back to the villa with him from Vienna, clearly expecting him to propose. Indeed, that was what he had previously planned to do, having invited her to stay some weeks before. But the incident in Vienna had changed everything: no longer could he ignore what had previously only been a vague rumour - anti-semitism was everywhere in Vienna, and Austrians like him had to stop it. But Elsa…Elsa was no longer someone he could consider an ally, because now he knew her lifestyle was built on Nazi money. Worse, her indifference to it was breathtaking: Georg had identified her two friends at the Opera as recent military postings from Berlin, but efforts he had made to warn her about them were met with what could only be described as arrogance…there was no other expression for it.

Since then, their relationship had paled - it wasn't that he disliked her; not a bit of it. Elsa had grace and style, and a wit which made him laugh like no other: it was just that he had realised that he couldn't entrust his world to her, and with that, a gulf as ugly as any had opened up between them. His mind went back to his last day at Elsa's house: about to drive home from Vienna, he had checked his clothes in the suitcase the valet had packed for him, noticing Heinrich's diamond cufflinks still in place in his shirt. Removing them, he studied carefully the pair in his palm, for they were exquisite examples of their kind. Elsa had said to keep them. But slowly Georg closed his fingers over them before moving into her empty room and leaving them on her dressing table. He stood watching as they rocked gently to rest; if he had been younger, he thought, he might well have kept them. But he was older now: life had changed. He had changed.

Georg drew on his cigar as he sat in the dark under the trees, drawing solace in his solitude. Looking back at the villa through the gloom, he saw the place he was born, brought up - and probably the place he would die. If he was that lucky. Because he knew that if he joined the Resistance, he would at times be in mortal danger, and might possibly die at the hands of the occupying force. And that was on his mind through dinner: dying for his country was something he had accepted when in the navy. But then, he had had Agathe as his wife to look after their children, should he expire. Now there was no one, and he couldn't allow his children, ones so young, to become orphans in such a troubled world. That would be unforgiveable.

Marriage to Elsa now seemed off the cards: since his stay in Vienna, he had come to realise that when it came to politics and morals, they were poles apart. If they were to marry, he would have to keep his Resistance activity a secret. If he were then to die in undercover work, he wasn't convinced she would remain to look after his children. Georg found himself at a crossroads, and didn't know which way to turn; he desperately needed to join the Resistance to help people like the Rubins, but was unable to do so whilst being responsible for his seven children.

xxxxx

Some while later, a window to the left of the balcony lit up from within, revealing a slender silhouette moving towards the open window. An arm reached out to grasp the handle, hesitating momentarily as though to take in the last of the day. Knowing Elsa would doubtless still be at the dinner table exchanging Viennese scandal with Max, Georg's eyes idled on the figure until she closed the window and withdrew into the room. He had to admit that he had initially considered his children's governess simply a necessity to keep the children in order, just another member of staff, a domestic hireling whom he had found not only contrary, but a trifle argumentative. But his path had coincided with Fraulein Maria's in the hall the day he had returned with Elsa from the capital.

"How was your trip to Vienna, Sir?" He hadn't been expecting her to ask. Her innocent question was difficult to answer truthfully as he looked at that fresh face of hers.

"Well….let's say I've had my fill of Vienna for the moment", he managed. She nodded as they walked through the hall.

"I understand, Sir: I grew up in the mountains and always prefer to head back that way whenever I can." Curious, he asked,

"Where are you from?"

"St Maarten, Sir."

"How strange: I know it well. It's very beautiful up there."

"Yes," she responded with that winning smile, "walking the Kaltensbergs always reminds me of how Austrian I am." He stared at her, as though something hidden had been revealed. For the Vienna incident had made him, too, feel more Austrian than ever before. Something wordless passed between them, winging its way through the air: something changed, and in the days afterwards, whenever he was alone in a quiet moment, he found her wandering uninvited into his thoughts. She would meander through his mind, exploring its echoing caverns and shadowy vaults, curling up in his inner thoughts. Then, before he knew it, she would steal away as nonchalantly as she had arrived. And so began his fascination with the girl from the Abbey - taking a glance at her talking with his children, feeling intrigued as she disappeared along a corridor, unable to resist asking her to dance at the party, falling headlong for her when he did. All so tempting, so tantalizing. So taboo.

Then it had come to a head earlier that afternoon. He had been on the telephone to an old naval friend, when splashing and peals of laughter from outside had interrupted his conversation. Concluding the call and replacing the receiver, he stood up to see what the commotion was about. Through the window, he could see his children and their governess emerging from swimming in the lake, drying themselves by the stone benches on the terrace. A surge of pleasure at their mirth propelled him outside to enjoy the spectacle. He watched his children giggling and changing, and there she was, moving between them, helping the little ones to dry their hair, towelling them down. He was watching what he had been seeking: a mother figure to his children. But as he allowed his eyes to laze over her outlines, he knew she was more than that, and soon found himself aching to be a part of the troupe.

Seeing him suddenly, throwing a towel around herself, she leaned down to speak quietly to Marta and Gretl before they approached him on the terrace.

"Father", said Marta, "will you take us in the boat on the lake?"

"Tomorrow!" added Gretl with certainty. Georg had no excuse. He looked up to see Maria wearing an impish smile.

"Looks like I had better say 'Yes'", he acceded, as the older kids joined the two and took the younger ones to tea. Maria walked towards the house, pulling her cover around her.

"Am I right in thinking", he asked her quietly as she climbed up the steps near him, "that you put them up to this?"

"Ooh, would I do that?!", she murmured as she walked past him with that mischievous grin, her cheeks blushed a deep shade of pink. Amazed at her insouciance, he turned and watched her as she went in through the hall door, but couldn't help noticing, below the towel, those very long legs.

xxxxx

The Captain leaned back on the balustrade by the lake as he considered his dilemma, releasing a deep sigh as he blew out his cigar smoke. Relieved for a moment at how it obscured everything, he considered how life with Elsa at the villa had become complicated. Once more the governess floated into his mind; she spoke a lot of sense, Fraulein Maria, in her most disarmingly charming manner. Imperceptibly the wisps of smoke began fading away, and his heart sank as he caught sight of the shadowy figure of Elsa crossing the terrace, backlit against the loggia. Worse, he was unable to think of a credible excuse for being outside and alone. Dinner had been excruciating, it was all he could do to escape. But watching her descending the steps, he could see the way she walked was far too relaxed for Elsa: too tall for Liesl, too young for Frau Schmidt. Too tempting to speculate. His pulse quickened when, instead, he saw the young governess reach down to the stone bench, pick something up, give it a twist, then look around. He realised she had come for the children's bathers, abandoned after their swim in the lake that afternoon. Maybe this was their chance to talk alone. But calling out to her would scare her; besides, if he did, what would he say? She might retreat from him, back to the house, or worse, back to her monastic life.

"Walking in the mountains reminds me of how Austrian I am…" He needed to know how intense was that feeling, how deeply she felt about his children. How she felt about him. Finding no answers to his own questions, he kept silent, hidden, savouring the chance to delight in her gracefulness, to revel in her allure. How he yearned to approach her.

She stopped and looked up for a moment. He thought she might have seen him, but instead, gazing up and down the lakeside, she raised her face as though scenting something which pleased her on the evening air. She must have caught the scent of the night stocks further along the lakeside, he thought: how their perfume must travel, for her to catch their fragrance! He watched her, until moving to the nearer bench, she collected two more bathing suits before turning back as though towards the steps. With alarm, Georg saw his chance fading, and with it, his life closing in. What could he do to let her know he was there, without alarming her? Then it dawned on him that it was not the night stocks that she had smelled, but the aroma of his cigar smoke… and with that, she must have realised she was not alone at all. In desperation he took a breath and gently blew a plume of white smoke in her direction and watched as she faltered on the steps, turning back a few paces towards the lake before peering past the Pegasus gate, rising on tiptoe to see if anyone was sitting by the waterside. So near to him and yet so far. Still wrapped in the trees' inky shroud and invisible to her, Georg drew steadily on his cigar until he could see the end glowing red, in ardent hope she would see it. Finally she turned to face him, watching the embers burn. At last it was time to talk.

"I didn't think you'd find me here", he said gently from the dark, knowing she would recognise his voice. No response.

"Come and listen to the night." She remained still. A moment's hesitation. Then his heart turned over as she began to make her way towards him. Side by side they sat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional birdcall from the water. Then he tapped his cigar and began.

"I… came here to think things over" he said, by means of explanation. "I left the Baroness and Herr Detweiler talking at the dinner table because… I have come to realise that in the capital they inhabit a different world to me." He paused for a while. "When I told you in the hall that I had had my fill of Vienna, it was because things are happening there which… I find most troubling, things I can no longer tolerate. I must do something to help."

"Yes, I had heard ugly rumours", Maria said slowly. "You must let me know how I can help too." He nodded in appreciation, then went on.

"You know, today, when I was watching you and the children coming out of the lake, I realised something that the kids have known for weeks, but which probably hasn't dawned on you yet."

"Sir?"

"You're one of us." Silver light on the water outlining her silhouette, she said nothing for a while, then

"I'm touched, Sir. I had come to see the nuns at the Abbey as my family, having never had one to call my own." She paused. "But I do adore your children, Sir, and…" She looked away. "Oh, Heavens, I dread September and leaving them when I return to the Abbey - I shall miss them so."

He had to say it. "I was…rather thinking the same about you." Reflected lights from the house shone in her glistening eyes. "But perhaps I shouldn't say that to a nun?"

"I don't think I would make a very good nun…"

They began to laugh together, and as her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, he knew then which path to take from the crossroads at which they both stood.