"We poets would die of loneliness but for women, and we choose our men friends so that we may have someone to talk about women with." -William Butler Yeats
Chapter Two
Flashback is in italics...
Maria decided that champagne was sinfully delightful.
And so was Max, as he had insisted on being called. Both were bright and effervescent and neither would be approved of by Sister Berthe, which, if she was honest with herself, made up part of their appeal. They were also doing a wonderful job of keeping her mind off the Baroness and the words the Captain had spoken before he left her. And the lasting tattoo of pleasure from his fleeting touch.
She had heard herself being described as capable of throwing a whirling dervish out of whirl, but tonight she was the one who had been thrown. She was a mess. Even as she slowly padded toward the stairs in shoes borrowed from Liesel she had wondered why she had agreed to come to this dinner. It was almost assuredly a mistake, principally because of the bewildering and bizarre scene that had played out in her room.
She wouldn't be able to eat a bite.
Not with the Baroness and the Captain at the table; both of them sure to be watching her for their own reasons whilst she tried not to look at them.
Maria had to practically shove herself out of her own doorway, forcing one foot in front of the other. Normally she bounded down the steps just barely resisting the temptation to try and slide all the way down the bannister. Tonight, however, she found her hand clinging to the rail as she slowly descended, each step punctuating the thoughts in her head.
What could he have meant by his words? He had touched her. He had told her he had no intention of letting her go and she understood what it meant for your knees to go weak. She had still been leaning on the door jamb for support when he left.
Gasping.
Would she be an employee or a guest at this dinner?
Did the advent of your boss stroking his beautiful hand across your cheek change things at all? Maria rolled her eyes, admonishing herself; you shouldn't have been noticing his lovely hands or how his eyes sparkle when he was amused or darken to an unimaginable blue when he was angry? Probably you also shouldn't be standing stock still his steps wishing that you had leaned into his touch and hoping he would pet you like a cat either. Maria started moving again.
She paused a few steps down as it occurred to her that she could just leave, right here and right now. Just run away back to the high walls of the abbey and never be heard from again.
Maria managed another step or two before she found a flaw with that plan. The children. They would be crushed if she disappeared without telling them. She shook her head at herself and forced the next four steps. She didn't have it in her to be a coward.
She acknowledged that she was curious about the party and the guests and while that had often led her into trouble she couldn't seem to help herself. If, no when, the Captain came to his senses and she returned to the abbey she would have a wonderful story to tell her fellow postulants about her evening at a fancy dress party. Besides, Herr Detweiler had invited her, although she was certain it was for his own gain rather than hers.
Her nerves flared again when she heard the clink of glassware in the distance, making the reality of joining the party more overwhelming.
What if she made a terrible breach of etiquette and horrified the guests? Used the wrong fork or clattered her silverware against the china? Leaving altogether was starting to sound more appealing. And certainly she could leave a note? Perhaps explaining an emergency at the Abbey? That might work and it would buy her some time to volunteer to go on a mission to Africa or some other remote place where the scent of his cologne couldn't haunt her.
Realizing she had stopped on the stairs again she started herself forward, half composing the letter in her mind and deciding she could leave it on the table in the front hall where it wouldn't be noticed until the end of the party.
Of course, she would have to think of something to tell the Reverend Mother, who would want to know why she was months early in her return. She couldn't imagine that conversation going very well as she envisioned herself standing in that austere office. In trouble. Again...
"Oh, yes I'm am back, surprise! No! Of course, I wasn't fired."
"Why did I leave then? Mm, well… No, no one was unkind, the children are lovely. Everyone was lovely, except for the Baroness, I don't think we are going to be friends. Sister Berthe would like her immensely, I should introduce them."
"Yes, I do realize I am babbling but the truth is.. Have you met Captain Von Trapp, Reverend Mother? In person? He's impossibly handsome, I mean he doesn't' look like a sea captain. I practically gushed that out to him when we first met. He didn't like me on sight, but I had been caught snooping in the ballroom."
"Yes, I know that was wrong but I couldn't help myself, and that really wasn't the worst of it either, but there's no need to go into all that."
"We didn't get along at first, but things started to improve after I shouted at him and he fired me. It's a long story. After that we became, friends of sorts. We met often to discuss the children and sometimes that led to rather, uh, lively conversation. He seemed to enjoy baiting me actually."
"Am I blushing? It seems to be happening often now. Do I have feelings for him? I don't know, the Baroness said I did. I'm not sure it's love but, oh, Reverend Mother sometimes we would look at each other and I could hardly breathe. There is something there and I know I am having thoughts that would keep my lips to floor for a month if I told Sister Berthe."
Maria laughed at that one as she stepped of the last stair and felt the hard wood floor rush up to meet her dropping stomach. Confessing her feelings to the Reverend Mother seemed almost as bad as joining everyone for dinner.
Just as she had reached the door of the ballroom and decided that running away entirely was actually a brilliant plan she had been rescued by an unlikely knight in champagne armour. Herr Detweiler had taken one look at her face, with it's odd combination of determination and panic, as she had peeked around the doorway in the foyer and he'd marched right over and tugged her from behind the wall.
"There you are, my dear," he was oozing charm as he slid his arm in hers, patted her hand, and whispered, "Head up young lady, they can smell fear. This is business." He had smoothly swept her into the ballroom and introduced her until her head had spun, always keeping a steady hand and a weather eye out.
Ever underestimated and unappreciated, the observant Max followed his companion's eyes into the crush across from him and he sighed. The girl was staring right at Georg and he was sneaking glances right back at her under the guise of scanning his chandeliers for dust. Max rolled his eyes.
Obvious, the both of them.
Georg looked as though he was having to physically stop himself from watching Maria, twisting his gloves in a tangled mass in his hands. Max could virtually hear him vibrating with tension as he made polite conversation. If Max was a betting man he would wager that Georg was two minutes away from a scandal inducing caveman routine that most likely involved abandoning Elsa to the society wolves and tossing the little Fraulein over his shoulder.
Max cast a wary glance over to Elsa. Though she stood regal and elegant her eyes were hard and dark. She was positively fuming with rage, her normally pale cheeks had high spots of color and her nostrils flared as she breathed, or at least tried too.
He wasn't sure how women managed a breath in dresses that tight.
She was practically digging her nails into Georg's forearm. No doubt she would have used those blood red lips to mark up his cheeks and slapped a property of Elsa sign on his lapel to stake her claim if it had been even slightly appropriate. He raised a eyebrow as he watched Georg remove her hand with a wince under the guise of leading her into dinner.
A bloody mess. A Gordian knot that he had tried to unravel weeks ago. When his warnings had gone unheeded he had resorted to simply holding back and watching the show unfold. He was, at his heart a show man, and he never could resist a good bit of theater.
Max had been curious when Elsa had followed Maria but had been distracted by an old friend who had stopped by. Realizing that Maria and Elsa had been gone for quite some time he had tried to locate Georg. He was missing as well. Putting two and two together, Max had rushed for the stairs but hadn't seen anyone. Deciding with a shrug that he had overreacted and must have missed them coming back and he had ducked back into the ballroom.
Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter he helped hold the wall up with his back just inside the entrance, close to the little finger foods. He was starving, he loathed these enormous parties and the fashionably late dinners and little hors d'oeuvres the size of paper clips. As luck would have it, his stomach had put him in just the right place to overhear Georg and Elsa as they came back into the ballroom. He hazarded a quick peek around the door.
Elsa had been dragging Georg like a reluctant dog on a leash.
"We can discuss it later, Georg," she had been saying through clenched teeth. "This is hardly an appropriate moment," she said with a gloved gesture to the swirling crowd in front of them.
"And I suppose your little moment upstairs with my governess was appropriate? I heard what you said, all of it," he hissed, quickly plastering a smile on his face as he nodded to an acquaintance passing by.
Max had sidled a little closer after that comment, hoping to hear more about whatever had happened with the little Fraulein upstairs. Georg was undoubtedly inscensed. He took a long sip out of his glass and shook his head as he studied the bottom of his glass. He had tried to warn Georg, but did he listen to old Maxy? No. He risked another peek around the corner.
Georg had paused again in the hall and he whirled in front of Elsa, stopping her progress, "If half of Salzburg wasn't roaming around my home, at your invitation I might add, I would demand that you pack your things and return to Vienna where you belong."
"Georg, really, I was simply trying to educate her with some well meaning advice. Her behavior is becoming a nuisance and distraction for you and I won't have it."
"You won't have it?" Georg was incredulous.
"No, and neither should you. Oh, I know you can't help it," she patted his face patronizingly.
"She's decent enough to look at I suppose, if you like that sort of girl. I forgive you for being distracted. Truly, we can talk this all over later, darling, if you wish, but right now we have guests. Let's do try and make the best of this, shall we?" she simpered, slinging an arm through his and drawing him deftly into conversation with an old naval colleague.
"Clever Elsa, trapping him into being polite." Max had muttered before catching sight of a shining halo of blonde peeking round the doorway. He frowned, narrowing his eyes to watch her.
Maria had the look of someone about to jump ship.
Watching her give him a pang of something he very rarely felt, guilt. He was the one who had insisted that she join the dinner party in the hopes of getting her to help him convince Georg that the children should perform at the festival. And he supposed that he was to blame for the obvious scene Elsa had felt compelled to play and for the resulting fight between her and Georg. He rubbed at his chest, guilt felt exactly like indigestion. It was painful to watch her struggle through her fight or flight reflexes.
Taking pity on her and already forming a fairly detailed impression of what must have occurred upstairs, he had swooped in to rescue her and ended up having a marvelous time in exchange. He had known she was lively but he didn't realize she could be delightfully witty and honestly audacious when the conversation called for it. As far as he was concerned she was criminally wasted in an Abbey. Introducing her around had been wonderfully entertaining and had the added bonus of making Georg seethe as he escorted her into dinner, laughing until his sides hurt at her innocently clever turns of phrase.
Max had taken one look at the place cards on the table and deftly switched Maria to the chair next to his. As he pulled her chair out for her and made of show of stopping her from sitting as he brushed off the seat.
"Just checking for pinecones," he whispered, giving her a grin. She'd laughed out loud then and in doing so seemed to have dissolved some of the tension she had been wearing behind her eyes.
After she had seated herself he had caught her eyeing the silverware with what could only be described as panic. Clearly they didn't use a formal table setting the abbey and he doubted that she had grown up with it either.
Max leaned in and touched her arm lightly to draw her attention away from the flatware.
"Just follow me," he whispered conspiratorially, "Besides, Admiral Leifgoth, whom I had the pleasure of serving under in the navy, has no idea which fork to use either and usually just grabs his salad fork for everything."
"Really?"
"Truly, at one party I was privileged enough to attend with him, he used that little one over here for his entire meal. It's a seafood fork."
Maria had stifled a giggle at at that, but Max saw her dart her eyes to the opposite side of the table where she was being resolutely ignored by Elsa and surreptitiously watched by Georg when he didn't think anyone was looking. If anyone else at their table had a clue that there was a complicated undercurrent of anxious looks and pulsing anger, Max would eat his shoe. Yet other tables and guests had noticed the addition of the governess and were clearly trying to speculate without making it look as though they were.
Delighting in plying Maria with champagne and trying to persuade her to take a sip of his whiskey Max had sat beside her during the formal stilted dinner and glared at anyone who looked at her as though she might not belong. To distract her from noticing the attention she was garnering, he made naughty comments about their fellow diners in her ear.
"Do you see the gentleman on your right? He used to have a truly glorious mustache but he caught it on fire last month. See the faint red streaks? His wife was furious."
"Furious? Was she overly fond of the mustache?"
"Not as such. She wasn't overly fond of the mistress who accidentally started the fire lighting his cigar."
Maria had covered her mouth in shock but had laughed in spite of the nerves and dread she was still feeling at being seated across from the Captain and the Baroness. Max spent a pleasant half an hour exchanging stories with Maria about her life at the Abbey and his life as a charming Sponge. Each one trying to one up the other and frequently drawing the gaze of those around them who gave up all pretense of secrecy and began whispering open speculation about their connection.
Georg was livid.
Frankly, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this outraged, and that included his argument with the dazzling Fraulein after her impromptu swim in his lake. His stomach was roiling with a strange potion of anger, adrenaline, and outright lust. If he felt shocked at what Elsa had done he was downright astonished at himself. One moment he had been hoping to tease Maria into feeling better about Elsa's ambush and the next thing he knew his carefully cultivated facade of detached disciplinarian had given way to blurting out the truth that had been lurking in his head for weeks now.
Hearing her threaten to leave them, to leave him, had been a shock that had suddenly shifted everything he had been confused about into sharp focus. His problem solving acumen had kicked in as though he were facing an enemy in one of his submarines.
Elsa had been upstairs trying to manipulate Maria into whatever foolish notion she had in her head with no thought to him or his children. Whilst Maria had defended him and was offering to leave voluntarily because she might have offended his guest. Without hearing this conversation he might have taken weeks to realize the mistake he had been about to make. Maria might have even left without telling them, having been scared away by the Baroness. He didn't want to think about the looks on his children's faces when broke the news to them. And worse yet was how he would have had to face the news himself.
Trying to maintain some semblance of control, he pretended to be have a grand time while twirling his fork idly and trying to look engrossed in Elsa's conversation even as he strained to hear whatever Maria was saying to Max that was so hilarious he had to wipe his streaming eyes on his napkin. He watched as Max brushed his hand against Maria's arm during a particularly animated story and his eyes narrowed.
As if he could feel some heat coming his way Max had glanced over and caught the black look on Georg's face. Max simply raised his glass and winked before he mouthed, 'I told you so' and turned his attention back to Maria.
Georg grimaced and took a sip of his wine before returning to brooding into his plate and pushing his food around. He grudgingly found himself conceding that Max had been right that morning a few weeks ago he had cornered him hiding in his study.
"Caught you out haven't I?" Max had startled him when he poked his head into the study doors.
Georg let out a weak chuckle, "Yes, you rather have," he mumbled as he slid his pen and papers back into the drawer.
"Your hiding. I can go," Max offered jerking a thumb towards the open door. "I'll pretend not to have seen you if you'd like to be alone?"
"Not at all Maximillian, come in and share whatever it is you have in that bottle you're toting behind your back."
Max, ever the easy fellow, slid into a nearby chair and wiggled his bottom a bit to settle into the chair. He poured two drinks and then uncharacteristically sat quietly. And didn't talk.
Georg narrowed his eyes and gave him a hard stare before moving over to grab his drink and settle into the seat across from Max. He gave his ice cubes a swirl before taking a sip.
"All right old man, out with it,," Georg demanded gently, leaning forward a bit into Max's space to let him know he meant business.
"Just let me get a one more nip of this before I say my piece and you have me thrown from the house and away from the glories of your unexcelled wine cellar. That's fun to say, unexcelled cellar. Cell-arr."
Georg simply raised a brow at the obvious stalling and watched Max drink, wondering where he had left his cheque book, knowing that was most likely the reason behind the serious nature of this visit. He sighed.
"Max, we needn't do this. Do you need money, you know I-"
"No! No, nothing of the sort. I don't want to talk about me, for once," he took a too large gulp of whiskey and winced a bit at the resulting burn, he gave his chest a little thump with his fist. "I rather want to talk about you," he wheezed.
"Me?"
Max cleared his throat, "Yes, you. You and the governess. Georg you're showing your hand there…," Max trailed off, hoping more explanation wouldn't be necessary.
"Showing my-," Georg spluttered, shoving up to balance on the end of his chair and edge of his temper. "What are you about?"
"Ah ah ah, don't try that bluster with me," Max said shaking his head and wagging his finger in an odd ballet.
"You know that I know that look in your eye, what that little twinkle means. I have seen it before, in more than one port and for more than one young lady."
"What look? There was no look."
"Well, you had to get past the open mouthed gape but there was a look, the look. You used to be famous for it. And if you don't reign it in Elsa is going to catch on more than she already has. You have a good thing going there. All that lovely money, all that lovely lady, and all at your fingertips if you will only reach out and-"
"Max! What are you talking about?"
"The fact that you clearly want to reach out and touch the wrong woman!"
"Are you talking about Mar-, I mean the governess, the nun? She's a nun, and half my age!"
"Denial," Max coughed out.
"Nonsense. How much have you had tonight anyway?"
"Not enough," Max murmured. "I could be wrong, have been before. But this time I think...mmm. I have an idea. Georg, let's play a game, yes?"
Georg gave him a hard stare that clearly meant, 'I'm not in the mood'.
"Indulge me, mm? Just for a moment? A few questions...free association the call it. All the rage in, well somewhere or other."
"Max I spend most of my time indulging you. Alright," Georg waved his hand in a continuing motion, "alright, let's get this over with shall we?"
"Are you fond of Elsa?"
"Yes, how can you not be?"
"When I say her name what three words come to mind?"
"Charming, graceful, the perfect hostess."
"Enjoy her, as a person?"
"Well, yes, naturally. She can be quite fascinating."
"Do you miss her when you're apart?"
"Uh, I suppose-"
"Too deep. I'll try something lighter. What's your favorite color?"
"What? Blue, but you know-"
"Favorite meal?"
"Wiener schnitzel."
"Do you have a tattoo?"
"Yes, you-"
"Woken up in woman's clothes?"
"One time. Your fault."
"Were you in the navy?"
"Yes."
"A captain when you retired?"
"Yes."
"Do you think the little Fraulein is beautiful?"
"Yes, I mean not-damn it Max!"
"I knew it!" Max jumped from his seat and began to pace the room, "I bloody well knew it! I love it when I'm right. But in this case it's wrong. No lithe little frauleins, no matter how beautiful the voice or the the rest", said Max, making a vague womanly shape with his hands and spilling drops of whiskey down the side of his glass.
"Georg," he warned, "you must see sense. She'll have to return to the Abbey. You can't send her back, what's the word? Not intact!"
"Not intact?" Georg sputtered, "Max, just what sort of sordid scenario have you concocted? I'm forty two years old, a widower, I have seven children!" he gave a forced bark of laughter. "My days of chasing girls and leaving a trail of broken hearts is long over. I would never… She would never."
"Well, I didn't really think you would, but it's been a long time since Agathe-"
Georg let out a snort and rolled his eyes. "Full disclosure Max, there have been women since Agathe. I was, I'm not sure what I was. Lonely, I suppose. Don't look so shocked old man. I know there have been others since-"
Max held up a hand, "Do not mention that name, I beg you. Women, plural? Who?"
"No, no, no," Georg waggled a finger at Max.
"Elsa?"
"None of your business."
"Ha! So yes. You dog! I'm rather proud. But that's beside the point. You cannot continue to make moony eyes and serenade our little Fraulein without jeopardizing your very real chances with a very available woman. Who, by the by, noticed Maria nearly melting with pleasure into the wall at the sound of your voice. And, I might add, noticed you basking in every second of it.
Max paused a pressed a hand to chest and cleared his throat before speaking in a high falsetto, "Oh, I haven't sung in ages, couldn't possibly, might ruin my reputation as a grumpy old bastard. What's that? You said please with those wide blue hero worship eyes, well alright… Edelweiss my ass!"
Georg laughed, "Then you marry her Max. Elsa, not Fraulein Maria, I mean."
"Don't think I haven't thought of that," Max laughed. "Perhaps I'd be inspired, with all that lovely money on the line... I might rise to the occasion."
Georg quirked a smile, "Really Max, if the jokes don't improve..."
"Georg, please be serious. Do you have feelings for Elsa? For Maria?"
"I thought I had it all sorted when we were away in Vienna, then we came home. I known that Elsa is the smart and sensible decision. She and the children though, they make her visibly uncomfortable, don't they?"
Max nodded, "You have to give her a chance Georg. She hasn't been around children, ever. Your brood does take some getting used too."
"Not for Fraulein Maria. She was playing them like a fiddle by the time she sat down to her first dinner."
Max laughed, "That she did. But you didn't answer me, do you have feelings for Elsa?"
"She is beautiful and charming and everything I'm supposed to want.
But Max", he swiped his hands over his face, "I can't stop thinking about her," he ducked his head but Max caught the tail end of a blush. Georg shoved himself out of his chair and began to pace the room.
"I catch myself walking into rooms she's just walked out of to catch her scent, I clench my fists all the time to stop reaching out to touch her. I have no right, nor reason to, but she's been mine too many times in my dreams. It's starting to bleed into my reality. It's inappropriate. I don't even know her."
"Georg," Max said said seriously, shaking his head in disbelief, "I didn't realize it was this way at all. I had come up here to tease you and remind you not to behave like a cad but this," he said gesturing to George as he paced, "I did not expect. I haven't seen you like this since, well, in a long time," Max rubbed at his eyes and sat back down heavily. "But, you don't know her that's true enough, I suppose."
"But what I do know of her I know I want more of. She loves my children, fiercely. She stood up to me and yelled what I needed to hear when I didn't want to listen. She's brought music and laughter into this house-"
"And she's bloody gorgeous," Max quipped.
Georg gave him a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes, "That too. I thought you were supposed to be helping me make the right choice?"
"Georg, I want you to be happy. You know that. You know I would do anything for you. But this girl, she wants to be a nun. You cannot just rush in and then decide she isn't for you. You cannot break her heart while I stand by and watch. She's young and lively and it's probably just a crush. She lives with all women, I'll bet that makes even Franz look appealing after a while. I like her, even if she can't convince you to let the children perform at the festival."
"Max.."
"I know, I know. No singing in public. But Georg, you must consider the future. Her and yours. Maria is very much like the summer she is here to stay for, beautiful and fleeting and not something you can hold forever."
"Turning poet on me, Max?"
Max gave a haughty sniff, "I'm serious. She's promised herself to God, even if you might have turned her thoughts away to other biblical pursuits."
"Max!"
"We're both thinking it, why bother to deny it?"
"I'm not denying it. I am just being offended for her sake. I am sure such things have hardly crossed her mind, despite what you say about her swooning over my rusty singing voice."
"Not rusty. Still space for you to join the festival. And I did not say swooning," Max ran a thumb along his mustache in thought. "Watching her face, it was more-orgasmic than anything else."
"That's it. You're cut off."
"Alright, no more jokes."
"I really can't continue like this can I? She's off limits, she has her future and I have mine. This is just an infatuation. Most likely misplaced gratitude for her helping me to connect with the children. It will pass. Besides, she frequently infuriates me and I would do well to remember that."
"We know. Your little discussions are becoming legendary around the house," Max turned away to refill his glass, remembering the white hot tension that prickled and arced between the two of them as they argued. Franz had even picked up on it, and Max had been certain that he wasn't quite human. The last memorable discussion had involved a disagreement about what to do about "that idiot Telegram Boy" and Max could practically smell the electricity in the room. He looked back at Georg before muttering under his breath, "And where theres smoke theres fire..."
"What was that last bit?"
"Oh, uh, at least she will be the last governess you have to hire."
"Good point. I'm feeling better already. Elsa is the perfect choice. She has been there for me, helped force me out of my shell and let me sit up and take notice of the world around me. I told her that. That she was my savior in a way."
"Precisely. Elsa is here and now and wealthy and willing. Elsa is a grown woman who knows what she wants and what she is walking into. Not to mention in love with you."
"Well, the idea of me anyway. Of what we are together," Georg mumbled, his voice low and laced with a sad resolution. Max frowned.
"Why couldn't Eleven have lasted just the summer?" Georg asked, a little bit of a whine creeping in.
"Probably because you called her by her number like all the rest and didn't bother to remember her name."
"I do, it was... Fraulein. Two hours! It has to be a world record of sorts, and I'm still not sure how they managed to get her shoes to melt like that. If only I hadn't indulged Freidrich with that chemistry set, she might have stayed. As it was those two hours cost me an absolute fortune."
"Mm, that would have been ideal. She had a better mustache than me! Perhaps she could have given me some tips."
Georg sat down hard in his chair, shoving his hands up into his hair, "Damn it all, Max," he swore and jerked at the knot in his tie and ripped it from his collar.
"My sentiments exactly. Cheers," he held up his glass and Georg clinked his against it.
"What should I do, Maximilian?"
"I know what I should be telling you to do…"
"But?"
Max leaned forward and slapped his palm against Georg's sternum, "Follow this."
I thought this was going to be a short and sweet conclusion but then there was more Max than I anticipated! It made this whole thing impossibly longer-and I am not perfectly happy with it but...
Hope y'all are willing to stick around for part three. Besides, you know I can't finish an M and G story without copious amounts of kissing-because that's the whole reason for writing all this, isn't it?
