Intermezzo I - Ignorance is bliss
Part Three
A/N: Once more, I should thank lovethisstuff, for some of the crucial ideas in this chapter. Maria, Georg and the facts of life...
Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
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It is well for the heart to be naïve and the mind not to be.
Anatole France
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All things truly wicked start from an innocence.
Ernest Hemingway
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"There, it wasn't so difficult, was it?" Maria talked to herself, after Marta had left the nursery.
No, not so difficult, but still she honestly hoped it would be the last time in her life she would have to deal with that particular matter. Teaching seven unruly, but musically talented children to carry on a tune in several voices had been easy. Answering questions like where babies came from - not so much. In the end, she had to resort to her own faith, and a little bit of imagination to tell the little girl what she craved to know. She had to admit, it wasn't a very complete answer, but Marta had been happy enough about it.
At least for the moment.
Still mumbling, she started tidying the place up, picking up scattered books and toys.
"A Captain with seven children – what is so fearsome about that?" she said out loud, while picking scattered toys on the floor, repeating the same words she had told herself over and over again during her first ride from Nonnberg Abbey to Aigen. "Austria's greatest hero, my foot! Decorated by the Emperor – hah! Well, I showed him, didn't I? The great Captain von Trapp completely unable to answer an innocent question by his seven year old daughter. I wager the enemy would have a field day if they ever heard that one."
Nevertheless, Captain had been right about one thing, as much as she hated to admit it. He said she would know what to say, and, when the moment came, somehow she knew, even though she was never given that same kind of explanation before. The idea just popped in her mind, based more on her religious beliefs than anything else. Marta was happy enough with her answer, and her eyes had shined, as only a child's eye can, whenever a satisfactory answer to a puzzle is provided. That is all Maria needed to know to be certain of her success. To think that she came so close to questioning her abilities as a governess! Her curiosity satisfied, Marta would probably not give it another thought for a while – long enough for the Baron to marry his Baroness and for her to return to the Abbey, where she belonged…
Oh Lord, she only hoped Baroness Schraeder had more sense and more presence of spirit than she had when the question had been first asked. At least it was certain that the woman would know exactly what she was talking about – she may not have born any children of her own, but she had been married, as the Captain had.
"Why me?" she blurted out, raising her eyes heavenward. She had never been married, had never wanted a husband, have never even considered the possibility.
Why her?
It was when she heard his low chuckle. Startled, she straightened, letting out a little cry of surprise, immediately stifled by a hand covering her mouth. Wearing a light gray suit, he was leaning casually against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, with a Cheshire grin in his face, as relaxed and pleased with himself as she had ever seen him. It was one of those times that she noticed how wickedly handsome her employer was. It was disturbing, because it certainly was not something that she should notice about him.
Yet, she did.
How long had he been there, watching her? Judging by the expression in his face, he had heard everything – from her candid explanation to Marta, to her solitary outburst after the girl left the room.
Now, he was mocking her. How dare he?
It was her turn to glare at his handsome, grinning face, while he still chuckled, and she did so, quite furiously. How dared he, to ask her to deal with such a delicate problem, and then stand behind the door, listening to what she said to Marta, most probably ready to pounce on her with all his notorious Captain's wrath, in case she said or did anything he thought remotely wrong. And how dared he eavesdrop while she was talking to herself – about him?!
"Fräulein," he started, as he assumed his best stern face. "I have to inform you that as a former officer of the Imperial and Royal Navy that it would my duty to draw my sword for so much as suggesting that I am a coward."
"What?" she interrupted him, her hands flying to her throat. Sighing in relief, she dropped her hands when she realized that he did not carry a sword with him. "Oh no, Captain, I did not mean to…"
He did not let her finish. "In fact, I myself would be court-martialed for failing to do anything against you and your insinuations. Whoever insulted an officer insulted the House of Habsburg itself," (1) he said with a slight bow. She did not know if it was that small gesture, or the subtle glint in his eyes that told her that he had indeed been mocking her – and she had fallen for it like a duck in a pond. She cast him an angry look, which he haughtily ignored, as he started pacing around her.
"Uh – divine intervention, Fräulein?" he asked, a clear reference to the answer to Marta's question. He did so with exquisite irony, entirely unaffected by what she believed was her ominous scowl. When she remained silent, he added. "Your candid explanation to little Marta," he explained.
"Yes," she replied angrily, raising her chin, and closing one of Brigitta´s story books loudly.
"It is not going to work," he stated, matter-of-factly.
"Your daughter," she said coldly, trying to convey some kind of accusatory tone in the first two words, since in her mind, it was he who had to deal with such a difficult situation in the first place, "seemed satisfied enough with my answer."
"She might have been, but I wager that at this very moment she is confronting either Brigitta or Louisa about it. Probably Louisa – she idolizes her. You will not get away with it," he grinned, uncrossing his arms and walking into the nursery. The room seemed to shrink with his magnetic presence.
"Ehm - how can you be so sure, Captain? She asked, cocking her head to one side and touching the short, uneven fringe of her hair.
He flung himself in the big armchair by the window. "Fräulein, Marta is the 6th child of mine to ask that particular question," he started, lazily. "Their mother took care of the eldest. I handled Kurt when the time came, and Brigitta asked Liesl what she couldn't figure out in a book. A similar, but not so… uh - colorful explanation was given by my wife the first four times, and by Liesl, since that was what she had heard. I followed the same line. It never worked."
"Why not?"
"The answer you provided, although very poetic, hopelessly romantic, and undoubtedly correct according to Catholicism, was essentially incomplete."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes. Allow me to elaborate on that. In my experience, if there is one thing a child cannot live with is a partial answer. Mark my words, you will be questioned again. She will want to know mechanically how God accomplishes his task."
"Ehm – mechanically, Captain?" she asked innocently, at first not completely sure about what he was implying exactly.
"She will want to know when and how, Fräulein!"
Maria felt her irritation grow, as she felt herself blushing again. She tried not to dwell upon the reason why her face was red, but on the fact that he had just informed her, quite casually, that she would be questioned again, and soon!
The man had seven children.
Seven!
A number high enough to convince anyone, even a convent bred girl like herself, that he obviously knew how such things were accomplished, knew only too well the mechanics of it, as he called. The when and the how. Yet, he had asked her to talk to little Marta about such a delicate subject. Why did he have to be so difficult?
"Captain, you are obviously very experienced…" he raised an eyebrow, as if bracing herself for whatever outrageous comment he thought she was going to make, "… in dealing with such matters. Why leave it all to me?"
"Because it is the kind of thing that requires a… uh… how shall I put it? A female touch, a delicacy, a way with words, which I obviously lack. I tend to be…"
"Blunt. Insensitive at times, much too forthright, I should add."
"You made your point," he said briskly. "You, on the other hand…"
"Yes?"
"You deal with me just in the same manner, you admitted it yourself…"
"Wherever hurt is done, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, bruise for bruise, wound for wound…" (2)
"All right, all right – again, Fräulein – touché! There is no need for you to quote the Hammurabi code." He raised from his chair, no longer relaxed. "Do not get used to it, I am not the kind of man who likes to admit defeat so easily." Maria crossed her arms and faced him, defiantly. He started pacing around her. "Now, if you just let me finish… Fräulein Maria?"
"Oh, I'm all ears, Captain!"
He threw her an icy glare. "Nevertheless, when dealing with children – my children at least -, oddly enough, you seem to have all the skills of a diplomat. It is a fascinating mystery to me."
"Hmmm," she hummed, raising her eyebrows. Had that been a compliment?
"Unless…" he continued, staring at her fixedly again, leaning forward on the chair.
"No, not a compliment. Do not be so sure," she thought. But he hesitated, and she insisted. "Unless?"
He took a step in her direction. She held her ground.
"Unless your way of dancing around the subject is the only explanation you know," he finished, his stance relaxing again, as he eyed her quizzically.
That had been offensive. Her jaw dropped open.
Maria may have lived among nuns most of her life, but not all her life. Most importantly, she was not stupid. She may never have been even kissed by a man, may never have been close enough to a man to even want to be kissed, but she knew only too well how babies were made. Mechanically. She had read, she had studied biology, for heaven's sake! Once in Nonnberg, she had even helped when a woman in labor had showed up at their door in the middle of the night. When she lived in the farm with her aunt and uncle, so many times she had been asked to help bringing horses into the world – she had also witnessed, in one or two occasions, exactly how those same baby horses were made.
The fact that the possibility of marriage and motherhood had never crossed her mind, only helped her to see the matter in practical terms because the few times in her life when she had to confront the subject, she had been able to do so objectively, because it had nothing to do with her. To Maria, it had never been a big deal, never anything to worry too much about because, oh well, it was something that would most certainly never be a part of her life. That is what it was, a natural process, yet something that was part of a secular life – the life in the "outside world", as the Reverend Mother called it, a life that was not meant for her. Whatever else she had heard about the act of procreation, she had pushed aside to a hidden corner of her brain, where useless knowledge was stored.
Now that insufferable man, towering over her with that irritating half grin in his face dared to imply that she knew hardly more than the old birds and bees tale, or worse, the old pagan tale that babies were brought up by storks. The reason why a worldly man like him would believe that nuns were entirely ignorant about how nature worked was beyond her. It was preposterous, outrageous. If there was one thing Maria could not stand was when people doubted her intelligence.
The day the subject had been first mentioned, during dinner, she had to admit, she had been caught unawares. Her reaction had been embarrassingly… awkward, to say the least. She had even felt herself blush, and for that she would never forgive herself. It had been a reaction she still failed to understand. She had never blushed like that before – in school, she had even been able to ask questions about that very subject during biology classes, without even flinching. Why now, precisely when she had to act in a composed, dignified manner, in front of her aristocratic employer and his equally noble guests, she had no idea. But she knew, somehow, that his steely blue eyes fixed on her during the whole ordeal had to have something to do with it.
She took a deep breath, looking heavenward, while she thought of an answer that would clear this ridiculous matter once and for all. Luckily, she found it.
"I thought that the Reverend Mother had told you that I attended the School of Progressive Education in Vienna (3)," she informed him curtly, in an attempt to end at least a few of the misconceptions he might have about her.
"Apparently, there are a number of things that the Mother Abbess of Nonnberg has forgotten to tell about you."
Maria frowned – what did he mean by that?
He frowned back at her. "How… progressive this school of yours was, Fräulein?" he began pacing around her once more. That – the pacing - was never a good sign, she knew that only too well by now.
"Oooh, very, very advanced, Captain." Somehow, she could not resist the temptation of provoking him, just a little.
He raised his eyebrows. "Advanced as in…"
She did not like that tone either, it sounded very disapproving to her. First she had a feeling she believed her much too innocent for her own good, much to naïve to take care of seven children. Now the suspicious look in his face told her that he was close to doubting her chastity because she had attended a progressive school. Was it all black and white to him?
"Liberal," she said simply, gloating a little when he saw him flinch at the word. Just as she realized he was about to snap at her again, because he had stopped his pacing and was staring at her as if he wanted to throttle her. She clarified, rolling her eyes. "It was progressive in terms of their educational methods, Captain, not in… in other areas. "It was a school for girls only," she added the unnecessary information just in case.
"Hmm…"
"They… they did not believe in embellishing the truth over there. Or disfiguring it."
"Is this why you called my way of raising my children… how was it that you described it that day?"
"Wrong, outdated and unnatural," she said (4).
"I believe you said completely wrong, outdated and unnatural." He resumed his pacing for a moment. "However, I think I have just caught you contradicting yourself, Fräulein." He stopped and turned around to face her. The Cheshire grin was back in his perfectly formed lips. He looked dangerous, very dangerous, and Maria began to feel as if he was leading her to a trap.
"How so?" She uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again.
"You said you did not believe in… embellishing the truth, and yet you told Marta a ridiculous fairy tale! Which is to me, the clearest indication that you do not have the foggiest idea of what you were talking about. None at all."
"Oooooooh!" she exclaimed, outraged. "You… I…" she was so angry she did not know what to say.
She wanted to shock him, she wanted him to choke on his own words. Her life, however, certainly did not offer her enough for her to come up to such a statement, and she was too much of a terrible liar to be able to invent one. She used to run from the convent and escape to the mountains because she loved nature, not to meet any lovers. There had been not even one single stolen kiss, no rolls in the hay she had heard other girls in school whispering and giggling about. Nothing! The one boy who came close to trying ended up with a bloody nose and a bruised groin – she was 14 years old at the time. Finally, unable to think of anything else, she blurted out the most shocking, the most meaningful admission that came to her mind.
"I grew up in a farm!"
The Captain did not look shocked at all. He burst on laughing.
Maria only stared at him, mesmerized. Certainly she had never seen him laugh like that. Nor was it a sight that she would expect to see again in her life. Finally he looked like a sea captain – no, more like a sailor, in fact, one who had just been told a bawdy joke. She did not even know that in his world people were allowed to laugh in that manner.
They were interrupted by the sound of Marta's voice, coming form the door.
"Father, did Fräulein Maria ever tell you how babies are made?"
Maria closed her eyes and counted to ten.
"No, darling, she did not!" the Captain replied, his voice full of mirth.
"Then you should tell her, because I don't think she knows the whole answer!"
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A/N: (1) I must admit, these little comments by the Captain were borrowed from the amazing book. "A sailor of Austria", by Jack Biggins. I could not resist using it. (2) Exodus 21, vs. 23-26. (3) The real Maria attended the State Teachers' College of Progressive Education, in Vienna. (4) I borrowed this line from the German movie, Die Trapp Familie.