Maria could not quite manage to keep a smile from her face as she swung herself out of the Captain's parked car and onto one of the bustling sidewalks of Salzburg. Turning around as she closed the door, she saw the same smile on the face of her employer, accompanied of course by the signature gleam in his eye, which - though she was loathed to admit it - she always found highly intriguing.
"Shall we, Fraulein?"
He gestured down the road and she nodded her head, stepping around the car to walk beside him.
Fraulein. It was interesting how he could make that one word sound so different - sometimes a chastisement, other times teasing, often questioning, occasionally insulting… and increasingly, more and more like an endearment. She smiled again as he brushed his arm against hers, and looked up to see him scanning his gaze along the crowded pavement, as though wondering where best to take them first.
She was quite happy to let him decide. After all, they had already had a rather highly-spirited, though definitely good-humoured discussion in the car over what would be most appropriate for him to buy for his daughters - a discussion which he had won. Usually this fact would have infuriated her, though on this occasion she was just happy that he was now so involved in his daughters' lives that he cared enough to argue with her.
Despite the disagreement, he had on more than one occasion expressed his relief that she was accompanying him. She had resisted the temptation the first time to say what she was thinking, but once again he seemed to know this all too well, and it was not long before he had questioned her into a confession.
"I'm not sure I would trust you to go shopping for the girls alone, Captain," she had finally ceded.
"Afraid I might get up to no good, Fraulein?" he had come back immediately, flashing her a familiar mischievous smile which always made her wonder exactly what it was that he was thinking. She was learning to read the inflexion in his tone though, and more and more found herself blushing not because of what he had actually said, but at what he might be implying. Georg Von Trapp, she was beginning to learn, had an interesting power to twist innocent sentences on their head, imbuing them with just enough wit and charm to give them… well, positively scandalous implications.
She was sure that the fact that this no longer went completely over her head should have been enough cause for concern, never mind the fact that she actually liked engaging in such teasing with her employer.
And the fact that standing in the street now, ostensibly looking over his shoulder for a shop to visit when really all she was doing was watching him, admiring the set of his jaw and the colour of his eyes… heaven knew that she should be earning herself eternal condemnation. But she would worry about that later as she always did… or more often didn't.
"Let's get the ballet shoes first," he jolted her out of her musings and she felt herself colour again as he flicked his eyes over to her. Once again his lip twitched - his tell-tale sign that he was thinking something he had decided not to say - though she did not dare ask him what.
Swooning, indeed. And when she had been so scornful of such a thing earlier… for him to find her practically…
She turned away from him briskly.
"Madame Jardenne's then," she answered brusquely, "It's just up here."
She heard his low sarcastic chuckle even as she led the way through the crowds, though she pretended she had not.
They arrived at the shop without incident, though she had refused to check that he was following her the whole of the way there, and had not slowed down for even an instant despite the throngs of shoppers bustling this way and that. He was still with her though, and still wearing a knowing smile.
She had a sudden urge to slap it off his face. Or perhaps kiss it off... the thought jumped instantly to mind, alarming her further. What was it about this man that could make her think such… unholy thoughts?
He held the door open.
"After you, Fraulein."
Half teasing and half an endearment she decided as she nodded her head, collecting her skirts together primly in an effort to seem composed.
"Thank you, Captain."
The shop was relatively small, more of a cubby-hole really. She wondered if the Captain might mind, for it was certainly far from the grand well-to-do shops which she supposed he more often frequented. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he was instead smiling around the room, his eyes taking in the ceiling-high shelves and the railings of pretty frocks.
"Ah, Maria!"
Madame Jardenne herself appeared from her office. The two women kissed cheeks before Maria stepped aside slightly to introduce the Captain.
"Frances, this is… uh… Captain Georg Von Trapp."
She watched as something flicked across his face and belatedly wondered if she ought not to have included the 'Georg'.
"You two know each other then?" he asked after the introductions were over and the shopkeeper had stepped out of earshot to collect some shoes for their inspection.
"Yes, quite well," Maria admitted, "I studied ballet at school. Frances used to have a shop in Vienna."
He nodded in understanding, though once again a distinctly amused smile had returned to his face.
Her irritation flared, "I know it might be hard to believe that with my clumsy nature I could ever have been good at ballet, Captain, but-"
"O-ho!" he interrupted with a laugh, "I would never dare to suggest such a thing!"
"You were thinking it!"
"Ballet and mind-reading, Fraulein," he shook his head, "You are certainly full of surprises today."
"Oooh, you-"
They were interrupted by Madame Jardenne clearing her throat and both turned around rather abashed. The shopkeeper wore a distinctly knowing look on her face, and despite the Captain switching immediately into his most professional of manners, it was a look which did not change until long after they had left the store.
"Books for Brigitta, Captain?" Maria asked him when they had returned to the street, a pretty and highly expensive pair of ballet shoes now in their possession.
"Umm-hmm," he agreed, before suddenly checking his watch, "But I think a spot of lunch first, perhaps?"
He smiled encouragingly at her as she felt her eyebrows lift in surprise.
"We have to eat, Fraulein…" he cajoled her slightly and she laughed.
"I suppose so, Captain," she allowed.
"By God, I think that is the first time we have been in agreement all day!" he clasped his hand over his heart.
She rolled her eyes, laughing, and allowed him to lead her down the street.
If Captain Von Trapp minded being seen eating out with his children's governess he did not show it. In fact it was definitely Maria who was more self-conscious, especially since he had chosen to take her to a restaurant with outside seating where they would be in full view of anyone walking down that particular road. But it was nothing to be concerned by, she chastised herself - after all, it was lunch time and they did have to eat, and she was quite sure that none of the other patrons of the café had any idea what her relationship to the Captain was. No, they fit in quite well, for he had not taken her to one of the grander establishments in the city, a fact for which she was very thankful.
Perhaps that was what was worrying her, she considered. It felt somehow very natural to be taking a meal with him, and though they were surrounded by other people - both sitting at the other tables and walking along the street - the whole occasion still felt rather intimate. She had never before found herself the sole object of anyone's attention for so long…. Never before had anyone listened to her with such interest and intensity, asking her just enough questions to keep her talking, and in turn seeming quite happy to answer anything she could think to ask him. And of course it didn't have to be like that at all- there was more than enough activity going on around them to distract his attention away - indeed, she could see a couple over his shoulder both staring in opposite directions to each other, another where the lady was engaged in conversation with a man at a neighbouring table, and next to them - and most certainly not helping her peace of mind - a couple who seemed to be on a first date, and who were flailing around for conversation. Not so with the Captain though, she had to admit,- their conversation hardly faltered for a moment, and she could not remember any afternoon when she had laughed so many times, or felt quite so engaged.
It was certainly this fact above all others which fed her guilty hopes that none of the sisters of Nonnberg would happen to walk down that particular road that afternoon.
The café itself was lovely too. She had never eaten French food before and found it to be positively delicious, and she had warmed to their waiter the moment they had arrived.
"Ah, bonjour, mademoiselle, monsieur…!" he had greeted them with a flourish, sweeping his cap from his head and bowing low. She had not been able to help giggling, wondering if he really was from France after all, or if he were merely putting on an act.
The Captain had seen to that of course. She had recognised the wicked gleam in his eye before he had opened his mouth, though she had not quite expected the stream of French which he had then directed at the young man.
The waiter had recognised her bewilderment.
"Ah, mon dieu!" he had exclaimed, "Your husband is a Frenchman!"
She had not been able to help giggling again, this time at his strange accent, even as she felt herself blush at his words. The Captain had presumably set him right, though she could not understand a word of what he had said. It seemed that he was indeed from France, she had learned, and was delighted to have found a fellow speaker of his native tongue.
"I'm beginning to wish I had never opened my mouth," the Captain had commented wryly as Francois had eventually taken his leave from them, "I think I am now in full possession of his life story…"
Francois had returned a number of times during the meal, and indeed, once he had discovered that Maria knew no French at all, had seemed to find great delight in teaching her a few words.
"The language of love!" he had exclaimed, "Is that not so, my dear… how do you say… Fraulein?"
He was like something out of a cartoon, she had said to the Captain, laughing at his irritation.
They finished their main courses leisurely, and had just stood up to leave when Francois appeared again, waving a slice of chocolate cake towards them. Another gabble of French ensued, resulting in the Captain sitting back down with another wry smile.
"Compliments from the chef," he explained, as Francois settled the dessert between them and made to pass them a fork each.
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly eat any more, Captain," Maria exclaimed, gesturing towards the waiter.
He replied in French again, smiling at her as he insistently placed both forks on the table.
"What did he say?" she looked towards the Captain for a translation, and was surprised to see him looking suddenly rather embarrassed.
"He… uh…" he cleared his throat as Francois bowed to them and shuffled away, "He… said that you should try some, Fraulein… uh… that he is sure it will not spoil your beautiful figure."
They both looked away from each other quickly, awkwardness growing between them for the first time since they had arrived at the restaurant.
"Well it is my favourite dessert, Captain," Maria went on bravely, watching as he looked up in relief, "I might try a little if you don't mind…"
She smiled at him weakly.
"No, please do!" he pushed the cake nearer to her even as he cut a piece off with his own fork, "I have no desire to end up some gluttonous plump old sea Captain from indulging in too many fine desserts!"
She laughed.
"Even if I might not look at all like a sea Captain, anyway…" he added. As usual she was both relieved and a little apprehensive to see the gleam back in his eye.
She made a non-committal noise of agreement.
"Tell me Fraulein," he went on, lifting the end of his fork towards her, "Just what was it that you were expecting before you met me?"
"Oh I don't think I had thought too much about it," she replied honestly before seeing him frown, "I mean…" she went on hastily, not wanting to seem rude, "The Reverend Mother had told me very little. I suppose I expected you to look like the sea Captains I had read about in storybooks…"
"Which was what exactly?"
She swallowed her bite of cake.
"Mmmm… this really is very good," she commented first, taking another forkful, "No, well, I suppose some gruff old man with a pot-belly and a white beard…"
He laughed.
"… with a cigar hanging from his mouth and a spyglass around his neck, hmm?" he suggested.
"Um hmm, and never parted from his uniform either," she finished.
He raised an eyebrow, sharing her smile.
"You were disappointed not to see me in my uniform then Fraulein?" his tone suddenly had that dangerous, exciting edge back to it. She felt her heart start to beat a little faster and once again did not trust herself to meet his gaze.
"Oh I suppose you just surprised me," she settled for a neutral response, carefully skimming her fork along the edge of the cake, "I guess I had never given much thought to what a Captain might look like without his uniform on."
He coughed suddenly and she looked up in surprise.
"Are you alright, Captain?"
"Yes, yes, fine," he answered irritably, taking a sip of water. The tell-tale gleam was suddenly back in his eye with a vengeance.
"What?" she asked, wondering what on earth she might possibly have said now.
"I think that bit's yours," he pushed the rest of the cake across to her side of the plate and sat backwards.
She regarded him curiously for a moment before warily lifting her fork.
"I confess you surprised me too," he went on a second later, "You did not look the slightest bit as I had expected either."
"Yes," she groaned slightly, "So you informed me... What did you want me to look like, then?"
He chuckled and his lip twitched again.
"Well, not so much want, Fraulein," he corrected her, "But I was expecting one of two things- either some old matronly woman, bulging out of a tweed suit and with an expression as though someone had shoved a fire-iron into her backside-"
"Captain!"
"Sorry," he chuckled again, "Max once described one of the poor women in such a way, and I must admit the description struck me as rather apt… or being as how you were from the convent," he continued after a pause, "Well, a fully habit-ted nun I suppose…!" He shrugged again.
"Hmmm, yes I did wonder about wearing that," she lifted the last forkful of cake to her mouth, "But they are terribly uncomfortable. I always avoided wearing it as much as possible."
He nodded, and then in a highly suggestive tone went on: "Yes, I suppose I had never given much thought to what a nun might look like underneath her habit."
It was her turn to choke on her mouthful this time and she met his gaze with bright red cheeks.
Oooh he was wicked, she decided. He had played that just marvellously, though she had certainly not meant what he was implying - as he well knew….!
He gave her a low laugh again and she felt her stomach tighten.
"Francois?" he suddenly flipped his attention away from her, granting her the small mercy of a moment away from those midnight blue eyes to compose herself, "L'addition, s'il vous plait!"
