A/N: Part II of "A Nightcap". Have fun with it! And thank you for your kind reviews.

BTW, I started a Facebook group, the aimoo forum will be deleted in a few days - I hope to see everybody there. You´ll find the link on my homepage, in my profile (The Villa, on blogspot).

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part II

Interlude

Chapter 08

A nightcap – part II

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"Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious."

Oscar Wilde

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"A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy."

George Jean Nathan

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He tried another approach, wondering where that had come from: an almost obsessive need to talk to her, and to hear her talk.

"The schnapps must have worked, you stopped sneezing," he commented.

"Mmmmm?" she asked, distractedly. "Oh yes, I have, haven´t I? I´m sure it was the tea, not the schnapps in it! As I said, it was a mere detail, strictly for…"

"… medical purposes. Yes, you did say that," he shrugged.

"I did!" she exclaimed, with a firm nod. "Two tablespoons only, in case you are curious."

He wasn´t, but he could barely suppress a smile.

"Two spoons in each cup?" he teased.

"For the whole recipe," she stressed. "I am not a… a…" she searched frantically for a proper term, "I am never tipsy."

"Duly noted. Did things go well with the children today?" he asked abruptly, meaning to return to a safer ground. The little governess was such a delight to tease, a dangerous temptation he had to resist. Not laughing after her last words was the hardest thing he had done that evening.

Well, they needed to discuss the children anyway, didn´t they? Why not here and now? This was as good a time as any. At least it would be the perfect excuse in case anyone else ventured in the kitchen and found them like that.

"What?" She merely looked at him, quizzically, as if trying to readjust her thoughts to the proper direction. "Who?"

"My children, Fräulein. Did they behave?" he insisted, rephrasing his question. "Did you behave?" he felt tempted to ask, but something told him that she heard the question in her mind because her eyes twinkled.

"They always do with me, Captain," was her enigmatic reply, as she leaned back in her chair and relaxed, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were twinkling with mischief – not to mention a certain pride.

"Touché! But I deserved that one." He gazed at her intently, as if trying to guess what her tactics were. After a few moments, she dropped her gaze to the blasted steaming cup once more. What was there that she gazed at so intently? Dancing fairies?

"You did it on purpose, didn´t you?" she murmured, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"What did I do on purpose?" he asked, knowing the answer only too well.

"It was your twisted way of punishing me for everything that happened yesterday," she said at last, her eyes narrowing accusingly. "Very clever, Captain."

"Guilty as charged," he smirked. "That was very perceptive of you, Fräulein. I never thought you would see through it."

"You were clever, but a tiny bit obvious. You underestimated me. It didn´t work."

"What didn´t work? The shopping spree or the punishment?"

"The latter." She put her teacup down, rather noisily. He winced slightly, fearing of the integrity of the precious china. "Our little trip was a marvelous success. Your instructions were followed strictly, and you´ll be happy to know that all the children have their new decent clothes now. I think you will be pleased." She pointed a finger to him. "You should know me better, Captain. If you wish to intimidate me, you´ll have to use more than seven children and a haughty Frenchwoman who barely spoke German."

"Again - duly noted," he said. "I will try to use more effective tactics the next time," he said, acknowledging his defeat.

"Of course there was a little problem with Liesl."

"What about Liesl?" he frowned.

"Hah!"

She shot him a glance that was as impatient as it was knowing.

"Fräulein!" he demanded, impatiently.

"Very well. Your daughter is sixteen. Almost seventeen."

"I know how old my daughter is," he sneered.

"Then perhaps what you don´t know is that you cannot expect her to like being dressed as if she were seven."

"She is a child; she has no saying in the matter."

"She is not a child, she is a young lady. You cannot possibly be so stubborn!" she blurted in a high pitched voice.

He raised his eyebrows. When it came to the children she was quite passionate – it was actually one of her best qualities, something that helped him to make his decision to let her stay. Her loyalty to them was unquestionable.

"Fräulein…"

She would not allow him to reprimand her this time.

"Did you consider yourself a child when you were sixteen? Well, I certainly didn´t, I was already living on my own studying in Vienna to get my teaching degree. Didn´t you hate when your parents tried to dress you like a little boy?"

He smirked. "Like my daughter, I had no saying in the matter, I didn´t have much of a choice."

"Hah!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. "There!"

"I had to wear a naval uniform at that age," he retorted smugly, just as she was beginning to savor her small victory. Her impatient look heavenward told him she was annoyed by his superior tone. "I was already a cadet in the Navy," he explained, more amiably.

"Well, Liesl is no naval cadet, and yet she was very resentful about Madame´s choices for her. I managed to convince her in the end, but I could tell that she wasn´t happy at all. I think you should…"

"You think that I should talk to her. I know." He sighed. "Liesl, Liesl, Liesl… Elsa – Baroness Schraeder – thinks she is ready to be launched in society. Launched - that was the word she used. Hah! I used to fire torpedoes at enemy ships and now I must launch my own daughter into the world. A fitting comparison, don´t you think?"

"At least it feels almost the same," he thought.

"I suppose." She smiled broadly. "I was told that her grandfather invented them, didn´t he?"

"Great-grandfather," he corrected. "Robert Whitehead was…" he stopped himself just in time, "… he was my wife´s grandfather." Again, that quizzical expression in her eyes, which told him how perceptive she was. If given a chance, he sensed that she would start bombarding him with questions, not about the Whitehead family, but about Agathe and why it was evident that it was still so difficult for him to say her name. He would not give her the chance to do that.

"However, that is now quite what I meant," he continued, interrupting her briskly when it looked like she was about to fire him a question. "I´m a father. I should expect devastating consequences, just when I did whenever I fired one of those deadly weapons," he added grimly, sipping his tea and seriously considering fetching the cook´s bottle to add more schnapps to it, regardless of how much his action would shook the already wary little Fräulein.

He stared at her for a moment, and she did not cower, although the flush in her cheeks intensified perceptively.

"I sometimes wonder what on earth the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey had in mind when she sent you to a notoriously eccentric, widowed sea captain who used to sink enemy ships for a living, a father of seven children whose great-grandfather invented the torpedo, and assume that we all would behave beautifully and we would all live happily ever after in the bucolic Austrian countryside," he chuckled.

"Well, I…"

"Tell me, what did you expect? Seven little angels you could easily bend to your will? A father who did not care what you did with them as long as you kept them out of his eyesight?" He nearly bit his tongue after he uttered the last phrase, for it used to be true, at least until the day governess number twelve walked into his house.

"Well, I had no expectations at all, Captain. I was told very little before I came," she reminded him. "But truthfully, I don´t think it would have made any difference if I knew more. I would never expect children from such an impressive background to be very easy to handle. Children never are, in any case. In my own experience, they always tend to surprise us."

"What about their father?" he blurted the question, surprised with his own impertinence, refusing to acknowledge the reason why, all of a sudden, her opinion of him mattered at all.

Her reaction was a curious one, although not completely unexpected. Her face became fiery red, and at the same time, she straightened her spine and held her chin up, trying to appear unaffected.

"I caught you again, Fräulein, didn´t I?" he thought, smirking. "As mad as this it, it is mutual. You´ve been thinking a little too much about this sea captain as well, at least more than it is deemed appropriate. Yes, we are guilty; both of us, but have we committed a crime? – Or worse, in your case – have we sinned?"

When she answered, her voice was surprisingly firm, although an octave lower, an indication that she was trying her best to keep her composure, oblivious of the fact that her body language betrayed her completely.

"What about you, Captain? I thought you were - ahem - unimportant."

"Unimportant?" He raised his eyebrows, unsure if he was amused or irritated by her insolence. Perhaps both. The insignificant governess considered him, Captain Georg von Trapp, lord and master of the household and father to the seven children she was in charge of as unimportant? And she did not mind saying that to his face?

Her smile was a copy of his last smirk. O-ho, he must give her some credit, the Fräulein was a master when it came to using his own tactics against him. She did it brilliantly, and it had not been the first time.

"Yes, under the circumstances" she said, her eyes never leaving his face. "Your background is impressive enough to intimidate anyone, but I am here for the children, not for you, aren´t I?"

Another well delivered blow. The little innocent certainly knew how to hurt a man´s pride!

"Right."

"I´m glad we are in agreement about this at least," she nodded. Did he detect a hint of irony there?

"Mmmm. Very well then, since the children are the reason why you are here, let us return to the original subject – my eldest daughter. Would you agree with the Baroness assessment about Elisabeth (1), Fräulein? Is she ready to be launched in society, for this mad world we live in? Or do you think she will be forever safe in a convent, like yourself?"

He hadn´t intended for that to be a blow, but she flinched slightly.

"It may be a crazy world, but it is also marvelous, don´t you think?"

"Marvelous? I fear I buried such romantic notions long ago, Fräulein. What about war, sickness, death… and heartbreak?"

She did not flinch this time, but kept staring at him, evenly.

"But there are also mountains, flowers, the sea… and music," she retorted. I think Liesl – all of your children, in fact – deserve a chance to see it and experience it all."

Oh yes. Music.

He flexed his fingers. Instantly, he thought about the grand piano hidden away somewhere in the house, gathering dust and cobwebs. Such a pity, such a waste! Not unlike the lively creature sitting across him in the small kitchen table, who was ready to, willingly and gladly, throw her life away by locking herself for life in a medieval Abbey, leaving behind a world full of color and music that she, herself, described as marvelous. No, he did not wish to think about that now, but the piano… He used to master it, just like he mastered the sea; he used to know every nuance, every mood of that beautiful instrument, a marvel of perfection, coveted by some of the best orchestras in Europe.

But no, he could not speak of such things to her, to this insignificant little governess who knew nothing of the world and yet wished wholeheartedly to part from it. Yes, she had brought music back to his house, but he was not yet ready to be a part of it. Joining his children in song had been a silly impulse he now regretted.

No, he could not trust that slip of a governess with his innermost thoughts and feelings. Such things were too intimate, too private and too dear to his soul – all things he had lost, perhaps forever. The sea, his music and Agathe – all connected, like the three vertices of a triangle.

"I think Liesl will make you proud if you let her, Captain, no matter what she chooses to do. And the same will happen to all your children. They are much too clever, they only deserve a chance to grow and reach their full potential. But as for what the Baroness has in mind, I fear that you are asking the wrong person."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes. In my world, being launched in society means getting married as soon as you are old enough to bear children, to a childhood friend or someone your parents chose for you." She considered her words for a moment. "In fact, it is more like being forced to walk the plank like in the pirate stories, rather than being launched like a torpedo."

"But, metaphors aside, you did not follow that path"

"Because I had no option other than to learn how to survive on my own, and that happened before I was of a marrying age. Oh, but I am sure Liesl won´t suffer from that fate. Yes, the Baroness will be far more helpful to you; she will know what to do."

"I don´t know. She never had any children of her own," he pondered.

"She is a woman and she had a mother. That alone should suffice."

"If that is the case, that applies to you as well," he observed. "Now, about Liesl…"

She rolled her eyes, uttering one of her incoherent moans.

"That is not what I mean and you know it."

"I´m afraid you are going to have to be more specific, Fräulein."

Shrugging dismissively, she denied him an answer. At that moment he began to learn something important about Fräulein Maria: as outspoken as she was, when it came to talk about herself, she was a veritable sphinx, probably even more private than he was.

"Wonder of wonders, Fräulein, we do have a few things in common after all," he mused.

For the first time in the many following weeks, he was plagued with the question that would never completely leave his mind: why would such a free spirited girl wish to be locked for life? What were the reasons that drove her to choose that path? None of the obvious answers were plausible, least of all an amorous delusion or a sad case of unrequited love. He had no idea why exactly he knew that, but he just knew it, by instinct… and by the way she reacted, not so subtly, to his proximity.

"Damn," he cursed.

"Captain?" she frowned at him.

"Liesl needs her mother," he whispered. "Not a mother – her mother!" He let out another low curse. "Why the devil did I say that?"

Probably feeling again at ease, she smiled sympathetically at him.

"For the same reason your children say things like that, Captain. You may not like to hear it, but you should know that they mention their mother every ten minutes," she blurted, cleverly taking advantage of his slip of tongue. "Not only Liesl, all of them. Gretl doesn´t remember, but she asks questions all the time. But no no, not to me," she added quickly after noting the expression in his eyes. "Never to me. I hear when they are talking among themselves they… they…"

"They what, Fräulein?"

"I´m so sorry. I´m breaking those rules again, I should not mention…"

"Please don´t do this. Don ´t ruin it. Don´t destroy what you accomplished so beautifully." She gasped, her expression was one of absolute confusion. "I have to know, they are my children!" If her wrist were an inch closer, he would have given in to the temptation of grabbing it, to still her restless hands.

"Ooh. I know, but I went too far again, didn´t I? Please, forgive me."

"You are in charge of my children," he interrupted. "At this moment I am under the assumption that you will stay longer than a week or two."

"Until September," she mumbled, distractedly.

"Until September," he echoed. "Bringing up their late mother from time to time will be inevitable. I am no fool, and not so obtuse to be unable to realize that. You don´t need to – uh – tread so carefully around me at all times."

"Captain, I…"

"I am giving you permission to bring up any subject concerning the children whenever necessary. Is that clear?"

"I don´t know…" She scratched her head. "Anything?"

"Anything at all. I think I can handle it, otherwise I think it will be impossible for your to do your work," he said, taking a large gulp of his tea, as if for courage. She still looked at him in awe. "At least I will handle anything after one cup or two of this," he said, staring at his cup, meaningfully.

"That is a very dangerous thing to say to me, Captain. You don´t know me that well. What if I overstep my boundaries again?"

"You don´t know me that well either. I am willing to take the risk – for the children´s sake, of course. That is why you are here, isn´t it?"

"Yes, of course. The children… which reminds me, Captain: What about the new rules you wished to discuss?"

"Oh yes, the rules." He thought for a moment. "It is all very simple, Fräulein. You will follow the old schedule for the moment, making whatever changes that you think are necessary here and there."

"But that means I will be making the rules!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Not exactly, Fräulein."

"You are positively deranged, Captain."

"I trust your good sense. I am sure you will not turn my house into a bedlam or that you will be bringing up – uh – undesirable subjects every five minutes simply because you are allowed to do so."

"My good sense?" she repeated, distractedly. "But what if I have none?"

He chuckled. "Whoever said that to you was a dismal liar or incredibly lacking in perception."

"Very well then." She bit her lower lip. "But you must realize that I will have to make room for music."

"That sounds reasonable."

"A piano?"

Whatever gave her that idea? She couldn´t possibly know that he used to play, could she? Her expectant gaze as she waited for his answer told her that yes, she knew. She may not know how good or bad he was, but she knew he used to play for the children, for Agathe… His fingers curled, he flexed them. The thought about the music sheet he had bought only days before. Rachmaninoff´s latest works, newly published. He would never forget the face of the shop owner when he walked into the store, for he had not set foot inside it in more than three years. Naturally, it was an impulse he regretted now. He had studied those notes for hours before locking the music in his desk drawer. His fingers itched to play it, and he knew he could… If only the relief music could bring would lessen the pain of his loss, but he knew from experience it would only make it worse. No, he couldn´t. Not yet.

A piano…

"Absolutely out of the question," he replied firmly.

"I had to try," she muttered.

"I would be surprised if you didn´t. Anything else?"

She took a breath for courage. "Less military history and more literature appropriate for children. Unless, of course, you can make it interesting for them."

"Mmm. I am not sure that is possible," he chuckled.

"Let me see… less marching and more playing," she continued.

"I think I can live with all that too, as longs as it is within reasonable limits."

"I trust you will let me know immediately whenever it becomes – uh - unreasonable, Captain!"

"Certainly."

"Good."

The conversation had died again. If there was anything else she wanted to ask him, she suddenly lacked the courage. He decided not to insist.

"The tea is getting cold," he pointed to her tea;

"Yes," she sighed. "It doesn't matter, I had enough of it. I think I should retire now, Captain. I – we – the children and I have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. If you excuse me…"

"But of course!"

"Good night, Captain."

"Good night." As she was crossing the door, he stopped her one last time. "Uh - Fräulein?"

"Yes?" She turned around to face him, wide-eyed.

"When you are back to your Abbey, after you make your vows…"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you will remember your life outside those walls."

She smiled.

"I hope I will, Captain. I know I will."

"Will you remember us?"

She frowned, as if trying to process his question.

"Of course I will, Captain, and I will keep your family in your prayers. You didn´t even have to ask."

"Thank you," he murmured, but he could already hear her footsteps as she run back to her bedroom.

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A/N: (1) Just a reminder – "Liesl" is actually short for "Elisabeth".