Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.
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The Sound of Music Chronicles
Part I
The Twelfth Governess
Chapter 10
Oh help!
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"What will this day be like?
I wonder.
What will my future be?
I wonder.
It could be so exciting,
To be out in the world,
To be free!
My heart should be wildly rejoicing.
Oh, what's the matter with me?
I've always longed for adventure,
To do the things I've never dared.
Now here I'm facing adventure
Then why am I so scared?
A captain with seven children...
What's so fearsome about that?..."
R. Rodgers – I Have Confidence
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"Oh help," Maria murmured, gazing at the Trapp Villa in Aigen-bei-Salzburg for the first time. The house, painted in Maria-Therese yellow which was typical of most Austrian noble homes, looked beautiful, although utterly intimidating to her.
She had made her way from Nonnberg as fast as she had been able to. The nuns had instructed her to go to the Residenzplatz and take the bus marked Aigen. The driver had been kind enough to explain to her how to reach the von Trapp mansion. Once more she heard the words one of Austria's greatest heroes, this time coming from the driver. Whoever this Captain von Trapp was, it was undeniable that he made a strong impression on people!
"Where have you been living, Fräulein? The North Pole?" The man didn't understand how any Austrian didn't know of Captain von Trapp.
"Nonnberg," Maria replied simply.
"You´re a nun?"
"Not yet, I´m a postulant," she explained. "A… nun in training."
"That could explain it, I suppose. Because there is not a well informed soul in Austria who doesn´t know about the Ritter von Trapp and his feats in the Navy. Quite a man he is, and he would be an Admiral today, but the war was lost, Austria lost its seacoast and the Captain lost his submarine. As if it wasn´t enough, his young wife died."
"I know, the poor woman! What happened to her?" asked Maria, suddenly interested in the apparently complex man who would be her employer. "If I am going to be of any help to him and those children, I must learn all I can about him. I will be able to do my job faster and return to the Abbey, where I belong," she thought.
"Do you remember the scarlet fever epidemic three years ago?" Maria nodded. How could she not? Several of the nuns were sick, three of them died. "The Baroness was not a very strong woman as far as her health was concerned, she did not have a chance. Some of von Trapp children were ill too, but not the Captain. She died in his arms, they say."
"Oh, it´s so heartbreaking!" she said, clutching her heart. Why did all beautiful love stories have to end in tragedy? At least she could consider herself fortunate because, by dedicating her life to the cloister, she would be forever safe from that sad fate. Yet, Maria had a sensitive soul, and she could not help but mourn for the Captain and his tragedies.
"The poor man and his poor, poor children! Being without a mother so young…"
The bus stopped, and all passengers left, except for Maria. The journey continued, as they left Salzburg, taking the road that led to Aigen. Maria moved to the first seat, so that she could, at least, chat with him to spend the time. She was much too nervous to be left alone with her own thoughts.
The driver looked at her, a little insolently.
"And what could a girl like you want with the Baron?" the man had asked, looking her up and down and noticing her dowdy appearance.
"Baron?" Was he also a nobleman? There was much more to this sea captain than she could have imagined at first, so much that the Reverend Mother had not told her. "Oh Lord help," she thought.
"I'm his new governess," Maria replied, proudly, in spite of her inner worries. "I mean, the new governess of his children."
The man shook his head, in disbelief, and resumed his driving, muttering something about how they did not make governesses like they did before the war.
"But who am I to judge? Austria is not the same, and God knows that Captain von Trapp is not the same."
"How come do you know so much about him?" Maria could not keep herself from asking.
"My brother used to be the Baroness chauffeur. When she died, he was dismissed, with most of the staff."
"Oh, I´m sorry!"
"Don´t be. He is retired and happy, living in Hallein. Besides, none of us would be able to hold any grudges against that family, especially the Baroness. A real lady, she was. Everyone in Salzburgerland loved her, you would not find a single soul in these parts that would have a bad thing to say about her. The Captain was never a very approachable fellow, but the ladies used to love him too," he winked at Maria, who rolled her eyes. She already had enough of such comments from Theresa and Christina.
She did not discourage the driver from his incessant chatting about the Trapp family, and continued to listen, fascinated. It had never been her intention to unduly speculate about her new employer´s private life. But the bus was empty now, and the driver seemed eager to chat and share his tales of the past, and the information could be useful to her. It was doubtful that the other servants in the Captain household would be so willing to satisfy her curiosity – she was aware that she was going to work in an aristocratic household and, according to the novels she had read taking place in similar settings, those people were usually obsessed about keeping their private matters private.
"Yes, he used to make quite an impression on the dames, they chased him everywhere, but their efforts were useless: he only had eyes for her, his Baroness. The things he did for her! She was from England, you know, and the Captain had this beautiful glass walled gazebo built in the garden, just like the one in her childhood home. It was a gift for her on her 30th birthday.
"How romantic!" Maria said, clasping her hands.
"Yes, isn´t it? Although I don´t think you´ll find him very romantic nowadays – although I have a feeling quite a few women still chase him."
"Mmmm," Maria grumbled, suddenly losing part of her interest in the subject. Well, she supposed it was only natural, she would not hold it against him, or even the women. Retired sea captain or not, he was still a wealthy aristocrat, and a widower now. "Tell me more about the house," she asked.
"It is a beautiful place, you´ll see. The Trapp villa was always open to anyone who loved music during the Festspiele. They would have concerts in that gazebo he built for the Baroness, and musical soirées in the house as well. Sometimes the Captain himself would play the piano for a lucky few – I hear that he is a fine musician."
"Oh yes, and I wager he can walk on water too," she thought, a little exasperated. The endless list of virtues of the famous sea captain was just beginning to irritate her.
It was hardly important, anyway. After hearing about all the music, Maria could barely contain her excitement, but she feared that if she showed too much interest, he would stop talking.
Music!
There was music in the house… She thought about the old guitar she carried and hugged it against her. Oh, there was so much she would be able to teach those children, so much that she would be learning from them. There would be musical instruments around, perhaps even a grand piano, or a Stradivarius. It was better, much better than what she could have hoped for. Her mind raced, and for a few seconds, she barely listened to what her interlocutor was saying anymore.
"There were also balls, garden parties, tea parties. Even treasure hunts."
"Treasure hunts?"
He sighed. "Yes, And then…"
"Yes?"
"… she died," he said simply.
"That must have been terrible!"
"You´ll see it with your own eyes, I suppose. I hear he Captain never stays in Aigen for too long nowadays. He is always in Vienna, or travelling around the world. By sea, always by sea, of course. I suppose that is why he needs all these governesses for his children."
Other passengers boarded the bus at this point. Maria moved to a seat in the back, letting an elderly couple take her place, but she did not forget to thank the driver for being so kind to share his stories with her.
Fifteen minutes later, the bus left her at the Aigen train station. From there it would be still quite a walk – nothing much to someone used to climbing mountains whenever she could. All along, she spoke to herself, muttering encouraging words to build her confidence. The Captain would not intimidate her, neither would his children – she vowed. When that hadn't been enough, she had begun singing. She practically ran the rest of the way, stumbling and tripping because of the weight of the carpet bag that carried her few personal belongings, and her guitar, until she found the house number 53 in a deserted road, surrounded by inviting trees.
It was indeed a beautiful place – not which, in her opinion, any place around Salzburg could be called ugly. But the road where her new employer lived had a peace and tranquility that beckoned to her, as the nearby hills usually did. She did not recall being there during her walks, but if she had, she would have certainly been attracted by the shady road, bordered by trees. There were some horses running on a field nearby, and she wondered if they belonged to the Captain.
Cautiously, she walked closer to the iron gate of number 53. The sight of the house made her loose all of her confidence instantly. No, it could hardly be called a house – to Maria's eyes, it was a palace in gold. She wondered if it wasn't nearly as big as Nonnberg… or as the Mirabell Palace she loved so much. No, certainly not – but it was just as intimidating.
Her hands clutched the gates and she only started at the ochre colored mansion for a while.
"It is just a house, nothing more than a house," she told herself, trying to calm down and to slow her breathing, after the long walk from the station. She remembered the words of the song she loved so much:
"Strength doesn't lie in numbers.
Strength doesn't lie in wealth,
Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumbers,
When you wake up, wake up!" (1)
Her confidence partially recovered, she took a deep breath, opened the gate, and moved forward.
"When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window," she whispered.
She took one final sprint across the circular gravel driveway and stopped at the front door, setting her luggage down and pressing the door bell firmly. Out of breath, she leaned on the wall by the doorbell, her hand over her heart.
She waited. The place was so silent it was almost eerie. Only the sounds of the birds could be heard. From inside the house, not the slightest bit of noise was heard. It was hard to believe that seven children lived there, and she began to worry if she was in the right place.
"Is the Captain going to answer the door himself?" She wondered. "How does one greet a Captain who is also a Baron? Should I curtsy, or should I just take his hand? Oh help, help, help!"
Maria censored herself for not having asked the bus driver about it. He knew so much about the von Trapps, he might also have known about the proper way of addressing a sea captain who was also a war hero, and an aristocrat. She toyed a few possibilities, and wondered which one of them would come to her lips when the moment came.
Sir… Your Lordship? Your Captainship?
Most Honorable Captain? Reverend Captain?
Baron Captain… Captain Baron?
Sir Captain Baron?
"Oh dear,"she moaned, her hand scratching her head. She had no clue. "Well, I'll see what comes out of my mouth – he will certainly tell me if I call him in the wrong manner. All I'll have to do will be to apologize for being disrespectful. He must be a reasonable man and understand that the last time I encountered such a distinguished member of the peerage was… never," she thought.
When she was about to ring for a second time, a dour-faced gentleman wearing white gloves opened the gate. He was the most intimidating figure Maria had ever met, and she instinctively straightened. His face seemed to have been carved in stone, since it was expressionless to the point of being hostile. He was as thing as a rake, but she remembered the man in the convent as being broader, more muscular. On the other hand, this one was just as tall. Oh, she wished she only paid more attention to him that day!
It was the man´s haughty air of superiority that convinced her that he might be the Captain, although not in a million years she would agree with Theresa and Christina – the man facing her could be called anything but dashing. Maria was not intimidated. That was something she could very well deal very well with – ugly faces. Angry faces.
"This is much better than I could have imagined," she thought, immensely relieved.
"Hello! Here I am!" she exclaimed, vibrantly.
The man remained silent, but he took in her appearance with one unappraising look, noticing her appalling clothes. He cast an openly doubtful glance.
Noticing the man's hesitation, Maria explained. "I'm from the convent. I'm the new governess, Captain."
"And I'm the old butler, Fräulein," he replied stiffly.
Missing the man's jibe entirely, Maria could not hide her disappointment – if he had turned out to be the famous sea captain, as intimidating as she thought he was, she could very well deal with him. Her uneasiness returned, as images of her idea of a tobacco chewing, blasphemous, angry sea captain, mixed with the picture of the gallant naval officer painted by her friends and by the bus driver haunted her once more, she had no clue about what to expect. But still, she tried to make the best of it.
"Well, how do you do?" she said grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly. The butler's expression did not change, and he did not say a word to acknowledge her greeting. Instead, he stared at the hand that had grasped his as if it were a poisonous snake.
"Hmm," she mumbled, wondering if it the dour-faced employee did not terrify the children and the other governesses that the Reverend Mother had said were there before her.
Since the butler had offered her no help – not that she would have expected any - Maria picked up her guitar case and carpetbag and followed him into the house.
Maria's eyes widened as she looked around at the scantly furnished but opulent front hall.
"You are expected, eh - Fräulein. You'll, uh - wait here please," the butler said, and, with a last dubious glance at Maria, he stalked away.
As if in a trance, Maria walked slowly down the front stairs and set her baggage down. She stared at the gilded furniture and glittering crystal chandelier on the ceiling high above. There were stairs, with banisters which looked amazingly inviting for her to slide down. The double staircase led to balconies, which lined the upper walls on either side of the vast, spotlessly white room.
It seemed that the butler was taking forever to return, and Maria was not the kind who could be still in one place for too long. She began pacing around the gleaming wood floor, and stopped right in front of double doors which, like every other door in sight, were high and imposing.
Much later, she would come to the conclusion that she could not possibly be blamed for what had happened next. After all, the doors had not been closed – not completely. They were only slightly ajar. All the other doors were open, so she could see no logical reason why these had to be closed. Leaning forward, Maria peered in through the crack. Her jaw fell open with the sight that greeted her. She gently pushed the door open and stared into a semi-dark, ornate ballroom lined with gilt-edged mirrors and dusty windows. Cloth dustcovers hang from the two crystal chandeliers.
Maria stepped forward into the room, forgetting, for a moment, where she was and why she was there. She could not help but clasp her hands together in excitement. Why such a magnificent room seemed to be in such a state of neglect, while the rest of the house she had seen so far was virtually spotless, was a mystery to her. The ballroom belonged in a fairy tale, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it in its full glory, full of gentlemen in white ties and ladies in glittering jewelry and elaborate ballroom gowns waltzing.
Playfully, she dropped an exaggerated curtsy to an imaginary dance partner, then switched places and bowed deeply, assuming the place of the gentleman. She was about to attempt a mock rendition of a waltz when, all of a suddenly, the doors to the ballroom flew open with a loud crashing noise.
Maria jumped, straightening from her bow, her eyes wide, staring at the tall, elegantly handsome man standing at the open door. The light was coming from behind him, so all that she could see was his silhouette.
He wasn't yelling blasphemies or chewing tobacco, but he was, unmistakably, the man she had briefly seen in the Abbey. And he was surely angry. His stance left her no doubt this time – it was the Captain.
"So this is how one feels just before walking the plank," she thought.
Although she could not see his face clearly, somehow she knew she was being subjected to a quick, but very thorough, scrutiny, during which no detail of her shabby appearance was missed. Self consciously, she patted her dress, trying to rearrange it in the best way possible.
All she could do now was to scurry out of the ballroom, and back where she came from. The Captain did not say a word, he moved aside for her to pass through the door.
While he turned around to firmly close the doors, she took the opportunity to give him a full look. She was not a short woman, but she quickly noticed that the Captain towered over her by at least one head. He also appeared to be extremely fit, his military stance haughty and alert. Since the Imperial Navy no longer existed, he was a retired officer, but he did not look the part at all. Maria had been around only a handful of men in her life, none of them that Theresa would call a "gentleman", and certain not a single naval officer, but her mental image of a retired man was one of someone with a paunch belly who liked to sit on a comfortable chair all day long wearing their slippers, smoking their pipes and reading their newspapers. The Captain looked ready to assume the command of a warship in battle at any moment, as if had never spent a day out of active duty.
As for his face…
He had a classic profile, his features, though sharp and aristocratic, were not exactly perfect, but the little imperfections were there only to make it more… interesting. His hair was dark brown, almost black, with just a touch of grey here and there. However, it was his eyes that caught her attention the most – they were of a deep, midnight blue.
Those eyes were watching her now. She held her ground firmly – she could not have moved, even if she wanted to. Her legs felt like lead, and she felt like she was glued to the floor.
He spoke.
"Why are you staring at me that way?"
A/N: (1) Rodgers & Hammerstein, I Have Confidence.