Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part I

The Twelfth Governess

Chapter 12

Why are you staring at me that way?

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"When I'm with her I'm confused
Out of focus and bemused
And I never know exactly where I am
Unpredictable as weather
She's as flighty as a feather
She's a darling!
She's a demon!
She's a lamb!

She'd outpester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest
She can throw a whirling dervish out of whirl
She is gentle! She is wild!
She's a riddle! She's a child!
She's a headache!
She's an angel!
She's a girl!"

Rodgers & Hammerstein – How do you solve a problem like Maria?

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"God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm."

William Cowper

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"Issue the orders Sir, and I will storm Hell."

Anthony Wayne

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"In the future, you will kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house which are not to be disturbed," he informed her irritably, in a tone that – as Agathe used to tell him – could make the Salzach River freeze in the middle of the summer.

This was not how he was accustomed to greeting his children's governess. They always waited for him in the hallway, and greeted him formally and politely, as protocol demanded. Not the admonishment with which he greeted this young woman.

Her first impulse naturally was to defend herself.

"But the door was…"

However, he gave her his best scowl, to give her other choice but to concede. It had always worked with his sailors; it usually worked with his children, therefore, it should work on their governess. He had not asked the reason for her transgression; therefore, he wasn't interested in whatever explanation she was willing to give him. It must work with this… black sheep of a governess as well.

"Yes, Captain. Sir," she said, very seriously, her voice dropping an octave.

He nodded, satisfied with her compliance. A battle won. His previous governesses never spoke to him unless they were spoken to, never bothered him unless it was absolutely necessary, usually when the safety of his children was in jeopardy. Or, ultimately, after they had been the victims of one of the children's pranks. It was one rule he wasn't willing to break now. In fact, he wasn't willing to break any rules as far as the new governess was concerned. She was to be the second in command of the house, so to speak, and therefore she would and must conform to what he expected of her.

He shut the ballroom doors and when he turned around; he found her staring at him openly, and smiling broadly. It was both unexpected and unsettling – he did not know what to think for a moment. He had half expected her to be a quivering mass of nerves, cowering under his icy cold, angry gaze. It was not that he wasn't used to being stared at, most especially by women – as a man of the world, he was very conscious of his own appeal. The difference was this one didn't look at him as if her were a trophy, something for her to win. No, she looked at him openly, she was completely unafraid to let her expressive eyes mirror her every thought. He felt her eyes move over his chest, up to his face, his mouth, his eyes, his hair, and back down to his eyes again.

"Why do you stare at me that way?" he couldn't help but asking, keeping his tone chilly.

"Well, you don't look at all like a sea captain, sir," she replied promptly and, as far as he could tell, very honestly.

"I'm afraid you don't look very much like a governess," he snapped back sarcastically, before he could help himself.

He couldn't help but admonish himself for his earlier thought – she hadn't been judging his ability as a father – she had been judging him as a sea captain. A judgment, that he had apparently, failed. His retort had been in self-defense. She didn't look like a governess, and she most certainly didn't look like a nun.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"But I…" A small frown marred her somewhat irregular features.

"Don´t move!" He did not have to shout the command to the unruly cadet. As usual, his menacing tone of voice did the trick. But this one was trying, she was stubborn. She opened her mouth to speak again, to defy him. "Ah ha, ha!" he silenced her with an imperious gesture.

He left the bewildered governess – or non governess – gaping behind him, and walked briskly to his study. A telephone call to the Reverend Mother was a matter of urgency now.

It took probably less than ten minutes. The Mother Abbess had actually been waiting for his call.

"Captain von Trapp? I´ve been expecting your call. So, you´ve already met my postulant," were her very first words to him, as soon as she picked up the receiver.

It was an impossible situation. He could not his ominous, threatening tone with the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey, he could not shout with her if everything else failed. No, no matter what her intentions had been, she still deserved his utmost respect. So, he tried to reason with her, she tried to reason with him. As much as he hated to admit, her arguments were better than his.

He had to acknowledge that if he dismissed the governess immediately, the first consequence would be another day postponing his trip to Vienna. Another day in Salzburg, away from Elsa… Another day in this house with the children… with the memories. No, he would have to deal with the situation as best as he could.

Although he hadn´t told a word about that to the Reverend Mother, he sensed that she knew it somehow.

"I´ll strike a bargain with you, Captain," she had said. "All I am asking is that you trust my better judgment. Keep her until you return from Vienna, bringing your future wife with you. If after that time you still think that she is not what you and your children needed, then send her back to me immediately. I will not question your decision, I will immediately send one of our novices, Sister Ferdinanda to you, the paragon of orderliness, decorum and discipline that you seem to want so badly."

"Very well, that sounds reasonable," he had replied.

Their brief conversation ended shortly after that, but the nun´s final request would linger in his mind for weeks to come.

"Please promise you will keep her safe, Captain." Of course the Mother Abbess was thinking about the children and their pranks. Although he had assured her that none of the governess suffered any physical harm, it was only natural that she worried about one of her postulants, even if the girl in question as a thorn on her side.

"Reverend Mother, no matter how inadequate she is as a governess, you have my word of honor that no harm will come to her in this house," he had promised solemnly.

He hung up, convinced that he had made the right decision – the best possible, considering the circumstances. After all, he would still be traveling to Vienna the next morning and whatever damage number twelve did to disrupt the routine in his house after he left would be fixed by number thirteen – the formidable (or so he hoped) Sister Ferdinanda. More than that, the Reverend Mother would not be offended in the least. Quite the contrary, if everything went well, she would be pleased to him for sending her black sheep back – no, she would be thankful. He had to believe that the Reverend Mother sent this naïve girl to him for a reason, but if the elderly nun had somehow deluded herself into believing that the black sheep would reform him, he would reform the black sheep. Instead of sending the hoyden back to the convent, someone who was completely unsuitable for the rigors of a religious life, he would be returning them a docile lamb. An excellent asset to the Abbey, since it was a well known fact that, in the 20th century, very few little girls dreamed about becoming nuns. Certainly none of his own daughters did. He would have performed a good deed; his conscience would be in peace.

As we walked back to the main hall where the wide-eyed girl waited, he already knew what to do. He would give her a chance to prove herself as a governess; and himself a chance to run away from his ghosts, yet again.

"And so it begins," he thought smugly. Amazingly, she had not moved. "It wasn´t difficult, was it, Fräulein?" he thought.

He almost felt sorry for her. She was just standing there, dutifully, in a submissive posture he had seen in many of the younger postulants and novices in the Abbey. But a closer look told him that her immobility was only an illusion – she was actually rocking herself on her own booted feet, alternating her weight from her heels to her toes. Although she was still in the same spot where he had left her, she had not remained still. If that was enough to say anything about her future behavior, he would soon find out.

He cleared his throat, and she turned to face him.

"Fräulein," he nodded.

Her unguarded expression told him that she was unsure of what to do. She barely began to bend her knees a little, and then she started raising her right hand, stopping herself just before she made a complete fool of herself. He had to fight the urge to smile: she did not know if she curtsied or if she saluted him. Naturally, both actions would be entirely inappropriate under the circumstances. In the end, she settled for a mere nod.

"Captain von Trapp," she said. "I am…"

"I know who you are, you know who I am, we have already established that, so we may skip the introductions," he interrupted her briskly. "Turn around, please."

"What?" she asked, her frown deepening. He paid no attention to it, not caring if he had shocked or displeased her.

"Hmm, turn," he said, with a quick gesture of his hand for her to turn around.

For a moment, it looked like if she was going to rebel against his order. But she did as he asked, turning around in an impromptu pirouette as he scrutinized her clothes, all the while keeping her eyes on him. He could feel her gaze boring into his skin.

"Hat off!"

Never before had he asked a governess to take her hat of and turn around for his inspection. As a gentleman, he had always treated them as the ladies that they obviously were, and he had been taught from the cradle that a lady never removed her hat in public. However, he saw this… governess as one of his unruly sailors, rather than a young lady at the moment. And as an undisciplined sailor he would treat her, until he was sure she would be following the rules of the household in his absence.

Fortunately, she seemed to respond well to his authoritarian tone, at least at first. Appearing a bit dazed, she removed her leather hat. She had very short, dark blonde hair, fashioned in the ugliest haircut he had ever seen. It was now ruffled because the hat had been removed, but the fact did not appear to bother her – or she simply wasn't aware of it.

"What did she use to cut that hair – an ax?" he wondered.

He remembered Sister Berthe complaining to the Reverend Mother about the fact that she used to wear curlers in her hair, underneath her wimple. How was that even possible?

When she finished her turn, she was still looking at him in utter confusion, fear being the only emotion he seemed completely unable to detect in her expression. He could see curiosity, naivety, temerity, but not fear – which surprised him greatly.

"This one isn't at all vain," he thought.

He reminded himself that she was going to be a nun, and vanity, as far as he recalled, was not a deadly sin, but still frowned upon, nonetheless. If there were a single shred of vanity, she would not have dared to appear in public wearing such clothes and in that ridiculous haircut. Elsa would probably swoon if she saw her and Agathe… No, his wife would be scandalized, but she would also try to fix her appearance by insisting on taking her on a mad shopping spree in downtown Salzburg – to which he would have to follow, carrying his check book - and supplying her with a whole new wardrobe. The children… they would have no respect for her if she appeared for them for the first time garbed in such a frumpish manner. The little ones might not notice at all, but the eldest… No, the Fräulein before him was practically begging to be the victim of one of their pranks. Finally, the mere possibility of his children appearing in public anywhere in Salzburg with their governess dressed in such a fashion completely appalled him. He would have to do something about it.

"Sss - It's the dress. You'll have to put on another one before you meet the children," he said grimly.

"But… I don't have another one," was her prompt retort. He eyed her quizzically, wondering how on earth it was possible for a female to live and breathe with only one dress in her wardrobe. Certainly none of the females he knew was capable of such a feat.

"When we enter the Abbey, our worldly clothes are given to the poor," she explained stumbling with the words just a bit. "We… we are taught to abandon all that is superfluous, all temporal goods in order to be ready to pursue a higher spiritual life in His service."

"Point taken Fräulein," he thought, mentally censoring himself for not remembering that nuns made a vow of poverty when they entered the Abbey. The black sheep was not a nun yet, but he assumed that it was a requirement at Nonnberg, even for a postulant. He considered for a moment that he had, in fact, half expected her to show up wearing her habit – another reason why her unspeakable garments had shocked him.

"How very virtuous of you, but… what about this one?" he asked.

She looked down at herself.

"Well, the poor didn't want this one," was the simple explanation. So simple, so logical, so honest that it was almost humorous, and he had to keep himself from smirking at her.

"Why am I not surprised? My compliments to the poor," he thought.

"Hmm," he muttered instead. "Is this what you call a worldly dress?"

"It belonged to our last postulant." She went on, blabbering her defense of the odd convent attire.

"Well, I would have made myself a new dress, but there wasn't time, everything was so rushed. I can make my own clothes," she added proudly, her eyes gleaming at the mention of her obvious accomplishments.

"I don't care if you have sewn ball gowns made of gossamer silk for all the ladies of Austrian aristocracy by hand, all I am interested is how good you will be disciplining my children," he almost said, but decided to keep the thought to himself.

"Well, I'll see that you get some material... today, if possible," he said nonchalantly. "Now, Fräulein... uh ..." he snapped his fingers, demanding a quick answer. It worked, as usual.

"Maria," she supplied him immediately.

He started pacing around her and talking very rapidly not giving her time to think – one of his best, infallible intimidation tactics he had used during his days as a Naval Commander. She turned around, trying to follow him with her eyes.

"Fräulein Maria, I don't know how much the Mother Abbess has told you." He kept the next words to himself. "Certainly much more than she has told me!"

"Not much. She…" He could almost swear he was making her slightly dizzy.

He did not allow her to finish her sentence. He spoke at lightning speed, giving her no chance to interrupt him with her questions or comments.

"You are the twelfth in a long line of governesses, who have come to look after my children since their mother died. I trust that you will be an improvement over the last one. She stayed only two hours," he stopped his pacing, and stared at her, as if to stress the last piece of information, and also to see her reaction to it.

She eyed him worriedly, but her question, like everything else about her so far, was completely unexpected.

"What's wrong with the children, sir?"

Once more, he had to swallow his distaste of this young girl. He was betrayed only by a slight raising of his eyebrows.

"What is wrong with the children? – she asks? The arrogance of it! Everything is wrong in Austria, but not with my children. Everything is wrong with what my life has become, but that's not the children's fault. They are children, and apparently their governesses were incapable of controlling them, of disciplining them. They play pranks to get my attention, and they have it… only… only I can't give into their desires to let it show. They need a mother – and I am trying to rectify that. How dare this… this girl imply something like that about my children?"

"There's nothing wrong with the children," he said coldly, "- only the governesses," he finished, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and the Fräulein standing before him was too naïve not to have realized the fact.

"Oh," she mumbled, nodding, her eyes widening another fraction. He thought he had detected only the slightest hint of mockery in her moaned answer. "Certainly not, Sir Captain… Captain Sir, but twelve! It sounds like too many too me. How long ago did you say their mother – may the Lord bless her soul – passed away?"

The question caught him off guard, and he glared at her furiously. Her eyes went wide, and her hands immediately covered her mouth.

"I´m sorry, I should not have asked that," she said.

"You should be, and no, you should not. Anything that does not concern my children directly is none of your business, Fräulein, and I would appreciate it if you kept yourself from asking such questions to anyone in his house." Once more, he stared at her, until he got a faint nod in response. He resumed his pacing, and his lecture. "Now, about your predecessors – and this is very important, Fräulein, because you should avoid their errors."

"What errors, Captain?" she asked.

"They were completely unable to maintain discipline. Without it, this house cannot be properly run. You will please remember that, Fräulein?"

"Yes, Sir!" she exclaimed gravely.

"Every morning you will drill the children in their studies. I will not permit them to dream away their summer holidays." With the corner of his eyes he noticed her opening her mouth to speak, and frantically trying to call his attention. He gave her no chance.

"Each afternoon, they will march about the grounds, breathing deeply. Bedtime is to be strictly observed, no exceptions..."

She took advantage of a very brief pause to speak up at last. "Excuse me, sir, when do they play?"

He ignored her once more.

"You will find a complete schedule of their activities in your room. It must be strictly observed, I will not tolerate any changes. If you have any questions I am sure my housekeeper will be able to help you."

"But Captain, I…"

"You will see to it that they conduct themselves at all times with the utmost orderliness and decorum. Loud noises, yelling, and screaming are not allowed under any circumstances anywhere in this house. I am placing you in command."

"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed with an overly enthusiastic, salute.

This time there was no mistake – she was indeed mocking him. The attempted military salute, in itself, had been close to ridicule. It was wrong in so many ways – the posture was wrong, the way she had positioned her hand was wrong…

"Dare you mock me, Fräulein?" he wanted to ask. She seemed to have understood his silent question, and raised her eyebrows at him, in a look that was disingenuously challenging. "Enough is enough," he thought, abruptly taking the silver boatswain's whistle from his breast pocket and blowing it shrilly.

It was his turn to see her aghast, and it was a welcome sight. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. Thunderous, pounding footsteps were heard above, and he nearly smiled as she ducked for cover beside him.

While he watched his six children lining themselves up on the far balcony, he could not help but feeling that he had at least won a battle, as far as the black sheep of Nonnberg was concerned. He had won a battle – but with her stubborn streak, he feared that they would wager a war…