Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.
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The Sound of Music Chronicles
Part I
The Twelfth Governess
Chapter 19
Rheumatism
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"The devil is and always has been a gentleman."
Diane LaVey
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"Life is a race, where some succeed,
While others are beginning;
'Tis luck, at times, at others, speed,
That gives an early winning.
But, if you chance to fall behind,
Ne'er slacken your endeavor;
Just keep this wholesome truth in mind:
'Tis better late than never!"
John Dyer
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It had been ingenuous of Maria to believe that her first dinner with the Trapp family would go without any incidents, as she had been optimistically hoping for.
To begin with, she had not succeeded in her firm resolve not to be late. By the time she had cleaned all the mess in the bathroom and tended to her badly scraped knee, it was almost dinner time, and she had yet to mend her torn dress. Unless she wanted to go to dinner in her nightgown, or in her habit, she would have to fix her gown first. As a result, when she was finally ready, she realized she was about five minutes late.
She dashed into the dining room, and stopped as soon as she realized that her worst fears had become true – the whole family was already waiting for her. The Captain sat at the head of the table, his back towards her. She noted that he had changed from his riding clothes and was now impeccably dressed in a dark suit and tie, and somehow she felt inadequate in her drab gray dress. He turned slightly when she entered, then followed her with his eyes, as she slowly, and as gracefully as she could possibly manage, walked to her seat, opposite to his.
"Don't glare at me like that," she wanted to scream. "How dare you? You know very well why I am late, and your children know it too. So don't you dare bark one of your "Fräulein"´s at me now, or I won't be able to control myself, I swear I won´t."
It was almost like he had read her mind, because the glare was all she received in answer to her cool and polite "Good evening."
"Good evening, Fräulein Maria," the children replied dutifully, and in unison. That should have been her first clue that something was, again, amiss.
What happened next was one of those memorable moments that would be etched in her mind forever. Daintily, she gathered the skirts of her dress and started to sit down – only to leap up instantly, when she felt the stinging pain in her already bruised backside.
"Whaaaah ha ha ha!" She screamed.
Looking down at the seat of her chair, she saw an innocent pine cone sitting there. Her gaze flew to the Captain, who watched her, with a somewhat mystified expression on his face.
"Enchanting little ritual. Something you, uh, learned at
the Abbey?" he asked, in a paused, deadly cold tone.
"No, it's – uh - er - um ..." Maria patted her read, while she desperately thought of a possible explanation. "Rheumatism," she said at last, only because it was the first thing that came to mind.
She did not want to betray the children. She would not tell on them. That was probably where the eleven previous governesses had gone astray – leading her to be the twelfth. She did not have any illusions about the fact that her stay in that house was going to be a short one, considering the mess that she had made of her arrival, combined with the endless series of practical jokes she had been a victim to, culminating into her unscheduled fall from the tree. Not to mention him of course – a whole Navy of tobacco chewing, blaspheming sea captains would be easier to deal with than that arrogant, mule headed…
No, never mind her employer now. The important thing was that, before she left, she wanted to make sure to teach those little terrors a lesson, so that the thirteenth governesses would have an easier time. It was the least she could do to help them and not have the Reverend Mother too upset with her.
She sat down, brushing the offending pine cone aside, and wincing a little when her bottom touched the chair. With the corner of her eyes, she noticed the children glancing at each other, uncertainly.
"Yes, my little dears, I am up to something," she thought.
The Captain started to eat, and it was the signal the children were waiting for in order follow suit.
"Excuse me Captain, haven't we forgotten to thank the Lord?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She looked at him, ready to apologize, when she was surprised to see his acquiescence of her request, albeit a reluctant gesture. She noted that the children followed the lead of their father.
"Interesting," she thought.
"For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."
"Amen," he replied, defeated, but even from a distance the fire in those dark blue eyes burned her with his intensity.
The food looked incredibly appetizing, and it smelled delicious, but Maria had a brief moment of confusion, when she noticed the various pieces of silverware around her plate. So much more than the spoon, knife and fork she was accustomed to during the simple meals at the Abbey. Sometimes, it was just the spoon.
"Oh help," she whispered in a low voice.
Someone else noticed her brief confusion.
"This one Fräulein Maria," whispered the little girl who had said before that she liked her, pointing to one of the forks.
"Thank you Gretl," she whispered back.
Looking very smug, the girl replied, "You're welcome!" From that moment on, Maria would look at the little girl, seeking her silent approval, before selecting the next piece of silverware. It worked beautifully, and it was reassuring to her, that she had made at least one friend in that distinguished, but gloomy household.
Deciding that it was the best time for her to deliver the first blow, Maria cast a shrewd glance around the table, her eyes narrowing slightly. Everyone was busy eating, the Captain included, but they all stopped instantly when she spoke.
"I'd like to thank each and every one of you for the precious gift you left in my pocket earlier today."
The blow had the desired effect. The children exchanged uneasy looks and had difficulty swallowing their food.
The Captain dropped his fork. The meaning of the gesture was clear enough to Maria – he did not appreciate any kind of conversation at the dinner table, probably even if about the universally safe subject - the weather.
"I am sorry, Captain, you will have to bear with me. Just this once… Well, maybe a few more times," Maria thought.
"Uh - what gift?" he asked, staring squarely at her.
Maria glanced at the youngest boy, showing only the slightest hesitation – Kurt was practically begging her not to say anything else. She immediately guessed that he had been the one to leave her the frog.
"It's meant to be a secret, Captain, between the children and me." She replied nonchalantly. She wanted to make the children nervous, but not get them into trouble with their father.
"Uh huh. Then I suggest that you keep it and let us eat," he said briefly, in a tone that clearly indicated that she should stop talking and remain quiet for the rest of the meal. Then he turned his attention back to his plate, assuming – wrongfully – that she was going to keep silent after that.
Maria decided to defy him, and solemnly ignored the message between the lines.
"Knowing how nervous I must have been, a stranger in a new household, knowing how important it was for me to feel accepted, it was so kind and thoughtful of you to make my first moments here so warm and happy and…" she paused briefly, the memory of the earlier events racing through her brain, "… pleasant." Her speech finished, she grinned angelically at the Captain. He grinned back, but it was forced, almost like it hurt him to smile.
"Could that even be called a smile?" she wondered.
It was like a Cheshire grin, full of hidden meanings, none of them obvious to anyone except for him. It was a smile that never reached his soul, because the upward tilt of the corner of his lips did not match the expression in his eyes. It was a half-smile in more ways than one. Slightly menacing and dangerous, and maybe it was the cause of the goose bumps down her arms.
"Well, I've often seen a cat without a grin, thought Alice, but a grin without a cat? It's the most curious thing I've seen in all my life!" (1) - she remembered the words from Alice in Wonderland. Paraphrasing Alice, the von Trapps – more specifically, the head of the family - were far from a bunch of grinning cats, but they were certainly the most curious people she had met in all her life.
Next to the Captain, Marta began to sob.
"What is the matter, Marta?" was his impatient question. The Cheshire grin was gone, and the martinet was back.
"Nothing," the girl answered simply.
Maria smiled to herself triumphantly, as the rest of the children broke down into sobs, one by one. It was much better than she could have expected. She had considered a number of different possible reactions, but certainly not this collective bout of crying. The Captain was equally astonished, as glanced around the table, until his fiery gaze landed on her. She kept eating, slowly chewing on her food, until he spoke, his scathing satire biting her – accompanied once more by the deadly, wicked grin.
"Uh - Fräulein, is to be at every meal or merely at dinner time that you intend leading us all through this rare and wonderful new world of... indigestion?" The charming grin turned to an ominous frown when he barked the last word.
"Oh, they're all right, Captain. They're just happy," she said, matter-of-factly, as if seven children crying on a dinner table was a normal occurrence in such an elegant household.
That was enough to make the children sob louder.
"All right, all right, do be quiet now," he commanded. "All of you," he added meaningfully.
The meal proceeded in silence for quite a while after that. Yet, Maria was still disturbed. It could be all in her mind, or only a coincidence, but, following that incident, every time she looked at the head of the table, Captain von Trapp seemed to be watching her with undivided attention. Her reaction was always the same - look away immediately and pretend she had not noticed it. It seemed – it felt he was dissecting every little detail of her plain looks, her flawed appearance.
In her mind, there were only four possibilities. One, he was mocking her. Two, he was extremely irritated. Three, he was intrigued by the way she was responding to the practical jokes of his children. Four, he was intrigued by her. Why would he be anyway? Why would she person be of any interest to him at all? He was an Austrian aristocrat. Her own parents hadn't even done her the favor of telling her who her grandparents were.
Maria shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Swallowing her food was a task, since it seemed like he could detect every little imperfection in her not so perfect manners. Desert was finally served, and her sigh of relief was nearly audible. She had taken too large a bite, as usual – chocolate cake was something that had always been too hard for her to resist. It was because of chocolate she sometimes gave in to the deadly sin of gluttony. However, at that moment, she hardly felt its taste. She struggled with it, trying hard to keep it all inside her mouth and not choking at the same time. She reached for her linen napkin in her lap.
Oh Lord, where is it? She looked down, to see it crumbled next to her feet. Her head snapped up, and she looked heavenward, like if praying for guidance. What would she do now? Would it be bad manners if she just bent down and picked it up? She had absolutely no idea. But maybe, just maybe, it would make no difference if no one was looking at what she was doing.
Yet, she still felt the pair of midnight blue eyes on her.
He knows, she thought. He knew how uncomfortable the whole situation was making her. He had to know she was not used to such a lavishly elaborate dinner table, even if it was just a normal family dinner. Yet, he did nothing to make her at ease, to minimize her discomfort. He did not reassure her that, in good time, she would learn what she needed to know – at least that was what she chose to believe would happen, as soon as she was informed of what kind of man her employer was. For some reason, it was almost like he was enjoying himself by watching her squirm. His five year old daughter had been more understanding about her predicament than he had.
Suddenly, she felt very discouraged, and it felt odd to her that the apparent cause of what she hoped was a momentary frustration was simply a lost napkin. Still, her mind screamed – "I don't belong here! It was only because the Reverend Mother had insisted to the point of a kind coercion." The expression a fish out of the water wasn't strong enough for what she felt. She was out of her world, her universe.
There. She finally managed to swallow the giant bit of chocolate cake. She frowned, thinking of the hideous stain she believed to be in the left corner of her mouth. A tiny speck in reality, that could barely be seen by anyone, except by her own mind's eye. She took her hand to her mouth and quickly brushed it away, no longer caring if he was watching her or not. There. It was gone. Maybe that was why he was staring. She gave an audible sigh of relief, and took a sip of her water.
Much better. Yet, she still needed that napkin.
Hastily, she gazed around the table. Everyone seemed to be busy with their desert, even the Captain now. No sound was heard except for the extremely delicate touches of silver ware on porcelain. No one was looking at her.
Slowly, and as carefully as she could, she bent down to pick up her napkin.
It was no longer there!
It was probably Gretl, sitting next to her, who had kicked it away with her restless feet. What was she to do? She had to recover it.
She straightened again, and looked around. Her actions still seemed to be unnoticed by the rest of the dinner party. Gathering courage, she reached for the lost napkin under the table.
There, she had it, safely clutched in her right hand. The relief was so great that she straightened faster than she should have, and her head hit the table.
Eight pairs of eyes were fixed on her now. Some amused, some disapproving. His eyes as well, but she didn't dare to meet them. She didn't need to know, she didn't want to know.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, blushing to the roots of her hair. "I… lost my napkin," she explained.
Chastising and cursing at herself, she vowed not to move a muscle until the meal was over. There was no plausible reason why she should feel so bad, anyway – as if any of those people had never lost or would never lose a napkin under the table. It could happen to any human being, commoner or not.
Maria was relieved from her suffering when Franz entered the room.
"A telegram for you, sir."
Leaning back in his seat, the Captain opened the message and read it, his face inscrutable.
"Father, may I be excused?" Liesl asked, glancing nervously towards the window. Her father's only answer was a grunt, which indicated a negative answer. The girl's disappointment was more than evident to Maria.
Unaware of his elder daughter's uneasiness, the Captain announced. "Children, in the morning, I shall be going to Vienna," he said, casually dropping his napkin on the table, signaling that the meal was over, and that they were now allowed to speak.
The children groaned in response.
"Oh, no, Father!" exclaimed Marta. "My birthday is Tuesday; you are going to miss it - again!"
"Not again, Father," said Friedrich. "You just came back!"
The Captain glared at them.
"How long will you be gone this time, Father?" Gretl was brave enough to ask. Maria thought it was funny how the youngest of all the children seemed to be the one who was less afraid of him and refused to be intimidated – by her father or anyone else. It was Gretl who had glared at her father when he had called her attention for not answering to her whistle call. She had defied all her brothers and sisters when she admitted she liked her new governess. Now it was the little one who was asking him what all of them wanted to know.
Liesl took advantage of the commotion and rose with her empty water glass and moved to fill it at a nearby table.
"I'm not sure, Gretl. I'm not sure."
"To visit Baroness Schraeder again?" Louisa asks slyly.
"Mind your own business!" admonished Friedrich, protective of his father, in spite of it all.
"As a matter of fact, yes, Louisa."
"Why can't we ever get to see the Baroness?" asked Marta.
Kurt decided to taunt his younger sister. "Why would she want to see you?"
"It just so happens, Marta, that you are going to see the Baroness. I'm bringing her back with me to visit us all."
Maria watched as Liesl left quietly, behind her father's back.
"Good!" they exclaimed together.
"Is she as beautiful as they say she is?" asked Brigitta.
"She is," answered Kurt. "Don´t you remember the wedding photograph we found in the at…" the Captain looked at his son sharply and the boy immediately corrected himself. "I mean, the one Gromi showed us?" Around the table, six children sighed in relief.
The Captain looked like he was about to lecture the children again, but quickly decided that it was just not worth it this time. He smiled again, and Maria noticed that it seemed that his smile was more genuine, although it still never reached his eyes.
"Whoever this lady Baroness is, she is a good influence on him," she concluded.
"Yes, but she was young in the picture, like mother and father, and now she must be old," Marta retorted.
"She is beautiful, yes," The Captain said, ending their debate. "Who have you been talking to about the Baroness, Brigitta? Who´s been saying she is beautiful?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
The girl looked pensive for a moment. "The cook told the equerry who told the upstairs maid who told Frau Schmidt."
"And who, might I ask, told the cook about the Baroness?" He prodded.
"Franz, of course!" Friedrich exclaimed. "He heard it from Uncle Max the last time he was here, during Christmas."
"This reminds me..." the Captain rolled his eyes, before announcing, "Uncle Max is coming as well."
The children appeared delighted by the prospect of seeing not only the Baroness, but also their Uncle Max. Maria watched them in fascination – she could swear she was witnessing something incredibly rare. The Captain was actually talking to his children, and it show in their faces who much those few, so formal, words they were exchanging meant the world to them, and to him as well – he was as relaxed as she had seen him since her arrival.
"Maybe there is a flicker of hope for him after all," Maria concluded. "He can still be himself when he is unguarded…"
He leaned back in his chair, answering a couple of questions he was being asked about the beloved Uncle Max. Maria was right - whoever she was, this Baroness was most definitely a good influence on him, and she would probably do wonders to the children.
Well, not all of them seemed to be happy. With Liesl absent, the only one who wasn't smiling was Louisa. When the cheer silenced, it was her turn to deliver her blow in a voice that was surprisingly icy for a thirteen year old.
"Is she lovelier than mother ever was?"
The Captain visibly tensed, and it was like a dark shadow had fallen over him again. He straightened, his shoulders stiffened, his eyes darkened. A dead silence fell on the room. One could hear a clock ticking. Maria could swear she could hear her own heart beating, and if she were only a couple of chairs closer to the opposite end of the table, she would probably be able to hear the Captain's heart as well.
If she was expecting he would explode, she was wrong. It was her first lesson about his iron control over his emotions. The Captain said nothing. He rose from the table.
"Fräulein, I trust you are aware of what your next duties are," he said, with a curt nod towards her.
"Oh… ehm…" she thought, her mind drawing an absurd blank for a moment. "Oh yes, Captain. Some light reading, and then bedtime. However, Captain, I think…" She wanted to tell him that she thought it was not quite right that Liesl and Friedrich, who were sixteen and fourteen, had to retire at the same time as the little ones.
"I strongly advise you to save your thoughts for later, whatever they are, Fräulein," he interrupted, menacingly. "This is not a good moment."
"Is there ever a good moment for you, Captain?" she wanted to snap back at him, but held her tongue just in time.
"Very well, Captain," Maria conceded instead, apparently, subdued.
"Remember – bedtime is to be strictly observed, no exceptions. I want no one wandering around the house after hours." Before anyone could say another world, he excused himself briskly. "Fräulein, children," he said, never meeting any of his children's eyes, and left.
"Why did you have to do that, Louisa?" hissed Friedrich, as soon as his father was gone...
"You know what it does to him," added Brigitta. "It´s cruel!"
"Which is precisely why I do it," was the bitter reply.
"I don't think we'll get anywhere this way," said Friedrich, still angry at his sister.
"We have to try everything, haven't we?" Louisa defended herself.
"She is right," intervened Kurt. Then he looked sadly at his empty desert plate. "At least this time we made him mad after desert! Please, remember that the next time, Louisa. Otherwise I'll forget how a strudel tastes like."
"Who is uncle Max and why are you so happy to see him?" Maria asked trying to change the subject and lighten the children's moods.
Fortunately, her question was enough to bring happier thoughts to the children, and they all started speaking at once. Maria learned that he was an old friend of the Captain, from the Navy days.
Naturally, the gloomy and angry faces were back when Maria, fulfilling her first duty as a governess, announced that it was time for them to leave the table, for their scheduled one hour of reading, before going to bed.
A/N: (1) Lewis Carroll – Alice´s Adventures in Wonderland (published in 1865).