Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.
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The Sound of Music Chronicles
Part I
The Twelfth Governess
Chapter 25
Gazebos and pianos
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"If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise."
William Blake
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"Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply..."
Edna St Vincent Millay
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"Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray."
Lord Byron
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Meanwhile, in Salzburg…
Something good resulted from her last confrontation with Captain von Trapp just before he departed for Vienna: for as long as she lived, Maria would never forget the first sight of the gazebo.
After he left in his car, the rain was so heavy the outlandish purple umbrella proved to be useless. Her habit was practically drenched, her shoes were wet. Because of the children´s prank, small twigs and dead leaves now clung to her hair and her clothes. Naturally she could not re-enter the house by the front door in such a state, she would leave behind puddles of mud and dirt in that gorgeous, shinning marble floor. Instead, she chose to walk around the house, looking for the back door she had used the day before, when she had to climb the oak tree to retrieve her shoes. However, since she was not blessed with a good sense of direction, she ended up circling the house in the wrong way – clockwise, instead of counterclockwise. Turning around a second corner of the house, she came across a beautiful, inviting terrace – or, at least, it would certainly be so in good weather. Then, as she was about to turn around another corner, she saw it, half hidden among the trees.
The gazebo.
It existed after all.
The purple umbrella fell from her hands, entirely forgotten. Maria did not care – she run towards the folly, clutching the precious little vase of flowers to her bosom. She wanted more than just reaching for shelter from the rain, there was something else about the place that beckoned her, just like the mountains in a sunny day. There was a welcoming warmth about the gazebo that had nothing to do with heat or cold. Also, if possible, it was even more beautiful than she had imagined it. It looked like it was made of pure crystal, instead of metal and glass. She was simply mesmerized by it.
Was it because of the tales she had heard about it from that bus driver? In all honesty, her answer to that question would be a resounding "no". Romantic stories had always failed to move her, although she had read her enough of them in her time. There was no reason for her to believe that she should start to be affected by such silly notions now that she was about to become a nun.
"I will not cry!" she said aloud, stomping her feet on the ground as she walked in circles inside the gazebo, as if trying to follow the rhythm of the rain falling against the glass walls.
She firmly refused to cry about it, although the last argument with the Captain had left her on the verge of tears. Thinking about the children´s suffering could make her cry easily, but no, not him. She vowed she would never shed a tear because of anything that the infuriating, obnoxious, haughty and unbelievably prickly sea captain said or did to her. Yet, for the first time since her arrival, she was considering giving up. If she gave in to her impulsive nature, she would march upstairs, pack her things and leave immediately, without a second thought. If the pouring rain was not so persistent, she would have done that.
But the rain kept falling, and she was, in a way, trapped inside the gazebo. That gave her the precious time Maria needed to think, to ponder about what her next decision would be.
As she gazed at the rain streaked transparent walls, inevitably, her thoughts returned to the events of earlier that same morning.
Three hours earlier…
Maria had always been, first and foremost an incurable optimist. After her disastrous first day in the Trapp villa, she woke up the following morning at the crack of dawn with her confidence renewed.
"I'll show them. I'll show him," she kept saying, as she left her room and finding her way through the maze of corridors in the Trapp villa.
It was just before 4 am when she rose from her bed with that firm resolution in mind. The house was completely silent, and it was still dark outside. She was very careful in order not to make any noise, removing her shoes until she was outside. The last thing she wanted was to add another one to the list of her many mishaps.
The garden shed and the greenhouse that Frau Schmidt had mentioned to her the previous evening were not difficult to locate. There she indeed she had found all she needed for a simple idea she'd had. An old little vase that would look a lot better after being quickly cleaned and scrubbed, and the rest of the material she needed to plant the delicate alpine flower she had brought with her from the Abbey. A token from her last escape to the Untersberg, just a few days before she was sent to the Trapp villa.
Maria knew so little, and yet, it was all so obvious to her. The children needed a mother; the Captain was in desperate need of a wife.
Well, maybe he wasn´t desperate, but it was obvious that he needed one, whether he acknowledged the fact or not.
In Maria's eyes, only a good wife would be able to sweeten his sour disposition, to mend his broken heart, and maybe bring some warmth to those dark blue eyes that were usually so cold. Yet, the children would have no mother, and the Captain would remain a widower forever, if things continued as they were in the von Trapp household. That boatswain whistle alone would be enough to send any prospective mother/wife running for dear life, and Maria had no reason to believe that it would be different with Baroness von Whateverhernamewas. No, the woman would need at least a sign that the Trapp villa was a welcoming home, not only a place where an aristocratic family lived.
She discarded all other possible flowers when she remembered the Edelweiss. The choice was just so perfect that the mere thought of it had her jumping with joy. She had grown up with stories of dashing young men who had lost their lives trying to pick the flower from the dangerous alpine cliffs, only to offer the delicate white flower to their beloved, as a token of their love. It was even said that the Emperor had once risked his neck only to pick the flower for his lovely Empress Sissi. It was so romantic, but also so tragic, and she had always been glad that her decision do dedicate her life to God would, at least, prevent the death of some lovesick youth out there, just in case he had the absurd idea of gifting her with the delicate white flowers.
However, she had never considered the sad aspects of the Edelweiss legend when thinking about the Captain and his Baroness.
Firstly, because, as little as she had seen and heard of the Captain, he did not seem to have a single romantic bone in his body. Granted, he might have been a romantic in the past, with his wife when she was alive, but not anymore.
Secondly, because she had picked the flowers herself, without managing to break her neck in the process. The Captain would not have to run the same risk – although she imagined that, if he had, he would escape unscathed. A man like him would never allow himself fall from a cliff in the first place, let alone let himself be convinced to go and pick flowers for his lady love. For a moment, the unlikely image of Captain von Trapp gathering wildflowers had been enough to make her giggle. She doubted that the Baroness, who obviously knew him better, would be able to believe that he had found the flowers himself, and that was when she had the idea of telling that the Edelweiss was from the children.
The Captain, however, did not see the hint of romance in her plans at all. On the contrary, he had reacted to it in the worst manner she could possibly have imagined. He had sneered at her seemingly brilliant idea, and simply refused to take the flowers to Vienna, even as a gift from the children to the Baroness. He had scowled her, calling her plan a waste of time, and banging the door of his very expensive looking car in her astonished face. When that happened, her frustration was so great that she was not able to react, and merely stared mutely at the retreating vehicle while he drove off. Later, she thought that, if she had behaved like her usual self, she would have run after his automobile all the way to Vienna, carrying that little vase, if necessary.
Why hadn't she done that? Why hadn't she argued her point as she usually did with such vehemence?
She pondered over those questions over and over again, pacing in endless circles.
Looking out to the path that led to the gazebo, her eyes fell upon the discarded purple umbrella.
"I will probably need it again if this rain doesn´t stop falling," she concluded. It was almost six now, the children should be up in about one hour or so. In the Captain´s strict schedule, their breakfast was scheduled for eight o´clock.
A sudden gush of wind blew the umbrella away just as Maria was about to dash out of the gazebo to retrieve it. Mesmerized, she watched as the breeze carried it higher and higher, before dropping it, almost gently, in the middle of the lake.
An omen perhaps? Or a sign that she should start thinking more carefully before acting so impulsively again?
Whatever it was, Maria had no other choice but to remain inside for a while longer.
And think…
A vase with one solitary, frail Edelweiss.
A simple token of affection from the children to his future bride, their future mother, that was all there was to it, it was all she had intended.
Why couldn´t he understand that?
It would be enough to melt any warm blooded woman's heart. It hadn't been enough to melt his cold blooded heart, but that was something Maria now sensed that would require something short of a miracle. Austria´s favorite flower would hardly be enough, even for a patriot like him, and it had been naïve of her to believe it would.
Yes, he had scowled and sneered, and then he went on to lecture her again about "matters in this house which she was not supposed to meddle with." Not to mention his fierce glare, calculated to intimidate her, to inspire fear. He would never know that it was not only fear it had inspired. Not fear of the Captain, but so something else, something so elusive, a feeling so new that she had yet to define and give it a name.
She shuddered, and stopped pacing.
"I´m shivering, although I am not cold," she thought. "This cannot be a good sign. I must return to the house as quickly as possible and get into dry clothes, or else I will catch a fever. If that happens, I will not be able to help the children… or anyone."
The rain had diminished a little, but not enough yet for her to return to the house. She remembered the hideous purple umbrella, now completely out of reach.
"Well, I don´t think anyone will ever miss it," she thought with a shrug. Those people had certainly bigger worried than that!
While she waited for the rain to calm down, she started making plans for the children. It was all that was left for her to do, since the alternative was unthinkable: if she allowed her thoughts free rein, she would start thinking about the children´s father again.
Looking around herself, Maria considered the glass walled gazebo in the first place. Never mind the romantic tale behind it, if there was any truth to it at all. It was perfect for something else she had in mind: the children. Their old nursery was a good place to study and play, but, it was also so uninviting, so unattractive to them! It would remain so, unless she took the liberty of doing a little… redecorating. No changes would ever be needed for the gazebo, on the other hand. The place was perfect just as it was. It would be beautiful if it was sunny, but they would also love if it was raining as it would be an excellent idea to bring the children out here, for their morning lessons at least. She could bring her guitar and sing for them, and maybe after they warmed up to her a little, they would join her for a song or two…
It was also a clever idea. She did not think no one would mind, not even him. Even if he did, he would not be able to say a word against it – after all, he had specifically mentioned rooms inside the house that should not be disturbed, he hadn´t said a word about outside. What better place could there be for children who needed to feel that they belonged to a warm loving family than a place that symbolized the love their parents felt for each other?
When she was finally able to leave the gazebo there was a rainbow in the sky. Another omen, this time a good one. A divine sign that she had been absolutely right about the magic of that place. After all, she was a different Maria now than the one she was when she first looked for shelter inside those protective glass walls.
Frau Schmidt looked at her worriedly when she entered the house through the kitchen door.
"Fräulein Maria, are you all right? Did the children get you again?"
"No, the poor darlings had nothing to do with it this time," she was quick to reassure her. "It was entirely my fault, I went for an early walk and I was caught by the rain."
There – it was only a half truth, but she did not feel the need to bother the housekeeper with the entire sad story.
"I found the gazebo and waited there until the rain stopped," she explained. "But I´m afraid that by the time that happened, the damage had already been done."
The woman´s face lit up, and she smiled.
"Beautiful, isn´t it? Oh wait until you see it when the sun is shining, or – better yet – under the moonlight. That gazebo has always been a favorite to anyone who visits the house. As the Captain liked to say, it was built as a gift from a man to a woman who had everything…" she finished, enigmatically.
Maria did not insist, she already knew more than she wanted to know. The man was Captain von Trapp, the woman was his wife, the late Baroness – she had gathered as much from the story the bus story had told her. The housekeeper probably thought it would be indiscreet of her to start revealing too many details about the von Trapps to a new governess who had arrived in the house less than twenty four hours ago.
"Are the children still in bed?" Maria asked anxiously, this time not really wishing to ruin her recently recovered good mood by staying and listening to whatever the housekeeper would have to say about the Captain, his wife and the gazebo.
"Yes, don´t worry, Fräulein. You still have about one hour before their breakfast, plenty of time for you to dry yourself and change."
She hurried back to her room, whistling – for the first time in three days - and climbing the stairs two steps at a time.
There had been other moments in those first few days when Maria believed she would not accomplish anything at all. She thought that it would all end a disaster, and she would return to the Reverend Mother in disgrace, because she would have failed to do God's will.
But she persisted.
Her tactic was to follow the instructions she had been given as best as she could. It would be useless to fight them from the start – she had no chance of winning until she gained some respect, not only from the children, but from the other members of the household staff as well. Thus, she followed the Captain´s timetable as best as she could at first. Now and then, she would made some mental notes, about what she could change and how.
The first days were of an almost pleasant, but tiring routine, broken only by one practical joke now and then – to which Maria reacted with the usual stoicism. The fact that the Captain did not contact the children at all bothered her, but when she inquired Frau Schmidt about it, the woman said that it was always like that when he traveled – he rarely called home. She also had told Maria that the telephone had been dead since the previous day, so that even if he tried to speak to them, it would have been impossible. Franz had been sending him news by telegram once in a while, but the butler was forced to leave the villa for a few days, after he had fallen ill with a bad case of stomach flu.
"That suits me perfectly," Maria thought, not daring to reveal that to Frau Schmidt. Not that she would ever wish Franz to be sick, but the absence of the starchy looking butler, who always seemed to be watching her, had certainly made the air in Aigen easier to breathe. The other employers may just shake her heads because of her methods, the housekeeper may even find them amusing in secret, but Maria had no little doubt that not only Frau Schmidt, but, Franz would surely report to the Captain as soon as things became too… different. Fate was most certainly on her side.
After the children were in bed, Maria used to go to the sewing room where Frau Poppmeier, one of the elderly maid who was also a seamstress, helped her with the new play clothes and with her own new dresses. There she would stay until the wee hours of the morning, even after Frau Poppmeier had retired.
"Frau Poppmeier, I was wondering about a little something," she asked her one evening.
"Yes, dear?" the woman asked, distractedly.
"Isn't there a piano somewhere?"
One of the first things she had noticed the following day was the complete absence of music in the house. She had heard enough from the old bus driver about concerts in the old days, and yet there wasn´t an instrument in sight apart from her own old guitar. Frau Schmidt had told her that the Captain had banned music.
However, she had no idea how seriously he seemed to take that particular rule. Maria had only a vague idea of how children in aristocratic families were educated, but that was enough to tell her that piano lessons were part of the requirements, and a grand piano an essential piece of furniture. If Captain was willing to forfeit such an important part of the children´s education because of his grief was enough to tell her how deep the man´s pain was.
Frau Poppmeier was visibly disturbed by her question.
"A piano?"
"Yes. You see, all I know about distinguished households I learned in books. And in every single one of them, there is a piano. I am yet to see one here yet, even though there are some music sheets in the library. I find it very unusual!"
"Fräulein Maria, you'll soon learn that the apparent lack of a piano is not the only unusual thing in this house."
"Ohhh…"
Well, that should not come as a surprise to her, should it?
"There is one – at least there used to be," Frau Poppmeier said after a long pause, when Maria started believing that she would not say another word about the subject. "A beautiful grand piano."
"Where?" she asked, in wide-eyed curiosity.
"No, don't even think it, my dear. I must give you some good advice now: don't ever mention it to anyone, especially to the master of the house."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"The Captain had it locked in the attic, along with everything else which belonged to the late Baroness. It was one of the first things he did after she died."
"The attic?" Maria gasped. It was more a surprised statement than a question. "Up there? How did he…"
"Don't ask me how on earth did they carry it up there, but that just tells us how much he wanted it out of sight. It is – or was - such a beautiful grand piano. It is said that great names played it - Horowitz, Richter, Cortot… (1) There were always musical parties here during the Festspiele."
"Yes, I… I´ve been told," she blurted.
Frau Poppmeier silenced, and Maria sensed that she had been afraid of revealing too much. Naturally, she had no way of knowing that the governess had heard about those concerts before.
"What in heavens was such a precious instrument doing in an attic? How did they even get it up there?" There were just too many questions popping in Maria's mind, but she chose the one about the bit of information which had staggered her the most since she had first heard it.
"Does the Captain play the piano!"
Oh, she simply had to ask that one. She´d been trying to picture the scene, without much success. She just wasn't able to conjure the image of the martinet playing a sentimental piece of music. A military march, maybe. Of all the things that driver had told her on her way to Aigen, after meeting Captain von Trapp in the flesh, this was one that she found hard to believe.
"He used to, and magnificently. It is said that he could have become a pianist, but he chose the glories of the Navy instead. Much more suitable for an aristocrat, don't you think?" Maria merely shrugged. "The Baroness used to accompany him with the violin, or playing four-hand pieces. Sometimes they would sing. We - the servants – we would listen from the kitchen. It was so lovely!"
"What about the children? Did they take any part in it?"
"Certainly! The whole family is musically inclined. The five eldest were all taking music lessons before the Baroness died."
"He is a musician, which means that he does have a sensitive soul hidden somewhere… I, on the other hand, love music with all my heart. I know what to do with music, and I know what music can do. Maybe I could use music to help the children reach him. Maybe…"
The idea that Maria carried with her from the Abbey began to take shape in Maria's mind, and she had then fired Frau Poppmeier with more questions. The seamstress answered them all, patiently, and Maria learned a bit more about the full extent of Captain von Trapp´s pain when he lost the woman he loved. She did not put her plan in action, however, until a week later when she had taken the children, now dressed in their play clothes for their first outing.
(1) Those were all active piano concertists in the 1930 – a golden age of piano players.