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

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part I

The Twelfth Governess

Chapter 28

Naïve

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"A great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."

Walter Bagehot

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"'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it."

Elizabeth Bowen

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Early next morning, Georg was already up and about at the reception of the Hotel Sacher, making arrangements for his departure from Vienna the following day. Max had just joined him, and they would be headed to Elsa's summer house in the outskirts of the city, for a bit of riding. She had already packed her "little bags", as she had called them, and it was obvious from the description she had given him the day before that the cases would not fit in his car. He had to hire another means of transportation to carry most if their luggage to the villa, so that everything – most especially Elsa's precious trunks – would already be there a couple of hours prior to their arrival.

For a near expert in logistics, it was hardly a problem. It was when he had finished organizing such details of their trip that the telephone call came from Aigen. Actually, he had been planning to ring home, it would be his next telephone call, but before announcing their upcoming arrival there were one or two things that he had to take care of...

Georg picked up the telephone at the reception.

"What the devil is going on, Franz? Didn't I specifically tell you to keep an eye on things?" Georg lashed out, as soon he heard the butler's voice in the other end of the line. "The phone in the house is not working, I had no news for over a week, and then I received a telegram sent by a governess…" Georg listened for a couple of seconds. "Yes, I realize the phone is working now," he said irritably. "Sick? Who was sick? What do you mean you were sick?"

He covered the receiver, and spoke to Max.

"Would you mind giving me a minute, Max? This might take longer than I expected."

Max nodded, but did not leave the proximity, as Georg would have liked. Instead, curious as he was, he stood where he was, listening, fascinated.

"Never mind, Franz, I'll be back tomorrow and make things right… If the governess will be dismissed or not is my decision to make, not yours, and I shall make that decision as soon as I am home. Please, do tell Frau Schmidt to prepare guest rooms for Herrn Detweiler and Baroness Schraeder… In the East wing and in the West wing, yes… I expect the children to be in their best uniforms, waiting in line the moment we arrive. No, I am not sure yet when we will arrive precisely, it will depend on... What is that cacophony I hear behind you? The governess – yes, I should have imagined. What the hell is she up to at this hour? If she is there it means she is not following the children´s schedule. Where are the boys? What do you mean with the girls? Didn't anyone tell her that the boys had no business in the girls' rooms and vice-versa? That's against every… She said WHAT?"

With that, Max rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Tell me, Georg, what is it about this one?" he asked, after Georg hung up and joined him.

"About whom?"

"This someone who is 300 kilometers away and still gets in your nerves. Your governess, the little nun."

"She is not a… Max, there are a number of people who – uh - get in my nerves, as you put it, especially you at the moment. I assure you, the current governess of my children is not one of them."

"I beg to differ, my dear friend. Whenever your number twelve is mentioned you look like you are about to have a stroke. That little vein in your temple starts to pound…" Max stopped when Georg´s scowl turned particularly deadly. "She must be quite extraordinary!" he insisted nonetheless.

The Captain retorted to bitter cynicism, and sneered.

"Yes, she is. Positively barbaric. Truly a gift from heaven," was his acid remark.

Max replied with similar irony, touching his moustache lightly.

"Then I would not keep this gift, if I were you. Heaven will keep her for itself."

"I think I will pretend I did not hear that," Georg muttered.

"Oh Georg! Don´t you realize how charming this is? Absolutely delightful!" Max exclaimed, laughing and patting his friend's back. "Of course I am yet to meet her, but… a young, virginal nun in your home taking care of your seven motherless children." The Captain rolled his eyes, and Max continued. "Unfortunately, reality is often unkind to our imagination in situations like these. In my scant experience, future cloistered nuns are seldom very attractive creatures. Tell me if I am wrong, but your new governess is most probably a shapeless, bovine female with blond braids wrapped around her head."

"O-ho, really? Bovine and shapeless uh? You are wrong, on all accounts."

It was impossible to hide his little secretive smile, and he could only hope that Max, who was not the most observant human being, hadn´t noticed it.

"Hah, I´m glad! You don´t need to say more, although I would be delighted to hear it."

""Bovine and Shapeless" – Fraulein Maria?" he mused briefly. Hardly likely. Max Detweiler would never know about the thoughts running in his mind, but he would have a field day if he guessed. The governess´s clothes never gave any indication of it, of course, but at least she did not feel shapeless at all during those mad moments when their bodies came into full contact when she fell from that tree and he caught her. Quite the contrary, she had the most…

His eyes widened, and he had to fight the urge to literally kick himself! There he was, at the reception of the most exclusive hotel in Vienna, speculating about a female figure. Not any ordinary female figure, but one belonging to a future nun!

"I most definitely will not! Do you even realize how inappropriate this conversation is?" He said sharply, not sure if he was talking about Max´s words or his own secret thoughts. "I will not discuss my governess´s figure with you, Max!"

"Fine! I´ll see it with my own yes the moment we arrive, I am sure. Yes, that makes it all interesting again. You, the dashing and gloriously rich Ritter von Trapp! Aren´t clichés positively delicious sometimes?"

"Max…" he warned.

"Agathe certainly reformed the rake that you were, but before that. Oh, the tales I could tell about you and…what was the name of that little odalisque we met when we were stationed in…?"

"Max!" Georg hissed, still in a low voice, in an increasingly menacing tone. "Let us leave the past where it belongs, shall we?"

"Fine, but going back to the subject at hand… Well, if not you or I, if not the non bovine little Fräulein, I am sure someone will consider the possibilities."

"You really should do something about that twisted mind of yours, Max, before it gets you into real trouble," Georg said, in a calmer voice. "Whatever possibilities you have in mind, I am sure Fräulein Maria is not aware of them. She was most probably brought up in a convent, for heaven´s sake. She is sheltered and terrifyingly innocent. She appears to be completely naïve."

"Naïve as in…" Max waited for Georg to complete the sentence.

"As in someone who thinks she can save the world with… what did she say? Oh yes. Cream-colored ponies and crisp apfelstrudel," he grimaced. "She is so wholesome that it is utter infuriating. I would love to see her face the enemy's entire naval fleet armed with nothing but brown paper packages tied up with strings – or worse - daffodils!" he sneered, and continued his passionate speech, while Max watched the unlikely outburst with absolute fascination. "That is not the kind of influence I want for my children, I can tell you that! Such romantic notions will never prepare them adequately for life and for what is expected of them."

"Hah! So you did notice something about the woman!"

"A woman? O-ho, no! She is hardly that, she's just a… a mere slip of a girl. If you are implying that I noticed that she complete lacks the discipline and good judgment, then yes, you are absolutely right. Yes, that I noticed. I would have expected for a future member of one of Austria's most respected Benedictine convents to have some good sense and behave accordingly, but no, I was sent their most notorious black sheep. As for anything else, please, do keep your mind off the gutter as far as my female employees are concerned, will you?"

"But you just said quite passionately not very long ago that Fräulein Maria – lovely name, by the way - was not your servant!"

"Max, I am not in the mood to discuss semantics with you…"

"Relax, my friend. I only worry about you that is all."

"You certainly don't sound like it."

"Yet, I do! I worry about you, about Elsa… and about you and Elsa, if you know what I mean. You don't need me to tell me how much you need her – and not only because of the children."

"Yes." Georg admitted, distractedly, his tone softening, his stance visibly relaxing.

"Allow me a word of advice them. I think you better hide the little nun from her a bit," Max said, and Georg looked at him in surprise. "Just call it an instinct."

"If you had better instincts, Max, you would not have gotten yourself almost killed in the Navy while you were on dry land." The Captain looked at him very steadily. "There is nothing out of ordinary going on in Aigen. Nothing, except for just another governess who is completely unable to maintain a shred of discipline. The way she looks or the fact that she is quite young, innocent, and that she is going to be a nun is as meaningless as the fact that I am a sea captain. That is all there is to it, there is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing that needs hiding. Once I get back, I'll deal with it as I always do – quickly and effectively."

"If you say so…" Max said.

"Yes, I do. I say so!"

This time, finally Georg´s exclamation was strong enough to close the subject for good. But the Captain had something else to say.

"Uh… One more thing, Max."

"Yes?"

"Don't even think of telling a word about this utter nonsense to Elsa."

"Are you out of your mind? Of course I will not. I'll be the very soul of discretion."

"I hope so!"

Of course he did not believe Max Detweiler for a second!

Baroness Elsa von Schraeder did not recall who exactly had supplied such valuable piece of information. In fact, she had no idea how valuable it would be to her, how meaningful until recently, as she gazed at the man riding next to her.

Long ago, probably in the early days of her first marriage, someone had said to her that best riders made the best lovers. She had stored the information somewhere in her brain, since her dear Rufus was, by no means, a rider, let alone a good one – although she honestly never had any major complaints about him as a lover. He had his horses in the stable of his summer estate, just outside Vienna. Unlike Georg, he collected them, but not he had any particular appreciation for the animal species – to him, they were a very profitable investment, and nothing more than that. Elsa doubted her husband even know the names of half a dozen of his Andalusians.

At the moment, however, looking at Georg von Trapp riding Florian, the black stallion which was the most valuable of her husband's horses, she could not help but remembering such words of wisdom, realizing that there made sense after all. He had been rambling about the qualities that make a good rider for a good quarter of an hour now, and comparing those to the qualities that made a good seaman as well. Elsa could not help but making yet another comparison in mind.

Oh, she already knew all she wanted to know about Georg as a lover, but she still needed so much more. The definite proof of that particular theory, however, was something that Elsa would not have for a while. She knew enough about him to know he would not risk both of their reputations now that it was becoming evident to their friends and families that they were going to be married. Nevertheless, she did have a feeling, that it was not his reputation that he was concerned about, but hers. Georg von Trapp did as he pleased, and would defy any rule if he thought it was the best thing to do to achieve a higher goal. He had done it before, and had been awarded medals because of it. No, it was indeed her image, her reputation he wanted to protect, and the thought was enough to make an unexpected wave of tenderness wash over her. Not only tenderness – something else too, something that she had felt that first time she saw him, in that ballroom, when he had eyes only for Agathe Whitehead.

"I have him now," she thought, confidently. "Oh, but it is so terrifying at times, wanting him like this… I only wish I could be certain that he wants me just as much as I want him…"

Yet, as everything else, it was only a minor worry that she was sure she would eventually overcome.

Staying away from his bed until the wedding night was a minor sacrifice compared to the enormity of becoming his bride. Sure, there were still a few small obstacles – seven of them - and although she feared losing him would be very easy, she also had complete confidence in the extraordinary man he was.

No, she could not afford to lose him!

Elsa was never immune to any female insecurities, but all of those melted away when she was with him. Not even her husband of twenty years ever had that effect on her. Only Georg. He had seen her at her best and at her worst, she had laughed with him, but she had also cried in his shoulder when she told her about the babies she had lost. He had seen her ready to attend lavish balls with royalty, but he had also seen her with her hair down and without make up, and still thought her beautiful. With him, she could engage in highly intellectual debates or simply gossip about the high society with equal ease. Her near obsession with her appearance, with keeping up with the latest fashion trends never actually bothered him, he saw it as something enchantingly female, as he told her once.

Well, she thought him beautiful too. Especially now, in a rare relaxed moment, riding Florian in a slow pace, chatting about horses and the sea, the wind blowing on his hair, ruffling it slightly. He still looked every inch the aristocrat, but at the same time there was a certain indefinable, earthy quality to him that was absent in any of the few other men she had taken as lovers. He was a man of his time, strong, confident, sophisticated, who knew how to pick his battles, fight and win them as well as he knew how to treat a woman, in the bedroom and out of it. Naturally he had his weaknesses, his imperfections, but he was aware of those all the time, and what he did to keep them for showing only made him more interesting in her eyes.

"No, there is no other man like him," she concluded.

The pleasant sound of his voice brought her back from her even more pleasant reveries. It was something that he had just said that had her attention again.

"… you must be firm, but kind," he said.

"Oh, not too kind, I hope!" she exclaimed abruptly, before she could even think about what she was saying. He looked at her, quizzically, but not without a hint of amusement in his well formed, thin lips. She could not help but wonder if he had guessed what was on her mind.

"Well, he must know, mustn't he" she thought, decisively. "Not that he doesn't know already. I want him and he knows it, that is the truth, plain and simple. I am not some naïve debutante who has never been in love before – I don´t think Georg would have enough patience to deal with one of those twice in his lifetime!"

Bravely, she held his gaze, with a knowing look, and received one of his low, sexy chuckles as a response.

"Darling, as I said a few times before, I am not made of stone," she said assertively.

"What makes you think I am?" he replied, teasingly.

"I know, I understand, more than you know. Please, do not make me hear all about your gentlemanly reasons to keep me at arm's length again. Let me just say that I am glad dear old Max Detweiler will be around."

"O-ho, are you? Is that why you keep giving the poor old sod those murderous glances whenever he is near?"

"Better Max, than my mother, don't you think?"

He winked at her, and she took it as an agreement.

"I still can't believe that I am really going to Aigen with you tomorrow!" she exclaimed, almost in awe.

"Why not? Is that so improbable?"

She shrugged.

"No, but the implications are enormous, you must know that. It is a bit overwhelming, even for someone like me. Let me say I will only believe it when I am standing in front of the Untersberg."

"It is just a place like any other, Elsa."

"No, it is not. It is your place, your home, and you are taking me there to meet your children. By the way, do they know…"

"… that you are coming?" he completed, meaningfully. "Yes, they do, I told them before I left that I would bring you and Max with me to visit them all."

"But that was… weeks ago."

"Oh yes, that was before I formally – uh - invited you!"

"What if I had refused?" He cast a knowing glance. "Oh you, and your arrogant male pride! You are devilish, you know, although utterly charming and irresistible. How dare you take me for granted like that?" She teased him, playfully. "The modern woman that I am is almost tempted to cancel my trip, just to teach you a lesson!"

"You wouldn't do that, darling, you are much too curious about my secret life, as you call it."

"It is infuriating, but you are absolutely right." She sighed. "Well, in this case we should hurry back to Vienna now, and I should buy something to take to them."

"No, no, no, no, no! No more presents, Elsa," he interrupted briskly. It was that tone again. Elsa gazed at him and saw it once more – that vague look in his eyes, as if her words had triggered a memory he had been fighting for dear life to repress. That lasted only for a second, because he quickly controlled himself again.

"I mean, you sent them enough gifts already, and they loved them all."

"Those silly trinkets? You must be joking, Georg! They could hardly be called presents!"

"You'll spoil them rotten, that is what you'll do," he said, shaking his head, and conceding her victory, because he knew her well enough by now that nothing in the world would come between Baroness Schraeder and the perfect excuse for a shopping spree.

"Well, I would love to spoil you rotten, but you won't let me!" she pouted.

"Yes, but you do it anyway!"

"I have big plans for your children. Mostly for the eldest one – Elisabeth," she said, praying inwardly that she had gotten her name right. Georg always referred to them as a collective entity – the children, and rarely named them individually, but she recalled some of their names from the letters she received from Agathe, after each one of them were born. Besides, Liesl had been mentioned the night before just before he received that telegram and had the most strange, unexpected reaction to it.

"Liesl? What are you going to do with her?" he asked in obvious parental concert.

"No need to sound so protective, my dear. I will do only what her mother would have done. I am planning to launch her."

"Launch her? You mean like a torpedo to an enemy ship?"

"Oh Georg, you're impossible!" she exclaimed, slapping his shoulder playfully. "I mean like a debutante, in Vienna next season, you silly! In the Opera Ball, of course. Or maybe Paris, if you are feeling really generous. Le Bal Crillon des Debutantes is simply sensational, that is where I made my entrance in society."

"Liesl as a débutante in Paris? Over my dead body! She is too young," he said, dismissively. "She just turned sixteen."

"She is old enough. But we could always wait one year or two, if you insist."

"I do. I insist that we wait until she is thirty five!"

The sound of Elsa's pearly laugher echoed amidst the trees, as the couple made their way back to the stables.