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

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part I

The Twelfth Governess

Chapter 32

Suspicious

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"Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind."

William Shakespeare

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"We are always paid for our suspicion by finding what we suspect."

Henry David Thoreau

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Captain Georg Ritter von Trapp quickly scanned the entrance hall of his house, as soon as he crossed the front door.

There were no noticeable changes, and yet something was different. Something elusive, and yet he hardly had any doubt about the ultimate source of it – at least about who was responsible for it. The lighting was exactly the same, not a piece of furniture had been moved, and all the pictures on the walls and the paintings were in their right places. The room was as spotless as it had been when he had left it, weeks ago. And yet, it no longer felt empty and cold, and much to his annoyance, it wasn't at all a bad feeling. His keen eyes found the source of that slight discomfort – a vase of flowers next to the Murano glass mirror.

Flowers.

More than that - Austrian wild flowers…

He grimaced in distaste.

The simple flowers alone were enough to make the room more appealing, just as they had lightened the heavy air surrounding Agathe´s grave in a way that even Elsa had sensed it. Yet, he did not like them at all. After his wife died, they had been forbidden inside the house, as everything else that vaguely reminded him of her. She used to love flowers so much that the house was always overflowing with them. He used to joke by saying that one day he might have to move out to make room for her roses.

Now the new governess seemed to have a thing for flowers as well, with a particular fondness for daffodils, if he remembered correctly. Yes, that is what it was, the unsuspecting Persephone! The memories of his musings on the night of her arrival made him utter a low groan. If the Greek Goddess was half as infuriating as his governess, Hades would just leave her where she was in her flowery meadow, instead of carrying her with him. Or, at the very least, he would send her away as soon as she insisted upon decorating the underworld with her silly flowers.

First she'd had the audacity of practically ordering him to carry an absurd vase of Edelweiss with him to Vienna. As if it weren't enough, she had placed those wild flowers at Agathe´s grave.

"What is it with that silly little twit and wild flowers?" he wondered. "What else is she up to?" he asked himself, not realizing he had muttered the words aloud until it was too late.

"What is it, darling?" Elsa asked, coming by his side and placing a hand in his arm. He covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Oh my, you do look suspicious!"

"Really? I am not, I assure you. I am merely… cautious."

"Then who, may I ask, is the "silly twit" and why are you asking yourself "what is she up to"?"

"She really misses nothing, doesn´t she?" he thought, humorously.

"Mmm? The "silly twit" - oh, no one of any importance, darling, just one the servants who has been slacking lately. I was just – uh – talking to myself." He looked around. "Where is Max? He seems to have scurried away as soon as we crossed the door."

"I am not complaining. Are you?" she teased.

"Elsa…" he chuckled.

"Oh, you know Max – probably making himself completely at home. He is already on the telephone acting like the cunning impresario. I think he muttered something about a singing group and how much he wanted to throttle Sasha Petrie, whoever the man is."

Behind them, they heard the butler, clearing his throat, discreetly announcing his presence.

"I wonder how long he has been standing there, watching and listening," Georg wondered.

"Excuse me, Captain. Is everything in order?" Franz asked.

"Yes, apparently so." Quickly, he made up his mind not to complain about the flowers, at least not immediately. After all, Elsa deserved them; there should be a feminine touch while she was in the house. He would only make sure that cultivated arrangements were placed in all rooms, not those foolish weeds, as Elsa herself had called them earlier. But that was something that Frau Schmidt should take care of, not Franz.

The butler bowed with his usual polite stiffness and was about to leave when Georg called.

"Franz?"

"Yes Captain?"

"You do not happen to know where the children are, do you?"

"They are - ehm - elsewhere, sir," was the enigmatic answer, and Georg had merely raised his eyebrows in reaction.

"Hah! Elsewhere. Mmm… I see. Did you tell anyone I was coming?" he asked briskly.

"No, I have not, just as you requested, Captain" replied Franz, before he silently left.

It was a fact that he had not informed the children – and their governess - about the exact time of his arrival in advance. He had done it on purpose – he wanted the element of surprise in his favor, as much as possible. However, their luggage had arrived four hours before, and he guessed they should at least know that he was on the way. That meant that they had been out of the house, roaming around God knows where, for at least four hours. None of the children's scheduled activities determined that they should be outside for that long.

What had they been doing all this time? What had that black sheep of a governess been doing with his children all day and outside the grounds of the villa? Climbing trees, and who knows what other ludicrous and completely inadequate activities. He shuddered to think what other little surprises that spitfire had in store for him.

He turned his gaze to Elsa, who was watching him with a look in her eyes that could only be described as vaguely apprehensive.

"Now it is you who looks like the very heart and soul of suspicion," he could not resist provoking her. "What is it darling?" he asked her, trying to sound as if everything was exactly as it should be.

"Oh, are you asking me? Because it is you who look like you wanted to wring someone's neck. Positively piratical! I don´t think a mere reckless servant would have such an effect upon you." He did not answer, and she shrugged. "Well, as long as the neck you want is not mine!"

"Your beautiful neck is safe from my wrath, that I can assure you. I was just wondering what my children were up to."

"I am sure they are all right," said Elsa with a dismissive gesture. He frowned at her. "They are your children, aren't they? Darling, I am sure they can take good care of themselves."

The frown deepened – yes, they were most definitely his children, which was precisely the problem. They were his children and they were in the company of a notorious tree climbing, nature fanatic nun in training known in his mind as The Black Sheep of Nonnberg…

Elsa's voice interrupted his brooding once more.

"Well, I think I'll go upstairs and freshen up now. I must be presentable for when I meet your little darlings."

"Welcome home, Captain!" greeted Frau Schmidt, clasping her hands, as she entered the room.

"Frau Schmidt!" Georg greeted his housekeeper warmly, inquiring about the health of her elderly husband after introducing her to Elsa, as politeness demanded. Afterwards, not wishing that Elsa noticed his distress, he carefully made the usual inquiries about the children. He did not inquire about the governess. The woman assured him that everything was as it should be, and he sensed that she was not being completely truthful. There was a sly look in her eyes that he found slightly distressing.

It was obvious – the fact that things were as they should be did not mean that they were as he thought they should be.

The question where are the children burned in his lips, but he did not wish to ask it again, not another employee – at least not in front of Elsa.

The Baroness, as usual, sensed the change in his humor.

"Why don't you show me the grounds first, darling. It looks like the little ones won't be back so soon. It is such a beautiful day; they are probably enjoying it to the fullest. I certainly cannot blame them, and I know that, in your heart, neither can you. Why don't we do the same? I long so much to be outside!"

He smiled down at her.

"Are you sure you aren't too tired? It was a long journey and you are not used to it. Wouldn't you like to rest before dinner?"

"Nonsense! I feel like stretching my poor legs after being confined to that car for so many hours. And I am just dying to see your horses," she said.

"Frau Schmidt will show you to your room. You can change and I'll give you the grand tour."

Refreshed and changed, Georg was pacing around that same hallway, waiting for Elsa. That was a female trait he would never be able to understand – why did women need so much time to change. All it had taken him was fifteen minutes to change from his traveling clothes in to the light tan suit he now wore, take hold of his riding crop – since they would be headed towards the stables – and walk back downstairs again. But then he remembered that Elsa hated to show herself in public unless she looked her very best, and that meant not only her clothes, but hair and makeup as well.

Now, there he was, and there was still no sigh of Elsa – or the children either. While he paced, a bit impatiently, his eyes inevitably targeted the doors that led to the ballroom. They were slightly ajar, just as they had been that day, weeks before, when number twelve had made her first appearance in the Trapp Villa. As he had done that day, he marched resolutely towards the room.

There had been subtle – no, not quite so subtle - signs of her presence everywhere in the house, with the exception of his bedroom, of course, obviously off limits to all members of the staff, except for Frau Poppmeier, who did the cleaning. He had actually sighed in relief when he walked into the most private of his domains and realized that everything looked and smelled the same. His study had not been touched either.

What about the ballroom?

What had she done there?

The door was slightly ajar – did that mean he would again find her there, where she clearly was not supposed to be? That would be the last drop, and, if true, the new governess would be on her way back to the Abbey before Elsa had a chance to finish her toilette.

"That will be the end of it, Fräulein!" he hissed.

Resolutely, he marched towards the ballroom and flung the door open, just as he had done that day, bracing himself not only for what he would find, but also for the wave of memories that would certainly hit him. Like the previous time, the sound resonated in the entire house.

Instead of the bittersweet memories of his beloved, the picture that first came to his mind was one of a tomboy, wearing a dowdy gray dress and an old leather hat, attempting a solitary waltz. Next there was the surprise of finding the ballroom just as he had left – silent, sadly neglected and covered with a thick layer of dust.

His sucked in his breath. He also felt absurdly… disappointed.

"Now what?" asked Elsa behind him. He turned around to face her – she was refreshed and perfumed, wearing another superb creation from her Vienna couturier that enhanced her elegant figure perfectly. His eyes widened in typical male appreciation.

"Nothing, except that you are a vision, my darling!" he exclaimed, smiling at her.

His comment made her glow, and he could almost swear there was the slight hint of a blush in her cheeks. She had, in fact, admitted to him quite recently that he was the only man on earth who ever had been able to make her almost blush.

"So are you, I should say," she said, returning his appraising look with one of her own. She peered inside the ballroom. "Good Lord, what happened to this place?"

"I'm afraid this room has been neglected for several years! Honestly, I do not know what to do about it." He knocked on the doors, softly. "Those blasted doors won't stay closed as they are supposed to. I must ask Herr Schmidt to fix them."

"You don't know what to do about it?" Walking past him, Elsa entered the room. "Look at those mirrors, those wonderful crystal chandeliers… This ballroom makes my little one in Vienna look like… like a cheap tavern." She walked towards him. "Goodness, Georg, this is worthy Versailles! It´s perfect for what I have in mind while I am here. Darling, if we could just…"

"No!"

"Oh, you must let me fix it!"

"Fix it? I did not know you had a penchant for interior decorating, Elsa!" he exclaimed scathingly.

She shrugged, apparently unaffected by his bitter sarcasm.

"With my magical touch, not to mention my impeccable good taste, I could turn this ballroom into the life and soul of Salzburg, as I heard it once was!"

"No, Elsa, you are wrong. It was not this room, it was Agathe. She was this place's life and soul…" he thought, sadly.

"Tell me, do you still have that piano of yours? Because if you do, why is it not here? It belongs here."

That was the last drop.

"I have no idea what you are thinking, but whatever it is, it is absolutely out of the question," he said, in a very terse, definite tone. "As I said, I have not decided yet what to do about this room, but I certainly will not allow it to be sullied by the remains of the decadent Viennese society!"

Elsa flinched, visibly, but she did not cower. He knew for a fact that she had never allowed herself to be overly affected by his black moods before. That was one of the reasons why she had been relatively successful in bringing him out of the worst of his depression, and also why their liaison had survived the first few encounters. This time, however, it seemed that he went a little too far, he came very close to offending her, and she did not hide the fact from him.

"Georg! That hurt! I´m sorely disappointed, I can´t believe that is what you think of me and my friends? Remains of a decadent society, are we? Oh please, darling! I know what you think about some of your peers, but I never thought you would include me among them. I heard worse from you, but this…"

"… is not what I think, it is not what you are and I apologize," he said quickly before her distress worsened. "I seem to have forgotten myself for a moment. You are not like them, Elsa, you never were. It is… this place," he looked around him. "Places like this bring out the best and the worst in me, I´m afraid."

"Did I ever tell you how absolutely appealing you look when you speak like a veritable naval commander, Captain?" she exclaimed playfully, with the clear intent to lighten the mood.

He rolled his eyes, impatiently. "Darling, this is not the time to…"

"You do. Very, very, very sexy. In fact it makes me feel tempted to provoke you once in a while just to see if my captain turns into a pirate…"

"Elsa!" he warned again, without the slightest hint of amusement. But he recovered himself quickly, as soon as she gave him one of her dazzling smiles in response. "It won´t happen, darling, I am much to dull to be a pirate."

"Georg!"

"I am sorry. I think I must be too tired after so many hours of driving. I seem to be utterly unable to think straight at the moment."

"Which is precisely why I think a bit of the fresh air of your own country home will do you good. It will help you clear your thoughts. Now tell me: What is that for, may I ask?" she asked, trying to lighten his heavy mood once more with a touch of mirth in her eyes, pointing to the riding crop in his hand.

He looked at it.

"I thought you wanted to see the stables," he said, with feigned innocence, playing along with her this time.

"Good, I thought you were going to discipline someone with it! That someone certainly being poor defenseless little me for taking too long to come downstairs again, of course... or for daring to suggest redecorating your superb ballroom!"

"I am not a believer in corporal punishment, darling," he winked.

"That is too bad," she replied, pouting. "Anyway, about the horses - that was a fair request, don't you think?" She hooked her arm to his. "I showed you mine, you show me yours!"

"Not fair, darling – yours are bigger than mine!"

She let out a merry laugh.

"Oh Georg! You can be as bad as Max when you really apply yourself to it!" She slapped his shoulder, playfully. "Just for the record – I most sincerely doubt it," she purred, as they made their way outside.