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

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part I

The Twelfth Governess

Chapter 35

The sea captain and the governess

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"If your enemy is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected."

Sun Tzu, the Art of War

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"Fraulein, you will stay here, please!"

Maria started at Captain von Trapp, unaware, at first, of her own wet clothes, that now hang uncomfortably heavy on her body and of her dripping hair and the rivulets of water still running down her face. His face, his whole stance, was stormy. She doubted that kissing the floor of the entire grounds of the Trapp Villa would appease his anger. She was certain Sister Berthe, the terror of the young postulants, would not be tempted to kiss the floor herself, on order to avoid what was to come.

He looked ten times as furious as he had when he had found her dancing in the forbidden ballroom, twenty times as furious as when he had surprised her pillow fighting and dancing in her nightclothes with his children… not to mention that time when she fell from the tree, on top of him. She did not recall any occasion in her life when she had been faced with such burning anger. The nuns were severe with her at times, but never in a way that made her feel threatened in the least – well, she had to admit that most of the times she did deserve their sermons! It was terrifying, to say the least, but she would die before showing him how petrified she was.

She tried to calm herself, taking a few deep breaths.

Captain von Trapp was no coward, and that was oddly reassuring. Basically, he was a man of principles, and that was evident to anyone who knew him just a little. He would never go as low as attacking someone, verbally or not, who could not defend herself. Granted, she had to acknowledge the fact that she had acted no differently than she had with her foster parents, or even with the nuns, by pushing him too far, too quickly. She had made changes in his children's education that were most probably unheard of in any aristocratic family, and she could not expect him to accept everything so easily. Now she would have to face the consequences, as bravely as possible, as she usually did whenever she misbehaved at the Abbey.

Maria knew very well how he would seek to defeat her: with words, using his dark sarcasm and sense of humor, and a great deal of intimidation. Fortunately, she had enough arguments to fight him back. It had been his own children who gave her a reason to fight the upcoming verbal battle for them. After everything she had been told, she could not believe that the father the children described to her had died with his beloved wife. The spontaneous cry of unashamed joy she had uttered when she saw him had been sincere and genuine – for a fleeting moment, she did see that man in the children's past. She saw him in the slightest glimmer of amusement she could detect, even from a distance and only too briefly, in his eyes, just before she fell on the water.

When she realized how angry he was with the whole silly incident, her feelings changed inevitably. Puzzlement had been her first reaction – she could not put two and two together. The Captain she had learned to know through the children's stories for the past few weeks was not the man standing there by the gate, his fury barely contained in his rigid, military stance. He was not same man the children idolized, the same sea captain whose feats they had been telling her about every chance they got. The images just did not match one another. Realization came as soon as her mind registered his anger, and it felt just like the shock of the cold water enveloping her body as she fell on the lake.

He had not changed at all.

He would not change unless he wanted to, and clearly he had no wish to do so, not even for the children. The man was impossibly stubbornly and pig-headed, and she never had to face anyone like that before. She even began to doubt that the father the children had been describing to her had ever existed at all. Had he been just a figment of their collective imagination, hungry as they were for his love and affection? An image so vibrant, so vivid that she had allowed herself to be carried away by it, and show her honest happiness upon seeing him? So strong that she had actually had let it replace the image of the martinet who ran his house like a warship?

"Now, Fraulein. I want a truthful answer from you," he began sternly.

"Yes, Captain?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, while inwardly, she was bracing herself for what was to come, telling herself that the worst thing that could happen to her was to be sent back to Nonnberg...

"When returning to the convent had turned into the worst thing that could happen to me?" she thought.

"Captain, if I may just go inside and change first," she dared asking.

It was a fact; she was slowly becoming cold, even if she was standing in the warm, afternoon sun. It was not only the wish to be again in dry clothes that made her speak up, but maybe a few minutes would be enough to make him go back to being… civilized again. Right now he looked like a medieval warrior, ready to lead her to a fate worse than death. No, he looked like the dragon in her dreams in one of his worse days.

"I'll be back here shortly, I promise."

He showed no mercy, however.

"You should have thought about the consequences before standing up like that in a small skiff. It was very, very unwise of you, Fräulein. As it was unwise of you to take my children to a boat ride in the first place, not when you clearly have never stepped into one before."

"Oh but… but… there was nothing in your orders about the fact that boat rides were not allowed. The children told me you all used to go sailing a lot."

"What I just witnessed does not exactly qualify as sailing!"

"Ehm… I know, but I thought… I believed… well, I assumed that if anything was not specifically forbidden, it…" She swallowed as his scowl deepened. "… it would be… oh well, allowed." she finished.

"You thought, you believed and you assumed wrong, Fräulein, as I am inclined to think, believe and assume you usually do."

"Oooh!" She exclaimed, indignantly. Now he was being offensive. She returned his glare with equal force. It did not seem to affect him at all.

Interesting.

"Now, is it possible or could I have just imagined it - have my children by any chance been climbing trees today?" There it was that same biting irony that she had been exposed to before.

"Yes, Captain," she answered truthfully, just as he had asked her to. What was wrong with children climbing trees, anyway?

"I see. Let me begin by addressing all the events, if that is possible. Were you in Aigen this morning?" She nodded. "Did you drag my children to their mother's grave?"

Maria, who was now wringing a portion of her skirts, to get rid of the extra water, raised her head to face him again.

"I didn't exactly drag the children anywhere, Captain, I…"

"I advise you not to lie – I saw the flowers," he added, pointedly.

"I never lie. The children were not with me when I found the grave… Did you see the flowers?" She had to ask herself how on earth he had figured that out, and she proceeded to ask him exactly that. "Captain, may I ask how on earth you knew it was me who…"

"Fräulein!" he yelled, and she jumped. "It was you. You said you found the grave. Does that mean that you were actually looking for it?"

"Weeeeeell…"

"Yes? Do you have relatives buried in that graveyard by any chance?"

"Not exactly… I just… tripped and…"

"You tripped? In my wife's grave?"

"It does happen a lot to me, Captain." He rolled his eyes impatiently. "I am always stumbling – or crashing – into things, it is one of my worst..." she stopped, as she was clearly angering him even more with her rambling. "Anyway, it was there before me. I saw the verse first. "Beautiful lady, we miss you." It was so poignant. Did you write it yourself?"

"Fräulein, I am warning you."

"Only then I realized it was her… your… Baroness von Trapp´s grave. I noticed that there were no fresh flowers and so I thought I could..."

The expression in his face was unspeakable – so much that she could not read it. What was it? Anger? Grief? Whatever it was, his eyes told her that, if possible, she had gone too far. Again. She wanted to explain why she had done it, why she had left the flowers there, why she thought that a grave without flowers was such a sad thing. The only thing that she uttered, however, was a heartfelt apology.

"I am sorry, Captain, I had no intention of offending you."

Maybe later he would care to hear about her intentions, he was much too furious at the moment to think rationally. She would do it in writing, if he did not give her a chance to explain it all. Maybe the Reverend Mother could help her with that. Now, she could almost read "You are fired!" in huge capital letters in his forehead, so she knew what to expect. Maybe, if he only let her explain herself, and tell him everything she had learned about his children. Things that he, as any father, would want to know. She also knew that it was useless for her to even try to defend herself at the moment. Not with him like that.

Next, he proceeded to throw accusation after accusation at her, dissecting her actions for the past few weeks, never waiting for her to answer one question before asking the next one.

"Did you or did you not turn my dinner table into a ridiculous, mock submarine by covering it with old blankets?"

"Yes, but the boys told me you used to do that."

"What about the miserable excuse of a picnic in the drawing room?"

Miserable excuse of a picnic?

How dare he? Her mouth dropped open. If there was one thing that she knew how to do well was to organize a good and fun picnic. If given the opportunity, she would make him swallow his own words by making sure he had the time of his live in a picnic with the children. Again, that little voice told her that it wasn't likely to happen.

"I most certainly could not have a picnic in the mountains when it was pouring outside, could I?" - was her disingenuous argument.

"The weather conditions are irrelevant; I don't care if there was a blasted typhoon raging over Salzburg. Von Trapp children do not go on picnics. They do not sit on the floor and eat with their bare hands!"

"Not anymore," she mumbled, realizing it was a mistake as soon as she said it. His fists clenched – somehow she had rendered him speechless. And to think that he still did not know everything…

"All right, all right! So, now you know almost everything. Unfortunately you were supposed to learn everything little by little..." she admitted, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"What do you mean by "you know almost everything", Fräulein?" he asked, and in a very dangerous tone. "I am waiting for a reasonable and satisfying answer!"

"Well, I could try that, Captain, if you only let me finish one my answers just once!"

"I am not in the mood to tolerate your ungovernable verbosity, not anymore!" He stopped pacing, and asked her again, glaring furiously. "What exactly do you mean by me knowing almost everything?"

"You shall see… or hear in a minute or two," she wanted to say, but she wanted the element of surprise on her side.

"Well, that was… that was…" she began.

A motion in the lake behind him attracted her attention, so that she was hardly listening to him or to what she was saying anymore. When she realized what she was seeing, her immediate conclusion was that she had to do something about it, otherwise it would be another accusation in the endless list he was now reciting to her. The good Lord knew that she did not need another one!

"Oh dear… Captain," she tried to interrupt him, but he didn't allow her. With a shrug of her shoulders, she gave up. "All right!"

Blatantly ignoring him, she ran towards the water. The skiff had come loose, and was slowly drifting towards the middle of the lake. She did not even think twice – she jumped again in the cold water, and swam until she was able to take hold of the rope, while, from the shore, the Captain watched her, absolutely aghast.

"And they call you a gentleman," she muttered, not caring if he was hearing her or not, as she pulled the rowboat towards the shore. If he were, he would be helping her, instead of remaining where he was, glaring.

"He is certainly afraid of ruining his fine clothes," she thought angrily. "Sea captain indeed! If he were a real sea captain, he would not be afraid of a wetting his fine leather shoes."

She had an uncanny talent for pushing his buttons - all the wrong ones.

Simultaneously.

First she did that only by standing there, ready to face his anger with a bravery that, oh well, he had to admit, although provoking, had not been entirely unexpected, not coming from her. At first, when he began his lecture, he knew precisely what to say – he had rehearsed it in his mind in a splint of a second before he began to speak. He planned to demand an explanation from everything he had heard and everything he had witnessed since his arrival. The telegram she had sent him in Vienna, the wild flowers in his wife´s grave, the tree climbing, the way she had turned his villa upside down during his absence, and, finally, the indescribable rags that the children were wearing.

The governess, however, had been utterly distracting. Not because she had held her ground firmly, trying hard to keep from shivering – from cold because of her wet clothes, certainly not out of fear of him. Lord, he could almost hear her teeth chattering! The wet clothes… they clung to her body like a second skin, and she was completely oblivious of how much she was revealing – just as she had been unsuspecting of the impropriety of him being alone with her in her bedroom that night weeks ago, with her wearing nothing but the ugliest nightgown he had ever seen. He saw quite clearly what he briefly felt when she fell from that tree on top of him weeks before and he had to admit, he would never even consider imagining that any future nun would look like that... The thought was nearly sacrilegious, and he banished it immediately, focusing in his anger towards her instead.

He showed no sympathy for her predicament. Had he decided to be the impeccable gentleman he was known to be, he would offer her his jacket, then he would allow her to accompany the children to change into dry clothes, and thus, at least, keeping her not only from getting sick, but from being at such vulnerable position when she faced him, in complete disadvantage. He had refused to let her out of his sight, however. Unpredictable as she was, he knew she could, and she would come up with something to change his mind about the whole incident, before he had a chance to send her away. Not only that, part of his anger would fade, and he needed to be angry now. He needed the full power of his fury ready to be unleashed. Somehow, he found it easier to deal with her when he was in such a state.

All right, she had listened to his accusations at first, but then she completely ignored him to go after that ridiculous little boat which was slowly but surely drifting towards the middle of the lake. He did not care at all for the boat at the moment. The governess, however, had dived after it, as if to save a drowning man in the middle of a hurricane. Now, she was trying to secure it, and the way she was doing it was so completely wrong and inefficient that he felt his temper flare again.

"Fräulein, I assure you, there is a proper way to secure a boat. Had you known that, you wouldn't have needed to take a second cold bath in my lake."

That irritated her, and she did not hide it – she rose to his bait.

"Oh, is there, Captain von Trapp? I am sorry; they failed to teach that at the Nonnberg Naval Academy!"

He resisted the temptation to laugh at her wit, when she practically screamed the last words at him, but when he spoke; his tone was as scathing as hers had been.

"They probably did, but you were absent because you were too busy undisciplining children of conspicuous Austrian citizens."

"Conspicuous Austrian…!" She threw the rope on the water, with an outraged moan. "In case you did not notice, Captain, we are thousands of kilometers away from the nearest shore," she exaggerated.

"Not thousands, Fräulein. Merely…"

It was her turn not to let him finish a sentence.

"For heaven´s sake, I am a mountain girl! Learning how to tie a sailor's knot was never a requirement to climb the Untersberg!"

"The sea maybe far enough, but in Salzburgerland there is a lake behind every mountain, and even a – uh – mountain girl – like you should know how to make a decent knot that a first year cadet can accomplish with his hands tied behind his back!" He spat at light speed. Had to admit, like her, he was exaggerating, and being unreasonable, to say the least. But that was something about the increasingly heightened color of her face that was… enticing.

"Here, let me take care of it," he said finally climbing down one step towards the water.

"Oh, do be careful, Captain, those steps are very slippery." He straightened, looking up at her, exasperated.

Standing a few feet away from him, the water came up to her knees. He did not know if she looked like a poor drowned rat or a water nymph. Her exterior appearance suggested the first, but the clinging, soaked dress suggested the second. Maybe that was what she was, a water nymph in disguise. Ignoring her warning, he extended her his hand, reaching for the rope, with the intent to pull it away from her hand.

The infuriating little postulant had been right, the grounds were slippery.

"Captain!" she screamed, taking a step in his direction. The motion nearly caused him to lose his balance, and it had been only his quick reflexes that prevented him from falling into the water as well. He straightened, just as she had taken his arm in a powerful grip.

"Be careful of what you wish for, Fräulein," he said between clenched teeth, pulling his arm from her grasp and straightening himself. He could swear that she had gulped after hearing his words. Her wet hands left marks in the sleeves of his expensive jacket,

"Oh dear Lord, I'm sorry," she said. "I ruined your elegant jacket!"

He said nothing to acknowledge her apology. An ominous silence reigned as he secured the boat. Looking up at the governess again, he realized she had still not moved. She was still standing there, water to her knees, hair once more plastered to her head, and that innocently revealing dress…

Impatiently, he asked: "Are you, perhaps, a masochist, Fräulein?"

"Am I what?"

Realizing that she would not be familiar with such term, he rephrased his question.

"Do you suffer from self-destructive tendencies, or do you merely harbor the secret ambition of becoming a martyred saint?"

Her eyes widened.

"Of course not! I am merely accident prone, Captain."

"Then why are you still standing there in the middle of the water?" She looked down at herself, only then realizing her precarious situation. He repeated the same command he had issued the children scarcely fifteen minutes earlier.

"Get out of there at once!" She flinched, but made her way towards the shore, past him, who stood by the gate.

She turned around to face him, warily.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, closing the gate behind him.