Chapter Ten

He returns without warning. One moment I am singing a Weihnachtslied with the children in the nursery, the next I whirl around and the Baron is standing there, immobilized. By shock or by awe? I wonder. His dark hair is swept back from his face, his broad shoulders squared. He's dressed casually in a blue tweed suit and cap, and it occurs to me just then what a handsome man he is.

" Papa! " Johanna exclaims. "This was supposed to be a surprise!"

The children rush toward him, an excited mob of tears and greetings, talking at the same time about what they've been doing in the weeks since he's been gone.

"All right, all right." He smiles. "One voice at a time." He clears the way and singles out Martina, who is standing at the edge of the group in silence.

"Tell me about what you've been doing," he says.

She tells him about our lessons together, and several times he looks over at me as I'm tidying the room, but I can't gauge his expression. Then the rest of the children take turns telling him about their school lessons, our singing, the Christmas presents they want, and how hard they've been working to decorate the house. I'm proud to say that it looks like a winter wonderland now, with gingerbread houses lining the mantelpieces and vases filled with holly berries and spruce. There has never been this many decorations in their house, but this is what Anni and I used to do each Christmas back in Kagran.

When the dinner bell rings and the children dash downstairs, the Captain stays behind. "You've taught them to sing."

"Oh. Yes. Well, it's just a few Christmas songs. But they've been getting all their work done," I assure him. "And all of them have been diligently darning their socks." Too late, I recall the Baroness's edict against this.

He watches me strangely.

"I didn't realize you were back," I admit. Otherwise, I would have made sure they were seen to be studying.

"I only returned this morning. I've been inspecting the grounds and meeting with various members of my staff." He takes the pipe from his mouth and steadies me with his gaze. "My meeting with the Baroness was particularly interesting."

I feel my face grow hot.

"You know, it usually takes our nannies several months to irritate her. But you seem to have accomplished it in only eight weeks."

I try to suppress the rising anger in my chest. "Because the Baroness is completely unreasonable!" I burst out.

His dark eyes widen. "She is following my orders."

"Then it's your orders that are unreasonable. Four children are racing around every morning searching for gloves and boots and hats. The last thing they want to remember are umbrellas, which only bend this way and that in the wind. They have to walk single file to school or else they'll be ankle-deep in mud. Yet all that's required are some sturdy Wetterfleck. And their gloves," I continue. "Those fancy leather things with all that fur trim and stitching—is it any wonder the Baroness gets cross when they lose them, which they absolutely will, as they're children. When all that's needed are some simple woolen mittens."

There seems to be amusement in the Captain's eyes. "Are you finished?"

"No," I say at the same time that I realize what's truly bothering me. "It's all very well for you to go off on your trips and leave these children to fend for themselves, but I can tell you that your presence is very much needed. By all of them."

The amusement in his eyes is replaced by concern. Even his voice sobers. "Then it will come as good news that I plan to be away much less frequently now."

"Oh." I'm so surprised by this that I can't think of anything else to say.

"Shall we go down and join everyone for dinner?" he suggests. "Or is there anything else?"

"No. Nothing else."

He replaces his pipe between his teeth and gestures for me to exit first. At the bottom of the stairs, we come to the painting of the table with its assortment of fruit and the Captain smirks. "Still not an admirer?"

"Not in the least," I say brutally.

"But the rest of my furnishings have been growing on you."

I turn to stare at him before we enter the dining room, wondering what he means.

"I've been told you liked my curtains so much you turned them into daywear." He leans forward and whispers, "I'm rather partial to the ones in my library, however. Perhaps you could see fit to leave those alone."

I'm mute with embarrassment for most of the meal, trying to remember how the curtains in the library look and wondering whether he was being sarcastic or serious. Then I hear him say something that catches my attention.

"I feel the time has come to host our Christmas party once again."

A cheer goes up in the dining room.

"When will it be?" Rupert asks.

"How about in two weeks?" he suggests, and I wonder about this change of heart. He seems happier, lighter even. It must be the joy he feels about getting married soon.

"Do you think we can sing for it?" Agathe asks. "Fr?ulein Maria has been teaching us Christmas songs. It would be wonderful."

"I don't see why not. That is, if Fr?ulein Maria approves of it."

Nine expectant faces turn toward me, and my heart warms. Nothing could make me happier. "Of course."

Excited chatter fills the room, with everyone suggesting different songs.

"Then it's decided," the Captain says. "A Christmas party in two weeks, and a concert by the von Trapp family, led by the illustrious Maria Kutschera."

"We will have to finish decorating," Johanna says.

"The house isn't finished?" The Captain is surprised.

Johanna laughs. "Not hardly! Fr?ulein Maria found the perfect place in the garden to pick holly berries, and our mantels need more spruce."

"And on that note," I speak up, "it's a week into Advent and I notice that your house has no Advent wreath. With your permission, I would like to have the children make one."

The Captain actually looks pleased. "Well, I don't see any problem with that."

"Yes, well…" I gather my courage to say something difficult. "The problem is not with the Advent wreath, Captain. It's where to hang it. Traditionally, the wreath is placed in the family room. But there isn't a family room in this house."

The Captain blinks slowly at me. "There are ninety-three rooms in this villa, Fr?ulein."

"That may be, but not one of them is a family room."

He remains perfectly still while the younger children snicker. From the look on his face, I might as well have told him his house was a dung heap. I smile. "It's no matter, Captain. I'm sure we'll find some place to put it."

—

The next week is so busy that on Sunday morning I nearly forget that I must leave and return to the convent. That afternoon, I sit in the silence of Nonnberg's dining hall, and for the first time in two years I have the feeling that I would rather be somewhere else. Namely, with the children, singing and decorating and preparing for Christmas.

I listen as the church bells ring one o'clock and hope the Baroness has remembered to give Martina her glass of milk before her nap. I imagine Agathe is snuggled up by the fire with a book while Rupert is studying for his exams. I think of the other children scampering around the house and suddenly feel lost without them. And it disturbs me that when they greet me at the door in the evening, I feel as if I'm coming home.

"Fr?ulein, you have to come and see!" Johanna says, dragging me inside.

"What?" I ask, laughing as she pulls me along.

"It's a surprise!" Rupert grins. He and Johanna take me by the hands. "Close your eyes," he instructs. They lead me to the door of the nursery, then shout together, "Surprise!"

The Advent wreath we've been working on all week, with a candle for each Sunday leading up to Christmas, is hanging suspended from the ceiling.

The Captain is standing there, grinning. "Your family room," he says quietly.

I'm so happy for the children that I blink back tears. "And I have something for you all," I say hurriedly so that no one will see how much this has affected me. "From the abbey," I tell them. I take a red Advent candle from my bag and place it on a side table. "We can begin our Advent reading now, if you like."

Johanna runs to fetch the Baroness and I wait in tense silence, wondering what she will make of all this. I see her eyes widen as she enters, taking in the scene: the Captain and the children together, along with the wreath, and finally, my tall red candle.

"We're hoping to do an Advent reading," I say, and I'm shocked when she smiles.

"I can't think of anything nicer, Fr?ulein."

While Rupert brings a chair for the Baroness and Agathe turns off the lights, I take a deep breath, enjoying the scents of spruce and pine. Then when everyone is seated, Mitzi hands me a match and I light our new candle. The flame dances cheerfully in the dim light of the room.

"We will start with Isaiah," I tell them, then begin to read, starting with, "The people who walked in darkness." When I look up, I see that the Captain is watching me intently, and the strangest warmth comes over me.

—

The party is to be held on the twentieth of December, and the children ask if they can spend the time between now and then adding more decorations to the villa and practicing Christmas songs. They've learned "Silent Night," "The Holly and the Ivy," "Jesus Refulsit Omnium," and "Good King Wenceslas." We practice until the children begin rehearsing their individual parts in their sleep, then we turn our attention to the decorating.

"Wait until Papa sees this!" Mitzi says, and I have to admit, it's a sight to behold, all the banisters garlanded with greenery, and the doors adorned with wreaths of fir and pine cones. An hour before the party is set to begin, I trim the candles and replace the water in the pretty jars of holly that have sprung up around the house. I'm replacing the final vase in the library when the Baroness appears. She's wearing a new gown of taffeta and lace and holding a long box tied up with blue ribbon.

"For you." There's a funny look on her face. "From the Captain."

I wipe my hands on my apron and frown. "Why?"

"I suspect it's his way of thanking you for leading the children in song tonight."

I lift the lid off the box and hold my breath. It's a beaded chiffon gown. I look at the Baroness. "But I'm not this fancy."

She chuckles. "It's only for one night, Fr?ulein. Try it on."

I hurry upstairs to change, and when I meet the Baroness in the library again, she gives a little gasp. "My goodness, Maria, you look like a film star."

I laugh self-consciously, because no one has said anything like that to me before. She admires the dropped waist with its elaborate beadwork, then the tiered chiffon, falling in gauzy layers to my calves. "But we must do something with your hair."

"Oh, no. It's fine—"

"Nonsense." She seats herself on the chaise. "Come."

I sit in front of her like an obedient child while she unfastens my plaits and sweeps my hair up into a chignon. Then she reaches into her beaded clutch for hairpins. When I catch my reflection in the round mirror above the Captain's desk, I don't even recognize the woman staring back. What would the Reverend Mother think if she could see me? Or Sister Rafaela? Suddenly I feel nervous, that I'm pretending to be something I'm not. "Who do you think will be coming?" I ask.

"Oh, all the important families in Salzburg, I suspect." The Baroness snaps her clutch shut and stands. "None of them have been invited to this villa before. The Captain moved here after Frau Agathe passed to the Lord, and since then there haven't been any parties."

Which makes it even more important that the singing go well. It's no wonder he doesn't want me in a dirndl.

Outside the library, the maids are rushing from room to room, lighting the candles. When the guests begin to arrive, I hurry to the nursery.

"Fr?ulein!" Agathe exclaims. Then all of the children gather around me, exclaiming at my dress. "Look at the beadwork," Agathe says.

"You look wonderful!" Johanna gushes.

"And look at all of you!" The children are dressed in matching outfits of red velvet and white lace. With their shiny black shoes, they look like porcelain dolls. Even Rupert, at his age, is adorable. I walk to the corner of the nursery, where Martina is playing with a small gnome family that she's created from leaves and sticks. I squat down and ask softly, "Are you ready to sing?"

She shrugs. "Will Johanna be singing?"

"I don't know. Shall we ask her?" I turn to find Johanna. Her pink cheeks are a stark contrast with her pale skin and dark curls. Such a beautiful child.

"Of course I'm singing!"

I reach for Martina's hand and pull her close. "Shall we peek at all the guests arriving?"

There's a flicker of interest in her eyes. I lead her to the window and the other children crowd behind us, watching as the cars crunch down the long gravel drive. It's fascinating to see the occupants who emerge, the men in their top hats and the women in their furs. Jewels wink in the flickering light of the gas lamps lining the drive, and I catch one woman briefly adjusting her diamond tiara.

"My goodness. Such a parade," I say, when what I'm really thinking is, I don't belong here.

"That's enough staring," the Baroness says from behind, and I flush, as if I've been caught doing something illicit. "Fr?ulein, the Captain has a few people he would like you to meet."

I glance down at Martina. "But I thought I'd be watching the children—"

"It's just a few introductions," she says, guiding me away. "I'll stay in the nursery until you return."

My heart races as I make my way down the stairs. Who could he possibly want me to meet? Perhaps there's a priest here, I think. Or an abbess. I'm searching the crowds for familiar black robes when someone calls my name.

"Maria?" The Captain is standing in the center of a small group, dressed in a black tuxedo with silk lapels and pants with satin stripes down the sides. I've seen few men who fill out a suit the way he does, with his wide shoulders and narrow waist. His eyes linger on mine for a moment, then travel down to my dress.

"You look…stunning." His voice is quiet, as if he's not sure he should be saying this to me.

I feel hot with pleasure, but of course that's just vanity, and I know I should banish the feeling. "Thank you, Captain."

He holds my gaze, as if there's something more he wants to say, then he seems to remember that he's among a crowd. "Maria, I'd like you to meet the Hofmanns," he says. "They're our neighbors, and were instrumental in helping me find the Baroness."

Herr Hofmann extends his hand first, then his wife. They both have such startlingly blue eyes that it would be easy to mistake them for brother and sister.

"Pleased to meet you," I say, feeling as if I should curtsy.

The Captain looks more cheerful than I've seen him look since my arrival at the villa. "The Hofmanns have children the same age as Rupert and Agathe."

"How lovely."

He moves on to a second couple. "And these are the Strassers."

Both husband and wife extend their hands. They are younger than the Hofmanns, probably closer to the Captain's age. The woman's expression is guarded, and I'm sure she's wondering why she's being introduced to a governess. I wait for the explanation myself, but none is forthcoming.

"The Captain tells us that you come from the hills," she says, fingering the fat string of pearls around her neck. I have no pearls. Even the clip in my hair is borrowed from the Baroness. "Would that be Hallstatt or St. Gilgen?" she asks.

"Tyrol." I smile, refusing to feel any less for this. "And which palace do you come from?" I ask.

The woman laughs. "Oh, we don't have a palace." She glances at her husband. "But we have been shopping for a villa."

"Really? Is that like shopping for a dress?"

The Captain clears his throat. "If you're in the market," he intervenes, "I've heard the Grubers are selling theirs."

"Is that right?" The husband appears interested. But Frau Strasser is watching me.

"I should go," I say. "The children…"

There's something unreadable in the Captain's expression. But he nods politely. "Of course."

"A real pleasure to meet you," Herr Strasser says warmly. His wife gives me a tight smile.

It's only after I return to the nursery that I can breathe again. Why did I think, even for a moment, that this family was beginning to feel like my own? I could never be an aristocrat, and I could certainly never understand their petty concerns.

The children are playing cards and look up when they see me.

"So what did Papa want?" Johanna asks. She's the loudest of the bunch, and also the most forward.

"Well, he introduced me to some of your neighbors." I smile, trying to look pleased. "The Hofmanns and the Strassers, I believe." But I can see the question on Rupert's face, so I continue. "Perhaps he wants me to arrange an outing with you and their children."

"But their children go to boarding schools," Rupert says.

"Well." The Baroness rises from the couch. "I'm sure the Captain had his reasons," she says swiftly. She smiles at me, and the gesture seems warmer than usual.

Later that evening, the children perform as if they've been doing it for years, their young voices rising and falling for nearly twenty minutes. I join them in the soprano part of the songs. It feels wonderful to sing together, and we finish with an a cappella rendition of "Silent Night."

When the children take their bows, the applause sounds deafening, filling the parlor as husbands and wives exchange looks of delight. I can see they agree with me that the Captain's children possess truly beautiful voices, and in their matching velvet outfits they look like an old Christmas painting brought to life.

"That was wonderful," the Captain says earnestly. "The nuns were right, Maria. You have a gift."

Next to the Captain, Herr Strasser looks deeply confused.

"Did you say this woman is a nun?" he asks.

"Not yet," the Captain replies quietly.

"But I plan to take my vows in six months," I tell him.

Herr Strasser turns a questioning gaze in my direction. "And that's truly what you want? To become a nun ?"

"Oh, yes," I say vehemently. "More than anything in this world."

A look passes between Herr Strasser and the Captain that I can't decipher. But later, when I step into the courtyard for fresh air, I realize that the Captain has followed me outside.

"It's warm in there, isn't it?" he asks, coming to stand beside me at the edge of the flagstones.

"I enjoy parties, but sometimes all that conversation and pretense…it can all be a bit overwhelming."

"Yes. Not everyone is as grounded as you." A silence falls between us before the Captain gathers his breath to continue. "So is it true? Do you really wish to become a nun?"

"Of course," I say. What's the matter with everyone? And then it finally occurs to me. He doesn't wish to look for another governess. "I am here on loan to you, Captain. And while I love your children fiercely"—and this is the truth—"nothing will stop me from taking my vows. So I suggest you start searching for my replacement."

There is hurt on his face, but what does he expect? Waiting for me in Nonnberg is a home that will never cast me out. The women there will be my family, with the Reverend Mother watching over us all. He nods silently and leaves, but I look up at the yellow moon and feel a sudden surge of hope. Only six more months. Anyone can survive six months.