Chapter Eleven

The days leading up to Christmas are magical. At a dozen different tables in the Captain's workshop, the children spend their time making presents for one another. Johanna is using sticks and moss to build furniture for Martina's gnomes and Rupert is carving elaborate jewelry boxes for his sisters. Werner, who is twelve and can handle a knife almost as well as his brother, is making each of his siblings a race car. My present to each member of the family will be rosaries carved from the olive wood near Nonnberg. But the Captain's gifts are more elaborate. He leaves every morning and returns in the evenings with dozens of beautifully wrapped boxes.

On Holy Eve we melt the red candles into their holders and clamp them onto branches of a giant tree, which towers twenty feet high in the center of the family room. When we're finished, it's a sight to behold. The tree is decorated with balls of marzipan, candies, cookies, and puffy balls of meringue we call Spanischer Wind. A hundred and twenty candles flicker between the tinsel, gilding the tangerines and Lebkuchen.

In anticipation of the Holy Child's arrival with gifts and chocolates, the children have been singing "Morgen, Kinder, Wird's Was Geben" all day, and the youngest ones continue to hum it as we crunch our way over the snow toward the church. Holy Eve is always the most beautiful night of the year, and when I catch the Captain looking at me, I know it's because he can see how happy this evening makes me. The candles and the singing and the story of hope that Jesus's birth has brought to us all. He's still looking at me as we make our way home under the glow of the streetlamps. Finally, he asks if I've had a good night.

"There's something magical about Holy Eve," I tell him, looking up. A scattering of stars spreads across the cold sky, as clear and crisp as slivers of ice. "How did you celebrate when you were at sea?"

He looks terribly handsome in his red scarf and wool coat. I can see where Johanna gets her arresting features. "With letters," he says sadly. "War is mostly about stopping things. Holidays, lives…" He looks down, digging his hands deeper into his pockets, so I try to change the mood by thanking him for allowing me to be a part of his family over such a magical time.

"We didn't sing or buy presents when I was a little girl," I tell him. "All of this is new to me."

"Then what did you do?"

"Decorate the house with spruce." I shrug. "Then go to church, if my uncle let us."

The Captain looks sorrowful. "You had a hard life," he observes.

I bristle. I don't want him feeling pity for me. "It made me strong."

Johanna slips her hand into mine and my shoulders relax.

When we return to the villa, the rooms smell like cinnamon.

" Zimtsterne! " the children exclaim, and the cook brings out warm plates of star-shaped cookies with frosting. We stand beneath the Advent wreath as it flickers with all four lighted candles, and I think how nothing could be more perfect.

The next morning I'm startled awake by the sound of feet pounding down the stairs, then laughter and whoops of joy. "Fr?ulein, Fr?ulein!" Johanna and Mitzi are pounding at my door. "You have to come see this!"

Of course I saw it last night, when I helped the Captain and the Baroness arrange the gifts under the tree, but now I act surprised at the dozens of packages that the Holy Child has managed to bring in the space of one night.

There is so much joy. Even Martina is laughing. There is an electric railroad for Werner, a baby doll and pram for Martina. There are musical instruments for each of the children, BB guns for the boys, even Victrolas for Agathe and Rupert. I lose track of the number of books I see, and there are skates for everyone. Rupert has been given a new pair of skis and Mitzi a larger violin. Hedwig has received the beautiful red sled she'd been longing for, and the Baroness Matilda has a new set of pearls.

The children promise to treasure the rosaries I've carved for them, and I promise to always keep with me the drawings they've made. Then someone hands me a small gift in a long wooden box that makes me nervous. I've already opened up presents from all the children.

"From Papa," Agathe says eagerly.

I glance at the Captain, who just smiles softly and nods. The box is carved with edelweiss and Agathe offers, "Werner made it."

"But not what's inside it!" Werner adds swiftly.

I open the lid. Inside, on a strip of light blue silk, is a pair of pearl earrings. My hands shake as I lift the two large drops, and the room goes silent in appreciation of their beauty. "They're magnificent," I gush, knowing that everyone is waiting for some response. "But where will I wear them?"

The Captain laughs. "How about right here?"

I clip them on and the children are all full of admiration.

"And lastly, a gift to each of you from Maria," the Captain says. He takes out seven identical parcels from under the tree, each wrapped with a giant red bow. I'm about to protest that I've never seen these gifts when I catch the Captain grinning. As the children tear into the packages, I gasp.

" Wetterfleck! " I cry. I glance at the Baroness to see what her reaction to this might be. To my surprise, she looks amused.

That evening, I find the Captain sitting on the floor of the library, reading to his children from the Bible. I seat myself on the small chair near the fire and think of all the times the Baroness chastised me for allowing the girls to sit cross-legged on the floor. So all of those restrictions hadn't come from the Captain. They were simply old-fashioned rules imposed by the Baroness.

The room is so warm and delightful that even after the reading has ended and I have put the children to bed, I return to the library. The Captain is still there, reading by the fire.

"The earrings look beautiful on you," he says when I reappear.

I'm sure that I'm blushing. "Thank you for them. They're the most useless, exquisite gift I've ever been given."

He laughs. "Well, the children have never been happier since you've been here. It's the first time we've felt like a family since Agathe died, and you are the reason."

But I know where this is headed and I'm not having it. Not even on Christmas. "I'm not staying, Captain."

He holds my gaze. "But we would have you forever, if you'd like."

No. There is no such thing as forever. Someday soon the children will grow up and not need a governess. But I don't say these things, because of course no one wishes to imagine a time when their children have all left.

"Maria, what I'm trying to say is," he continues, " I would have you forever." His dark eyes are full of meaning, but I'm too set on my path to understand what he's saying.

"Captain, I love your family dearly. But my resolve is firm—I return to Nonnberg in August."

There is hurt in his gaze, but I am genuinely relieved when he doesn't mention it again. We spend the rest of the children's holiday hiking the Untersberg and skating on the lake. When it's almost time for classes to start again, Mitzi and Johanna prepare to join them. Only Martina will remain behind with me. You see, I think, I was right to imagine a time when I wouldn't be needed. And soon the Captain will be married to his princess and she'll be the one to take on this role.

We're all so busy that I don't give another thought to the future until the very last day of the children's holiday. We are sitting at breakfast when the Captain looks up from his pile of mail to make an announcement.

"It seems that the Princess Yvonne is coming."

His face doesn't betray any emotion, and he doesn't seem to me like a man in love. But then I've never been in love, so what would I know?

"What interesting timing," the Baroness says, raising her brows. "It's been years since the two of you were first engaged. And now she's finally moving it along and deciding to meet the children. I wonder why."

The Captain averts his gaze. "Yes, well—"

"And what if we don't want to meet her?" Johanna exclaims.

Mitzi puts down her fork. "Are you still going to marry her?"

"That has always been the plan," the Captain says quietly.

"But what do we need her for?" Johanna pushes away a plate full of sausage. "We have Maria."

The Captain turns red and my heart begins to race, imagining this princess taking my place. But it isn't my place. My place is in Nonnberg.

"Well, I won't be coming out of my room," Martina threatens, putting down her fork with a terrible clank.

"Now, that's no way to treat a guest," I say, although a part of me—a very secret part—is glad no one wants this woman. "I am sure the princess is very kind."

"Yes." The Captain smiles briefly. "And when she comes next weekend, children, you are to call her Aunt Yvonne."

I catch the look that Agathe passes to Rupert, and a panic wells up inside me. For several moments, I can't understand what I'm feeling. It must be my concern about returning to the convent. If the children don't take to the princess, they'll want me to stay longer, and how will I be able to tell them no?

For the next week I make Princess Yvonne the subject of all our conversations. When we sing, I tell them how much the princess will appreciate it. When we walk to and from school, I tell them it's possible that she will love walking with them, too. And when we sit in the library and read at night, I ask them which stories they think she'll read aloud to them.

Then suddenly it's Saturday morning and the princess's car pulls up the drive. Everyone crowds the large window upstairs and I hold my breath. The children are dressed in their blue-and-white sailor's outfits, with satin hair ribbons for the girls and caps for the boys. I'm wearing my favorite dirndl and the Captain's pearl earrings. This is it. This is the woman who will become their mother. For reasons I can't explain I feel nervous. Possibly even a little sick. But I have no right to this feeling. Certainly I've enjoyed the Captain's easy banter and many kindnesses to me. But that was only natural—a desire to know that I am doing my job well. And of course it's logical to feel nervous about meeting the woman who will become a mother to these children I've come to love so much.

Below, a man in a black suit and cap hurries from the driver's side to open the car door. And the woman who steps out takes my breath away.

"Look at her dress," Agathe whispers.

"And her earrings!" Hedwig comments, pressing closer to the glass.

You can see the diamonds sparkling even from up here. How does she plan to sit on the floor with the children in such a tight dress? And I certainly hope that in one of her giant trunks she's remembered to pack some sturdy boots.

I watch as she offers the Captain her gloved hand and he raises it to his lips. It's not rational that I should have such an instant dislike for her. Then suddenly she looks up and our eyes meet, and I feel certain she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"All right," I say swiftly, moving everyone back from the window. "Are you ready?"

"What if we don't like her?" Johanna asks again.

I straighten the large blue bow in her hair and swallow my fear. I know what it is to have a new family member suddenly appear. I was just her age when my father came back. "She'll be lovely," I promise.

But Johanna's lip trembles. With her dark curls, she looks just like a little doll. "What if she's not?"

I squeeze her hand to stop her from crying. "I'll be right here."

"But now you're going to leave us!" Johanna exclaims.

"Not for another six months," I say. "That is a long time from now."

She buries her face in my skirt. "But I don't understand. Why can't you stay?"

"Yes, why can't you stay?" Hedwig asks.

All seven children are looking at me, and my eyes begin to burn. "Come." I blink quickly. "We don't want to keep the princess waiting."

We descend the stairs and there she is, dressed in a long beaded gown as if she's going to the opera. Her gold hair is swept up into a fancy swirl at the top of her head, and her green eyes are ringed by dark lashes. She's beautiful in the way that women are in films.

The children line up in a perfect row, and the Captain says proudly, "My children. Rupert, Agathe, Mitzi, Werner, Hedwig, Johanna, and Martina."

"How do you do?" they say in unison, and the princess's hand hovers over her chest.

"Oh, those outfits." She pats her heart theatrically. "How charming."

The Captain turns to me and his eyes seem to linger on mine. "And this is our governess, Maria."

The princess's hand drops to her side. "So you're the woman I've heard so much about."

I don't know how to respond to this, but Agathe exclaims, "Fr?ulein Maria taught us how to play volleyball."

"And she takes us on hikes!" Johanna pipes up.

The princess looks at the Captain for confirmation.

"It's true. She's turned them into a pack of wild roughnecks." He's grinning when he says this, but the princess stiffens and I notice a small furrow appear between the Captain's brows. "Aunt Yvonne will be staying with us for the weekend," he continues. "I expect you will give her our warmest welcome." He tries for a smile, and I wonder if I'm the only one who sees that it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Shall we show her the grounds?" Johanna asks.

The princess looks alarmed. "You mean, walk outside?"

"Well, perhaps not in that dress," the Captain says. "But I'm sure you've brought something else."

"Yes," she says flatly. "I'll go and change."

It gives me a selfish thrill that I don't have to do any such thing, and we all wait in the library while the princess finds something more appropriate to wear. I wonder what it'll be.

"It's muddy outside. Do you think she owns rubber boots?" Rupert worries.

"She can't see our winter cherry blossom in those high heels," Hedwig says.

The Captain looks uncomfortable, so I quickly suggest, "Why don't we read?"

" One Thousand and One Nights! " Werner exclaims. We're almost at the end. It's been one of their favorites.

We begin to read, and toward the end of the last story the princess reappears. She's wearing a much more sensible outfit. A khaki blouse and pants, with black knee-high boots. A neat green scarf is tied around her hair, and there's a matching green belt at her waist. She's perfect. I stop reading as she perches on the edge of the settee.

"We're almost at the end," I tell her. "Would you like to finish?"

"Oh, no. I don't enjoy reading very much."

I shut the book and look at the Captain, hoping my eyes convey exactly what I'm thinking. With thousands of eligible women in Austria, he'll be scraping the bottom of the matrimonial barrel if he goes through with an engagement to this woman. "Another time then." When the children groan, I remind them, "We'll finish it later. You have a tour to give!"

Everyone becomes excited about this, even the princess. She is viewing her future estate, after all, with its sweeping gardens and beautiful orchards.

The princess is given the same tour that I was given three months ago, but while the children try to point out their favorite bushes and trees, she's more interested in the fields closest to the house. "Oh, wouldn't that area make the most wonderful conservatory?" she asks the Captain, adding on to property that isn't even hers yet. "There's just so much potential here. So much potential."

It's a long afternoon. The princess isn't curious at all about our hikes up the Untersberg and has no interest in volleyball, biking, or even gardening. On our return to the house, Agathe stops at the end of the gravel path and finally asks, "So what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"

"Spare time?" The princess tilts her head and smiles. "My dear, there's no spare time when you're hosting parties."

But the Captain likes to sit in his library and read in the evenings. What will they do together? I wonder. How will they carry on?

When we return to the villa, the Baroness instructs the children to go to their rooms and rest. I'm preparing to join them when the princess stops me on the stairs.

"Maria, why don't you come up to my room," she suggests. "I would love to chat."

The Captain stops to look at us, and as his gaze meets mine, I'm struck once again by just how handsome he is. His dark hair falls in waves to the collar of his shirt, and he must be one of the most eligible bachelors in Austria, with a passion for music, reading, and the military. Yet soon he'll be marrying a woman who wants to spend her time decorating and entertaining. I narrow my eyes so he knows just how terrible this arrangement will be, and when I turn to make my way up the stairs, I can see the princess trying to decode the secret message between us.

I follow her down the hall, determined to make her understand what this family will need after I'm gone. I'm composing the list in my head when she stops in front of her room and turns.

"Remind me of how old you are again." The princess is smiling, but I sense danger in the question.

"I'll be twenty-two next week."

She nods thoughtfully as she opens her door. Inside, the room is filled with hatboxes and open trunks. A silk dressing gown is tossed carelessly across the settee and a pair of cream slippers lies next to the wardrobe. "Please, sit down." She perches on the edge of her bed and indicates the wingchair near the window. Then we stare at each other for several moments. I guess her age to be about twenty-five. "The children really like you, don't they?" she asks.

"I certainly hope so. They're wonderful children."

"There are just so many of them, aren't there?" She laughs.

"Seven," I say flatly.

"Yes, I can hardly keep them straight. Agathe and Rudolph—"

"Rupert," I correct.

She waves a manicured hand through the air. "I don't know how he does it. So many people in one house."

"I think it's lovely."

She stares at me as if I've just spoken some other language. "Well, I suppose the children needed some comforting after losing their mother. But it's time they begin acting civilized. Those little girls running through the gardens, telling me they dress in trousers when they're playing."

I can feel an intense burning beginning in my chest. "And what's wrong with trousers? I made them for the girls myself."

"My dear, little girls belong in dresses. No matter. Their new schools will sort them out."

I lean forward in my chair, and the scent of her perfume is overwhelming. "What do you mean?"

"Boarding schools," she says, as if it's obvious. "The Jesuit School for the boys and the Sacre Coeur for the girls. Oh, it won't happen immediately. First Georg has to officially announce our engagement. Then we'll be married in June, and after that we'll be off on our honeymoon."

The burning sensation turns into a fire. "Without the children?"

"Couples don't take children on their honeymoons, do they, darling?" She laughs again, because everything I say is just so amusing. "They can go off to their schools when we return." She reaches over for a long black box on her nightstand and snaps it open. Inside is a cigarette holder. "I'm guessing you don't smoke?"

"No."

"Shame." She twists a cigarette inside the holder and lights it. "No drinking either?"

I place my palms flat against my knees to keep myself from leaving. "I take my vows in August. Certainly no drinking."

"Well, you really are an enigma, aren't you, Maria?" She takes a deep drag of her cigarette and exhales. "Preparing to become a nun in just a few short months. Yet here you are, leading the Captain to believe that you're in love with him. And the problem is that now he's in love with you."

I'm so shocked that I rise in anger. "That isn't true!"

The princess doesn't move from the edge of the bed. "Oh, yes, he believes he's in love with you. Georg has practically told me as much."

Thoughts—sudden and confused—begin coming too fast. Everything I had wanted to say to her is gone, replaced by fear. What would the abbey do if they came to hear of this? Who would they believe?

"Of course, this doesn't make any difference to me." She exhales. "All of Salzburg knows he's about to announce our marriage, so he will have to go through with it. But—"

"I must leave." I move toward the door and she hurries to block my exit.

"Where are you going?" There's panic in her eyes.

"To pack. If what you say is true, then I can't stay here a moment longer."

"You must!" Her breath is coming quickly. "If you leave, he'll think you're jealous," she warns. "It will only fan the flames."

"You said I led him to this when I've never done any such thing. Which means that merely my presence—"

"You have to stay!" she exclaims.

"No." I maneuver around her and open the door. I catch Johanna on the landing outside, her eyes big. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" I demand.

She nods silently, then hurries back off to the nursery.

In my room, I can't pack fast enough. My hands are shaking. There can be no goodbyes. Everyone will want to know why I'm leaving. And then they'll try to persuade me to stay. For the next thirty minutes I force everything I own into the old bag that I came with. The jewelry box Rupert made me, all the drawings from the children, my sack dress from the abbey. I hesitate over the beautiful box with the pearl earrings. Soon the Captain will be giving gifts like this to the princess. The idea of it makes me feel sick, though I have no idea why.

I leave the earrings in the wardrobe. I'll have no use for them in Nonnberg. But then I imagine him finding them here when I leave and my heart aches. How could he be in love with me when he knows I'm to become a Bride of Christ? I imagine how disappointed my sisters would be to hear I wanted to marry after they'd welcomed me into their hearts and home. But then I also think of the way the Captain looked at me on the stairs and how he watches me in the library when I'm reading to the children, and my chest hurts again.

I'm wiping away tears when there's a knock at the door. I ignore it, but the knock comes again and then the door opens.

"I have someone who wishes to speak with you," the princess says swiftly.

I stiffen.

"My priest is coming," she says. "He happens to be in Salzburg and I've gone to him before in times of great stress. I'm hoping he can counsel you now."

A priest. And he's coming to see me. I pat my cheeks dry and smooth my dirndl, then follow her down the stairs to the library. "The Captain—"

"Don't worry about Georg. I've told him I invited Father Huber as a matter of courtesy. Since I'm in the area."

When we reach the library the priest is already there, dressed in long robes and talking to the Captain. Both men pause as soon as we enter, but when the Captain searches my face I look away. He is above my class in every way, but when I imagine him taking my hands in his, heat warms my cheeks. How could I ever betray my sisters that way? To say nothing of the princess.

The small talk between the Captain and the priest seems to go on forever before Hans arrives with some urgent matter and takes the Captain away.

"If you will all excuse me," he says.

I wait until the doors swing shut before blurting out, "I'm sorry. I can't stay here."

"Please, just take a seat," the priest suggests.

All three of us sit in the Captain's favorite room. I can smell the tobacco he keeps in his top drawer for his pipe, and the sound of the fire snapping and crackling reminds me of evenings he and the children and I spent together in here that are now over.

"The princess tells me there seems to be a problem," the priest begins.

Outside, it's beginning to snow. It will be a cold walk to the bus stop and then on to Nonnberg, but I've certainly braved worse. "I'm afraid I cannot stay," I repent.

His old face is kindly. "And why is that?"

The princess explains the situation and Father Huber nods in understanding.

"It seems this family is in great need of your help, Fr?ulein Maria. And while it may be true that the Baron has developed warm feelings toward you, I suspect these flames can be extinguished by simply avoiding him."

"You wish for me to live here and avoid the Captain?" I ask, disbelieving.

"As much as possible." The old priest shrugs. "Yes. And once it is clear to him that you do not return his feelings, the matter will be put to rest."

"Oh, no." I shake my head firmly. "No. I will leave."

"You can't leave!" the princess exclaims. "That would only increase his interest in you."

The priest is nodding in agreement.

"The wedding will happen in June," the princess says swiftly. "It's only a matter of avoiding him for a few short months."

"And then what?" I challenge. "I stay with the children while you leave on your honeymoon?"

"If you wish."

"And shall I prepare them for boarding school while you are away or will you be doing that yourself?"

The priest lowers his brows, unsure where this anger is coming from. "Fr?ulein—"

"Don't bother," I interrupt. "I will stay only because that is what's right for the children. But I will never be the one to tell them they're going to be sent away. Never. "

"Oh, Maria." The princess smiles sweetly at me, as if I'm the youngest, most foolish child in the world. "This is simply what noble families do."

I look at the priest. "It was a pleasure to meet you," I tell him. Then I turn my back on them both and hurry up the stairs. The Baroness stops me before I enter my room.

"Maria, what's the matter?"

I can't speak. I can't even see through the veil of my tears. She steers me by the shoulder to her room and shuts the door. When I'm finished telling her, the Baroness's face is stern.

"Don't worry about how the Captain feels," the Baroness says. "Think about how you feel. What do you want?"

"I want the children to be happy!" I exclaim. "That woman will take all their happiness away."

"But what did you think would happen?" the Baroness asks. "You let the children run wild."

"I let them live !"

"And you didn't think there would be consequences? They are in for a very hard road with the princess," she predicts. "They'll be forced now to unlearn everything you've taught them."

No more cozy nights in the library, no more singing, no more hikes in the mountains. They won't even be together once they're shipped off to their schools. Even tiny Martina will be sent to the Sacre Coeur. When I think of how much kindness she needs, and how devastated she'll be to leave behind her little gnomes, my eyes well with tears all over again.

The Baroness thins her lips into a disapproving line. "There's nothing to be done," she says stoically. "This is how children have been raised for hundreds of years."

"That doesn't make it right," I whisper.

But her eyes say what she will not. That she had warnedme.