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Chapter Text

“Max, you know dear, I think it’s all for the best,” I said with a sigh as I saw Salzburg disappearing in the rear mirror. Max was seated beside me in the car Georg had so thoughtfully arranged for us. After all, the situation had drastically changed since he himself had driven us to his estate. Indeed, I pondered, it is wonderful how quickly one’s mind can be put to an entirely new plan in quite little time. As was not unusual, Max seemed able to simply sniff out my thoughts and said:

“Ah, do you indeed Miss Schraeder? Hmm, I would have rather loved to tour the Von Trapp Family Singers all over Austria, but alas, alas…”, voice disappearing out the window. I gave his shoulder a familiar squeeze. Uncrossing and recrossing his legs the other way round, he turned to study my face and finding it to show relief rather than sadness, he exclaimed with that little mischievous grin of his:

“But of course, you must be positively itching to get a new outfit fitted at that wonderful couturier of yours, eh, what was she called again? Ah right, Ilse Adlmüller! Silly me, tripping and spilling Glühwein all over your wonderful silk evening gown. Must get that replaced, hmm?”

Thankfully dear Max managed to not look half as giddy as I knew he was at heart. I shot a quick glance at our driver, but he seemed entirely focused on the road ahead. He had not even noticed my familiar touch, which people of his age – that is, older – often found a little too familiar. I was glad I had had the foresight to wear gloves, to ward off any ill-conceived thoughts people might have at our contact. Not that it would be such a shock to touch a man anyway. I had already been married once, ‘twas not a new discovery to me. If ‘discovery’ was even the right word for it. When Friedrich and I had first touched I was mostly surprised that I could feel how cold his hands were even through my evening gloves. Dancing with him had quickly warmed him up, however, and when only a few hours later he proposed to me his hands felt warm and steady. My sister had been teasing me he would. To me it had seemed rather arbitrary, the whole deal. But he had money and seemed kind and thoughtful, so a deal it certainly was.

Max patted my knee to get my attention again and pointed at the Abbey as we drove past.

“Perhaps we too should look there for our suitors, hmm?” he said with a cocked eyebrow. Knowing perfectly well this Abbey only had nuns, I gave Max a pointed stare, so he’d perhaps start being a bit less obvious about it all. This only resulted in Max making it more obvious, as he then addressed our driver enthusiastically.

“Herr Franz! Have you had the pleasure”, only now Max turned his gaze away from mine, “of hearing the Kloppman Monastery Choir from the Abbey? I must say they are absolutely remarkable, it’s a shame they were not interested in pursuing singing outside of their .. uhm, familiar territory.” Max patted my knee one more time before scooting up closer to the driver’s seat. Herr Franz seemed unphased, not even shifting in his seat, ere he answered.

“Herr Max, no, I’m afraid my duties to the Von Trapp family keep me quite busy on that account.” He paused briefly to switch gears, as we were slowly ascending the hills that gathered around Salzburg. Before the poor man could continue Max was already blazing on, voice raised over the rumble of the engine.

“Who knew even the Reverend Mother was such a wonderful singer! Really, one could not have guessed, usually such matriarchs tend to be all silent and wise types and such. It really is a shame, the world does deserve to hear such talent. It reminds me of when I was in Bremen...”

The car rolled past a field that was a beautiful lacework of white and purple; Edelweiss and Violets if I was not mistaken. Ilse had said I looked good in white.

Only a few weeks ago, we had been in the fitting room trying on the very dress Max had so thoughtfully ruined, a champagne and cream taffeta and tulle number that Ilse had managed to sculpt marvellously around my hips and waist. It was the day before we left for Salzburg and we had been going over the final touch-ups. I’d been wearing a beautifully tailored, black velvet jacket, the front panels of which extended and smartly wrapped themselves around my waist. Underneath I had a crisp cream voile blouse, featuring some beautiful Austrian motifs embroidered on it, and a simple cream pencil skirt to match. The black jacket had been part of my mourning attire, but I simply loved its intricacy too much to part with it. As I came into Ilse’s atelier, I saw she had already put the gown out for me by the dressing room. Ilse, prompt as always, stood up from her sewing table to meet me as I entered.

“Ah, a joy to see you again, Baroness Schraeder,” she said, shaking my hand securely to greet me. “The main gown is finished as you see. I would love for you to put it on so we can see that it fits comfortably and to perhaps see if it needs anything… extra, shall we say,” she said with a confiding smile. “It is an evening gown, after all.” Curious to see how such an undeniably glamorous piece would look on me, I nodded my head in thanks to Miss Adlmuller.

“Very well Baroness, I shall be in the hallway as always, please ring the bell whenever you’re ready for me,” said Ilse, pointing to a side-table next to the chaise longue. She bowed slightly as she graciously took her leave. I stepped into the dressing room and put my purse and gloves on the marble side-table. I used one of the mirrors to find my hatpin, as the hat would look off with the gown and was outerwear besides. I quickly dressed down to my undergarments and hung my clothes neatly away. Gently I took the dress off its hanger and stepped into it. I softly pulled it over my thighs and hips and reached around the back to do up the zipper. I could see in the mirror that Ilse had added a length of ribbon going through the zipper tie, so as to make it less awkward to zip oneself into the gown. Indeed, it went up rather smoothly. I simply had to be careful to not catch any of the taffeta in it.

“Oh, Ilse…” I said while she could not hear me. “You’ve outdone yourself.” I rang the bell, wanting to show her how perfectly the gown fit my measurements.

“What do you think, miss Schraeder?”

Max’s question quickly jolted me out of my revery. I had the vague recollection of the children’s names being mentioned, but else very little enlightened me as to what Max was inquiring into.

“Max, my apologies, I must’ve gotten lost in my thoughts,” I said as I shifted back into the conversation. “What did you say dear?”

Max tried to hide his grin behind some gentlemanly moustache grooming, but he could not fool me so easily. He repeated:

“Of course, of course, I was talking to Herr Franz here about how the children must be missing the excitement of having such a worldly woman in their lives, why Elsa, I’m talking about you, naturally,” chuckled he. Max always did love to tease me, I thought to myself. I didn’t mind it one bit.

“So I was thinking, what if we actually invited them here for the last bit of summer? I imagine Maria and Georg might take a uhm, little vacation quite soon.” Herr Franz had the good manners to pretend not to notice Max’s inference and his not quite so subtle playing for wingman.

“Why Max, you never cease to spring up excellent ideas, do you!” I clapped him on his forearm congratulatory. “Oh, you remind me,” I said, taking out my purse and retrieving a soft pink envelope from within it, “Brigitta gave me a letter as a sweet little parting gift. I’ve not had the chance to read it yet.”

Salzburg, Austria

12. July 1938,

Dear Baroness Schraeder,

Or may I call you Aunt Elsa, please? Liesl called you Aunt during dinner last night and I do hope you’ll be our Aunt! I really enjoyed your visit, even if you suddenly had to leave to manage your affairs back home.

Could you tell me more about that time you went to Paris and to London? You mentioned it during our last breakfast together and I’ve not been able to forget it! I’ve been reading a travel book and it seems so awesome to me to see more of the world. When I’m old enough I’ll go to all kinds of splendid new places, I’m sure of it! It’s only, the travel book was translated and written by a Scandinavian man you see, so I thought your stories would be much more interesting to me. I’ll be a woman someday after all [drawing of a flower]

Please promise me you won’t mention my travelling ideas to my father, I haven’t told him yet. Mother says she’s sure I’ll have a marvellous time, but I’m scared Father will only be scared for my safety and such. I suppose that must be a grown up thing for men, though I don’t understand why they wouldn’t worry the same way about boys. If Friedrich wanted to travel I bet Father would be all for it! But you’ve travelled by yourself, have you not?

Oh do please tell me more of your experiences travelling so independently! I long to know.

I hope you’ll tell me your stories and that I get to read them soon! Only if you have the time ofcourse!

Much love,

Brigitta von Trapp

It was… odd, reading Brigitta’s sweet letter. Not necessarily in the sense that it was unusual, Elsa found, but rather that she had not realised quite how impactful a mere mention at the breakfast table could have been. Though it did seem Brigitta had been toying with the idea to travel for longer, but still, to have given her something concrete to dream of… It made her a little emotional. Reading the letter made her remember how exciting her youth had been, how adventurous she’d felt. She had been visiting Paris and London, many stops in between besides, as part of forming her early career as a fashion stylist. Someone who’d write for the magazines, perhaps attend to well-established families in need of advice, whisper in the ears of couturiers. The memory had gotten buried under the weight of the journey back. She had but a week left in her travel agenda when she got a very unexpected call. Dear Friedrich was dead. The period after had truly pulled Elsa through the wrangler, even if their relationship had not been quite so... intimate as others expected of them. Even so, Friedrich had been kindness himself, giving her time and space to come into her own. They’d been living together for nigh on five years by then. Childless. Perhaps a bit more independent than expected. Happy.

The Baroness was tempted to spend the rest of the trip home revisiting her memories of that time, but that would not be kind to dear Max.

“Well, perhaps all the children at once together would be a bit much dear, but maybe one child could be… exciting, don’t you think?” 

“Ah, so Brigitta already has ideas, has she? Clever girl, her. Did you notice, Herr Franz, that she, of all the children, asked me how come I don’t like the colour pink…” and he started off on another soliloquy aimed at Herr Franz, who gave polite little answers here and there. 

Arriving home at last, after having dropped off Max at his cosy little Innere Stadt apartment Elsa had bought him, Herr Franz drove the car into the Wieden district. He ever so thoughtfully helped unload her luggage, and passed it onto the footman. They went through the usual back and forth, she thanked him profusely for driving her all the way home, he said of course, auf wiedersehen, goodbye, safe travels, bitte sehr, kein Danke. Finally Elsa could walk to her bedroom in a blessed silence and once there, sat down at her vanity with a sigh. She took off her earrings, necklace, gloves, and started undoing the pins holding her hair in its coiffe. As the last pin clattered onto its designated tray, she sighed to her mirror image; “Alone. Again.” 

She climbed into her beloved bed and thought to herself: “But tomorrow I’ll go and see Ilse.” and fell asleep with a smile playing around her lips.

Chapter Text

Liesl wondered, every day, how come her father and her now mother had… what exactly was the word for it? ‘Managed to find each other’ sounded so bleak, so accidental, so without… agency, Liesl supposed. Wouldn’t it be much nicer if you had the choice to well, engage, for lack of a better word? Perhaps it was all more about how they had decided they were going to be together . That felt much nicer to her. It also made sense; for a couple weeks now Liesl couldn’t shake the feeling she and Rolfe weren’t quite having the same ideas. Rolfe seemed nice, and kind, but if Liesl was being honest, sometimes rather strict? At first she hadn’t thought anything of it, in fact, it had seemed quite familiar to her. After all, her father had been bent on teaching his children all the ‘rules’ of life. But since Mari- Mom, Liesl corrected herself – had come into the picture, the world made much more sense to her, even if it wasn’t as logical as father sometimes made it out to be. Mom could be much more free in her ways. Liesl was so glad she had a mother again, and could not be happier if it had been anyone else. It seemed even Father had been touched by Mom’s colourful ways. She thought to herself that must be what made Liesl change her mind, seeing Father become more… gentle. It had made her realise quite how harsh Rolfe could be. If someone was simply doing something their way, Rolfe had all these notions of how they should do it otherwise, or what it meant to do such a thing. It was so irritating! Liesl hadn’t thought she could say that at the time. Wouldn’t he dislike her if she said such things? What if no one else would come along if he left the picture? She wasn’t sure why, but eventually the answers to those questions simply weren’t that pressing anymore. She simply needed Rolfe to stop being so… so Rolfe. They’d had a picnic in the hills, but after another comment of his about how she should better place her skirt to appear more proper she could not keep it all in anymore. They were alone on the hills, for goodness sake! All her annoyances had come pouring out of her, like spring had hit the snow on the mountains, a swollen river of words. Rolfe had stomped away indignantly, leaving her with a ‘borrowed’ bottle of wine and half eaten sandwiches. 

Thinking back on this, Liesl got up from the ledge by the lake behind their house. She supposed all this thinking might’ve been to do with a new friend she’d recently made. After the Ball Father had hosted, Liesl had realised she loved the idea of dancing. That had been one of the things that had initially attracted her to Rolfe; he was an excellent dancer. As Liesl was walking towards the old stables, she passed the pavilion where they’d first danced together. How fun that had been. At the time. And then the Ball! All the glamour, all the enticement that she had only gotten to glimpse because her Father had told her no. It, as well as Maria’s sudden absence after, had left her quite frustrated. So, she’d snuck out half a week later to go to an “Austrian Folk Dances for Youth” night. Maria wasn’t there to catch her, after all!  Hmmpf. She’d revelled in the crisp night air; it had smelled like a new adventure. 

Liesl had been a little late for the dance class – she couldn’t very well make dinner go much faster without raising suspicion – but the circle of people had made room for her. The girl she was standing next to had even given her a reassuring wink. The instructors weren’t who Liesl had expected; instead of a couple consisting of a man and a woman, it’d been two men. “Maximilian Mayr and Raphael Schiele” it said on the poster at the entrance. When Liesl had come in, they’d been instructing the class on the Waltz. The pair gave off an air of ease, in a way that invited you to also be. Liesl decided she didn’t mind having them as teachers. 

They were explaining that though the Waltz could be quite an intensive dance for beginners, they felt it was fairly simple to get. It would help them practise engaging with the music and finding their rhythm. All the students had to listen to music, and simply walk in step to it. As we found, the way most of us were naturally inclined to walk was indeed the basic step of the dance! Liesl loved how true the expression of the movement felt to the music. It came so naturally to her. After that, they’d let the class sit for a minute and grab some lemonade. The class scattered to the chairs grouped together here and there. It was then that her initial ‘neighbour’ in the circle came to sit by her and introduced herself.

“Hi! I’m Marlene Bergmann,” she said, extending her hand. The hand belonged to a girl of similar age, her face framed by glasses, freckles and hair that hadn’t decided whether it would be blonde or ginger. Liesl took her hand and answered. 

“I’m Liesl.” she said, not feeling the need to highlight her surname quite just yet. People at school always went on about it. It was just a name. “Uh, did I miss anything at the beginning?” 

“Oh, not too much, don’t worry! I’ll catch you up to speed,” Marlene said with a kind smile as she continued to explain. “Basically they introduced themselves and asked everyone else to say their name. I’m sure I remember only two of them, so you’re not alone,” she chuckled, unknowingly responding to Liesl’s fears. “And then uhm,” she peered at the poster, “I think it was Raphael who explained that even though these are all couple or group dances, it’s totally fine if we don’t have a dance partner because we can just all rotate to dance with each other. All that matters is that you decide if you’d like to lead or follow in a dance.” Marlene gestured at the 4space around them. “Inside this room you can do anything you like! If there are not enough people to go round they’ll supplement or even ask some friends to come in if need be. And they even said it’s totally cool if you don’t wanna dance with someone, or if you dance with the same or opposite gender as you. If anything doesn’t feel good they asked that you come to them with it and they’ll help.” She paused to consider if she forgot anything. She scrunched her nose in thought.

 Liesl had to admit she was grateful for the pause in information, as it was becoming a little much. Perhaps she should have brought a notebook with her?  Not that she always remembered to take notes, though.

“Uhm, so hold on,” she said, “I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start!” Liesl laughed. Let’s start at the very beginning , she heard echo in her mind and the absence of Maria stung a little more than it had. No! We’re here to have fun, not to think about Maria! “So you said you need to lead or follow? What does that mean?” 

Before Marlene could answer, Raphael and Maximilian came back into the room. She now saw their little name tags, so she learned who was who. Raphael was the tall one with longer, mouse brown hair that wanted to curl at the edges. Maximilian was about Liesl’s height and he seemed to have recently had a military shave, and wore round, wireframe glasses. 

“Alllll right everyone!” Maximilian called, and clapped his hands for attention. Everyone had been standing  or sitting around the edges of the space, but quickly joined in again. Liesl spotted an exchanged glance between her instructors. Raphael seemed to give a look of thanks, Maximilian answering with a shrug that said ‘no thanks required’. Before she could think anything of it, they’d started up class again. They all were to pair up to try out the dance for real this time. Liesl felt a little out of place, but Marlene’s raised eyebrows gave her the easy option of just dancing with her. It seemed she came here alone as well. 

“I’ll lead you, don’t worry,” she whispered. Liesl became ever more grateful there was someone who seemed to understand her so well already. Raphael and Maximilian mirrored all the dancing couples, standing opposite each other. 

“Hands up, who of you will lead for now?” Raphael questioned the room. “Alright, leaders, look at how I hold my follower here,” he said, offering his left hand to Maximilian’s and placing his right on the other’s shoulder blade. Maximilian took the extended hand, and put his other hand on the side of Raphael's shoulder rather than on his back. Marlene checked in with a glance to see if I was ready, then followed suit. I felt the warmth of her hands immediately, even radiating through my dress. 

“Next, we’ll take a look at foot placement,” Raphael continued. And so class went on, an exchange of showing and trying, with some suggestions here and there. Mostly however, they were very gentle and clear with their instructions and Liesl didn’t once get the feeling she was being judged for her abilities. Marlene seemed equally at ease. 

Once the music started up again, she’d first just simply shifted her torso gently from side to side, getting a feeling for the rhythm. That really helped Liesl as well, so when Marlene took the first steps it wasn’t hard to follow. It turned out ‘following’ really was that, simply letting the leader take you wherever they danced to. There were some moments where Marlene moved a little differently than Liesl had expected, fumbling her step, but they laughed and simply went on. When the teachers stopped the music and congratulated everyone for successfully dancing a Waltz, it became clear to Liesl that somehow the hour and a half must have already passed. The class scattered. As Liesl went to get her coat and keys to her bicycle, Marlene came to her. 

“Thank you so much for dancing with me! I think that went really well for our first time, don’t you?” she asked. 

“I’m glad you think so! It was very enjoyable for me as well! I was ever so grateful I had you to lean on, that made my being late less of a nuisance,” Liesl replied. Suddenly Liesl felt gripped by the need for her evening out not to end, not to return home yet. Home was just empty echoing hallways. “Do you maybe want to take a walk together?” She looked to see if Marlene found that a weird suggestion. She quickly added: “Only I would love to get to know you a bit better! But I understand if you need to get home.” 

“Oh! Uhm, let me feel,” Marlene said, putting a hand on her midriff. Liesl was a little surprised, she hadn’t ever seen someone to just take a moment to answer like that. But really, it made a lot of sense to her. Why would she just know everything all the time? Marlene’s nose scrunch was replaced by a smile; “Yes, I’d love to actually! My parents own the coffee house around the block, do you wanna walk there for some hot chocolate maybe? It’s on the house!” she winked.

“That’s a great idea, let’s,” Liesl happily replied. Into the purple and blue twilight they walked, the night air welcoming them.