The Captain and his Will-o’-the-Wisp

I suppose I had better disclaimer this because we'll lift quotations directly from the movie and, obviously, the songs. So, there's not meant to be any infringement. It's just a bit of AU madness.

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Let’s start at the very beginning. As you may have heard, it’s a very good place to start. This story begins in tandem with the gentle warming of spring and the dawning of a fresh morning. It begins in the dormitory of the Nonnberg Abbey some time prior to the Anschluss. Furthermore, it begins with the waking of three young women from their nightly dreams as the bell tolls ring out seven o’clock.

The eyes of the young woman, abed closest to the windows letting in the bright tendrils of sunlight, fluttered open and a soft, contented sigh lifted her chest. A half smile tickled at her lips as she brought her hand to her forehead. As she pushed back some of her hair from her face she felt the hum of a song rise, vibrating against her lips. Today would be a good day. She was almost certain of it.

Tossing back the covers, she lifted her legs out from the warmth and pressed her stocking bereft feet against the chilly stone floor. She didn’t let the ice detract from the brightness she felt welling within her, though, and she pushed to standing, immediately flitting over to the window. Lifting her hand, she pushed at the latch and let in the warm breeze that was drifting down from the mountains and as she closed her eyes, inhaling the smell of the edelweiss, she was sure she could hear the mountain song.

“The gates are open,” she observed wistfully, her fingers coming to her chin thoughtfully.

“None of that today,” Alice’s lyrical voice waxed over from where she was stood at the wash basins. “Come and get ready, Millie.”

“Oh, but Allie … can’t you just smell summer coming?” Millie asked, turning away from the window to join her friend at the basins.

“It’s neither here nor there whether I do,” Alice replied tartly, though Millie could see the sparkle in her eyes as she ran her flannel down her neck.

Millie tried to supress her smile and she picked up her flannel, wetting it in the basin before her.

“Are you going to go?” Mairen whispered, coming to stand on the other side of the mousy-haired young woman. “If you went now, you could be back before breakfast.”

“Don’t encourage her!” Alice despaired, throwing down her flannel which landed with a squelch on the table top.

“I was only saying!” The redhead protested, turning to pout at their friend who had swept away to the trunk at the foot of her bed where her tunics and were kept. They all had three pairs, two to alternate on a weekly basis and the third for special occasions in the calendar.

“Just an hour, Allie, please!” Millie flew to her friend’s side, her damp hands curling around her nightdress clad arm.

The blonde pursed her lips and frowned at the younger girl. Millie’s eyes shone with hope and she watched as the resolve in Alice’s gaze crumble. She gave a dramatic sight and pulled her arm out from Millie’s grasp to wag her finger at her warningly.

“If you are late again the Reverend Mother will have my head, Melissa!”

“Mine first, I promise you,” Millie all but squealed, launching forward to press a kiss to her friend’s cheek. “But I’ll be back, I swear it!” She threw over her shoulder, already hurrying to her trunk to pull some clothes from its depths.

“You will be doing all of my duties if you’re not,” Alice warned in a half-hearted attempt to be firm with her friend. She cast a glance in Mairen’s direction and the girls smiled at each other, knowing that any hope of making sure their whimsical friend would be back before her absence was noticed was already a lost cause.

“I will be back in time!” Millie insisted, wriggling into her dress, her nightgown already laying forgotten on top of her bed. “I promise, Alice!” She added, combing her fingers through the knots in her hair, wincing as she caught a particularly tight one.

“Yes, yes,” Alice shook her head, waving the younger girl away. “Go on, go!”

Grinning, Millie pushed her feet into her shoes and hurried out of the dormitory, whispering her thanks to the girls as she left.

“Reverend Mother will find out,” Mairen pointed out, a smirk playing at her lips.

“Find out about what?” Adrienne’s voice cut in slightly, her head poking around their dormitory door.

“Oh, um…” The girls exchanged a worried glance.

Blessedly, Melissa was already long gone. She hurried stealthily across the courtyard but once she breached the gates and the warm glow of the sun alighted on her lithe frame, she broke into a clattering run which carried her through Salzburg until the ground underfoot changed from cobble to lush grass and until the buildings changed from masonry to the bark of trees.

With a twirl as she reached the peak of the hill, she let out a breathless laugh, closing her eyes to listen to the music humming about the mountains. Dancing to a stop, she inhaled the cool air and her grin only widened. Turning a bit on the spot to make sure she was alone, she took a deep breath before giving voice to the song she’d had stuck in her mind since waking that morning.

The birds were her orchestra, filling the hills with the instrumental to her vocals. Her voice echoed amidst the mountains, leaping down into the valley and into the town, heard almost as far as the abbey itself. As Alice and Mairen made their way past an open window, trailing sullenly behind Adrienne, they shared a look, sure that they had heard Melissa. Grins lit up their faces momentarily but the looks were dashed under the other girl’s glare.

It was easy to lose track of time. Collapsing into the grass, flush with exertion, Millie laid back in the sunshine, letting her eyes shut for a few moments as she gathered her breath and attempted to calm her heart. She brought her hand to her face and laughed breathily before dropping it back down on the grass by her side.

The tolls of the clock tower rang over the horizon and Millie felt her heart sink guiltily in her chest. She tore her eyes open and launched herself to her feet. Alice will kill me.

Taking off as quickly as her legs would carry her, Millie hurried back down the hill. She was nearly at the bottom when she remembered her wimple, laying beside a growth of daisies. Swearing under her breath and immediately sparing a furtive glance above her after doing so, she turned on her heel and hurried off after it, cursing herself and her bad luck.


Alice and Mairen were not eagerly awaiting the inevitable confrontation of sorts between the Reverend Mother and Melissa as it seemed Adrienne was. They cast worried looks at each other as they walked behind the rest of the nuns. Alice was chewing on her bottom lip, a habit she had been scolded for in the past, her fingers working quickly over the rosary that hung from her belt.

“He won’t help us now!” Mairen hissed, folding her arms more resolutely behind her billowing sleeves. Had it been another moment, Alice might have laughed.

“Reverend Mother?” Athena approached the group, worry colouring her prim features.

“Sister Athena?” Came the gentle reply and an indulgent smile.

“I simply cannot find her!” She declared, throwing her hands into the air despairingly.

The abbess’s features filled with a knowing look. “Melissa.” A statement, not a question. Alice cringed, ducking her head.

“She’s missing from the abbey again,” Athena groused, letting her hands settle into the pockets of her robes.

“We should put a cowbell around her neck!” Adrienne declared, pushing to the front of their little group.

“Have you tried the barn?” Mairen suggested and Alice’s head shot up, an exasperated look colouring her features.

“Mil—Melissa loves the animals, you know how much she adores the animals, Reverend Mother,” Alice joined in, trying in vain to wipe the guilt off of her face.

“I’ve looked everywhere!” Athena huffed. “In all of her usual places – she’s no where to be found!”

“Sister Athena,” the abbess soothed, her smile returning, “considering it is Melissa whom you seek, might I suggest you look somewhere unusual?”

Athena nodded and Alice felt her gut unclench when the sister slipped away, determined, seemingly, to source their errant friend. She glanced at Mai who, despite the slight tinge of anxiety, looked perfectly serene and she straightened herself, determined to mirror her friend and follow her example.

“Oh, listen to her go on,” Mairen whispered, rolling her eyes as Adrienne petitioned the Reverend Mother to see what she felt was reason.

Neither of the other girls felt that either of them could really stay at the abbey without Mille. Both listened more intently as the discussion was banded back and forth.

“The wool of the black sheep is just as warm,” Alice pointed out, coming forward to stand beside Adrienne.

“We’re not talking about sheep, black or white!” Adrienne retorted archly before turning back to the abbess. “For goodness sake—she climbed a tree last week, scraped her knee, and now one of her dresses has a tear!”

Mairen snickered and Alice elbowed her, earning a soft yelp from the redhead which only resulted in a withering look from the irate brunette.

“Sister Maude,” the abbess stepped over to the group of young women stood on the steps, chatting contentedly amongst themselves. They fell silent when Maude was addressed and the girl offered a smile to the abbess.

“Yes, Reverend Mother?” She inquired demurely.

“What do you think of Millie?”

Maude’s smile dropped into a slight grimace. “She’s a wonderful girl,” she enthused, adding, “…some of the time.”

“Sister Katherine?”

The blonde blinked in surprise. “Well, she’s very easy to like…except when it’s, uh, difficult.”

“Sister Livia?”

“Oh, I love her dearly,” Livia’s voice was full of fondness. “But … she does seem to always be in trouble.”

“See!” Adrienne insisted.

“She waltzes on her way to mass and whistles on the stairs,” Livia laughed, glancing around at the other girls.

“Underneath her wimple, she has curlers in her hair!” Adrienne persisted.

“I’ve even heard her singing in the abbey!” Katherine declared brightly.

“She’s always late for chapel,” Livia conceded reluctantly.

Mairen piped up before Alice could stop her, “But her penitence is real!”

“She’s always late for everything,” Adrienne corrected, glaring from girl to girl.

“Except for every meal,” Maude laughed.

“I hate to have to say it,” Alice didn’t think Adrienne hated one word. “But I very firmly feel – Melissa’s not an asset to the abbey.”

“I’d actually—” Alice stepped forward, holding up her hand, her gaze focused on the Reverend Mother. “I’d … I’d like to say a word on her behalf.”

“Then say it, dear.”  

“Millie … makes me …” a grin curled her lips upwards and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Laugh!”

“She’s unpredictable as weather!” Adrienne nudged Alice out of the way.

“Flighty as a feather,” Maude agreed. “Like a flibbitijibbit!”

Katherine shook her head. “A will-o’-the-wisp!”

“A clown!” Adrienne despaired.  

“Well then how do you solve a problem like Melissa?” Livia asked, hands on her hips.

“How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?” Athena laughed, rejoining the girls.

“Look,” Adrienne cut over them, turning to face the abbess. “There’s many a thing I’d like to be able to tell her and make her understand but how on earth do you make her stay, and listen to all you say? She’s a demon!”

“She’s a darling! A riddle but a child!”

“She’s a headache!”

“She might be wild but she’s gentle!” Alice protested.

“She’s a girl,” came the Reverend Mother’s solemn pronunciation, her eyebrows rising pointedly between the quarrelling girls. “And so are you. So, my children, enough.”

A bang sounded in the courtyard and they turned, unsurprised to see Melissa hurrying from the south entrance, her habit balled in her hand. She paused, grounding stock-still as she clapped eyes on them. In many decades’ time, there would be a term for it – busted.

She ducked her head, passing a furtive look in Alice and Mairen’s direction before hurrying through the nearest door that, up a sweeping staircase, would lead her back to the dormitory where her day had begun.

“Go to your friend,” the abbess turned to the two girls. “Tell her I wish to see her in an hour but remind her I do not fault her. Nor do I fault either of you for keeping her secret.” A knowing smile lit her face and the girls nodded, hurrying across the courtyard after the blonde.


“Was it wonderful up there?” Mairen asked excitedly, bursting into the dormitory not a moment after Melissa had collapsed down onto her bed. She all but flew to the blonde’s side, leaving Alice to shut the door behind them. “Tell me all about it, Millie, please.”

“I would rather not think about it, Mai,” Millie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If Adrienne gets her way, I will have to pack my bags sooner rather than later.”

“Sister Adrienne,” Alice corrected gently, sitting down on Millie’s trunk. “And I don’t think that will happen. The Reverend Mother would like to see you, though.”

“And you don’t think it will happen?” Millie lifted her arm off of her eyes to send an incredulous look in Alice’s direction. “I will have to travel to Vienna and play music on the street!”

“It won’t come to that,” Mairen and Alice declared in unison, passing each other wry grins. Millie shook her head.

“Well, what do you think will happen, then?”


“Melissa – it seems to be the will of God that you leave us.”

Millie felt as though her entire world had been ripped out beneath her. She fell to her knees before the abbess and stole up her hand, fervent cries of desperation flailing from her lips.

“While you may have longed to be one of us, Melissa, that didn’t necessarily prepare you for the way we lived here, did it? If it had gotten dark today, you could have gotten lost in the hills.”

“No, Reverend Mother, please!” Millie lifted her head. “I know … I know that I say what I feel and I … I know I cannot stop singing wherever I go and … I … I … I don’t know how to do anything else. Ever since I was a child … I grew up in the mountains but I wanted to be here. With you. Hearing the sisters singe on their way to vespers … this is where I wanted to be. Please don’t send me away.”

“In order to truly see if you are ready to be here, Millie, you must taste something of the world,” the abbess touched her fingertips to the girl’s cheek. “Stand, my dear.”

“If it is God’s will,” Millie conceded, getting back to her feet. She inhaled resolutely. “Then I will go for a time.”

The abbess looked satisfied and moved to her desk, picking up a letter she had received some days before.

“There is a family near Salzburg in need of a governess until September.”

“September?” Millie gaped, sinking into the chair opposite the desk.

“Yes – to take care of eight children.”

“Eight children? Are you playing a joke on me?”

The Reverend Mother lifted her eyes from the page. “Do you like children, Melissa?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so! As much as anyone – but eight, Reverend Mother?”

She smiled, satisfied. “I will tell Captain Hayes to expect you tomorrow. I hope that will give you enough time to say goodbye to your friends.”

Millie nodded. “But, um… Captain, Reverend Mother?”

“Yes,” the abbess took her seat. “A retired officer of the Imperial Navy. A fine man – and a brave one, too. His wife died several years ago, leaving him alone with the children—”

Having so many was probably the cause, Millie thought ruefully, crossing her legs.

The woman across from her gave her a knowing look, “—Now, I understand he’s been having trouble keeping a governess there. A most difficult time. I trust you will be different, Melissa.”

“Pardon me but … why trouble?”

The Reverend Mother chuckled. “The Lord will show you, my dear.”


“LEAVING?”

“Could you be any louder?” Mai scolded, turning away from the mirror to glare at Alice.

“Are you deaf? Did you hear her? She’s leaving!”

Millie smirked, folding up a jumper that Sister Maude had been kind enough to give her. She set it down in her bag and lifted her gaze as Alice began to pace, wringing her hands together as she stalked the width of the room. Mairen shook her head and rolled her eyes, continuing to pin her her hair up in the curlers Millie had given her.

“When are you coming back?” Alice asked.

“September, I’ve told you twice already!” Millie’s voice ached with complaint and she pouted at her friend.

“That’s so long from now, though!” Alice threw herself down onto her bed.

“Well, perhaps you might visit?” Millie suggested gently, pressing the clasps of her bag together.

“We could do that?” Mai asked, brightening at the prospect.

“I don’t see why not,” Millie shrugged her shoulders.

“Take these,” Alice pulled open her trunk, producing a pair of nylon stockings that drew the girls’ attention immediately.

“Where in the name of Christ did you get those?” Millie asked before she could help herself.

“That’s blasphemy, Melissa! Watch your mouth!” She scowled, holding the nylons close to her chest as though tempted not to share.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to!” Alice reminded her, pointing to the ceiling. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter where I got them from but I want you to take them. You’ll get a chance to enjoy them.”

“Really?” Millie softened as Alice set the stockings in her hands.

“Really,” the elder girl nodded. “The Captain might throw a party, you never know!”

“Oh, take this then!” Mairen exclaimed, digging through her trunk. She produced a worn sock without its brother but it was what she pulled from inside that caught their eye. “It was my mother’s. I hid it so I didn’t have to turn it over to the abbey.” she turned the emerald hair clip over in her hand. “You should wear it, Millie. I want you to have it.”

The blonde felt tears well in her eyes as Mai placed the clip in her palm and she closed her fingers around it protectively.

“I’m really going to miss you!” She sniffed, throwing herself into their arms.

“Just think,” Alice murmured, “September’s not that long from now.”

“And if we really can visit, we’ll see you sooner than you think!” Mai added.

“God…” She mumbled.

“Yes?” Alice replied with a smirk.

“No, wait,” Millie lifted her head from their shoulders. “They’re going to give me my father’s guitar, aren’t they?”


Sure enough, the guitar was waiting, in the same case it arrived at the abbey in, for her the following morning. Alice and Mairen rose with her in order to see Millie off and even the Reverend Mother made a brief appearance. The other girls passed through on their way to an early mass, all wishing her good luck.

“Have confidence,” Mairen rubbed at Millie’s back as the lights of the bus appeared at the end of the road.

Alice handed her over the guitar case and her bag. “A captain with eight children – what’s so fearsome about that?”

“Everything,” the girls laughed together.

“Forget your doubts and worries, Mill,” Mairen whispered. “Just think – what’s this day going to be like? What’s your future going to bring?”

“We love you, Mills,” Alice whispered, giving her a one-armed hug.

“I love you, too.”

Certainly, in the short term, she did not think it would be a rough and uncomfortable bus journey through the countryside. Millie sat on the bus cuddling the guitar case, peeking through the gap she’d made by opening the clasps a little. She closed her eyes, trying to wish away the thoughts of her father – but his face, and his voice, haunted her just like the guitar.

It made her feel less alone, though. She didn’t just have God on her side – she hoped – but she also had her father, too. He was with her. She was sure he was. She desperately hoped he was, anyway. I need you now, daddy.

She was turned out a little early – her choice. She wanted the walk – the opportunity to get some fresh air before she started her new journey. Walking up the dirt track, free from the abbey … it felt as amazing as it did terrifying and in the end, Millie couldn’t help the run she broke into. Eagerness didn’t begin to explain what she felt. She so desperately wanted this to go well, to prove to the abbess that she could be a nun and follow such orders.

But the house … it was enormous. Beyond all of her sense of reckoning and she had credited her imagination as a fierce one. She drew up a little slower as she fell under its shadow, sensing the slight tinge of sadness that seemed to hang about the place. Millie passed her bag into her other hand and reached up to finger the wooden cross that hung around her neck, wondering if this had been what the Reverend Mother had been talking about. Maybe this was part of the trouble, the difficulty.

Hurrying up the steps, Millie reached out and rang the doorbell before she could change her mind. Half of her wanted to turn and run as fast as she could but she knew she wouldn’t get very far and if she did she couldn’t return to the abbey. She would be disgraced. So she had to face it. She had to face her fears – forget her doubts and worries as Mai had suggested.

The door opened to reveal a relatively … solemn looking chap. Millie didn’t have the sense to think before she spoke. She perked up immediately and opened out her arms with a grin.

“Well, here I am!” She deflated when he merely looked at her, not necessarily unkindly, either. She couldn’t really tell what that expression was. She glanced at her shoes absently before attempting again. “I’m from the convent. I’m the new governess, Captain.”

She could practically hear the smirk in his words. “And I’m the butler, Fraulein.”

Millie lifted her head and exhaled, trying not to let her disappointment show on her face.

“Oh,” she nodded, holding out her hand. “Well, how do you do?”

He glanced down at her hand and Millie bit the inside of her cheek before hastily dropping it, passing her bag back into it to fill her palm and the awkwardness that had suddenly absorbed her.

Pushing the door open a bit further, the butler admitted her into a cavernous hall that chilled her skin and chased the sun’s warmth from it. She pouted, dismayed, somewhat, and peeked up from under the brim of her had – and when she did … she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Her head aloft, she stepped without seeing down onto the main floor and slowly lowered her things. This was more than she had ever seen and as she blinked, trying to absorb the enormity of it all, she felt fear knot in her stomach and worry gnaw at her as she was filled with the sense that she truly did not belong.

“My word,” she whispered, twirling a little in order to get the full scope of the room.

When she lowered her eyes back down, she glanced curiously about, wondering whether she had enough time to explore briefly and see whether or not the grandeur followed into the other rooms.

Picking the one to her right, Millie hurried into the shadow where the lights did not quite reach and where the air was colder still and reached for the brass door handles. She frowned, feeling them rough with dust, and pulled the handle down. She pushed the door open and poked her head through the gap.

A gasp lit past her lips and she pushed the door open further, her feet carrying her through into the room of their own free will. There was gilt everywhere, framing sumptuous pieces of art that she could only wish her father had seen. Her mother would have loved it, too, of that she was certain. But it was a ballroom. It must have been. A tiny one, but a place to dance nonetheless.

Smiling coyly, she turned, imagining that someone had called her attention. She brought a hand to her chest, faux-surprise lighting up her face, and she took up one end of her skirt before sweeping into an elaborate curtsy.

The doors banged open, shocking Millie out of her daydream. She rose, standing ramrod straight once more and jumped back, her eyes fixing on the figure standing in the doorway, a deep sense of what she felt must have been disappointment, already riddling its way into his features.

And yet, her first overwhelming thought was of how handsome he was.

He could have only been one man, too.

The Captain.

The Captain woke slowly that morning. In fact, he afforded himself an extra five minutes, for he would surely need it with the day he was going to have. Introducing new governesses had always been something of a nightmare. He only hoped that, this time, the woman would know how to follow instructions, how to stick to rules and schedules and expectations. Surely a nun, who felt so devoted to daily tasks and what was expected of her, would do. He wasn't getting quite a nun, but Keiran supposed that it was close enough. God would have to forgive him, but his patience was wearing thin. The women just never worked out, did they?

Then again, none of them would be much like his first wife. She had done incredible things and taken care of the children with ease and a gentle, loving hand. At first, it had been something of a mix between needing her inheritance and an honest-to-goodness love they grew between them. Ever since her passing, however, Keiran Hayes had never been the same. She, the lighthouse of their home, was no longer there to guide and teach.

The first governess had gotten the worst treatment, to be sure. Never had the children seen their father so stern or cross with anyone, not even them. Then again, they had never seen him leading his crew, so they honestly had no idea. But the poor woman had never seen it coming. The glares when she spoke to him, the shouting when she accidentally broke an unspoken rule. He had not been good at laying down his expectations at the time. He didn't know them, himself. Not until a rule was broken and he filed away the recognition of anger to attempt at warning the next one.

No woman could fill his wife's shoes. And the fact that he was trying to let them? It infuriated him, and he didn't know what to do with the anger he felt towards himself. In truth, he had trouble making eye-contact with his eldest children for months. They knew well enough what had happened, and undoubtedly would be furious with him for it. He had never asked, though. It was one of his many assumptions, and an unfortunately foolish one for him to have made. He would certainly regret it in the years to come, though he hadn't any idea how much.

He lifted himself from bed regardless, now used to the other half being empty, used to the bathroom lacking the rustle of clothing, used to the blinds not yet drawn. The children would be up in less than an hour - as opposed to the full hour on a usual day - and he needed to ensure that Darren knew to expect someone. After that, it would be work papers and reading and preparing himself for the sudden introduction of another person in his home and everything that it could entail.

When Darren finally did come to get him, Keiran looked up sharply, then hesitated, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He needed to accept the fact that things were once again changing, and that it probably wouldn't last. He only hoped he didn't hate this one.

So he left the room, thanking Darren quietly and leaving the butler to do as he wished. As he came into the main hall, Keiran's eyes drifted upwards, wondering if the children would be prepared for him to introduce them. They had been every time until now, but how many governesses could they stand before something snapped? He didn't want to consider it, instead dropping his gaze back to where Darren should have left the woman. He always put them in the same spot. It had somehow become protocol of some sort, and Keiran had been secretly rather pleased to find out that someone in his home might be more strict than he was, himself.

But there was no woman there. None. Nun or otherwise. Keiran's previously established neutral expression turned into one of instant irritation. Her things were there, in rather unfortunate bags, but the governess, whoever she was, had either disappeared off of the face of the Earth, or she was somewhere she oughtn't be. He released a disgruntled sigh - eyes drifting upwards. Patience, he asked. He was in dire need of it today.

Turning about on one heel, he nearly passed over it. He nearly didn't see it at all. He would have searched the rest of the hall before checking that room. No one went near that room, and most had no idea what it was to begin with. Keiran imagined that it would have been impressively dusty in there were it not for Frau Hudson's perhaps monthly cleaning. He didn't know how often, and didn't want to know. If the door was open... He didn't want to think how much time he might spend in that room. He never asked, but had been assured that it would be taken care of. She had been around far too long for him not to trust her.

But someone was there. Someone had opened it, and he knew it was not his housekeeper. Shoulders pulled taut, he strode across the hall.

He thrust the doors open, letting them crash with their - his - disapproval, and watched the blonde woman jump out of her imagined dance posture. Poor posture, to be sure, though not as dreadful as he might have expected from a woman of the church. She had clearly experienced at least a little of life before enlisting, even if it was just a father or brother teaching her how. Not any other man, surely. Not enlisting, he reminded himself. That word didn't fit, really. Not for what she planned to do. It was a sacrifice just the same, but not everyone who enlisted in the wars did so by choice.

He said nothing, instead stepping aside enough to make it quite clear he expected her to remove herself from the room. Once she had done so, Keiran knew that he didn't necessarily have to say anything - surely he had done his job of intimidating her. But if there was one thing he learned, it was that some people needed things drilled into them. And if she had already failed to stand still for two minutes, God knew what she could get up to with a whole house to explore.

"In the future," he began, his voice deep, stern and threatening, "I expect that you will make note of which rooms in this house are to be left alone."

Closing the door behind him, Keiran felt his irritation simmer down into something more reminiscent of exasperation. He had to give the introduction speeches yet again, and really desired nothing more than to get back to his daily routine. Then he turned around, fixing her with another of what the last governess had called his 'looks.' Dark eyes settled on her, and it wasn't until he took the time - that is, once he got past everything going through his head - to properly take in her expression, that he felt like something was off.

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

There had been plenty of time the night before to gossip about Captain Hayes, until all three girls were dreamy with the idea of cavorting with war heroes. Alice, ever a great reader of the newspapers which infrequently came to the abbey, knew quite a bit about the medal winning captain. Millie had found herself constructing an image in her mind of a sea captain. The man she was confronted with was very different to the one she had been imagining. The house, too, was so very different, also. She wished that the abbess had been more forthcoming with information on the matter and circumstances that existed in the house. She wished this much could be explained.

Hurrying out of the room, feeling as though she was dangerously toeing the line of being sent straight back home to the abbey, Millie returned to her bags, turning to look at the captain. In the light of the main hall, he was even more handsome. He just … wasn’t what she had been expecting. He seemed austere before his time and almost sad—though that she supposed must have something to do with the loss of his wife. She was sure that such an event was not one a person could easily get over, especially not after having so many children with them. She found herself wanting to ask. She wanted to know, despite herself, what it was like to love someone like that.

Though she ducked her head briefly, embarrassment colouring her cheeks at his rebuke, Millie soon returned to looking at him in a way that betrayed her lack of social finesse. She stared at him without inhibition, contemplating his features as though he was a work of art but then … not at the same time. He was a work of art gone wrong somewhere. Perfect in his medium but yet still missing something in a way that she couldn’t describe. It was similar, though, to the room he had expelled her from. It was full of such beauty and potential but denied music and life.

“I …” Millie opened her mouth, finding her words were failing her before they had even properly started. “You just … you’re not exactly what I expected. I mean … you …” she bit the inside of her cheek, already wondering when the next bus would be. “You just don’t look much like a sea captain, sir. I suppose it must be because you’re on land … rather than a, um, ship, I suppose.”

Idiot.

A vague sense of surprise showed on Keiran's face, mostly apparent in his eyebrows. "Sometimes, Fraulein, things are not always as they appear." Then, as if it would emphasize his point, he let his eyes rake over her. It was clear that no-one was available at the abbey to inform this woman just how unfortunate her dress was. He didn't want to even think about what Avery would have thought if she'd seen it. But that could be fixed. He just was not going to be accepting of his household looking a mess. His wife would never have let anyone in their home look so unkempt.

It wasn't as though Keiran had any true idea about women's fashion, but he did know when someone looked as though they had never been to any sort of society event. This woman was the latter, full stop. Disapproval clouded his features before he looked away, moving across the foyer towards her bags. "No hats in the house," he informed her, stopping and clasping his hands behind his back.

"Your room will be upstairs and to the left, the children's rooms are opposite," he nodded towards the balcony across from him. "We have strict schedules, from waking up to daily lessons to bedtime. The children know what is expected of them, and that I know they will inform you about house rules. If you have questions, however, our housekeeper, Frau Hudson, will attend you."

Keiran turned his attention back on her dress. "She will also advise you as to which of your dresses will be most appropriate. This one..." he hesitated, an unimpressed sigh leaving his lips. "Well."

Under his piercing gaze, despite the frumpy dress that she wore, Millie felt entirely undone. Naked. As though he could see into every pore and perceive its worth with a passing glance. She shifted her skant weight from one foot to the other, wondering which column she could hide behind or whether the rug she was stood on would gobble her up and steal her out from under his stare. It was too much.

When he finally spoke, Millie was too fraught with anxiety to do anything for a few moments. As he moved onto talking about where her room was, her mind seemed to catch up and she stole her hat from her head. As she pulled it off she felt the tell-tale snag of her hair pins and she dropped her eyes to the floor as her hair unfurled and fell around her in golden tendrils to her waist, an odd stray curl tumbling into her eyes which she hastily swept away.

She looked up hesitantly, peeking at him from under her long eyelashes. She found herself wondering whether or not he was like this with every governess. She supposed that there had been one prior to her arrival.

Rules, though. Millie didn’t like the sound of that. She knew how to behave, of course, but she was terrible at keeping to the abbey’s rules and they didn’t seem as stony and harsh as the captain did. And to think, she’d been hoping for a sailor with plenty of stories to tell. Mai and Alice would be pleased to hear of his handsomeness, though.

“I…” Millie bit her lip and lowered her eyes to the skirt of her dress. “I … fear this is all I have at the moment, sir.” She murmured, glancing up at him, hesitance paling her features. “When … when we enter the abbey we give up our worldly possessions to the poor. Um. The poor didn’t want this dress.”

“But I can make my own clothes,” she added quickly, lifting her head as a little bit pride showed on her face. “I used to sew my father and brother new shirts before …” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Well … during the war.” She swallowed and brought her hands behind her back, wishing they would stop shaking at the thought. Time had passed. It was time to forget about it. To move on.

“So, um…” she fought to get her mind back on task. “So if … if I have material I can make plenty of appropriate dresses – and clothes for the children, too, if you’d like. Or, um. If you need any shirts patched I can …” she dropped her gaze again, her cheeks warming with embarrassment, knowing that he – and probably the children, too – had their clothes off of the rail and tailored from professionals in Vienna. An almost-nun wasn’t nearly as prestigious.

It was as Keiran spun his feet together and swiveled to face her that she let her hair down. Literally, not metaphorically. It caught him off guard and delayed his next comments. No, she should never wear that heinous dress again. But she most definitely should wear her hair down more often. It framed her face and somehow elevated what naiveté she seemed to have into something more. Into something intriguing and reminiscent of a woman in her twenties rather than her teen years.

She spoke, though, about the dress. It allowed him to compartmentalize, as he was so very good at doing, and push away any thoughts of her beauty. He had no reason to consider that, given she was just a governess. Nothing more.

If she had intended to get a reaction out of the captain, she had succeeded. His eyebrows lifted almost comically high at her admission about the dress and its unsurprising lack of takers. He had opened his mouth to make a fairly snide comment, to show his understanding of their reasoning, but she started talking about the war and that shut him up very nicely.

Her father, and.. - her brother had both-... Right. She'd used to...

Keiran frowned, mostly for her situation. But equally, he wondered what happened to her mother, and why he cared as much as he felt himself starting to. It was not his place, and neither was it hers to make him feel this way. Keiran knew she hadn't intended it, mind you, so he didn't comment on it. Instead he gave a short nod. Perhaps in the future he would be open enough with her to apologize and to... thank her? He didn't know why it came to mind since he would have easily thanked her father and brother for their service.

Then again, it wasn't as though the ladies had done nothing thus far. Things were only getting all the more tense, and the last thing he wanted was for his children to lose their father, too. They had already lost their mother, after all.

She moved on and the captain's shoulders visibly relaxed. Safe conversations were ones that didn't involve the war, as far as he was concerned. Austria just wasn't... well, Austria anymore. And it broke his heart a great deal more than he cared to admit.

He wasn't sure what to say to the last bit of her offer, so instead he focused first on the others. "The children have clothes," he assured her. Why she thought he couldn't provide them perfectly good outfits but then turn around and chide her for failing to own anything fitting. "But I will most certainly see about procuring proper fabric for you, in that case."

Lifting himself up to his full height, he reached one hand into his pocket. "That should arrive by weekend, hopefully, from town. However, first things first: you'll need to meet the children. They have had a large number of previous governesses, and I do hope that you'll last a bit longer than the others."

Without bothering to explain himself, for he felt he had no reason to, Keiran lifted the whistle from his pocket and brought it to his lips, sounding the call of sorts that his children were all quite used to. As he lowered the whistle again, he glanced over at Melissa, letting his eyes fall to the floor beneath her as if to say she may be in a dangerous spot.

Then his eyes lifted once more as he watched the children explode out of their rooms, lining themselves up along the railing. His eyes narrowed at the gap there, but they came down - the youngest marching rather ridiculously, though that couldn't quite be helped. At the bottom of the stairs, they fanned themselves out across the foyer's wide corridor.

From his pocket, Keiran pulled another whistle. God, but how many of these was he going to have to purchase for these women? They always disappeared so quickly. He wasn't sure if it was him that they couldn't put up with, but he supposed it wasn't too unlikely.

"The children," he explained as he wiggled it in front of her to get her to take it from him, "each have their own signal. It's far easier than trying to find someone on the grounds simply by searching. We do have a good bit of land, and there are many rooms. I'll show you each one, and then you can give it a try."

He didn't wait to hear what she thought of the idea, instead turning to the children. Just then, his third eldest walked through the door of the library and wandered her way in, nose still trapped between the pages. He sighed, disappointed by his failed attempt to present them formally and well for their first meeting with their new governess. If his own children couldn't keep track of the rules, how was this woman supposed to?

Holding his hand out, Keiran cleared his throat. Darcie's eyes darted up as he approached, and she closed the book, settling it in his hand. He jerked his head towards the line, tucking the book under his arm. As he turned and headed back to his spot, he gave her a stern glare and she deflated a bit more. Back to business, he set the book on the table behind him before turning once more to address the children.

"Names and ages," he requested, waiting for them to glance his way before lifting the whistle to his lips again.

In turn, each stepped forward to introduce themselves, albeit stiffly. Kelly and Liam, both sixteen. Darcie, fourteen. Cassandra at thirteen. Dalton, who was (almost) eleven. Ryan at nine. Will, aged six. And then the last one.

Clearing his throat, Keiran tried to hide his amusement. "That's Anthony. He's almost five." With that, he turned towards her expectantly. "Your turn, then."

"Father-"

Keiran turned, eyebrows raised, only to find Kelly gesturing minimally towards Melissa. His jerky movement had cut her off, but his eyes darted from his daughter to the new governess. "Oh. Yes, of course. I will also need to teach you your signal so that you might know when I need you. But perhaps you should attempt theirs before you forget and we need to start over."

The captain wasn’t like anyone – or anything – that she had ever experienced. He was an enigma. An individual unto himself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she terribly liked him. Still, it wouldn’t be for long, she didn’t think. Given what the reverend mother had said, he had not had a particularly good track record with his governesses and, with a sudden stab of cynicism, Millie didn’t think she would be any different from her predecessors. Just meeting him, she had half a mind why they would want to leave and that was before any of the children had even appeared.

At the idea of having fabric to work with again, the young Austrian woman brightened considerably. If she was to be honest, she wasn’t a fan of that particular dress either but it was the one she had been given – she could hardly turn up in her usual uniform not least because she wasn’t actually, technically, a nun. Not for the first time – that day, even, let alone for the first time in her life – Millie wondered if she ever would actually become a nun, whether she’d finish the job. She sincerely hoped so, not least because she had no idea what she’d do otherwise.

Well, apart from governess-ing. But then, dress making was always an option. She had her choices. She just needed to make up her mind, even if the safety was in the abbey. Outside its walls, the world was a little scarier to her even if when inside she yearned to see it. She was also now woefully misplaced in it – if the captain’s response to her was anything to go by, at least. Inside the abbey, she wasn’t a very good nun. Outside, she wasn’t a very good civilian. She just had to hope she’d prove to be a decent governess. God only knew if that would work out.

She stepped back immediately, more out of fright than anything else, when the children began to pour out of the rooms in the upper story. Swallowing, Millie tried to temper some of her panic now that she was actually seeing them. She had no clue if she was good with children at all. That was a mystery to her – albeit one that would very much become apparent. There were just … so many of them. She couldn’t get over it. Numbers were one thing on paper and another entirely in real life. It all felt a bit too much, in truth.

Then, the children were announcing themselves in a rather charmingly precocious way that made her smile. The little exchange between father and … Darcie, she committed the name to memory when the girl said her name, had amused the blonde woman and the tell-tale twitch of her lips warmed her features. When the captain turned his attention back to her, Millie lifted her head, shock replacing the smile. Irrationally she wanted to pick up the youngest and inform his father that no such whistling would take place while she was there but she knew she couldn’t be so obstinate. Still…

“I’ve already forgotten them,” she declared before she could stop herself. A few giggles erupted from the children that were stifled almost as soon as they surfaced. “I shan’t need them, captain. Find me a dog or a cat or another animal and I’ll use a whistle if you wish but I will not use a whistle to summon your children and I won’t condone you using it to summon me, either. I have a name. As do the children. They have names. Lovely names for lovely little people. I should like to use them. So, thank you captain … but you can put that whistle where it belongs.” Her eyebrows lifted with suggestion.

“Perhaps the children and I should go and get better acquainted, hm?” Millie suggested tersely, scowling openly at the captain before moving forward to stand before them. “How does a walk in the gardens sound?”

A slow-forming and incredibly false smile found its way onto the captain's face. "Children?" He began, his tone far too sing-songy and subdued for them to take seriously. He could feel their shoulders tense even though his eyes never left Melissa Finnigan and her apparent disregard for his position as the leader of his household. "Go out to the terrace for a while."

No one moved. Keiran wasn't sure any of them even dared to breathe.

"Immediately."

The word, like all of the ones that were to follow it, was clipped and had a fairly dangerous edge to it. They scattered, taking off for the backyard before their father had a chance to glance their way and catch them out of line. Once he heard the door slam shut behind them, his eyes narrowed. Slow footsteps brought him closer to her even as his temper continued to rise and boil over.

"You will not speak to me in that manner in front of my children. Ever," he punctuated the word all the more by coming to a firm stop directly in front of her. He hadn't left enough room between them for either of them to really have their own space, but Keiran didn't care. He was glaring down at her and left no room for her to interrupt him. "You are under my employ, in my home, and I will not allow you to foster rebelliousness within my children. This country has far too much of that already and and it will not occur under my own nose. Do not give me cause to get rid of you, Fräulein. You will stick to the rules as are prescribed to you. You will address me properly, and you will behave with decorum. Indecorous outbursts will not be tolerated. Otherwise this might be your first - and last - night in my house."

His chest rose and fell harshly as he stepped back, eyes darker than usual as they regarded her with disdain and confusion. He wasn't sure that he had ever experienced a governess who was so thoroughly dreadful at following simple instructions. "It's a wonder you ever wanted to become a nun in the first place. It would appear that you haven't any respect for others or any care for their expectations of you."

Shaking his head, Keiran knew his disapproval was weighing down the air around him, and knew that the children were outside, waiting to see if the new woman had even made it past the first ten minutes. She had cut it very close, this one. But he felt he had gotten his point across loud and clear, now.

It was just then that Frau Hudson made her way out of the room Melissa would be staying in on the floor above them, having finished tidying up. Sensing the captain's aggressions, she descended slowly and as quietly as possible, but of course the captain noticed. He noticed everybody and everything, it was sometimes said.

"Go for your walk then," he demanded almost flippantly, turning on his heel and storming into his study. The door shut behind him firmly and Frau Hudson winced.

A few seconds after what the woman felt was probably stunned silence, she spoke. "He isn't always this charming," she offered in jest, her smile betraying her. "Handsome surely, but the charm fluctuates." After a moment, her expression softened into pure sympathy - but not for Melissa. "It's been hard for him, since his wife died. It's been three years but things seem to get worse rather than easier. The more the children act up, the more stern he becomes. It's an unfortunate cycle. I can't say I blame him entirely, though, given the circumstances of Theresa's passing. Sometimes I think he's trying to hold onto her, and other times trying to pretend she never existed."

She stopped herself, frowning deeply, before bending over to pick up Melissa's bags from the floor. "I should explain - I'm the housekeeper. I imagine he'll have mentioned me, so if you need anything, do let me know. However, it would be in your best interest to attend to the children. They're known to get up to... mischief around the governesses. Particularly when given time alone to plan."

Millie bit the inside of her cheek, stilling at the change in his voice. Her eyes flicked to her bags, settled contentedly on the rug, wondering if she should pick them up and leave to save him the trouble of telling her to. Swallowing, she moved her gaze to the stormy features of the captain and battled against the desire to look away, or to the floor, or to anywhere other than his face. She clenched her jaw and kept her eyes straight ahead, fixed on him.

She bore his reproach with grace that she had come to perfect. Trouble, it seemed, followed her wherever she went. She had learned to accept every lecture that was levelled at her – and they were regular occurrences, make no mistake. She knew that this was one that she should heed, however. She owed it to the reverend mother to do well in the captain’s household. Her future depended on it. His mentioning of it finally broke her resolve and she finally dropped her gaze.

She couldn’t bear to look up again and flinched when the door banged shut. Taking in a shaky breath, Millie brought a hand up and rubbed the back of her neck. He’d not fired her, she considered morosely, wondering if it would have been better if he had. She knew she couldn’t have gone back to the abbey if he had thrown her out. She would have had to have found a room in Salzburg and found work somewhere as a secretary. And who knows whether or not she would have been that lucky?

A woman’s voice shocked her out of her thoughts and her head snapped up. She absorbed the woman’s words and nodded. Her eyes flicked sorrowfully in the direction of the door that had closed so resolutely and she wished she could have knocked and apologised. She rolled her lip between her teeth and nodded, feeling as though the housekeeper had perhaps let too much slip to a complete stranger. She wrung her hands together gently before letting them drop to her sides.

“Perhaps I should go and check on them, then,” she considered quietly. “It was nice to meet you, Frau. I’m Fraülein Finnigan. Millie. Excuse me.”

Opening the door onto the terrace, she stepped out into the warm sunshine. The children were gathered, whispering amongst themselves – planning, she expected, as the housekeeper had said. Millie bit the inside of her cheek again before spreading her mouth into a bright smile for the children, hoping that she was covering the deflated feeling within her.

“How about we walk by the river?” She suggested, gesturing to the sparkling water that she could spot over the top of the carefully maintained hedges. “And perhaps you can introduce yourselves to me again?”

Liam and Kelly, of course, had been granted the wisdom of their years in order to come up with the most glorious and embarrassing of pranks. They had gotten three years of practice now, and although the younger kids were certainly as, if not more, conniving than the twins, they were the eldest and thus had to lead the way when it came to making plans against their governesses. After all, how else could they get their father's attention? Despite being retired from the navy, he always seemed so busy.

Lately, of course, things had been harder for the captain. His homeland was being invaded, and he was not naive enough to imagine that his military history would be ignored. The last thing he wanted, though, was to return to a ship - particularly one belonging to the enemy - now that he was all his children had left. That day would arrive, though, he feared. The day would come, his life would mean nothing if given away against his own country, and the children.... Well, they would be left on their own, and he would have to rely on the instinct that Liam would not let them fall apart.

By the time dinner rolled around, his head was still full of worry despite the undeniably delicious smell of their meal. The children, as expected, were on time and seated in their usual spots, which were more or less dictated by age. The new governess, however unsurprisingly, was late.

Keiran caught the looks his two eldest passed each other but said nothing, supposing that whatever they had gotten up to would make sense when the time came. Besides, they knew far better than to try any of their silly tricks on their father. He was just reaching for his napkin when he was stopped by Kelly.

"Father, aren't we supposed to wait until everyone is present?"

Keiran frowned, having meant himself and his wife and the children at the time of creating that rule. That obviously was no longer an option, house he wasn't sure he wanted to argue with her.

After a minute passed in silence, Cassandra glanced her father's way, checking to see how his temper was doing. She sometimes said that her father and his temper were entirely different entities from each other, and the latter was just better at showing itself. She hadn't truly seen her father in years. Now, he sat at the end of the table, hands clasped in front of him and a plain look of irritation on his face.

After five minutes, he asked the butler if she had given any word that she would be late. Their food was getting cold and he was going to be quite put out, in his words, if she did not hurry along. He had heard nothing. But, then again, neither had Melissa. After all, when the kids had mentioned dinner to her, the dining room had not been included in their description. No, they had informed their governess that her meals would be brought to her. And they hadn't been lying, entirely. Their father did expect family dinners. And her food was most certainly brought to her... plate.

A twinge of guilt hit Darcie's chest, but their father's anger had just about hit the point where he would no longer be able to stand it. And then the governess would tell him what happened, he would turn to them with a furious expression that Darcie always imagined held a bit of curiosity or pride behind it, and reprimand them. Surely a tactical man like him would understand how clever they were?

Just when Kelly was ready to give up on him, Captain Hayes took the bait. Slamming his napkin down on the table next to his place, he pushed his chair back and ignored the way it screeched against the flooring as he stood. As he left the room, small smiles lit the children's faces.

The captain stormed upstairs, gathering himself up to his full height when he stopped in front of her room. He knocked twice, loudly, as he glowered impatiently at the door.