Watching From Great Heights

The muffled sounds of many footsteps and voices echo within the large foyer, the sounds reverberate across the marbled tiles until they're dancing together. But these sounds are nothing but a small part of the symphony within the villa walls. A little girl sits at the top of the mezzanine that looks over the grand foyer below her. Her legs are poking through the bannister, her hands gripping tightly as she watches maids scurry across the hall, moving from one door to the next. Sometimes, two would come out at once, both their arms laden with flowers or candles, and they would twist past each other like dancers in a ballet. The scurried tapping of the maids' sensible shoes would be loud as they twirled across the foyer before they'd pause and talk to each other like small birds. The little girl watching them would hear a call from the housekeeper before their giggles were cut short and they were scurrying off again.

A smile pulls at her rosy lips as her ears hear the sound of a quartet practising a few notes of a waltz. The disjointed notes float up to her, and then they pick up a moment later, the music suddenly flowing together as the violins join the cello and the viola. A laugh rings out, joining in with the melody like a clear bell. The girl's smile grows, and she pushes her face up against the bannister to peer through the bars and look down.

A door opens - and she knows this is the door to the ballroom, and not because the music gets louder, but because that's where the laugh has come from, and she knows that sound better than any other. A woman steps out and twirls as she laughs again. The woman's hair is long and reminds the girl of the colour of the pages in the old books of her father's study. This woman is her mother, and the little girl watches as she extends a hand towards the open ballroom doors. A man walks out and takes her mother's hand, the girl smiles to herself as she watches her mother lead her father across the threshold towards a small vase full of fresh blooms. The woman grabs one small flower and brings it to her face, inhaling deeply before she offers it to her husband. The man chuckles, the sound floating up to the little girl as he takes the flower from her and places it behind his wife's ear.

The image fades and Brigitta blinks rapidly as tears begin to make her vision blur. It's a hazy memory, for she was so small back then. But she remembers it so clearly. She grips the bannister tightly and watches the scene below. There are still flowers on the side table, maids swiftly moving from door to door. And there is still the sound of the orchestra as they practise. But her mother is not there, and her father is not laughing. He's standing by the table with the small vase of flowers and Brigitta cannot make out his expression, but she can see the stiff way that he holds himself. Baroness Schraeder stands beside him, talking rapidly about something that Brigitta cannot hear clearly enough. She does not hold her father's hand, nor does she laugh. This woman reminds Brigitta of the statues in the terrace; they are made of marble and are so beautiful that they are almost frightening. They are not real and do not feel. They just watch with unfeeling eyes.

Her father still stares at the vase of flowers, not moving when the Baroness calls out to Frau Schmidt and follows the housekeeper, waving a piece of paper at the clearly frazzled woman.

Wiping her tears away, Brigitta goes to move, but she stops when a door opens and her governess walks across the foyer. Her steps are lighter than that of the Baroness, and Brigitta is reminded of her mother as she watches her governess float across the marbled floor towards the ballroom. The young lady does not notice the sea captain who has now turned away from the vase of flowers and is now watching the governess as she pokes her head into the ballroom.

The sound of Brigitta's father calling out to the governess startles the young woman, and Brigitta watches as she spins around, her dress floating around her and making her look like the little ballerina that sits atop her music box. The governess heads straight towards the man and begins talking to him. The stiff posture of before has now left the sea captain, and Brigitta notices that he stands a lot closer to the governess than how he did with the Baroness. The words he speaks to her are too softly spoken for Brigitta to understand, but his tone of voice is so different, she has not heard her father speak like that before, at least not for a long time. Something about it warms her heart and she desperately wishes she could listen to what he is saying.

But he must have said something amusing for her governess is laughing and Brigitta cannot help the smile on her face as she once again leans closer, trying her best to listen. Her father laughs too, the low sound so unfamiliar that it makes the tears come to her eyes once more. But the sound is lost as the orchestra becomes louder as they begin to practice another song, the melody echoing and making the bannister bars that Brigitta clings to vibrate. The governess gestures towards the vase of blooms on the table and she notices her father stiffen momentarily as she grabs one and smells it. There's a sigh of delight just barely audible and Brigitta watches transfixed as the governess offers the flower to her father to smell. His back is to her and Brigitta wishes she could see his face. For there is a lull, the governess just staring wide-eyed at Brigitta's father, the joy slowly ebbing away from her eyes at the lack of response from the man in front of her. The flower is still extended out, the small bloom hanging in the air before the sea captain reaches out and finally takes it. The governess smiles awkwardly and Brigitta hears her laugh again, though there is a nervous tone to it. How she wishes she could see her father's face for her governess is hardly ever so awkward or shy, and certainly not with the master of the house. Fingers are run nervously through the governess's hair as she watches Brigitta's father with a sort of fascinated look of bewilderment.

It's not something the Brigitta thinks too much on, for she's only young and doesn't fully understand the delicate play of emotions on the young woman's face. But she knows enough to recognise the faint blush in her governess's cheeks and the way her eyes are watching him. She nearly has her head forced between the bannisters as she strains to watch the scene below her. And she feels as if her own breath is caught in her chest when she watches her father put the flower behind the governess's ear with deliberate slowness. His hand hovers there, his fingers just barely touching the young lady's golden hair.

The governess seems transfixed but it only lasts a moment before a door bangs open and a few maids hurry past. His hand instantly drops and he takes a step back. The spell is broken now and Brigitta watches her father stiffly march away towards his study, the door shutting with a slam. Her governess is still standing there, staring at nothing, her cheeks all red and her mouth open. She reaches for the flower in her hair and pulls it out before she stares at it, a small smile on her face.

After a moment, the governess shakes her head and moves towards the staircase and Brigitta backs away hurriedly from the bannister. She moves quickly down the hall, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that decorates the family wing. She is through the door of the nursery, Liesl questioning where she has been but she just shrugs. A few moments later her governess comes through the door, Brigitta glances at her and watches as she twirls the flower absentmindedly between her fingers. A smile is still playing at her governess's lips and her cheeks are still flushed. None of her siblings seems to notice this or seem to notice the way the governess continually touches her hair, the same spot her father had been touching not moments before. But before Brigitta can think on it any longer, she is being ushered into the bathroom to get ready for the party and then lead downstairs to have dinner.

She won't say anything, not even to Liesl, but she will watch as she always has. Hoping that her governess will never leave for she has noticed this woman is the reason that her father is no longer like Baroness Schraeder, no longer like a marble statue.

Memories have gone
No past to build upon
But there's finer things to be rectified
So let's live and lose ourselves

We'll be watching from great heights
And we'll observe the things they hide

A/N Just a little quick thing I wrote a few weeks ago. Brigitta notices everything!

I was inspired by the song "Watching From Great Heights" by Sundara Karma