The Accidental Empress, page 22
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Agata approached the bed, her voice meek. “I wanted to tell you. Really, I did. But I never got a chance alone in the bedchamber with you. Not without that . . . woman . . . in here with us.”
Sisi turned and looked at the maid. “Oh Agata, you know how I loved those slippers! I wore them all over Possi.”
“I know,” Agata said, her own eyes welling with tears.
“And all because of some silly rule. Who cares how many times I wear my slippers?”
“I know, Your Majesty.” Agata reached forward, breaking protocol as she took Sisi’s hand in her own. She sat herself on the edge of the bed. “But you mustn’t allow yourself to get this upset.”
“Oh, but it makes me so terribly homesick.” Sisi wept, squeezing the maid’s hand.
“Of course, Sis—Empress. But please, try not to weep like this. It can’t be good. Not in your condition.”
Sisi looked at the maid directly now, her tears momentarily halted. She wiped her cheeks.
The maid’s face had flushed a deep burgundy. “Your Grace, surely you have noticed . . . ?” Agata paused.
“Noticed what?” Sisi leaned forward.
“Your Grace.” Agata lowered her eyes. “You didn’t bleed this month.”
Sisi paused, thinking about this. When had she experienced her last monthly courses? Now that she asked herself, she realized that she did not remember. She had been so preoccupied since her arrival in Vienna that this fact had completely slipped by unnoticed.
“You’re right, Agata.” Sisi frowned, puzzled.
Agata’s lips spread into a smile, her round cheeks like two red apples. “Madame, you’re carrying a baby.”
“A baby?” Sisi gasped, her hand rising to her opened mouth. “But we only just got married.” Surely she and Franz had been performing the marital act with regularity since the wedding. And she had noticed that her breasts had felt tender, a fact that she had attributed to the painfully constricting corset. But pregnant, so soon? The thought shocked her. And yet, she could not deny that it also filled her with delight.
“A baby?” Sisi said it again, as if to confirm her condition. “Agata, I’m pregnant . . . I’m going to have Franz’s heir!” Sisi leaned forward, pulling Agata into a hug. They both laughed, tossing aside any concern for protocol.
“A baby.” Sisi said it again, nodding. She placed a hand over her flat stomach, where the baby had not yet betrayed any sign of its existence. But somewhere inside there grew Franz’s child. Perhaps a boy, the next emperor of Austria.
“Oh Agata, I am so happy. Forget the slippers. Forget the letters I must write to England and Bohemia and Prussia. I must write Mamma and Helene at once!” She hopped up from the bed and ran to her desk, overjoyed at the news she’d now be able to share with her family back in Bavaria. Perhaps Mamma would even return to court to help Sisi with the confinement and the labor.
Standing over her desk, Sisi quickly scrawled: “Dearest Mamma, I am thrilled that you shall be the first to know—”
And then a thought struck Sisi, and she paused her writing. “Agata?”
“Yes, Empress?”
“Agata, how did you know that I . . . well, that I was expecting a child?”
Agata’s facial expression confirmed Sisi’s sense of dread.
“Does she . . . do others know?”
The maid’s shoulders sagged. “Empress, I’m so sorry.” The maid looked stricken. “It was Countess Esterházy. She came in, snooping around each morning, after you’d gone to breakfast. I told her not to concern herself with the bedding. That it was my job, as chambermaid. But she always found a way to be in here. Always talked about something she had to do . . . court procedure.”
“So she’s been checking my sheets?” Sisi clenched her teeth, attempting to remain calm. Forcing her pulse to slow its rapid pace. “It’s not your fault, Aggie. I should have expected as much.” She took the note in front of her and tore it up, her hand rending the paper apart in two swift, angry motions. She refused to let this upset her; not when she had so much about which to be joyous. “Change of plans, now.”
Sisi scrawled a quick note, which she handed to her maid. “See to it that this is delivered to the emperor. He may meet me in the imperial chapel. I shall go there directly to pray for my baby. Tell him to come at once.”
“Yes, Empress.”
Sisi grabbed her rosary beads and her devotional book and swept from her bedroom, pausing to examine herself in the mirror first. She forced herself to smile. She looked tired, yes. But whether it was her imagination, she did believe that there was a glow to her cheeks, a new warmth in her honey-colored eyes. She was to have Franz’s baby! Surely this would bring them close in the way that she had craved. Surely he would be happy with his choice of bride, seeing how quickly she had conceived. Forget all the snooping ladies—this was something she and Franz would share together. She clasped her hands and giggled, sending up a private prayer of gratitude for such blessed news.
In the antechamber sat her ladies-in-waiting, their forgotten embroidery projects languishing in their laps. Several guards stood nearby and Sisi found the group engaged in the usual palace activities of gossiping and flirting.
The Countesses Esterházy, Paula, and Marie all stood to attention upon Sisi’s entrance. Karoline of Lamberg remained seated, whispering to a nearby guard: “I would never take a Russian for a lover—the stench of vodka makes me ill.”
“Well, then, lucky for me I never drink the stuff,” the guard answered Karoline.
Countess Esterházy cleared her throat and the two of them ceased their banter as the guard stiffened to attention.
“Your Majesty,” Countess Esterházy said, and all four ladies lowered their eyes, curtsying with well-rehearsed—if not entirely authentic—submissiveness.
Sisi folded, then unfolded her hands, assuming an artificial air of imperiousness. “Ladies, I am off to the Habsburg Chapel. We shall go pray for—His Majesty the Emperor.”
Karoline of Lamberg, a gossipy brunette, and Paula of Bellegarde, the ash-blond waif who stood beside her, exchanged an insinuating glance. Countess Esterházy, who was so much older than these women that she could have been their mother, flickered a knowing grin. Only Marie Festetics, the Hungarian countess, kept her pale eyes discreetly down on the floor, and Sisi made a mental note that perhaps Marie was the one lady whom she could trust among her attendants.
“As you wish, my lady.” Karoline nodded with a sugary grin. “And how is Her Majesty feeling this morning?”
Sisi’s heart dropped; Countess Esterházy must have told them. All of her ladies-in-waiting knew she was carrying Franz’s child. Which meant these guards surely did as well. And Agata had plainly told her that the servants’ quarters were abuzz with the news. Was nothing to be private? Would she and her husband be the last two people in the palace to know their own personal affairs?
Sisi clutched the folds of her skirt in a tight grip, maintaining her composure as she said: “Let us go.” She led the ladies through the palace to the nearby church, her own assembly of imperial guards trailing them closely.
The quiet, stony chapel was cooler than the warm day outdoors. The space was empty, reserved for members of the royal family. The domed room was marble and bright, the walls painted with scenes from the lives of the saints, as well as subtle reminders of the Habsburg family’s magnanimity—and power. Inside, the scent of burning incense struck Sisi as more potent than usual, even repugnant, and Sisi remembered her mother’s confession that pregnancy heightens a woman’s sensitivity to smells.
Sisi dipped her fingers in the basin of holy water and crossed herself, kneeling on the creaky, velvet-covered pew before the altar. Clutching her rosary beads to her lips, she kissed the cross and began to give thanks for the baby she carried. From the main nave of the church came the muffled sounds of the organist practicing for the midday mass, and the music lulled Sisi into a tranquil, pleasant vigil. Oh, how her life would change once she had given birth to the heir of the Habsburg line! How had she been so lucky to conceive so quickly? She, who had been warned by her aunt so many times about the disasters of barrenness?
The whispers that issued from the pew behind her soon distracted Sisi’s prayers, and she turned her head to throw a barbed look at Karoline and Paula. They bowed their heads and returned to silence. But within moments, they were giggling again.
“Ladies.” Sisi turned, attempting but failing to mask her irritation. “If you won’t pray, then I ask that you take this pouch and go give alms to the beggars outside the gates. You are distracting me.”
“We’ll pray, Your Majesty.” Karoline lowered her head in exaggerated contrition.
“Sorry, Your Grace.” Paula followed Karoline’s example. Sisi exchanged a knowing glance with Marie, who seemed as put off by her companions’ behavior as Sisi was.
“Elisabeth!” Another voice soon distracted her, this one a familiar and welcome sound. Franz burst through a side door into the chapel, the pounding of his military boots reverberating off the cold stone walls.
“Elisabeth, I came as soon as I saw your note! Is it true?” Franz was panting as he ran toward her, and she rose to meet him.
“Your Majesty.” Sisi bowed before him, as she had been taught to do when greeting her husband in public.
“Oh, you are not alone.” Franz paused, spotting the four attendants in the pews behind Sisi. “Countesses.” Franz greeted them each with a polite smile. Karoline and Paula tittered behind Sisi’s shoulder.
“Your Majesty.” The four ladies bowed in unison behind their queen. Sisi turned just in time to note the meaningful look that passed from Karoline to Paula. Their familiarity struck Sisi once more as entirely inappropriate: the way they stared directly into her husband’s eyes, flashed furtive grins back and forth between one another, looks they assumed Sisi didn’t notice.
Franz turned to his wife, pulling her attention back to himself. “Oh, Elisabeth, I don’t care who hears. Is it true?” He placed the palm of his hand on his wife’s stomach, his eyes holding Sisi’s with unchecked hope.
“It’s true.” Sisi rested her hand atop his. All she could feel at this point was the boning of the corset beneath layers of fabric. But she leaned forward to whisper: “We will have a baby.”
Franz let loose a whoop that seemed more fitting for a battlefield than a quiet chapel. Sisi could not help but laugh at his delight. Without warning, he leaned forward and scooped up his wife, spinning her in a circle through the chapel. “A baby! An heir!”
Now Sisi feared that not only did her ladies hear this news, but that anyone gathered in the main nave of the church would hear, too. “Franz,” she chided him, but her tone was indulgent, even tender. “Franz, put me down.”
“That didn’t take us long, did it? Good God! I sure picked the right wife, didn’t I?” Franz turned to the threshold of the chapel, and Sisi immediately turned several shades of crimson when she noticed for the first time that Count Grünne and her husband’s guards stood by, witnesses to the entire scene.
“Franz, please.” Sisi lowered her gaze.
“I will not be shy about this!” Franz crowed, placing a long, unabashed kiss on Sisi’s lips. Though the display was immodest, even more so considering they were in a church, Sisi did not entirely mind her husband’s very public affection. Good, she thought. Let those gossips see how enamored my husband is. Maybe they will show me a bit more respect when they see how the emperor dotes upon their empress. Perhaps Countess Esterházy can tattle to the archduchess about this.
But now it was Franz who pulled away suddenly, as another crowd swept into the small space.
“I came as soon as I could!” Sophie swished into the chapel, accompanied by the Russian ambassador, Pyotr Meyendorff, as well as the minister Baron von Bach, and several liveried footmen. “I would have come sooner, as soon as I heard.” Sophie panted. “But Meyendorff was giving me and Bach the latest report from Petersburg. And then I wasn’t sure where to find you. Never mind, I’m here now. I heard the news!”
“You’ve heard about Elisabeth, Mother?” Franz asked, a smile spreading across his face. “Isn’t it wonderful news?”
“Wonderful indeed!” Sophie clasped ringed fingers together, smiling at her son. “Well done, Franzi. You’ve done your duty. And you, too.” Sophie looked at her niece. “You played a role in this as well, of course.”
“How kind of you, Aunt,” Sisi answered with a tight smile, repressing the desire to scowl.
“How long have you been . . . well, when do you think it happened?” Sophie asked, feigning ignorance, though Sisi knew very well that her aunt had been examining her bedsheets and no doubt already knew the answer.
“It has been only a month at most,” Sisi answered, playing along as much for Franz’s sake as her own; Sisi would not reveal to Sophie just how much she knew of her schemes.
“Then you are still very early on. And at very high risk. You cannot be too careful. Franz, we must take very good care of your empress.”
“Indeed.” Franz wrapped his arms around Sisi’s waist and kissed her neck.
“Franz Joseph!” Sophie gasped. “Need I remind you that we are in public, and in a house of God? And that such behavior is entirely inappropriate?”
“Sorry.” Franz dropped his arms, allowing them to fall limp as he backed away from his wife.
Sophie pursed her lips together, eyeing her son and his wife. “Anyhow, Franzi, I hate to divert your attention from such a joyous moment, but we’ve received a response from the tsar, as well as the reply we were awaiting from Hungary.”
“And?” Franz asked, his interest suddenly pulled from his wife. “Who sent the reply from Hungary?”
“Count Andrássy.” The way Sophie said the name made it plain to Sisi that this Count Andrássy, whoever he was, was not a popular figure in Vienna’s imperial court.
“And what did our dear friend Julius Andrássy have to say? Was he reasonable?” Franz asked.
“Julius Andrássy’s reply was as unreasonable as Julius Andrássy is himself,” Sophie answered, shaking her head.
“In other words, no,” Franz said.
Sophie nodded. “I’ve had a chance to discuss these recent developments with Meyendorff and Bach this morning.”
“Who is Julius Andrássy?” Sisi asked.
Both Sophie and Franz turned their gazes on her, as if, for a moment, they had forgotten her presence.
“He’s, uh”—Franz looked from his mother to his wife, as if distracted by her question—“Andrássy is a Hungarian.”
“Never mind, Elisabeth.” Sophie stepped between them. “But Franz, you should come back to the council with us now and we’ll discuss next steps. That is”—and now Sophie turned her eyes on Sisi—“that is, of course, unless you are not yet finished here?”
“Yes, we are quite finished. Of course, let’s convene the ministers and discuss the Hungarian question immediately.” Franz took Sisi’s hand in his, kissing it quickly. “I shall see you later, my love?” And with that, he left her side.
“I don’t know, shall you?” Sisi watched him go, her heart dropping as her husband cocked his head to listen to the hurried whispers of his mother, his face attentive to the report she gave. While she, Sisi, stood still in the chapel, silent once more, with her ladies looking on.
Sisi turned toward them, clearing her throat as she assumed an authoritative tone: “We shall continue with our prayers.”
Sisi knelt down once more before the altar and closed her eyes, but her mind was no longer focused on the divine. What was the feeling she had been left with, as she’d watched Franz and Sophie speed away, their heads bowed toward one another?
Perhaps it was jealousy; how could she not wrestle with jealousy, when there were so many sides of Franz that he did not allow her to know, but seemed willing to share with his mother and ministers?
But no, in that moment, Sisi felt something gnawing at her that was more potent than jealousy. What she felt was loneliness: the cold, hard realization that, even when she was surrounded by people, she was entirely alone.
Whatever disappointment Sisi had felt after the day’s earlier meeting in the chapel, Franz more than made up for it that night when he joined Sisi in their bedroom.
They had made love, tenderly and slowly, with Franz reminding Sisi of his attachment to her with each gentle kiss. The others might be privy to his political affairs and military concerns, but only she joined him in this most intimate of moments. Only she inspired the rapturous joy that he experienced with her each night; he was here with her now, his heartbeat and his body testifying to the fact that he was hers, and she clung to him jealously.
“I love you, Elisa,” he whispered into her ear, sounding as if he might cry.
“And I love you, Franz.” She ran her fingertips along the soft skin of his neck, lingering on the scar left by the would-be assassin’s blade.
“Do you think there is another emperor in all of Europe who loves his queen as I love you?” Franz looked at her now, his eyes at ease.
“Surely it’s not possible.” She smiled at him, her hair falling in her face as he swept it gently aside.
“Do you know how I adore you, Elisa?”
She closed her eyes, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Perhaps not as much as I love you.” Even as she said them, the words hurt, because she was paralyzed by the fear that they might be true. But Franz laughed them off.
“That is something you never need worry about, my darling.”
“Really?” She heard the desperation in her own voice as she asked it. She wanted to ask more: Then why do I feel like you are so far away? Why will you speak to me about nothing you do? Why do you allow others between us? Why must I wait all day to see you?
Before she could say these questions out loud, these worries so close to her heart that they threatened to strangle her, he spoke. His voice had a sound of finality to it. “Let’s have champagne. I think we must celebrate.” He rang the bell on the bedside table. The footman, dressed in the thick woolen livery even in the heat of summer, appeared, taking the order. Several minutes later he was back, delivering a chilled bottle and two flutes.
