The Accidental Empress, page 29
Franz took a long, slow sip of wine before replacing the mug on the bedside table. Sighing, he looked at Sisi. “We have all this pressure from outside our borders. Prussia is jockeying to usurp our position as the most powerful Germanic state. Friedrich, the Prussian king, is babbling about unification.” Franz said the word with disgust. “Talking about uniting the Germanic peoples—in Bohemia, Saxony, even Bavaria—and forming a great power to rival ours.”
Sisi lowered her eyes but kept Franz’s hand in her own. Her husband, uncharacteristically, continued, and Sisi guessed that he must be very troubled indeed, if he was willing to discuss such matters.
“And then, bolstered by German insubordination, the Italians are now challenging our authority—asserting that they no longer wish to remain under our rule. And France, well, Louis-Napoleon is so unstable that the French are likely to pull us into a war any day now.”
Franz paused, reaching once more for his wine. “And Russia . . .” Franz sighed. “Well, Russia was once our closest ally, but the tsar is furious with me. I didn’t come to his aid in the Crimea against England and France. And now he despises me. You know what he is saying about me?”
Sisi shook her head. “What?”
Franz’s voice was bitter as he answered. “He says that I’m a man who can’t be trusted.”
Sisi saw now in stark clarity the pressures from which her husband had been shielding her. No wonder he had been so much shorter in his replies, so absent, so quick to become irritable. She took his empty wine mug from his hands and moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him.
“Oh, my poor Franz, my dear husband. The pressures of the world rest on these shoulders.” She held on to him.
“Mother tells me not to worry. We need no one, that’s what she always tells me. But . . .” He sighed again, rubbing his eyebrows slowly with his fingers. “But, you see, I cannot allow those within my borders to challenge me. Not when I face so many threats abroad. We must remain strong internally. A sick man cannot fight another if he himself is not in good health.”
“I understand.” Sisi nodded, still holding on to him. She thought about Andrássy, about his invitation to visit Budapest. And then she thought back to Possi. Remembered how much the people in the duchy had adored her family. Not because Duke Max was a particularly interested, or even competent, ruler. He was quite the opposite, in fact. Why did they love him? Because he mingled with them. He was approachable. They felt as if he knew them and their troubles.
“Perhaps you should go to Hungary, Franz.”
He looked at her now, his lips lilting downward in a frown.
“Think of what Andrássy said.” She slid closer to him in bed. “Perhaps you should accept their offer to engage in discussions. Perhaps there is a peaceful resolution possible?”
“Believe me, the last thing I want is to wage war on my own people. War will be avoided if at all possible. But peace might be just a foolish dream.”
“Dream no small dreams, for they have no power to move the hearts of men,” Sisi answered, quoting Goethe.
“I have no time for poetry, not when I must think of such things.”
Sisi sighed, remembering the time when Franz had hurried to find Goethe’s book because she had merely mentioned his name. She changed tactics. “Then think of your daughter, our little Sophie. We don’t want her growing up in a country at war.” Sisi leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck, and she felt his tense shoulders slacken ever so slightly.
Franz turned to her, sliding his head back so that it rested on his pillow. “Yes, let’s think of little Sophie. And happy things. Like Bad Ischl.” He began to run his fingers through her hair.
“It will be good to get away to Bad Ischl for the summer, won’t it, Franz?” Sisi reclined, leaning on her husband’s body.
“It will be.”
“Imagine riding up into the mountains, like we did two summers ago, when we first met.”
“You were such a shy, timid girl, Elisa.”
“I was not.” She cocked her head, smiling at him playfully.
“Yes, you were. Why, when I asked you to dance at the cotillion, you ran from me in tears.”
Sisi couldn’t help but smile, remembering that. How overwhelmed she had been by the trappings of the imperial court.
“And now, now look at you.”
“What does that mean, Franz?” Sisi propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him.
“Now you argue with me as if I weren’t the emperor.”
She smirked.
“It’s true. You no longer hesitate to speak up.”
“Well, I am your wife. And the mother to your little girl. I suppose I have earned the right to speak up a bit more, haven’t I?”
He reached for a loose curl from where it fell across her brow, wrapping it around his forefinger. “And your hair is darker than it used to be.”
“Is it?”
“Indeed,” he nodded. “It was golden, back then. Dark blond. Now it’s a rich brown. I love it.”
“I think little Sophie shall have your hair color, Franz.”
“I hope, for her sake, that she inherits everything of yours.”
“Speaking of little Sophie, Franz. Do you think there’s any chance your mother might be amenable to remaining in Vienna this summer so we can have a few months alone as a family?”
“Elisa!” Franz looked at her, unsure whether she was serious. She met his gaze directly.
“Elisabeth”—Franz sighed—“the suggestion alone would break her heart. You know how attached she is to Sophie.”
“So attached that she isn’t willing to spare any time away from the girl so that her own mother might hold her?”
“Elisa, I’ve just laid out the many countries that wish to fight with me. Must I fight with you, too? I beg you, whatever the conflict is with my mother, resolve it. You are both good, reasonable women. I pray, please, stop burdening me with this.”
Sisi choked down the words with which she longed to protest. Instead, she forced a tight smile and said, “Good night, Franz.”
“Good night, Elisa.”
But after several minutes, Franz sat up in bed. “I can’t sleep. Andrássy has me in a foul mood.”
Sisi squinted in the darkness, watching him fumble his way out of the covers. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know,” Franz said, sliding into his dressing robe, kicking his slippers onto his feet.
“Would you like me to come with you? We could take a walk?”
“No,” Franz said, turning back toward the bed, leaning forward to land a quick kiss on her brow. “You sleep.”
“Must I? I’ll come with you.”
He smiled. “No, no. Sleep. Please. That’s an order.”
But as he left the room, speaking quickly to the footman who waited, always, outside their door, Sisi heard his words. Unmistakable. Franz issuing his most customary, most natural of orders: “Rouse the ministers. Tell them I’m calling a meeting of the council. Oh, and tell my mother I’d like her there as well.”
X.
“Then how can it be said I am alone,
when all the world is here to look on me?”
—William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Sisi’s favorite play
Chapter Ten
SCHÖNBRUNN SUMMER PALACE, VIENNA
SPRING 1855
They moved shortly after the Easter feast, when Sophie decided that the court would quit the Hofburg Palace for the few warm months before their departure to Bad Ischl. Sisi welcomed the decision, preferring the summer palace with its tall windows, swan-filled ponds, and mazy, flower-strewn gardens to the cold stone walls of the Hofburg.
May waltzed into Vienna with longer days and balmy weather, soft and delicate as the new buds that peeked out on the tree boughs. Master Strauss told anyone who would listen that he was hard at work on a new waltz for the imperial pair. Sisi, relishing the return of pleasant weather, spent as much time as she could out of doors, riding through the sloping hills that held Vienna in a gentle, newly green embrace.
It was a bright morning shortly before their relocation to the summer villa at Bad Ischl. Sisi sat in her bedroom with Agata, arranging her travel wardrobe.
“It will be several months, so you will need to pack at least sixty pairs of slippers for me. Oh, what a silly rule, wearing a new pair each day,” Sisi grumbled, making a note to have Herr Lobkowitz order the shoes. “It was wasteful extravagances such as that which cost our poor cousins in France their heads.”
“And gloves, Your Imperial Majesty,” Agata said, eyes lowered.
“And gloves, as well.” Sisi sighed, looking at the maid. “Another foolish court custom. Having to wear those bothersome gloves at every meal. As if dirtying my hands is such a crime.”
The maid nodded but did not smile, as she usually would have. “I shall be sure to fetch your gloves, Empress.”
“You’re awfully quiet today, Agata.” Sisi glanced at the maid, handing her a light-yellow gown to pack. “Something on your mind?”
“Majesty.” The maid fidgeted, keeping her gaze downward. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you about something.”
“Yes?” Sisi smiled at the maid’s uncharacteristic shyness. “You know you can talk to me about anything, Agata.”
“I’ve been wanting to mention it for a while now.”
“Then tell me,” Sisi coaxed.
The maid stood quietly, fiddling with the trunk buckle and avoiding Sisi’s look.
“Come now, Aggie. It’s me.” Sisi leaned forward and broke protocol, placing a hand on top of her maid’s. “No need to be shy.”
“I was hoping to tell you about . . . a gentleman.”
Suddenly Agata’s bashfulness became clear. “I see.” Sisi crossed her arms, her head falling to the side. “Go on.”
“He’s Polish, like me. He works in the palace storerooms.”
“And what is this Polish storeroom worker’s name?”
“Feliks.” Agata’s round cheeks plumped into their wide smile as she spoke the name. “His name is Feliks.”
“Feliks.” Sisi repeated the name. “That’s a nice name.”
“Feliks has asked me to marry him,” Agata blurted out.
“He has?” Sisi felt guilty as soon as she’d said it—the shock in her voice had not been subtle. She’d just never imagined her maid carrying on with a man seriously enough to consider marriage. Come to think of it, she’d never imagined her maid doing much of anything outside of cleaning her rooms and tending to her needs.
This realization made Sisi feel embarrassingly foolish. And how selfish she had grown! Why wouldn’t Agata wish to marry? Agata, when not serving in Sisi’s suite, was the leading character in her own life. This woman before her had wishes, and hopes, and desires, just like any of the noblewomen in the palace. “Well, that’s wonderful, Aggie,” Sisi said, sitting up tall. “And would you like to marry Feliks?”
“Aye, Madame.” Again, that sheepish grin took hold of Agata’s features. “He asked me to dance after the Christmas supper. Since then, I’ve known he was sweet on me.”
“Well, this is joyous news, Agata.” Sisi smiled broadly. “I give you my wholehearted blessing—I wish you and Feliks nothing but the best. You will of course both remain at the palace, I hope?”
“Of course, Madame. This is my home.”
“Good.” Sisi startled her maid by taking her hand once more in her own and placing a kiss on it. “Because I don’t know how I’d survive without you. When would you and Feliks like to be married?”
“As soon as it would please Your Majesty to allow it,” Agata answered, her apple cheeks flushing involuntarily.
“Well, in that case, we shouldn’t keep the love-struck pair waiting. How about when we depart for Bad Ischl in a few weeks, you remain behind? You and Feliks may be married while we are away, and enjoy the summer for yourselves. I shall speak with Herr Lobkowitz to ensure that you are installed in a proper apartment fit for a married couple in this palace.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, you are too kind. Thank you!” Agata kissed Sisi’s hand. “But, an entire summer . . . away from you? Without work?”
“Consider it my wedding present to you.”
“Oh, thank you, Madame. Thank you!”
“There’s no need to thank me, Agata. I am just eager to see you happily married—you deserve nothing less.”
Agata was still beaming as she turned back to folding Sisi’s clothes. “I hope we’ll be as happy as you and the emperor are, my lady.”
“Indeed,” Sisi answered, not sure why the remark caused her heart to lurch, just for a moment, the way it did.
It was a joyous summer for Sisi. Arriving at Bad Ischl after the trying year she’d spent was like opening a window out over a warm afternoon and allowing sunshine to pour in, casting out dust and shadow.
The Kaiservilla felt familiar, even though the complex had been renovated and expanded. She and Franz occupied a large suite of rooms with tall windows, their view that of the Alpine peaks rising up behind a stretch of soft green fields. Away from the multitude of courtiers and without the stringent demands on her time, Sisi was largely free to dictate how she filled the long, sunlit days.
Sisi spent happy mornings walking the fields with little Sophie on her back, picking wildflowers and packing picnics to be enjoyed along the shores of the Traun River. Though little Sophie was still spending nights in a nursery attached to her grandmother’s bedroom, the less formal setting of Bad Ischl allowed Sisi to take her meals with her daughter, and she watched in delight as her daughter evolved each day—sometimes appearing with a new tooth, or a new lock of soft auburn hair, or even forming new sounds that Sisi hoped would soon turn into words.
Each afternoon, while little Sophie napped in the Kaiservilla, Sisi set off to explore the mountains atop Diamant, sometimes with Franz beside her. When they were able to shake the trail of the imperial guards, they sought out shaded coverts in the mountains, where they made love and napped and laughed about the funny new habits and quirks their daughter had displayed that morning at breakfast.
Sisi left Bad Ischl that autumn strong, happy, and pregnant.
“This time it will certainly be a boy!” Sophie predicted.
It was a frigid New Year’s Day, and Sisi had just returned from mass with the court. Prior to the holy services, Sisi had arranged to have the priest announce to the gathered crowds that they were to pray for their empress, expectant with Franz’s second child.
Franz had known, as well as Agata and Countess Marie, but Sophie had been as shocked by the announcement as the rest of the noble congregation. The look on her mother-in-law’s face had been precisely what Sisi had hoped to see—already the year was off to a promising start.
“But my dear, why did you keep this news from me for so long?” What Sophie truly meant, Sisi, knew, was how had she kept this news from her mother-in-law for so long? How had the archduchess’s spies, especially the ever-hovering, always-watching Countess Esterházy, failed to sniff out this most important piece of palace gossip?
It was a feat of which Sisi was truly proud, having concealed her condition for months. She had achieved it with the ingenious help of Agata and Countess Marie.
“There are ways . . .” Marie had suggested, when Sisi had first confided the news to her favorite lady-in-waiting, in addition to her improbable wish that it remain a secret for a while.
“The archduchess will know as soon as you pass your first month without your ordinary cycle. But we could trick her. There are ways.”
“What sort of ways, Marie?” Sisi asked, whispering. Paula and Karoline sat in the antechamber and very well might have had their ears pressed to the keyhole. Countess Esterházy was visiting Sophie for what Sisi referred to as “her daily report.” She had only a brief window in which to discuss this with Marie and Agata. “How can it be done?”
“I’ve heard of people using creative methods. Agata, have you not?” Marie looked at the maid.
“I have, my ladies.” Agata nodded. The maid was, herself, brimming with joyfulness lately, perpetually humming in her newly married state.
Marie continued. “There are ways to play tricks on the eye, I hear. Often used so as to convince someone of a bride’s maidenhead. But I don’t see why we can’t do it this time, as well.”
It seemed duplicitous and highly risky. But since it afforded her several months in which to celebrate the joyous news with just her husband—months without the prying and prodding of her overbearing mother-in-law—Sisi happily ordered her ladies to enact their plan.
How Marie and Agata had managed it, she had not asked. All Sisi knew was that Countess Esterházy and the maids who changed her bedlinens each morning had reported back for the past few months, as the dutiful spies they were, that the empress was most definitely not carrying Franz’s second child.
“Perhaps you don’t own as many palace spies as you think you do, Mother,” Sisi answered now in the sunny breakfast room following the New Year’s Day mass. “Care for more coffee?” Sisi took a slow sip of her warm drink, smiling over the top of her cup.
“Spies? Goodness, child, who do you think I am, the tsarina of Russia? I don’t have spies.”
“Fine, gossips. Whom you happen to reward with money and favors. Call them whatever you like.” Sisi shrugged, smiling at her husband, who sat opposite her.
“You would paint me as a monster.” Sophie turned her gaze on her son. “Franz, you let your wife assail your mother like this? When all I’ve ever done is help you both?”
“Mother, please. Elisabeth, darling.” Franz sighed, lifting a soft-boiled egg and depositing it into a small silver eggcup. “We’ve just come from mass where we prayed for our child. Can we behave in a civil manner?”
“Never mind. I shall endure Elisabeth’s abuse, since she is clearly not feeling well.” Sophie reached for a roll and sliced herself a glob of butter. “Though I must say, I’m surprised with you as well, Franzi. Why didn’t you tell your dear Mamma?”
