Sisi sat back, folding her hands before her on the table. She couldn’t help but smirk at that. Hadn’t she suggested this exact route, months ago, while her mother-in-law had continued to advocate aggressive measures?

  “Well”—she leaned her head to the side—“I am glad to hear it.”

  Franz nodded. “There is so much hostility abroad, with England and France pushing for a treaty with the Russians. And Prussia continues its threats. We are very much alone. Mother might say that we need no one, but we damned well need Hungary. And so I need to shore up Hungarian loyalty from within the empire.” Franz paused, as if reluctant to force out his next statement. “I’m going to Budapest to sit down with Andrássy.”

  Sisi let this news sink in. Budapest. It was to the east, she knew, along the Danube. But she knew little else.

  “How long shall you be in Budapest?” She imagined the summer stretching out before her—sweating in Schönbrunn, alone, while Franz was in Budapest. She couldn’t stand to be alone with Sophie in Laxenburg, not without Franz there as well.

  “Months, maybe more.” He reached for her hand across the table. “I shall stay as long as it takes to repair relations with the Hungarians. I cannot have them declare independence. Not now. Not while Prussia and France are threatening us with war.”

  “Months, maybe more.” Sisi repeated his equivocal reply. Her husband was leaving her for an indefinite period of time. As long as he was gone, she stood no chance of regaining control of her daughters.

  “I’m sorry, Elisa. It will be difficult, I know. But it will be even more difficult if you oppose me. Please, support me.”

  The vague outline of an idea began to take shape in her mind—at first as formless and fragile as a cloud. But as she examined it further, the idea gained strength and substance. She reached for it, greedily. Yes, she decided, she had her solution. Now the thought seemed so brilliant that she was hesitant to speak it aloud, for if Franz refused her, she did not know how she would bear it. But it was the only way. “Franz, take us to Hungary with you.”

  Now it was Franz’s turn to be speechless. “Elisa—” he began, but only shook his head. Overhead in the curved ledge of the archway, a bird trilled out a midday carol, mocking the emperor’s muteness.

  “Franz, hear me.” Sisi felt encouraged by the fact that it wasn’t a flat refusal. “You say this is a journey to repair a relationship. It sounds as though it will be perfectly cordial. Take us with you. The girls and me.”

  “Elisa, I’m not sure that you understand the nature of these . . .”

  But she had to seize on his surprise, had to further pierce this opening with the merits of her argument. “It will be wonderful for your image, Franz. Just think of it! The young emperor and his wife come to Hungary with their adorable little princesses.”

  “But you are still weak from the delivery, and besides . . .”

  “You will win the Hungarians over. Rather than thinking of you as a foreign conqueror, they will see you for the wonderful family man you are. The girls and I will do everything we can to win them over.”

  “But it wouldn’t be . . .”

  “Just think about it, it will be so good for us. And for your image. A family trip to Hungary, imagine it! I’ve never seen that part of our empire.”

  “But you are not thinking of the . . .”

  “The empress should visit her people, too, should she not?” Sisi flashed what she hoped was her most disarming smile. “Remember how they loved me in Salzburg and Bad Ischl? Perhaps I might win them over in Hungary as well.”

  “I suppose, but not in this capacity. I don’t think—”

  “Franz, you know how popular I am with the people. Allow me to help you. Please, I beg you, take us with you.” She clung to his hands, her husband looking at her hesitantly.

  Eventually, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Not this time.”

  “Franz, if you ever wanted to do anything to make me happy, do this.” The desperation was apparent in her voice now. “Please. I am begging you.”

  He let out a long, slow exhale, which Sisi did not know how to interpret.

  “Oh my love, how do you always manage to do this?” Franz cracked a feeble, acquiescing smile. “You really wish to come to Hungary with me?”

  Her heart seemed to momentarily suspend its beat. “If you agree that the girls can come, then yes, I really do, Franz.”

  “Very well,” Franz shrugged. “Hungary it is. To Hungary, with my wild, adventurous wife.”

  “Thank you!” She leaned forward and landed an assault of kisses on his stunned face.

  “Don’t thank me, Elisa. The journey will not be a comfortable one.”

  Sisi smiled. “You forget, Franz, I wasn’t always this coddled empress. The thought of a rough journey does nothing to scare me.”

  “Well, Mother would never consider coming,” he said, looking back at his plate, his appetite suddenly returned. “Never mind that she detests the Hungarians, and is angry with me for even going myself.”

  Sisi suppressed the laugh that threatened to burst forward from her lips. Instead, she leaned forward and put her hand on her husband’s. “I imagine I’m going to like the Hungarians quite a bit. When can we leave?”

  Sisi swept into her bedroom, panting.

  “Empress? Is everything all right?” The maid stiffened to attention.

  “Agata, everything is wonderful! We must pack at once. I’m leaving for Budapest.”

  Sisi was certain that whatever color had drained from her cheeks was back; whatever shine had gone out of her hazel eyes was surely alight once more. The thought of the trip to Budapest had renewed her hope. Just she and Franz and the girls going away together! The family as it was meant to be. And free not only from Sophie, but from Countess Esterházy, and her gossiping ladies, and the rest of the prying, rigid, lonely court.

  There was no time to order new clothing—no, she’d have to order her new dresses for herself and the girls in Budapest. Certainly Herr Lobkowitz could find her several talented seamstresses in Budapest. How darling the girls would look, as they sat in the carriage between their mamma and papa, waving out at the crowds of Hungarians as they rolled east along the shimmering Danube. They would win those reluctant Hungarians over, Sisi was certain of it.

  To manage and maintain her suite in Budapest’s castle she would take Agata. The maid would most likely be less than thrilled to leave her new husband behind, but it would only be a few months, and Sisi needed at least one servant whom she could trust.

  Marie would come as well. Not only was Marie a Hungarian by birth, and thus would prove invaluable in translating both Hungarian words and customs, but she had proven very conscientious in overseeing Sisi’s correspondence and administrative tasks. Plus the countess was eager to visit her homeland.

  Herr Lobkowitz would remain in Vienna to manage Sisi’s apartments in her absence—he would oversee her daily correspondences, responding to petitions on her behalf and keeping her abreast of news from court. And hopefully, he would prevent the snooping of bored maids, the fingering of the empress’s jewelry box by Karoline or Paula.

  Sophie was summoned, and she returned from Laxenburg with a pinched expression on her face. A barely audible line of complaints about a journey to Hungary being “too taxing for the little princesses.” About Sisi’s unsuitability to have the little girls to herself.

  Sisi had been able to hold little Gisela—a sweet little bundle of pink flesh, staring back at her with her mother’s honey-colored eyes—when she had first arrived back at Schönbrunn, but Sophie had been miserly with the girls’ time since. There was always an excuse, and they were never to be found when Sisi sought them out in Sophie’s apartments. The archduchess took them for carriage rides; she brought them to church; she arranged private meetings with the court physician. Imperial guards were perpetually outside Sophie’s doors, so that each time Sisi tried to visit, she was sent away before she could knock on the always closed doors. Many times she was told that “the archduchess and the princesses were sleeping,” even as she heard little Sophie’s giggles within.

  The separation was torturous, but somehow palliated by the fact that Sisi knew it would soon be over. It was not worth waging a war, or risking Franz’s anger, when she had won the ultimate victory. She and the girls would be departing court with Franz, and that knowledge bolstered Sisi’s spirits as the days grew shorter and cooler weather nudged aside the final days of summer.

  Sisi found her bedchamber empty when she returned one afternoon, a few weeks later, following a solitary ride through the woods outside of Vienna.

  “Agata?” The maid, the mainstay of her royal bedchamber, did not answer when Sisi called. She tugged at the bellpull. “Agata?”

  Probably off on a midday dalliance with her husband, Sisi thought with a chuckle. Let the maid have her fun.

  The room had been tidied and fragrant flowers, clipped from the imperial hothouses, burst forth from the vases. The bedding was freshly changed, and a lemon-colored tea gown waited atop Sisi’s bed, ready for her afternoon wardrobe change. Beside the gown sat a letter.

  Sisi reached for the letter, remembering in that moment that she owed a note back to her cousin Ludwig, and another for Helene. Even the mundane tasks of sending and receiving mail somehow seemed so much more enjoyable, now that she knew she would be leaving for Budapest so soon.

  Sisi turned her attention back to the note in her hands, unfolding the paper as she studied the unfamiliar penmanship. The note had been delivered unsigned. Intrigued, Sisi began to read.

  “The natural destiny of a Queen is to give an heir to the throne. If the Queen is so fortunate as to provide the State with a Crown Prince this should be the end of her ambition—she should by no means meddle with the government of an empire, the care of which is not a task for women . . .”

  Sisi’s hand trembled as she digested the words, causing the letter to quiver in her grip. Still, she forced herself to read on:

  “If the Queen bears no sons, she is merely a foreigner in the State, and a very dangerous foreigner, too. For as she can never hope to be looked on kindly here, and must always expect to be sent back whence she came, so will she always seek to win the King by other than natural means; she will struggle for position and power by intrigue and the sowing of discord, to the mischief of the King, the nation, and the empire.”

  Just as Sisi finished this letter, Agata entered the room, humming a merry tune. “Good afternoon, Empress Elisabeth. Didn’t realize you had come back so soon.”

  “Agata.” Sisi’s voice was unsteady as she turned toward the maid. “Who delivered this letter?”

  The maid looked at the paper, confused. “I’m not sure, Madame. I’ve been in the . . . kitchens.” Agata was lying, and this further enraged Sisi.

  “You didn’t see who placed this letter on my bed?”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty, I did not.”

  “Agata, you are not to leave my room unattended in the middle of the day ever again.” Sisi walked toward the maid, still clutching the letter in her grip. “I need you, don’t you understand? You are commanded to attend to my rooms at all times, not to go meeting that husband of yours.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  Sisi noticed the wounded look on Agata’s face, and she felt a moment of guilt. But she did not have the time to care. Her mind was racing.

  “Where is Herr Lobkowitz?”

  “He went to make inquiries about the Hungarian fabrics, like you requested.”

  “Fetch him, now.”

  “Right away, Majesty.”

  Herr Lobkowitz arrived, and he, too, swore ignorance of the letter’s delivery and authorship. As did Marie, Paula, Karoline, and Countess Esterházy. But Sisi had already guessed from where it came; there was only one answer.

  “I need to see the archduchess.” Sisi was stopped outside Sophie’s apartments, a guard, stiff in posture and his starched wool uniform, preventing her entry.

  “The archduchess is resting at the moment with the imperial princesses, Your Grace.” The guard said it with infuriating formality. Did he not know that those little princesses were her two daughters?

  “I’ll wait, then.” Sisi glowered at the man, taking a seat in one of the antechamber’s creaky wooden chairs.

  After several moments the muffled sound of Sophie’s voice, doled out in tender, soft coos, slipped through the cracks of the bedroom door. Sisi rose from her chair, her blood roiling. “She is awake.”

  “Our orders are not to disturb the archduchess and the princesses, Your Grace.” The guard’s tone was matter-of-fact, his face maintaining a mask of well-conditioned indifference. It only further infuriated Sisi.

  “This is ridiculous. I am the empress and I demand to see my mother-in-law.”

  But the guard stood rooted in place, impassive. “Majesty, I’ve been ordered that she wishes to have no visitors this afternoon while she sleeps.”

  “She is awake! I can hear her within the chamber!”

  Now the guard shifted his weight, and Sisi sensed his resolve cracking, ever so slightly. He was there to follow orders, not to negotiate a feud in the imperial family.

  “Step aside. Please.”

  “But . . . my orders are my orders, Majesty.”

  “Well, my orders override hers.” Sisi threw her shoulders back, standing to her full height. “The empress counterorders you to disregard the orders of the archduchess. If Sophie punishes you for allowing me in, you shall have an immediate replacement post at my chambers. Or better yet, the emperor’s. Now let me pass.” Sisi did not wait for the guard’s agreement, but rather slid past him and opened the door.

  The scene she walked into was enough to cause her knees to crumble beneath her. Sophie was not sleeping. Neither were the girls. The baby, dressed in a crisp white gown, had been sprawled out on a soft pink blanket on the floor. Little Sophie sat beside her sister, playing with a baby doll, while the archduchess reclined, instructing little Sophie on the best way to brush the baby doll’s blond hair. It was a tender moment, a beautiful moment, but Sisi should have been in it—it was she who should have been playing the role of mother.

  The pain Sisi felt only solidified her resolve, so that any deference she might have displayed to her mother-in-law now hardened into a bitter iron in her gut. From the corner of the room, Sophie’s small dog looked up from his plush pillow, growling as Sisi approached.

  “Sophie, please have the nurse remove my girls. They are to be taken to my apartment.”

  “Elisabeth! This is a surprise.” Sophie looked up from the floor, struggling to hoist her thickening midsection to a seated position. “I ordered that no visitors were to be admitted.”

  “Mamma!” Little Sophie smiled up at Sisi, reaching her pudgy hands forward.

  “Hello, my darling.” Sisi reached down and lifted the little girl, planting two long kisses on each round cheek.

  “My baby.” Little Sophie held forth her doll, proud.

  “She is a lovely baby, Sophie,” Sisi answered, brushing an auburn curl behind her daughter’s ear.

  Sisi wept inwardly as she handed the toddler to the nurse. “Please take her out while I speak with the archduchess.”

  “No!” little Sophie protested, trying to wriggle free from the nurse. “Grandmamma, come with me.” Little Sophie threw Sisi a wounded look, stunned by her mother’s betrayal, before reaching for her grandmother. The evidence of the little girl’s preference stung Sisi like an arrow.

  “I shall be right there, my little pet.” Sophie rose from the floor, allowing a second nurse to remove Gisela as well. When the two women were left alone, Sophie allowed the feigned smile to slip from her face. “Well, this is something new, Elisabeth—do you think it is appropriate to burst into my apartments and start ordering my servants around?”

  “They are all Franz’s servants, I believe.”

  “You’ve upset the children. What is it, Elisabeth?” Sophie stood just inches from her now, her light eyes meeting Sisi’s furious stare in an expression of cool defiance.

  “Would you please explain this, Sophie?” Sisi raised the letter in her hand.

  Sophie stood, unfazed, as she stared at the paper in Sisi’s hand. “I have no idea who wrote that letter, Elisabeth.”

  “I didn’t tell you it was a letter.”

  Sophie looked up, her eyes betraying a fleeting hint of fear, but she did not speak.

  “I suspect that you know precisely what it is, Sophie. And that you wrote it.”

  “Believe whatever you want.” Sophie turned and walked toward a large rosewood desk, for which she pulled a key from her skirt pocket. “I learned a long time ago not to waste my breath trying to sway you. You are as wild and obstinate as a mule. Just like your father always was.”

  Sisi followed her mother-in-law toward the desk, teeth clenched as she fought to keep her voice composed. “Sophie, how dare you threaten me with a letter of this nature?”

  Sophie unlocked and reached into a desk drawer to retrieve a pair of spectacles, which she now slid onto her nose. “May I?” Sophie pointed toward the letter.

  Sisi placed it into her mother-in-law’s thick, ringed fingers. Sophie read the words slowly, as if seeing them for the first time. After several minutes, she lowered the page.

  “As I said, I did not pen this note. But nothing in it is threatening, unless you see the truth as threatening.”

  “It threatens to exile me from court if I discuss foreign policy with my husband.”

  “There are people in this court, Elisabeth, who find it highly inappropriate that you are attempting to meddle in the relations with Hungary. That you have demanded that you be allowed to join him in Budapest.”

  “Doesn’t the emperor dictate, Sophie? Isn’t that . . . custom?”

  “Of course, but don’t think for a moment that I . . . that people . . . don’t see how you attempt to sway him with—”

  “Then, as long as my husband approves of my joining him, I care not what anyone thinks. You have no right to threaten me like this. How do you think Franz would feel if he read this?”

 

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