The Accidental Empress, page 51
The emperor’s bedchamber was lit. Franz was awake and drinking wine, perhaps to settle his nerves before tomorrow’s momentous event.
“Elisa?” He was surprised to see her enter, ushered in by the guard. Franz smiled a bashful smile, his lips stained purple from wine.
“I need to speak with you. May I join you?” Her tone made it perfectly clear: she did not have the same intention for this late-night visit as she had had the last time she had surprised him by knocking on his door. Franz sensed that and sat back down, gesturing for her to take the seat opposite him.
“Of course, please sit. Can I offer you some wine?”
“Please.”
Franz poured them each a full cup. He nodded at the guard, dismissing him. It was the first time they had been alone, Sisi noted, since the night they had conceived the baby growing inside her.
“Tomorrow has arrived, at last.” Franz stared at her over his cup.
“Indeed.”
Perhaps noticing the way she squeezed the folds of her gown in her fingers, Franz asked, “Is everything all right?”
She did not know how one approached such a conversation with one’s husband. She had not exactly prepared for this. And yet, hadn’t she been prepared for it for many years? She summoned the courage and began, her tone bold. “Franz, you know how much I loved you when we married. Don’t you?”
Franz pursed his lips, pausing a moment. Emotions had never been his preferred topic. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“I adored you, Franz. I wanted nothing more than to be a loving wife. And empress. And then mother.”
Franz nodded.
“So quick bright things come to confusion.”
Franz arched an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“It’s a line . . . of poetry,” Sisi explained. “Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“The one with the donkey?”
“Yes, the one you hated at the Court Theater. Oh, never mind.”
“What is it, Elisa? I’m sure you didn’t come here tonight to quote poetry.”
“Franz.” She took another sip of her wine, pausing to pull her wild thoughts together. “I don’t know whether our marriage went wrong because we allowed . . . other people . . . to come between us.” She placed her wine cup down on the table between them, lowering her eyes. She did not mean it to be an accusation—another argument over a mistress or her mother-in-law. She simply meant to state the facts. “Or whether it was us. That we, at some point, allowed ourselves to grow apart.” She paused, her heart hammering against her rib cage. This was the most candid conversation she had ever attempted to have with her husband. Franz seemed willing to let her continue, so she did.
“You seem fine, Franz. You’ve always seemed fine, somehow. You seem to have negotiated some sort of peace. Away from our marriage.” Now she looked up and saw that he wished to speak.
“Elisa, I am not the one who left, for years.”
She nodded. It was true.
“And I have invited you back into our marriage several times.”
“I know you have, Franz.”
“I still love you.” He said it as if it were the most simple fact in the world.
“And I still love you, Franz, I do. A part of me will always love you.” She sighed. “But there’s only so many times that a girl can allow her heart to be crushed by the same man before that love . . . changes.”
Franz looked down at his hands, which he now folded on the table between them. “You have no idea, the demands I’ve had on me.”
“Because you wouldn’t share them with me.”
“And you weren’t always . . . present. I had to find comfort where I could—sometimes in other places.”
Sisi cocked her head. “But you were not ever mine, not entirely mine, to begin with.”
Franz nodded. He knew it was more than just the other women. He had chosen his mother, and his ministers, and his courtiers, on many occasions.
“But I do not mean to say that it was entirely your fault, Franz. It wasn’t. I made the decision, at a certain point, to leave the marriage, as well. In my own way.”
Franz nodded, his fingers absentmindedly stroking his beard.
“Franz, I am going to have a baby.”
Franz lifted his eyes to her now, two wide circles of light blue.
Sisi nodded, but Franz shook his head, as if warding off a fog. “A baby?”
“Yes.”
“Is it . . . ?”
“It’s yours, of course. There has been no other man. Ever.”
“Really?” Franz, his head falling to one side, seemed genuinely surprised to hear that. “Never?”
“No.”
“Not even during all those trips?”
She shook her head. “No one but you.”
He seemed stunned. Incredulous even. “Well, I am speechless,” he stammered. “It’s surprising news. But wonderful all the same. A baby.”
“Franz, I come to you with a request. It’s not a typical request, I would grant that. But then, not much of our marriage has been typical.”
“What is it?” He looked at her, his eyebrows knitting toward one another.
Here came the difficult part, and Sisi forced herself to proceed. “I must leave you, for a time. I beg you, Franz, that if our child is a girl, that you will allow me to raise our child in Hungary. At least for a few years. I must have this child away from the Viennese court. And we are, after all, official royalty here now.” She pressed on, ignoring Franz’s incredulous expression. “If the child is a boy, then I know that you will never allow it. A prince would be in the direct line of succession and must be raised within the imperial court, I know. But if it’s a girl . . .” Her voice trailed off, the longing apparent in her tone.
“Franz, if it’s a girl, I wish to raise her myself. To be a mother, at last, to my own child. Away from court, away from your . . .” She did not need to finish that thought. “I long to have one child who loves me and thinks of me as a mamma. I long to have one child on whom I can pour out all of the stolen and denied love that I’ve felt three times over.”
Franz drained his wine cup, thinking about this. It seemed an interminable pause, and Sisi felt that her heart might shatter her insides. But then Franz looked up, nodding.
“Fine,” he whispered.
Sisi clutched the table with white fingers. “You know that means—away from Vienna. It means, I will stay here.”
He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “I know, Elisabeth. I know what you mean.”
She sat back, stunned at his acquiescence. At how . . . easily . . . Franz had accepted this. But then, she thought, nothing about the years that had brought them to this moment had been easy.
Franz thrummed the arm of his chair as he continued. “Elisabeth . . . I would love to see you, once in a while.” It was a request, and not an order. “And to know”—he pointed at her belly—“my child.”
Sisi nodded. “Of course I will allow you to see your child, Franz. And I will bring her back myself, when I come.”
“You really think it’s a girl?”
She nodded.
“How can you be so sure?”
Because I have waited long enough, she thought. “I can’t be sure. But I can hope.”
He nodded, a slow movement. “You really want to stay here?” Franz looked down at her, his eyes bright and blue in an otherwise ashen face.
“I do.” Sisi wiped the tear that ran down her cheek.
“So far from home?”
“Franz.” Sisi put a hand on top of Franz’s. “Surely you must know that Vienna has never much felt like home for me. This place . . . Hungary . . . feels more like home than Vienna, than the court, ever did.”
Franz sighed, thinking about this. “So I suppose this is it, Elisa?”
Sisi blinked away the tears as she continued to look into his eyes.
Franz straightened up, rapping his hands against the armrests of his chair. “I suppose our marriage changed years ago. But I suppose now we both understand one another. It will be different for us.”
She looked at him through glassy eyes. “You have been happy for years, Franz. Have you not?”
“Happy?” He cocked his head. “I don’t know that happiness has ever been my prerogative. I don’t suppose it was ever presented as an option for me.” He crossed his arms. “Satisfied, yes, I suppose I have been satisfied. At peace, knowing that I have done my duty.”
She took his hand in hers, leaning toward him. “You are a good emperor, Franz.”
He nodded, lowering his eyes. For someone who heard flattery all day, this remark appeared difficult for him to accept.
“And I will always love you, Franz. But I want you to understand what I am able to give you, and what I’m no longer able to give you. I need your permission.”
He knew what she was asking of him. She was asking him to release her, just as she, years ago, had released him.
“Are you happy, Elisa?”
“Not yet,” she said. “But I think I can be. Here. Away from it all.”
Franz looked sad, sighing as he spoke. “I hope you will know, Elisa, that I only ever wanted for you to be happy. Even if I didn’t always make that clear. I suppose, once I learned how deeply I had failed to make you happy, I stopped trying. I gave up. But now, I have the chance to give you your happiness back, and I will not deny you. You have my blessing.”
“Franz.” Sisi kissed his hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” They were both crying now. It was the end of something, and they both knew it. But it was the start of something else, too, and that filled Sisi’s heart with hope.
Marie had told Sisi which door to look for. The countess had also been discreet enough not to ask why the empress needed the information. Slipping out a back doorway from her bedchamber, Sisi had walked, cloaked and undetected, through the dark hallways.
She moved at a brisk pace, quickly growing short of breath. But she was far from tired. She turned down the hallway, her footsteps echoing off the stones. She raced down the passageway. She felt awake and alive. At last she reached the spot Marie had described. Mercifully it was well past the middle of the night, and the servants and noblemen alike were retired to their chambers.
She knocked quietly, in case a guard patrolled a nearby hall.
He came to the door, shirt unbuttoned, hair disheveled. His features betrayed surprise at the disturbance, at the face he spotted staring back at him. “Sisi?”
“Andrássy.” She pressed on the door, opening it wider and stepping in past him.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” His breath smelled of wine and his room was in chaos. He had clearly been writing, or working, or pacing. Something Sisi’s restless mind understood.
“Is this wise?” Andrássy looked from her to the door as she now shut it.
She walked toward him and leaned her head on his chest, breathing in a moment before she looked up into his face. He appeared wild, more handsome than she had ever seen him.
“Andrássy, I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”
He put his finger to her lips, his eyes sad. “Sisi, we have discussed this. Our hearts are not free to give away.”
She edged his finger to the side. “But that’s just it, Andrássy. My heart is mine, once more, after all of these years. Mine, to do with it as I choose.”
He stood silent, taking her cheeks in his hands, her skin burning at his touch. When he spoke, his voice husky, he confessed, “Mine has been yours, Sisi, for years. Possibly since the first time I laid eyes on you. And certainly since the night, years ago in Vienna, when you grabbed my hands in your own. Do you remember? I was astounded at how easily I fell in love with you that night.”
And with that, she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips meeting his in the embrace she had craved for so many years. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body into his.
“I love you, Andrássy. I have loved you for so long,” she whispered, pressing her lips back into his. And then she began to laugh, and she repeated the words that came to her mind: “I laugh at my heart, and yet, do its will.”
“Sisi. My beloved, darling Sisi.” Andrássy scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the room to the bed, where he lay her down with a movement so tender she barely felt the pillows beneath her. He kept his arms wrapped around her. The way he looked at her, his eyes inches from hers, brought tears to her eyes.
Andrássy’s hands rested on her cheek for a moment before moving from her face to her neck, and his lips followed. She trembled in delight as he placed a soft, delicate kiss on her neck. And then his hands were unfastening her gown, unpeeling layers of clothing. She aided him, lifting his shirt so that soon it was just their skin that touched. There was no discussion of what they were doing—the time for discussing had passed. They both knew the crime that they had agreed to, and their bodies led them willingly into their beautiful treason.
As Sisi welcomed Andrássy’s touch, she could not help but laugh in rapturous delight. She, who had accepted the fact that her bloom had faded, that her years of passion were a thing of the past, was now loving a man with an appetite and ardor that she had never known she possessed. Her body seemed to be awakening as if from some frostbitten slumber. And this awakening drove both her and Andrássy mad, her desire only increasing under the tender and sure ministrations of Andrássy’s affection. They had just begun, but already she was certain that the night would not be long enough. Her lifetime might not be long enough.
She realized in Andrássy’s arms what she had been missing all those years—that moment of rapturous delight in which the body and the soul tasted a glimpse of eternity. Franz had never brought her to that moment, though he himself had always appeared to achieve it during their lovemaking. Wasn’t that the perfect way to understand her failed marriage? Longing, yearning, desiring, but never tasting the joy. How he’d vowed to give himself to her, but had somehow kept himself out of reach.
This night opened Sisi’s eyes to a world she had scarcely known existed. Andrássy loved her in a way that made it plain that her pleasure was more important than his own. And when she refused to let him go, pulling him back toward her, he did not look at her with disapproval, but with boyish delight, as if he were thrilled with how badly she longed for him.
In the quiet, still hours before dawn, Sisi lay in Andrássy’s arms. She sighed as he kissed the soft dip where her neck met the collarbone. The first hint of predawn light had begun to filter in through the window. Sisi shut her eyes, willing it to disappear, beseeching the world to remain shrouded in the dark veil that enabled and protected this perfect moment.
Just then, a thunderous peal erupted from outside the windows, shaking the glass panes in their frame. Thunder, on a day that promised to be so clear and sunny?
“It’s beginning,” Andrássy said.
“What?”
“A twenty-one-gun salute. Up on St. Gerhard’s Mount. Your coronation day has officially begun.”
Sisi groaned, burrowing into the crook of his neck. “Why must daylight come?”
“Daylight. Terrible daylight.” His fingers grazed the bare skin of her back. “I hate myself for having put you in danger.”
She looked up at him, her cheeks rosy. “Oh, but wasn’t it worth it?”
“But now you are stuck in my bedchamber, Sisi, and it is getting light out.” Her hair fanned wildly over the pillow, and he ran his fingers through it.
“If I’m stuck here, I might as well enjoy myself, hadn’t I?” She shifted her body so that she might kiss him.
“Empress, I am shocked at your energy.” Andrássy laughed in mock indignation. “This poor count needs to sleep.”
Sisi’s hands slid under the sheets as she reached for him. “You are not allowed to sleep just yet.”
“Really, Sisi.” Andrássy took her face in his hands. “Hadn’t you better go? It will soon be lighter and lighter.”
“Then you had better stop wasting time on these arguments. That’s an order.”
Andrássy stood nearby in a robe, watching as she dressed herself in the murky light of early morning. The closer they came to the moment of her departure, the more anxious he seemed to be.
“Are you certain that you don’t wish for me to walk you back?”
“If you’re going to do that, we might as well announce it to the entire court at today’s coronation,” she said. “What if someone saw us together?”
“But I hate to think of you being alone, making this walk.”
“I’ve always scurried about alone. It drove Sophie crazy. I will scurry back quickly.”
“It’s not right. I should have come to your chamber.”
Sisi laughed, adjusting the sleeves of her gown. “I hardly think that an empress can have her lover waltz past her guards and into her suite.”
“Is that what I am? Your lover?” He pulled her toward him and placed a long kiss on her lips.
“You are my lover, and I am yours.” She smiled up at him.
“I like the way that sounds.” He kissed her again. “I don’t, however, like the fact that I might have put you in danger.”
“Andrássy, please.” Sisi lifted her curls and fastened them in a loose bun on the back of her neck.
“I mean it.”
“Do you regret last night?”
“Not in the slightest. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve put you at risk. I’ve never wanted to be the cause of unhappiness for you.”
She leaned into his body, her cheek resting on his chest as she breathed in his scent. “Don’t you see that I did not know happiness until I came to you last night?”
“What if I’ve just ruined your life, Sisi?”
Still resting her head on his chest, she sighed. “Andrássy, I lost my children. I lost my parents and my first home. I never really had my husband to begin with. You wonder if you’ve ruined my life? No. I’ve only just decided to live.”
Andrássy stared at her and they stood in silence for several moments before he placed a kiss on the top of her head. He held her close. “We won’t have to worry any more once you relocate here.”
