The Accidental Empress (14 page)

Here Aunt Sophie did not offer the same correction she had just made to Sisi, granting Helene permission to forgo the royal title. “And what do you like to read, Helene?”

Helene paused, thinking, before she offered a quiet answer: “All sorts of things. Philosophy. History. The Bible.”

Sophie laughed to herself. “A pious bride you have, Franzi. And what else do you like to read, Helene?”

“Saint Thomas Aquinas,” Helene answered.

“Ah, a pious girl
and
an intellectual.” Sophie shot her sister a disdainful smirk and Ludovika winced. The appropriate answer for Helene could have included dancing, or singing, or playing the piano. Reading dry philosophical and religious texts could hardly be seen as a suitable way for a young noblewoman to spend her time. Almost as bad as Sisi’s preferred pastimes of riding, fishing, hiking, and composing poetry.

Sophie wasn’t done, though. “But I said for
amusement
, Helene.” Sophie turned back toward her niece, her eyes glassy from too much champagne. “What do you do for
amusement
?”

Helene thought about this. Sisi knew intuitively that her timid sister wished to slide under the table, to slip away from the attention being heaped upon her. But, she noticed with relief that Helene responded. “I talk with my sister.” Helene looked up at Sisi, her eyes pleading to be rescued.

“Ah!” The archduchess, her face brighter now, turned her gaze back on Sisi. “Yes, talking to Elisabeth here certainly is amusing.” Now it was Sisi’s turn to feel the burning discomfort of Sophie’s stare—and the looks of all the other diners around the table.

“Tell me, you funny girl, what do
you
do to entertain yourself?”

Caught by surprise, Sisi knew not how else to answer this question but honestly. “A great many things, Aunt Sophie.” Sensing that her aunt somehow preyed off of the perceived weaknesses of others, Sisi straightened up and continued with a strong voice. It helped, too, that the champagne had lessened some of her previous shyness. “I love to ride my horse. I love to walk the fields in search of wildflowers. I love to read poetry, and compose my own lines.”

“You love to ride?” Franz interjected.

Sisi turned to face her cousin at the far end of the table, grateful that he had wrested the conversation from his mother’s grip.

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“As do I.” His light eyes shone with genuine interest. “Especially in these mountains.”

“Don’t we all know?” Sophie rocked her head back and forth, her features loose from the wine. “Franzi thinks there’s nothing more attractive than a young woman with a fine seat atop a horse.”

Franz ignored his mother’s remarks, his eyes still affixed to Sisi. “We have a whole stable full of very fine horses here, Cousin Elisabeth.”

“Yes, I believe I saw the stables from afar, earlier today.”

Franz continued. “They are not as fully stocked as the imperial stables in Vienna, but they have been sufficient for the summer. I can show you them tomorrow, if you’d like.” Though he was an emperor, and could have easily stated it as an order to which anyone would have acquiesced, there was nothing forceful about Franz’s tone. No, in fact, it was almost timid. As if he were beseeching her. As if he worried she might not accept.

“Oh?” It was barely a reply—more of a measure to stall, since Sisi felt as uncomfortable with the development of this dinner as her mother now looked. And yet, the invitation also filled her with a thrill she could not completely deny.

But then Sisi noted Helene’s downcast eyes, the desperate look of her mother, and she understood how she must redirect this invitation.

“Helene, wouldn’t that be fun, to accompany our cousin?” Sisi looked to her sister, trying to pull her into this exchange. Helene shrugged her shoulders.

Turning back to Franz, Sisi pasted an innocent smile on her face and answered: “Cousin, if you don’t mind my joining, I would love to accompany you and my sister to the stables tomorrow.”

Franz turned from Sisi to Helene, stammering for a moment before regaining his well-rehearsed composure.

“It’s so nice of you to include me to join you and Helene,” Sisi pushed further. “Isn’t that nice, Helene?” Sisi widened her eyes at her sister.

“I’m not sure that I was invited,” Helene answered frankly.

“Oh, yes, of course you may join.” Franz nodded at Helene, forcing out an awkward smile that did not include his eyes. “Nothing would make me happier than for you to accompany us, Helene.”

Sisi hoped that the others around the table did not have the same thought that weighed on her own mind throughout the remainder of dinner: If the thought of Helene’s company made Franz so happy, then why did he look so disappointed?

IV.

“How could anyone not love that man?”

—Sisi discussing Franz Joseph, Bad Ischl

August 1853

Chapter Four

IMPERIAL RESORT AT BAD ISCHL, UPPER AUSTRIA

AUGUST 1853

“Perhaps I better
not go.” Sisi paused on the broad stairway. The idea of this morning’s outing made her uncomfortable; it had been an invitation to
her
, first, leaving Helene as an afterthought.

And yet, the thought of Franz last night at dinner, his earnest hope made plain across those handsome features as he had looked at her . . . Sisi reached for the banister, waiting a moment for that wobbly feeling to subside.

“Of course you must come, Sisi. You know perfectly well how little I care for horses,” Helene replied, tugging on the sleeve of her sister’s gown.

Sisi inhaled, speaking slowly. “But I think this might be a good chance for you and Franz—the emperor—to spend time together.”

“Sisi.” Helene reached for her sister’s hand and gave her a smile. What was that quizzical look? “It was
you
he invited in the first place.”

That was precisely what made Sisi so uncomfortable.

She glanced sideways at her sister. “That’s simply because I’m the only one who will talk to him. Can’t you please try to be pleasant to your fiancé?”

“I
am
trying,” Helene answered, a rare edge to her voice.

Sisi lowered her voice, peering into the large, dark rooms they passed to ensure they were free of eavesdroppers. “Well, perhaps you might try a bit harder?”

Helene sighed, her eyes looking straight ahead.

“Come now, Néné.” Sisi took her sister’s arm. “You’ll try harder than you did last night?”

“Goodness, are you my sister or my mother?” Helene shook her head. “I’m surprised
she
didn’t find a way to join us on our outing to the stables. You know, to supervise the courtship. I wish she would just stop fretting so. She makes me even more nervous.”

“She only wishes for you to succeed.”

“Well, it’s not as easy as you and Mamma would have it seem, Sisi. I’m sorry I don’t share Mamma’s slavish devotion to
duty
. That I don’t have the same gift of frivolity, the same fanciful notions of romance as you.”

Sisi turned to her sister now, stung by the sharpness of the remark. Helene kept her own eyes fixed stubbornly forward, and in a tense silence, the sisters proceeded out the back door of the villa.

The girls blinked in the bright summer morning, and Helene lifted her plain straw hat to her head. Eventually, Helene spoke. “I don’t like being scolded by you now, as well.”

Sisi considered her words for a moment before responding. “I just don’t understand why you must be so opposed to this marriage. Can’t you see that many would consider it a great fortune to have such a—” But Sisi cut herself off, swallowing her next words, aware that they would give her away if she allowed herself to utter them. Instead, Sisi busied herself with her own hat. Her bonnet was decidedly less plain than Helene’s—she had found a patch of wildflowers in the gardens that morning and had strung a ring of them around its brim.

“Let’s not argue, Sisi, please. I can’t bear it.” Helene sounded as though she might cry, which would make this morning’s outing even more awkward than it already promised to be.

“Fine,” Sisi agreed. “You know I can’t stay cross with you, Néné.”

“That’s a forbidden name, isn’t it?”

Sisi laughed. “Then,
Helene
, allow me to pay you a compliment: you look very nice this morning.”

“Thank you,
Elisabeth
, as do you.”

“Your groom ought to be very taken with his bride.”

“Sisi!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

The two of them clipped across the courtyard toward the stables, passing a file of uniformed guards who marched past, their boots landing heavily on the cobblestones. In their wake walked several maids, their eyes lilting toward Sisi and her sister with inquisitive, probing gazes.

“So many people, always bustling about,” Helene grumbled, lowering the brim of her hat as if to shield her face from the questioning stares.

Sisi turned, stealing a furtive look at her sister as they walked on. It was Helene they all wished to see—the woman whom they knew to be the emperor’s intended. She had meant her compliment: Helene’s plum-colored riding coat and matching skirt suited her. For herself, Sisi had selected a riding outfit of emerald-colored silk.

“There he is,” Helene spoke quietly. Sisi shielded her eyes from the strong morning light and peered toward the stables. There he stood—a slender silhouette against the shadows cast by the buildings.

“Hello!” Franz spotted them, too, and called out, waving. “Over here!” Franz looked comfortable this morning, even relaxed. Rather than the stiffly starched uniform, he wore hunting breeches and a dark-green jacket. His auburn hair caught flecks of the morning sunlight, shining warm and golden around a cheerful face. In spite of herself, Sisi smiled at him.

“Good morning, cousins.” Franz bowed his head as they approached.

“Your Majesty,” they responded with coordinated curtsies. Another figure emerged just then from the stables.

“You remember Count Grünne from last night’s dinner?” Franz introduced his companion. Sisi and Helene both greeted the count.

“I trust you were comfortable in your chamber last night?” Franz asked them both, but his eyes fell upon Sisi.

“Indeed, thank you, Your Majesty,” Sisi answered. “Isn’t that so, Helene?” She looped her arm through her sister’s.

“Yes.” Helene nodded.

“Cousin Elisabeth, I saw that Mother kept refilling your plate. I confess I worried—did our rich Viennese food overwhelm you?”

“Oh, you are kind to ask, but it was quite the contrary. I enjoyed myself immensely.” Sisi smiled. “We had a merry discussion at our end of the table, did we not, Count Grünne?”

“We certainly did. I think your cousin Elisabeth has a rare ability.”

“Is that so?” Franz looked from Grünne to Sisi, his interest piqued. “And what might that be?”

“Elisabeth has the skill of pleasing your mother, Your Majesty.” Count Grünne nodded.

“Ah! Yes, that much I deduced.” Franz shifted his weight from one foot to the other, allowing a brief silence to settle between the four of them. “Well, shall we?” Franz offered his arm, and Sisi noticed with relief—and a twinge of something far less pleasant, something involuntary—that it was to Helene to whom he made the gesture. She, Sisi, accepted Grünne’s arm and the foursome proceeded into the stables.

It was the smell that struck her first. That familiar, heady smell—that pungent medley of hay, leather, and polished wood. Even in a stable like this, easily twice the size of the Possenhofen stables and still gleaming under a recent coat of lacquer, the horses and their trappings had conspired together to fill the space with their uniquely familiar odor.

It was the aroma of her favorite pastime, the smell of Possenhofen: the summer nights before dinner when she’d brush Bummerl’s shimmering coat until Mamma called her into dinner. Immediately, her body felt at ease.

Given that this was not Vienna’s imperial palace, the stables were perhaps not as fancy as she had expected. But what they lacked in splendor, they made up for in buffed and scrubbed orderliness.