The Accidental Empress (49 page)

Andrássy nodded his approval as his guests applauded. “We cannot have a Hungarian dinner party without some of our traditional Hungarian folk dancing, can we? Emperor and Empress, please, enjoy.”

The crowd at the table looked on as the dozen dancers formed a circle. Andrássy’s musicians stood ready, their violins poised to begin as soon as their host gave the order.

“Let’s begin with a
Moldova
,” Andrássy said, nodding at the lead violinist.

The music began. It was a fast-paced, upbeat violin melody. The dancers dispersed. Men and women alternated, resting their arms atop one another’s shoulders as they began to move as one in a large circle. First clockwise, then counterclockwise, their feet bouncing in time with the Gypsylike melody.

As the song progressed, the pace of the violins picked up, and so did the footwork. Sisi watched the dancers, mesmerized by the whiny, meandering tune and the steps that seemed interwoven with the music.

“Great fun.” Franz looked on, tapping a finger to the melody. “What are we watching, Andrássy?”

“One of Hungary’s oldest dances,” Andrássy explained across the table, yet his eyes were focused on Sisi alone. “From a region in our Transylvanian territories.” Andrássy sipped slowly on his wine, turning back to the dancing. What did he mean,
our Transylvanian territories
? Hungary’s territories? Or did he acknowledge Habsburg dominion over all of those lands?

But Sisi’s thoughts were soon pulled back to the music—to the rosy cheeks and agile feet of the men and women dancing before her. The tempo slowed, and so did the footwork. But not for long. After several verses, the pace picked back up. Gradually the music raced faster and faster until the dancers were kicking so quickly that their feet almost became blurred. Finally, when it seemed as if they could not dance any faster, it stopped. The crowd, as well as the dancers, erupted into uproarious cheers, and Sisi could not help but join in.

“Bravo!” Andrássy applauded. “Fantastic.” Turning back to Sisi, he studied her, gauging her reaction over the top of his wineglass.

Now the dancers split into two separate circles, the men forming an outer circle, the women forming a smaller circle that revolved the opposite way inside of them. The music began and several servers appeared at the table, bearing plates of cheese and sweets.

Sisi enjoyed a glass of dessert wine, watching the dancers as they completed their circles. Beside her Franz became entangled in a conversation with Deák about the most scenic sites to visit in Transylvania. Elsewhere along the table, the diners, full and at ease after the wine and food, conducted side conversations or sat, watching the dancers. The evening was a sure success, Sisi thought to herself, turning back to the dancers as they finished the last steps of this song. When the music stopped, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Andrássy was standing beside her. “If you please, Your Grace, would you do me the pleasure of a dance?” His breath was sweet with dessert wine and cigars, and his sudden proximity put Sisi on edge, her spine stiffening involuntarily.

“A dance?”

Andrássy nodded in reply, his features bright, merry.

“Here? Now?” Sisi recoiled from Andrássy’s outstretched hand as if he were offering her poison. Then, realizing her rudeness, she answered, “You are kind, but no. Thank you, Count Andrássy.”

“But it is a tradition here. The host may dance at least once with whomever he pleases.”

Sisi stared at him, incredulous, allowing his outstretched hand to remain empty. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the steps.”

Andrássy smiled broadly, undaunted by her excuse. “
Leap first and the net will appear
,” he replied, quoting Goethe. Sisi was so stunned to hear the words of her favorite writer uttered by her enemy that her mouth fell open, making plain her surprise.

Andrássy persisted. “Please, Majesty, I promise to return you to your husband as good as I found you.”

“My darling.” Sisi nudged Franz, pleading with her eyes for him to intervene.

“What is it?” Franz reluctantly turned from his exchange with Deák.

“The count has asked me to dance.”

“Go on, Elisa. I’ll watch.” Franz waved his approval, turning back to Deák. Sisi suppressed a scowl; now she was almost as irritated by Franz as she was by Andrássy. But, seeing no other option, and feeling the eyes of the diners fixed on her, watching her, she accepted Andrássy’s outstretched hand and allowed him to help her from her chair.

“Play a couples’ dance,” Andrássy ordered as he led Sisi to the space in the center of the dining room.

“I do not know Hungarian dance steps.” Sisi protested again, her voice low. She felt the attention of the entire dinner party focused on her, and loathed Andrássy for entrapping her in this situation, as well as her husband, for pawning her off to conduct his diplomacy.

“My job shall be to lead. If I do my job well, it should not matter whether you’ve danced these steps a thousand times or have never heard the song.” Andrássy took her hand and winked down at her. Goodness, he was arrogant, Sisi fumed.

“Be at ease, Empress.” He grinned at her and, again, she felt as though he were mocking her. “Loosen your shoulders.”

Sisi obeyed, willing herself to relax, if only to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her made nervous by him. She should not allow this man, or any other man, to have that effect. She was empress, after all, and accustomed to being watched. Accustomed to having to perform.

The music began, a slow, languid melody, and sure enough, Andrássy began to pull her into a rhythmic step. His strong, sure arms guided her as they turned a slow circle around one another. “Feel the music.” He looked down at her, his dark eyes smiling.
“If you don’t feel it, you’ll never get it.”

“That is the second time you have quoted Goethe to me in just a few minutes.” Sisi looked up at her tall dance partner, surprised. “So, you aren’t a critic of every German, then?”

“Hardly.” Andrássy looked down at her. “And I’d hate it if I’d given you that impression.” He thought for a moment. “I often find that whatever I wish to say, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe has already said it better.”

Sisi nodded, not wishing to agree too effusively with him. Even if, inwardly, she did.

“But you’re doing it, Empress. You’re dancing.” Andrássy smiled at her, switching the direction of their circle, threading effortlessly through the other dancers in the group.

Andrássy kept his gaze fixed on her. After several moments, he spoke again. “You move with grace, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Count.”

“You see that our steps are very logical. It is our enthusiasm that makes it all exciting. In Hungarian dancing, you can think of the gentleman as the sun and the lady as the moon. The moon dances with the sun, does she not?”

“That seems a bit tiresome for the moon.” Sisi allowed herself to be spun, dropping a hand and revolving her body around Andrássy’s.

“Not at all. The moon should feel quite special.” Andrássy caught her from her spin, taking her waist in his hand once more. “The man has no dance if the woman is not matching his steps, countering him and balancing him.”

Everything felt warm: his breath on her neck, his hands holding her, his body just inches from hers. Even her silky summer dress felt heavy suddenly.

“Without the woman, the man merely seems to be jumping about like a madman. But when a woman joins him, harmonizes with him, well, it becomes a thing of beauty.”

Sisi shrugged her shoulders, continuing the circle as she fixed her eyes over Andrássy’s shoulders. She’d look at the musicians, at the other dancers, at anything to avoid eye contact at this close proximity.

“If you do not like that analogy, Empress Elisabeth, then allow me to explain it in another way.” Andrássy dropped her hand once more, guiding her into a circle around him, speaking in a low tone as her body threaded around his.

“Think of the sun as Austria. The leader. The heart. The moon is Hungary.” He released her left hand, giving her a long lead with the right, before he pulled her back in toward him, setting off a series of spins that surprised and delighted her.

“We are perceived, at times, as nothing more than a jewel in the already resplendent crown of the empire. Nothing more than an orbiting body, dependent upon the more central sun. But, if we leave, the empire is nothing.” Andrássy pulled her close, their frames touching as they wove their way in between the other couples. It felt strange; Sisi glanced around to ensure that all of the other couples stood this close to one another as well, and surely they did. These Hungarian peasants certainly had found a way to turn a simple country picnic into a scene of excitement, Sisi thought to herself.

Andrássy, meanwhile, was still explaining his theory on Hungarian politics. Or Hungarian dancing. Or was it the moon? Her body felt warm and her mind was fuzzy.

“There would be no dance. There would be no harmony. There would be no beauty. The seemingly less powerful piece suddenly becomes the critical piece, without which nothing can survive. Don’t you see? That is how the woman is in any union. She is all-important. Anyone who would underestimate her . . . ah, well, it would be a mistake. A grave mistake indeed.”

Sisi nodded, swallowing. Her cheeks were warm as he spun her, and then pulled her back into his arms.

“And that is how I like to think of Hungary in our political union. If it is to be a happy union—something you know very much about—we must be allowed to think of ourselves as an equal partner.” His voice was low, his face just inches from hers. She angled her chin, looking up into his eyes now, their darkness lit up by the dancing. Or perhaps it was from his passion for the topic. “Now, of course, you see that I mean absolutely no offense to you, a beautiful woman.”

The music stopped, leaving them standing close to one another with no more dancing to do, and Sisi realized for the first time that she had been holding her breath. She inhaled, her chest rising.

“Thank you for the dance, Your Majesty.” Andrássy brushed the top of her hand with his lips, a fleeting, noncommittal kiss, and turned on his heels, leaving her standing, alone, in the middle of the dance floor. The surface of her skin, the place where he had rested his lips on her hand, prickled. She was unaccustomed to being touched by anyone but her most intimate family members.

Sisi looked toward the table and noticed that every set of eyes watched her, including Franz’s. Straightening her posture, patting down the bright sapphire silk of her skirts, she caught her breath and crossed the room toward the table and her husband. Such a thing would never have happened at a dance in Vienna.

“Well done, Elisa.” Franz nodded approvingly, pleased with how well his wife had performed.

“Indeed.” Deák looked at her from his seat beside Franz. “You’re certain you’ve never danced in the Hungarian villages before, Empress Elisabeth?”

Franz nibbled on a piece of goat cheese.

“I’m certain.” Sisi averted her eyes, draining her wineglass. “That was my first and last time dancing to Hungarian folk music.”

The next song was for the men only, and Deák rose to join Andrássy on the dance floor. The violins struck up their fastest tempo yet, and the male dancers formed a half circle behind Andrássy. Deák soon grew tired and excused himself, taking a seat to catch his breath in a chair nearer to the dancing. Matching the frenetic pace of the music, Andrássy began to dance in the center, the men clapping and hollering behind him, urging him on ever faster. It was a quick series of stomps, leg lifts, and boot-slapping, and Andrássy executed the steps with an agility that impressed Sisi.

The guests at the table, as well as the dancers behind him, were cheering for Andrássy, prompting him to move ever faster. He obeyed, and the musicians now hurried to keep pace with his feet.

Sisi looked on, unable to rend her gaze from his dancing. Andrássy was one with the music now, his dark eyes shining out of his flushed face, smiling broadly. Just when it seemed that his body could not move any faster, his legs forced out one final set of stomps, and the violinists dropped their bows, exhausted. The song stopped, and Andrássy, spent, collapsed into a nearby chair.

“I’m not as young as I once was,” he cried out to the room, accepting a glass of cold champagne. He panted, his hair tousled, while his eyes shone with a jolly, carefree glimmer. Sisi noticed that every woman in the room, except her, had seemed to somehow glide toward him, each of them hoping that hers would be the hand he sought for the next dance.

Sisi turned back to Franz, who was making his way through his second cheese plate, not in the least interested in rising to dance or mingle with the guests. Besides, the guests were now all hovered around Andrássy, congratulating him on his skilled dancing and his marvelous dinner party.

Instinctively, without realizing it, Sisi allowed her eyes to drift back toward Andrássy, studying him where he sat. She watched as he tugged at the bow tie around his neck, loosening it. She noted his smile as he watched the dancers and joked with the servants that passed. The carefree manner in which he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, his chest still heaving from his own dancing.

Andrássy turned in time to catch Sisi studying him, and she held his dark stare, her breath momentarily suspended. His eyes flickered, a quick lightning burst of mischief. Then, aware of herself once more, Sisi sat up, rending her gaze from him. “I’m tired,” she muttered, looking once more at Franz. “Can we go?”

Andrássy, Sisi decided, would be more trouble than she and Franz had anticipated.