The Accidental Empress (59 page)

Sisi shuddered, remembering the courtiers who had once shadowed her every movement, scouring her space with prying eyes, filling it with the faint scratch of whisper: the Countesses Esterházy and Karoline and Paula. She had dismissed them on the day that she had decided to leave court for Madeira, and had not spoken to them since. “I don’t like being surrounded by people I cannot trust.”

“A very valid point, Empress Elisabeth. And one I had anticipated.” Herr Lobkowitz shuffled his papers, looking over his notes. “I’ve done the service of scrutinizing the court, looking for young ladies of only the highest caliber of character and discretion.” Herr Lobkowitz paused for effect and Sisi did not answer. “Given that you are back at court after such an extended absence, you will most likely be quite busy. I feel very strongly that you should have some assistance.”

When Sisi did not reply, the aide added: “I’ve found two young women whom I’m sure you will find very agreeable.”

“Oh?” Sisi reached into her dresser and removed a small tub of her favorite skin cream, a concoction of beeswax, crushed strawberries, honey, and spermaceti. “And who are these ladies who have won your high opinion, Herr Lobkowitz?”

“There’s a Countess Frederika von Rothburg, a very quiet young lady from the northern kingdom of Württemberg, and a Lady Ilse von Bittel, the daughter of the Viscount von Bittel. A woman whose virtue, my sources tell me, is above reproach.”

Sisi knew so little about the young women at court these days. “I don’t wish to be gossiped about.”

“I have been assured that these two women are not that type.”

Eventually, rubbing in her hand cream, Sisi answered, “I’ll think about it.”

“You are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“As for the chambermaid . . .” Sisi lifted her hand and the aide offered her a cloth on which she now wiped the excess lotion. “That’s the most important one. She will be the person in my apartment all day.”

“Yes.” Herr Lobkowitz nodded.

“I don’t want an Austrian,” Sisi said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh?”

“No,” Sisi said. “No one from this court.”

“Who, then . . . might I ask?”

“I want a foreigner. In fact, I’ve asked Marie to find me someone. Preferably a Hungarian. If she doesn’t speak a word of German, all the better. Isn’t that right, Marie?”

In the corner, where she stood sorting the empress’s shawls, Countess Festetics nodded.

“Very well then. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance in that search, of course.” Herr Lobkowitz tapped his pen once more to his notes and bowed. “I shall not impose on you any further.”

“Did you arrange the gifts like we discussed?” Sisi asked.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. The dollhouse has been delivered to the nursery for Princess Gisela, and the toy train set has been delivered to the archduchess’s suite for the crown prince.”

“The archduchess’s suite?” Sisi asked, her stomach dropping.

Herr Lobkowitz shifted from one foot to the other. “The crown prince and the princess do still sleep in the nursery off their grandmother’s suite.”

Sisi bit her lower lip; the certainty that her children loved—even preferred—her mother-in-law made her dizzy with envy.

The aide, sensing she had finished with him, edged backward toward the bedroom door.

“Herr Lobkowitz, one more thing.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Will they know that the gifts come from me?”

“I’ve made sure to include a card indicating that the presents came from their most devoted and loving mother.”

“Hopefully they are told as much,” Sisi said, twisting her hands together in her lap. “Fine. You may go. That is all.”

The aide took his leave, but before several minutes had passed, he was back. “Empress?” This time he appeared in the doorway with his arms full.

“What is it?”

“Did I not tell you that the joyous news has spread of your return?” He walked into her room, a restrained smile tugging upward on his lips. “It seems that the court is thrilled to have you back.” Herr Lobkowitz first deposited a large basket stuffed with jams, sausage, and flowers on the table of her bedchamber.

“Who is it from?” Sisi asked, her hair still in the clutches of Franziska.

“This note is from Baron von Bach,” Herr Lobkowitz answered. “He wishes a most warm welcome to Your Majesty. That’s quite nice. Shall I write him a thank-you note on your behalf?”

“Please do,” Sisi agreed. “And what about that? What is it?” She pointed at the second item delivered to her suite: a heavy wooden crate. Herr Lobkowitz called in several footmen from the antechamber to prize it open.

“It’s a crate of Hungarian wine,” the aide said, scratching his thinning hairline as he looked down at the wooden box.

“From whom?” Sisi asked.

“Curious.” Herr Lobkowitz scanned the note before handing it to Sisi. “It’s not in German; I can’t make it out.”

Sisi read it, the handwriting long and elegant, the language one she now understood.
“The Hungarian people are overjoyed to have their beloved empress in her rightful spot once more.”

“That’s nice,” Sisi said, touched. And then she saw the signature:
J. Andrássy.

She breathed in, remembering a night, years earlier. Dancing in a warm hall in Budapest, violin notes swirling around them. Suddenly, for a reason she could not have explained, she felt dizzy once more.

Sisi’s bedchamber was still bright and warm when she quit her suite to meet Franz that evening. Herr Lobkowitz and Marie trailed behind her, accompanying her as far as her husband’s dark-paneled state rooms.

“
One does not go scurrying about alone in the hallways
, isn’t that so?” Sisi had smirked as she’d repeated the past censure of her mother-in-law.

Walking the halls, the long line of gleaming windows to her left, the gold gilt and mirrors all around her, Sisi attempted to appear calm, self-assured. She had forgotten the decadence of the Habsburg halls after such a long stay at Possenhofen, so cozy in its threadbare and shabby disrepair. Even the dress of the courtiers here in Vienna appeared riotously decorative, and Sisi made a note to commission new gowns as she nodded coolly to the courtiers she passed.

“Empress, welcome back.” A young nobleman in the military uniform looked away from his pretty companion to bow to her.

“Thank you,” Sisi replied, and kept walking.

“Empress, God bless and keep you.” A thick middle-aged courtier whom Sisi knew to be the wife of a Bohemian count bowed before her.

“Thank you, Countess.”

“And God save the crown prince,” the countess called after her.

Did Sisi imagine it, or did their eyes widen when they spotted their long-estranged empress? For some of them it had been four years since they had beheld her. Had she changed that much?

Sisi was ushered immediately into the emperor’s inner rooms. He had taken this new suite of apartments, she had heard, when she had told him of her plans to leave the court for her travels. It was just as well—the thought of him coexisting with her in her apartments made the court seem even less bearable.

The emperor’s rooms were spartan in their appearance, much less decorated than the formal state rooms and reception halls. Inside, Sisi found Franz alone, sitting in a plain wooden chair in the presence of several guards. Sisi breathed out her relief at the fact that Sophie was not present.

Sisi curtsied as her entrance was announced. “Emperor.” She lowered her eyes, longing for him to speak, to tell her to rise, so that she might gain a better view of him. Had he changed in these recent years as well?

“Empress.” Franz’s voice was formal, expressionless. She kept her eyes lowered. After several moments, he rose and walked toward her.

“Elisabeth, rise, please.” Franz paused before her and took her hands in his own—gloved, both of them—helping her up to a stand. There, he looked into her eyes and they stood opposite one another, silent. He still wore the officer’s uniform, still stood with that impossibly erect posture. But the signs of aging were undeniable. His auburn hair, now laced with gray, had retreated back behind a long and lined forehead. His eyes, the same light blue that Sisi had remembered, appeared sunken, surrounded by a web of fine lines, the cause of which had surely been worry and fatigue and loss. His mustache, once so thin and neat, had been replaced by a full beard, and thick sideburns grew down his cheeks like unruly vines. Had some mistress told him that she liked that more serious look?, Sisi wondered. She didn’t know. She knew so little of the life he had led these past years.

Franz spoke first, his stiff features softening into the hint of a smile. “Good to see you, Elisabeth.”

“And you, Franz.” She noticed the rate at which her heart raced.

“You look ravishing, as always.” He sounded earnest, and Sisi felt satisfaction at the compliment. She had, after all, spent the whole day preening for this meeting. She had selected a formal evening gown of cream-colored silk, detailed with silver thread stitched in the shape of roses. With the help of her new Parisian corset, she had tucked her tiny waist into the tight-fitting gown and had covered her wrists, throat, and ears in diamonds. Her cheeks were brightened with rouge. Her brunette curls, fragrant from the perfumed water, were pulled back in a loose coronet, accented with pearls and white petals.

Sisi’s beauty regimen had been fastidious and strict for years, but that had been more for the routine and the familiarity of the process; not until this night had she so fervently longed to appear pretty. She suspected that she had succeeded.

“You have not aged a day.” Franz still looked at her and she sensed the stirring of his desire. Men were so frail, Sisi thought with bitter satisfaction.

“If only that were true.” She lowered her eyes, fluttering her lashes.

“That’s not to say that you look exactly the same.” Franz still studied her. “This is new.” He pointed at her head.

“Oh?” Sisi grazed her heavy bun with gloved fingers. “Oh, yes, I’ve grown my hair out.”

“I had heard that you had hired a new hairdresser. And that, with the way she fashioned your hair, you were the envy of the entire court. Even the other courts of Europe.” Franz still looked at her, a wistful smile glimmering behind his serious features. “No longer a young girl with simple braids.”

“No.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thank you.” She wondered, in that moment, whether he remembered the fight they had once had over a hairdresser.

Franz gestured toward the corner, where a table was covered in a damask cloth and set with candles. “If you would join me?”

“Indeed.” She accepted his arm and he escorted her to the table, set for two.

“How was your journey?” Franz neglected the assistance of a footman, helping Sisi into her chair by himself.

“Which one?”

“That’s right.” Franz laughed. “You’re a world traveler now. I never knew from where your next letter would arrive: Corfu? Egypt? Madeira? But I was referring to the most immediate journey, from Possenhofen to here.”

“Fine. Tiresome but fine. And yours, Franz?”

He seated himself opposite her at the small round table, his hands reaching for the crisp napkin with an efficient flourish of the wrist. “You know how it is, traveling with the children.”

“No, I don’t, really.”

“Well it’s never quite uneventful. But we made it, that’s what matters.”

“I hope I will be able to see them soon,” Sisi said, masking the urgency that she felt as she said it. Franz had never responded well to her frantic insistence.

He nodded now, lowering his eyes. “They would like that.”

A footman appeared then, delivering two bowls of hearty vegetable and pork stew.

“How is your family?” Franz tucked a napkin into his collar and leaned over his stew.

“They are well, thank you.” Sisi looked at her stew but had little interest in eating it. Her corset was too tight. And lately she preferred to eat bland dishes, if anything, in the evenings: boiled chicken, flavorless broth.

“What is the latest from Possenhofen, Elisabeth?”

“Karl has a nice new wife. I believe she has improved him, in fact. I think she might be to blame for his gentler demeanor.” Sisi smiled as she remembered her brother, and the change that had occurred in their relationship. “No, thank you.” She shook her head, rejecting the offer of wine from the footman.

“Yes, you mentioned in one of your letters that your brother had married.”

“Indeed.” Sisi nodded.

“And Helene as well, you said?”

“Helene married a good man, a prince from Thurn,” Sisi answered. “She did not win the argument to end in a nunnery, but she did find herself a kind, gentle groom.”

“I hope she received the gift I sent?” Franz wiped the red broth from the corners of his mouth, where it stained his silvered beard.

“Indeed, she was very grateful. It was a lovely silver service.”

“Good.” Franz nodded, pouring himself more wine. “I’m happy for your sister. Helene deserves much happiness.”

They both fell quiet and Sisi wondered if Franz was thinking, as she was, about years earlier; when he himself had been betrothed to Helene. How his love for her, Sisi, had prevented the match. Had he made the right choice? she wondered now. Had they been wise to act so impulsively? To act on what they’d thought, as mere children, was love?