Je T'aime. - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

"Is that all, Your Highness?" asked a footman as he set the last of my trunks in the hallway.
"Ten, eleven, twelve. Yes, that's all. You can start loading things up now," I replied as I counted my trunks.
"Yes, Your Highness." the footman bowed to me before he motioned to his men to lift my trunks and move them to the wagons that were waiting outside of the palace. I winced as one of the laborers lifted my trunk carelessly. The heaviest one, I knew, was filled with my painting supplies. The lighter ones were all filled with my clothes and jewelry. Why must the most precious trunk be the heaviest?
The palace was bustling with activity. Today was the day that we moved to Hofburg for the winter. Footmen, butlers, and maids were rushing all around, carrying armfuls of miscellaneous items. The equerries and coachmen were busy attaching nearly all of the imperial horses to carriages, wagons, and carts, as well as saddling the mounts of the imperial guards.
A frigid wind entered the palace through open doors, which had been propped so that the servants could more easily carry things in and out. I was happy that I did not insist on moving my furniture or bed frame, as some of the others at court did. Technically I had two bedrooms, one at Schönbrunn and one at Hofburg. That was enough for me. I always hated the process of moving, but I was content once I was all set up again. "Damn you, man, close the door!" I heard a voice call down the hallway.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" was the frantic reply, followed by the door slamming shut.
I turned down the hallway and saw the source of the exclamation, my father. "Leaving the door open and letting out all of the heat. Were these people raised in a barn? I'll take the firewood bill out of their paycheck," My father grumbled. "Have you seen your brother anywhere?"
"Which one?"
"Leopold. I heard from his tutor that he enjoys drawing plans of his own forts. I have this box of architecture drawing tools that I used when I was his age. I wanted to give it to him." My father showed me the small wooden box he carried under his arm.
"He's probably off with Charles, wherever Charles is," I replied. "I haven't seen them since breakfast."
I noticed my father glancing over my shoulder, squinting as he looked through the window. "There's Charles, at least. But where's Leo?"
I turned to look out of the window as well. I saw Leopold emerge from behind a carriage, loading trunks into the back of a wagon. Charles leaned against a carriage wheel casually, taking a bit of snuff. I had to try and keep in a laugh as Leopold was nearly bent over backwards under the weight of the trunk. "There he is, helping to pack."
"Why is he doing that?" my father inquired. "He knows we have servants, right?"
I just shrugged. "He's just being a show-off, I suppose."
"My father laughed. "Or Charles paid him to do it."
"That could be very possible."
My father sighed, rocking his weight slightly backwards on his heels. "Finally, off to Hofburg. This old shack has been like an icebox."
I glanced around at the opulent palace that was laid out all around me. "The Hofburg isn't much better, but at least the windows seal all of the way."
"Do remind me, I'm going to get that fixed over the winter. Hopefully it's much warmer in Turin."
"Turin?"
"In Italy, where Benedetto lives."
With the mention of that bitter name, I dropped into silence. Ever since Albert's promise I had nearly forgotten about him. My Italian cousin, who had stabbed me in a dream. To me, that was more than enough.
Suddenly there was a sound of pattering feet on the marble floor. Carolina and Antonia, with their skirts held up, were running towards my father and I, Madame von Brandeis not far behind them. In a cloud of giggles, they slid to a stop on the floor towards us. "Papa!" Antonia cheered, holding her arms out towards my father.
My father lifted Antonia and swung her onto his hip. "Oh, goodness, you're getting heavy!"
"Mimi!" cried Carolina. "Look at my doll!" Carolina held up her porcelain doll, who was dressed in a purple gown of the highest fashion. "Izzy made her a dress!"
I gently took the doll and overlooked it. Lace trim and ribbon bows decorated the gown, and a plume of violet feathers was sewn into the doll's hair. "Did she, now? I didn't know she sewed doll clothes."
Carolina grinned as she took back her doll. "Yeah! She's making one for Antonia's doll!"
Antonia spoke up, "Mine's gonna be pink. Pink's my favorite color. What's your favorite color, Papa?"
"Hmm," my father hummed, as if he was lost in thought. "I think blue."
"Mimi, what's yours?" Antonia asked.
"I think I like all colors," I replied.
A footman poked his head through the door. "Your Majesty, the carriages are ready for you now."
We all stepped outside to the line of horses and coaches that were across the courtyard. First were the imperial guards, all in ceremonial attire, riding their swift, decorated mounts. Next were the carriages, made of all kinds of finery and pulled by exquisite, muscular drafts. Finally, the carts and wagons of our belongings were pulled by whatever horses and mules were left. The entire train was guarded on both sides by armed men on foot.
A footman approached me with a deep bow. "Maria Christina, Your Highness. Follow me." He led me all of the way to the front of the line, behind the nearly solid gold imperial carriage, which held my parents, Joseph, and Isabella.
I did a silent cheer as the footman led me to a white and gold carriage, decorated with plumes of feathers. This carriage had the comfiest seats. The footman opened the door, and offered his arm to assist me as I stepped into the carriage, the robin's-egg interior looking as comfortable as ever. Inside of the carriage, I saw the faces I expected- Marianna and Liesl. "Awfully frigid out there," I commented to my sisters. I sat next to Liesl without a passing glance. But as I rearranged my skirts, I didn't see the hem of a lady's gown across from me. It was a man's shoe. My eyes followed the shoe to a white stocking, then to a pair of beige breeches, a matching waistcoat with silver buttons, a black and gold sash, a dark brown jacket, a black neck-stock, and a white lace cravat. A black hat trimmed with white sat on his lap. Gazing at me curiously was a set of blue-gray eyes. "Albert?" I whispered, barely able to keep back a smile. "Are you sure you're in the right carriage?"
Albert grinned slyly, like he was waiting for me to ask that question. "I'm here under the direct order of the Empress. Anna and Elisabeth can vouch for me."
Liesl grasped my arm. "Oh, Mimi, he's right!" she exclaimed. He tried to get into another carriage, but Mama said something to a footman. Then the footman said something to Albert, and he came and sat with us!"
"You went through all of that trouble?" I asked. "We spend more time loading and unloading than we do actually travelling."
Albert smiled. "Any time with you is worthwhile." Albert took my hand and kissed it. Liesl squealed with delight, while Marianna looked on with a noble smile.
"Careful!" I hissed. "If my father sees, we're dead."
"Your father's opinion means nothing if I have the support of the Empress." I gave Albert a smile and his hand a squeeze.
The carriage rocked backwards as the horses began to pull forward, following the train towards the gates of Schönbrunn. The carriage rolled across the courtyard and out of the ornate iron gates, the two-headed eagle of the Holy Roman Empire overlooking us with a kind of protective reverence. It was a beautiful day, unlike the last time I had left the palace grounds. The sun was shining, trying its best to warm the sheer chill of the wind.
We exited the palace grounds and ventured into Vienna beyond. Though nearly every member of the immediate royal court was here, the crowds were rather small. Maybe the cold kept them away. This wasn't a bad thing, either. Without large crowds, we could get to Hofburg faster. Then, once our residence was all set up, the rest of the court could follow us. I glanced back at the line that followed us, and the guards that protected us. Somewhere on one of those carts was Pia. I always insisted that she switch residences first, with us.
In a place with so little spectators, the guards seemed like a bit much. Their muskets laid against their shoulders, bayonets pointing towards the heavens. Their uniforms were freshly ironed, so crisp that they almost looked like they were made of paper. Their steps were uniform and their faces stern, like to wooden toys that Ferdinand played with.
I noticed the statue of my grandfather, green streaks running down his copper face. Pigeons flocked around him, nestling between the ears of his horse and on the feathery plumes of his hat. I glanced down the dirty side street directly across from him. Down that narrow little road was a terribly-smelling tannery, above it a mourning young woman, finishing the stitching on her dead daughter's dress, which would never be worn. Oh, little Dorothea. Hopefully your funeral was well attended, and that my earrings paid for it all. Those little coffins, I knew, were somehow the heaviest.
The bells of St. Stephen's rang out, sharper than usual. The cold always made the bells clang with the harshness of the wintry chill. The usual churchgoers and confessors were all bundled up, lucky to be hiding their faces from the world and the slicing wind. They barely gave the royal carriages, in all of their gold and finery, a passing glance. The crowds that had welcomed Isabella on a more cheerful day were gone.
As we passed through a more narrow street, I could see faces watching from the windows. They watched diligently, pointing a finger now and then, but they didn't shout and cheer as they did at other court ordeals in front of the public. Maybe that was for a reason. The war- this global war- had been raging for four years. The taxes had almost been as heavy as the loss of men. Maybe the people in the windows had lost a husband, a brother, or a son in this clash of great nations. Why would they cheer for a velvet-clad murderer on the throne of Europe, the chess player who pushed their beloved onto the smoking field of battle like a mere pawn?. Maybe that was why we were rapidly losing support. But somehow, my mother couldn't seem to understand that. Maybe that had been my other's fatal flaw: she knew nothing of war. She was an Empress and a Queen, but she lounged in great salons and enjoyed the fashions and vices of a royal court. She knew nothing of the battlefield.
The sound of stomping hooves and rolling wheels echoed off of the buildings. Everything was much more peaceful when it was just Gladiator and I, our identities obscured. But now I was an Archduchess again, not the cloaked rider girl on her white gelding. Here I sat in this luxurious carriage, across from a prince who was much too low in rank for me.
We turned the corner, and I saw the palace emerge from behind the other buildings of the city. It was a grand old thing, curved around a circular courtyard at the grand entrance. It had three domed roofs accompanied by Roman columns. Stone deities and lions sat atop the facades, welcoming us all with outstretched limestone hands. The carriages pulled towards the front doors, where footmen stood awaiting our arrival. The carriages came to a stop, the horses stomping on the cobblestones as they licked the foam from their mouths. I watched as the footmen began to unload my parents from their carriage. Following them was Joseph and Isabella. Isabella looked around at the great palace with wonder, holding Joseph's hand. Together, they walked into the palace.
The door of our carriage opened. Albert got out first, and offered me his hand as I stepped onto the cobblestones below. Oh, Hofburg. What a blessing to be with you again. My carefree days of peaceful bliss in the summer palace were over. Hofburg was going to shape me back into an Archduchess. My sisters soon followed me, and we were quickly rushed inside of the palace, away from the biting wind.
Though Hofburg was drafty, it was still much better than the outside world. I stood next to Isabella in the grand hall, where a painted arch ceiling overlooked a beautiful marble staircase that connected all three layers of the palace. Isabella gave me a quick glance and a smile, and I returned it.
Antonia, Carolina, and Ferdinand ran forward past us, their laughter echoing against the ceiling. Madame von Brandeis followed behind them slowly, carrying Maximilian, who sleepily laid his head on his governess's shoulder. Isabella saw this and her expression melted. "Oh, Max. Tired?" Max nodded slowly. Isabella reached forward and delicately brushed Maximilian's golden curls from his eyes with her fingertips. "You just get to your nursery and your governess will get you right to sleep," Max nodded again. Madame von Brandies smiled. She placed a hand on Antonia's shoulder and began to guide her towards the nursery. "Sweet dreams, Maxie." As Max departed, he placed his thumb in his mouth. My mother watched this all happen with a subtle nod that I knew was a look of approval.
Joseph gave a gentle smile, glancing down, his face with blushing bashfulness. He was almost as in love with her as I was. This wasn't the friendly sibling rivalry that I had expected. It was not the tendency for both a brother and sister to silently battle over the heart of a lady.
The footmen soon came in, lugging our chests and belongings. As they struggled like pack mules, Pia walked straight past them. "This way, lads!" she called out. I noticed she was wearing the fichu that I had gifted her. "Your Highness, your apartments are right this way." I had been living in the same apartment every winter since I was a decade old, but I still followed Pia down the echoing hall anyways.
Pia led the footmen and I into my apartment, through the sitting-room and into the bedroom. There was a dressing closet, as well, but no man dared go in there. Pia stood with her hands on her hip like she was royalty herself, ordering the footmen around. They placed down my trunks, bowing before they silently departed. The first thing I did was fling open the window-curtains. The windows let in more cold air, but I didn't care. I would rather put on another layer than linger in my room in the dark. I was like a houseplant. I needed sunlight to function.
My apartment was beautiful, though my place at Schönbrunn was my favorite. Here at Hofburg, my apartment had three rooms with an olive green motif. In the first, the sitting-room, a table, chairs, and a chaise were set up for me to host guests. Over the fireplace I had commissioned a painting of Gladiator to be hung, and atop the mantle was a bust of Euterpe, the Greek muse of music. In the corner by the door was a harp that I could play for guests. In the next room, through a lockable door, was my bedchamber. The bed was smaller than the one at Schönbrunn, and much shorter too. It had a canopy that was rounded, with curtains that could be closed to create a little box of comfort. A grand bay window overlooked the palace gardens, which were more manicured, and were more for strolls than the wilderness that Schönbrunn provided. Though, there was a few wooded trails for riding. I had requested that Gladiator brought over to the stables here. A dressing table and mirror was against the wall near another fireplace. Vases that belonged to my great-grandmother were set on the mantle here, under a painting of the play scene of Shakespeare's Hamlet. An antique writing desk was placed near the window, just a few steps from the bed.
Through another door was my dressing closet, which held my wardrobe, wash basin, and chamber pot. Through this closet there was a servant's door for easy service. I had to put it to Hofburg- she was older, and had more tips and tricks than her summertime sister.
Pia kneeled and began to unpack my chest of dresses and gowns. She picked up a gown of an indigo blue and brought the bodice to her chest, swirling and twirling as if she wore it herself. "Oh, Christina," she said. "If I could dance with you at the court balls, how I would!"
I watched her and grinned. "Maybe someday, we can play a little bit of dress-up."
Pia smiled, taking the gown and placing it in the dressing closet. "I think that would be fun. I'd also like to see you muck out a stable, but a girl can dream."
"What?" I teased. "And get my royal hands filthy?"
Pia smiled mischievously. "Oh, I think you could use it."
After laughing at Pia's slick comment, I kneeled beside my most treasured trunk. It was an old thing, a used trunk that was gifted to me alongside its contents when I was twelve. I clicked open the corroded brass closure, swinging open the lid. The trunk was made of a rough cherry wood, but the inside was lined with egg-shell colored linen. Laying inside was my easel and a few canvases. My painting of Joseph in the garden was on top, wrapped in thick brown paper. I took it out and set it aside, nestled between my desk and the wall, where I could keep it until his birthday in March. I took out the easel and set it up near the window, arranging my brushes and paints on its tray.
I glanced down at the gardens. They were vacant, and the plants either wrapped in burlap or bitter twigs of what they once were. Not even a worker was bent over a needy botanical, or a lady out for a stroll. Nothing. Still, my mind rushed. Creativity tingled through my fingers. I picked up a pencil and placed a canvas on the easel. Without inspiration, I placed the lead of the pencil on the canvas and began to sketch anyways. Pia, as she folded my petticoats, watched from afar. She knew not to break this artist's trance. My hand was like it was controlled by some kind of ghost; the movement of my wrist was not my own. Still, I drew lines and shapes of steely gray across the crisp white canvas. By now, I was just going by memory.
Eventually my hand pulled back. On the canvas I had drawn, from the waist up, the crude outline of a portrait of a woman. Though she had no face and only the beginnings of a hairstyle and fashions, by the shape of her face and the slope of her shoulders I knew her well. The woman I had drawn was Isabella.
Though I had drawn it by my own hand, when I stepped back to admire my work, a short gasp caught in my throat. This woman wandered through my subconscious, plucking at my thoughts like the strings of a harp. She pulled at just the right string, raising my hand to remind me that she was still there.
Pia glanced over to me and stood. She set the petticoat that she was folding aside and stood beside me. She glanced over to the sketch. "Is that Princess Isabella?" she said calmly, either not noticing or ignoring my distress. "I like it. Maybe you can give it to her on her birthday."
"Birthday?" I asked, turning to Pia. "When's her birthday?"
"I heard some servants downstairs say that it's New Year's Eve. They've got themselves all up in a knot about a potential celebration."
"New Year's Eve. That's not that far away. Hopefully I can get it done in time."
"I think she'd really like it, Christina. It's too cold to be able to do anything here, anyways. You should go for it."
"You think so?" I asked. Pia nodded. After the initial shock had faded, I took another look at what I had created. Somehow, the drawing did indeed look like the Princess of Parma. Her rounded face, gently sloping shoulders, and widow's peak were uniquely her. My heart softened. I did like it. I was going to make it a masterpiece. A masterpiece just for her.
Suddenly my heart yearned for her. I had to find her apartments, and just see how she was doing. This was quite the transition, especially for a girl who was just settling into her new home. "You want to see her, don't you?" Pia said, as if she was reading my thoughts.
I couldn't help but smile. "I do. Do you know where her apartments are?"
"Not sure," she said. "But they're not far."
"Thanks!" I said, throwing a shawl over my shoulders and preparing to leave the comforting warmth of my fireplace-heated apartment and brave the cold hallway.
"Wait," Pia grabbed my wrist. "You and Isabella. What are you two, exactly?" Pia tilted her head like a curious hound. "You're too close than just friends."
My heart dropped in my chest. I had let too much slip. She knew. Oh, damn me. Damn me and my stupidity. "We're, uh..." my words trailed off as I tried to think of an excuse. Friends didn't run away to libraries together. Friends didn't keep all of their letters, shoved in a suitcase to take to a new home. And, most importantly, friends didn't kiss.
Pia hushed her voice. "Are you two in love?"
What was I supposed to do? Lie? "I don't know. But I think so."
Pia smiled slyly. "It's funny how you think I didn't know. The letters, the constant time together. But then again, that's my intuition."
I grabbed Pia's wrist in return, probably harder than I should have. "You can't tell anyone, Pia."
"Why would I?" Pia replied, brushing off my aggressive tone. "I'm a palace servant. I can keep more secrets than some people can tell. Go on, go talk to her. Have fun, lovebirds."
Embarrassed, I left my apartment without a word, stopping myself from slamming the door behind me. God, I was such a fool. I should have watched my mouth better. As an Archduchess, I knew how to bite my tongue. Why didn't I then?
I merged into the hallway. There I saw Joseph and Isabella, standing just outside their apartments, which were much bigger than mine and were directly attached to those of the Empress. "Joey! Isabella!" I called out, coming towards them. "How are you two settling in?"
Isabella smiled humorously, while Joseph rolled his eyes. "Our apartments have been preoccupied. I guess a new Crown Prince has taken his place," Isabella said, trying to suppress a laugh.
Joseph crossed his arms. "I don't think it's very funny. Some idiotic servant set up camp in here, knowing that we were coming. He's lucky that it's just me and not Father, or he would have gotten his hide tanned."
Isabella swallowed another giggle. "Oh, come on, Joseph. It is a little funny."
Upon seeing his wife's joy, a small smile began to hint on Joseph's face. "I suppose it is a little humorous. But they better have it cleaned up soon, and I'll be speaking to that servant. Transition to Hofburg is supposed to run smoothly, they all should know that."
A bustling maid came out of the apartment, holding a pile of dirty clothes that was nearly as tall as she was. "My apologies, Your Highnesses," she said with a curtsy that nearly toppled her. "Things will be ready momentarily."
From up the hall came the stomping feet of an older maid, a wide-hipped woman with gray-streaked hair that was covered by a frilly linen cap. Her face was pressed into a bitter scowl. By the scruff of his neck she carried a young man, who couldn't have been older than twenty. The old maid curtsied to Joseph, Isabella, and I before tossing the young man to the feet of Joseph. "Apologize, you worthless piece of scum," she growled to the young man, who was slowly bringing himself to his hands and knees.
"My sincerest apologies, your Serene Royal Highnesses," said the man, who at all costs avoided Joseph's gaze. "Under no circumstances should I have taken up occupancy in your apartments."
Joseph hummed, but did not motion for the young man to stand. "Very well. You are dismissed. But you are lucky that it is just me and not my father. Or worse, my mother, the Empress," Joseph raised an eyebrow at the man, who finally built up the courage to lift his head. "Be gone with you, and I better not see any more misbehavior from you."
"Yes, Your Highness." The man scrambled to his feet, and as quickly as he came, he was gone.
The maid sighed as she watched him go, placing her hands on her hips. "When I found him he smelled like nothing but rum. My maids have been finding empty bottles everywhere. You may have spared him, Your Highness, but I don't think I will."
"Well, Frau Fischer, that's your call," Joseph replied. "But I don't think a man like him could have access to rum."
"Exactly. I would have to ask the kitchen staff, but I suspect he took it from the palace storehouses. I think that's the nail in the coffin for his job here."
"Well," Joseph commented, "He could always join the army."
Frau Fischer laughed. "Yes, yes. Well, I must be off investigating. You know how to reach me if you need me," Frau Fischer turned to Isabella. "And welcome to Hofburg, Princess."
"Thank you," Isabella replied sweetly before Frau Fischer departed. "Well, this wasn't exactly the welcome that I expected, but the staff here do seem rather kind. I hope Eleanore is settling in well. She's quite picky."
"A spoiled thing, isn't she?" Joseph replied.
"Oh, most certainly," Isabella said. "You visited her in her apartment back at the summer palace, didn't you, Christina?"
I replied, "Indeed. We shared some delicious chocolate, but my payment was to listen to her ramble about Spain for a good half-hour." My brother, sister-in-law, and I laughed together.
"I'm honestly surprised that she left Spain at all," Isabella commented. "She's a Madrid girl, through and through. It's a shock that she would befriend a girl that is half French. She's a Spanish purist."
"And now she's forced to speak German," Joseph commented. "Or French, I suppose. But no Spanish. I speak Greek, even. But no Spanish."
"Latin and Spanish aren't far off. I'm sure you could figure it out," informed Isabella.
"I suppose that's fair."
Another maid came out, looking rather flustered. "Your Highnesses, I believe everything is ready now. But Frau Fischer has told me to stay for a few moments in case you need anything else." The maid held open the door for Joseph and Isabella to enter.
"Finally. Thank you very much. Come on, Isabella."
Isabella turned to me before she and her husband entered their apartment. "Bye, Christina."
"Bye," I said before the maid closed the door, sealing my beloved in with her lawfully-wedded husband. A draft blew through the palace, and I wrapped my shawl tighter around myself. I turned and went back to my apartment, where I could be warm by the fire.
I entered my apartment. All of my trunks were empty, and were pushed up against the wall by the door so that the staff could remove them. Pia had everything arranged just the way I liked it, but like a ghost, she was gone now. All of my clothes were neatly put away, and my writing desk was perfectly set up near the window. I kneeled next to my nightstand and opened the drawer. Good. All of Isabella's letters were exactly where I put them.
I took my shawl off and hung it on my dressing table's chair near the door. Whatever. I kicked off my shoes as well and placed them with the others in my dressing closet. I hated how cold the floors were here. The chill went straight through my stockings and up my spine. Inside of the dressing closet, I opened the servant's door and gazed down at the dark, narrow wooden stairs that seemingly led to nowhere. I had always been afraid to go down there. But maybe, this year, I would finally brave it and see where they led. I never even touched these when I loved Louis Eugene last year. Though, I only knew him a week at Hofburg. He was a summertime fling. Thinking back on it, I was embarrassed of myself. Ugh, that was such a bad idea. Thank God that my mother had enough sense to not let me marry him. And thank God that I had found Albert to replace him. Well, if my father allowed it. But, although it was morbid, Albert and I had to wait for my father to die. Albert was no murderer, and I knew he was not passionate enough to slip poison into the Emperor's wine. But my father was not in the best of health, and it was merely a matter of time.
A matter of time before Wilhelmina received a large sum of money from his will. Maybe a nice house for her to live, maybe with the husband she seemingly forgot she had. Though everything I was raised around pulled me to hate her, she was a clever woman. I had to hand her that. Because all of the great kings had mistresses, and we all knew that. And those mistresses were so powerful in politics that they were nearly the Queen Consort herself. Look at Madame de Pompadour! Her young daughter, when she lived, was called the King's step-daughter!
Ah, Versailles. That was where Albert's sister lived. She was married to the Dauphin, the heir to the throne of France. Her name was Josepha, but the French called her Josephine. "Oui, oui, Josephine," I whispered to myself, making myself giggle.
She and Queen Marie, I had heard, hid in their apartments while the King and his court partied downstairs. This I did not understand. Why live at court and not enjoy court life? You would be better off living in a separate house on the palace grounds.
I turned to the portrait of Isabella, which still stood faceless on the easel. I adjusted the angle of the easel and lightly began to sketch her facial features. I did not need a reference- I knew her face well enough by memory.