Je T'aime. - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

There was a shaking at my shoulders, and I opened my eyes to the light of a barely fresh day, just a thin line of orange streaking at the horizon. "Come on, Mimi, you have to wake up."
All of the drowsiness drained from me as I realized that the voice wasn't Pia's. "Mama?" I whispered as I sat up.
"Get dressed, my dear. Quickly." My mother threw a simple wrapping gown down onto my bed.
I got up and began to tuck my hair into a cap. "What's going on, Mama?" I asked, even though I knew completely what was going on.
My mother grabbed my wrist. "Come on," She pulled me out of my apartments and down the hall at a quickened pace, our shoes clacking on the floor. The door to Charles's apartment was opened to let my mother and I in. Even though I knew what was going to happen, my heart still dropped in my chest.
The room was crowded with people, all whispering and hissing into each other's ears, barely noticing my mother's presence. Through the wall of bodies I couldn't see anything. Only Father Lachner addressed the Empress with a bow. "Your Majesty, Your Highness."
My mother addressed the crowd. "If you are not a doctor, a priest, or one of my blood, get out. Now."
As the unimportant people began to file out of the room I could finally see such a miserable display. Surrounding the bed was Doctor van Swieten and Father Lachner, as well as my siblings. Isabella was there, beside her husband, and as soon as she saw me a kind of relief crossed her face. She was clutching a rosary. My father was at the head of the bed, and an empty chair was across from him for my mother.
My gaze turned to the miserable Archduke lying in the bed. He was shirtless, his hair undone, dark blonde curls laying across the pillow. His entire upper body, from what I could see, was covered in the raised bumps of smallpox, though they were more concentrated on his lower arms, hands, and face than on his torso. His chest rose and fell irregularly with each struggling breath. My mother rushed to the chair and sat down, taking Charles's hand in her own. "My poor baby."
My breath caught in my throat as I overlooked the pitiful scene. Marianna must have noticed this. With a simple motion of her fingers, she beckoned me to her side. As I came to stand beside my sister I noticed the gauze wrapped around Charles's arm.
From the bedside a footman picked up a chamber-pot filled with a liquid of dark red, nearly black, which was immediately covered with a cloth. The footman left the room to dispose of it. I turned to whisper to my sister. "They're letting him?"
Marianna whispered in reply, "It's the only way to balance his humours. He's too weak for the leeches. I think they already tried. But you know why we're all gathered here."
"It's the end," I stated. Marianna silently nodded. A sibling of ours hadn't died since twelve years prior, when Mama had a daughter that died just hours after being baptized. I didn't remember it much, but I knew that Marianna did as a girl of ten at the time.
The door was opened again. "Go ahead," ushered a voice. "In, in," Antonia, Carolina, Maximilian and Ferdinand came into the room, all sleepily clinging to Madame von Brandeis's dress in their sleepwear. "I apologize for our tardiness, Your Majesty-"
"It's fine," my mother said, cutting her off. There was an air of silence to it all, like nobody knew what to say or what to do. Charles's breath was raspy and it was almost painful to listen to. My mother had broken down and was sobbing. My father was holding her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. Under her breath and with her rosary pulled to her chest, Isabella was whispering a prayer in Spanish. Doctor van Swieten was wringing out damp cloths, setting them on Charles's forehead.
Sleepiness pulled at me, but there was nothing I could do. At least the sun, which was beginning to rise, sent a gentle glow throughout the room.
I looked over at my littlest sister, who gazed at the world with a kind of innocent wonder that could make anyone envious. Her bright blue eyes were so fresh and unadulterated as she stood there in her little nightdress, her ash-blonde hair running just over her shoulders. It was such a pity that my mother shoved her in here with her dying brother. She deserved to be shielded from these kinds of things, at least for now.
The thickening silence was only cut by my mother's crying, and it seemed to cause a stiffening in everyone. Charles was still and silent, like he was made of wax. It was a pitiful sight. His room was lively and full of life; his clothes were strewn throughout the room, his bedside table stuffed with journals and papers. Childhood toys sat on display, gathering dust as their teenaged master outgrew them. Hair powder, a cravat, and a shaving kit were out near the toys, marking his budding transition into manhood.
By his bedside was a small portrait of the Spanish Maria Luisa, the girl that he hoped to marry and make the Empress one day. She was a very pretty girl, I figured, and with a lineage like hers, maybe she would marry into Habsburg-Lorraine.
The silence was broken by my brother finally offering a few words. "You should not weep for me, dear mother, for had I lived, I would have brought you many more tears!" The surrounding supporters chuckled. No matter how miserable he looked, he was still Charles. "Now, someone talk. The silence is depressing me so."
Joseph stepped forward, kneeling by the bedside. He held out his hand, palm towards the sky, for Charles to take. It was striking to see the perfection of Joseph's complexion against Charles's pockmarked skin. "Charles, I wanted to ask you, uh..." Joseph stuttered, swallowing before trying to speak again. "To make amends."
"Amends?" Charles inquired.
"Yes. I just- all of our lives, we've been competing, bickering. Fighting. But during all of that time I never said how much I treasure our brotherhood. And I never thought that it was going to end this way, but I never knew how to tell you."
A smile hinted on Charles's anemic face.
"Joseph, you're too sappy. But whatever. Brotherhood, all that," Charles said sarcastically, but he gave Joseph's hand a squeeze. "Why are you all in here? To watch me die? How miserable is that? Go on, don't make yourselves all teary for me."
"Are you sure, darling?" My mother asked.
"Just you, and Papa, and the doctor and the priest," Charles instructed. "And Joey, I guess you can stay."
"Thanks," Joseph said in reply, his voice squeaking as he choked with building tears.
"Don't cry, you big baby. I'm not too sick to insult you."
We all began to file out of the bedroom, some of us realizing that this may be the last time that we see our brother alive. As we departed, Isabella placed a hand on Joseph's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll be just outside."
Joseph gave a simple nod in return. As we departed, Charles said, "You got lucky with her. She's pretty. Almost as pretty as Maria Luisa."
Isabella commented, "She's my cousin, on my father's side."
"A score, then!" Charles called.
Isabella and I walked out of the room giggling, as if the Grim Reaper didn't pass into the room behind us.
The hallway was filled with nosy courtiers who eyed us expectantly as we stepped out into the hall. Isabella, still clutching her rosaries, stared at them with a kind of overwhelmed defeat. I looped her arm with mine and led her away. "He's such a lighthearted soul to die," Isabella said, examining her rosary beads as if she was going to find something within them.
"If God wishes to take him," I replied, "Then let it be so."
"Let it be so," Isabella repeated, passing the rosaries through her fingers over and over. "The Lord giveth,"
"The Lord taketh away," I finished the phrase solemnly. "Are you alright?" I finally asked.
Isabella looked up with a kind of refrained astonishment. "Yeah," she answered softly, as if she had said the opposite word.
"No, you're not. What's wrong?"
Isabella toyed with the beads, looping the strand around her fingers over and over again. "The smallpox," she whispered, almost unintelligibly. "Mama died of smallpox. I brought it with me. I'm cursed."
"What?" I tried to analyze Isabella's face, but she kept it blank and downcast from me. "Smallpox goes all around Vienna. It isn't new. With such a dense urban population-"
"When I read the letter that said my Mama died, the clock struck four. I figured that meant that the number four had something to do with me. And when I married your mother's fourth child-"
"Second surviving," I corrected.
"Which is a factor of four. And now your mother's second son is dying of the same disease that my mother did. It followed me, Christina, I swear."
"Smallpox goes around every year, Isabella. You can't blame yourself for these things. It's not your fault."
"But what if it is?"
"Listen to me. It's not."
I took Isabella's shoulders, and slowly she looked up at me. "I'm so paranoid. About everything. I'm sorry, I have these fits where for a moment my mind betrays me. Breaks loose and runs with silly ideas."
From behind me, the door to Charles's chamber opened. The chatting courtiers in the hall all grew silent. Joseph stood there, wiping his face with his sleeve. He looked so pitiful, almost like more of a boy than of the Crown Prince. With a cracking voice, he spoke. "Archduke Charles Joseph Emmanuel Johann Nepomuk Anton Prokop of Austria is dead. Aged fifteen years, eleven months, and eighteen days."
The crowd broke into a swelling of gasps and whispers, dotted with the occasional cry. Joseph's gaze found Isabella's in the crowd, and he gave her a miserable look. Isabella gave me the most gentle of smiles before approaching her husband. Joseph embraced her tightly, pressed his face into her collarbone, and wept uncourteously and ruggedly against the indigo of her simple breakfast gown.
At that moment it felt like the world froze, the sound of the greatest prince in the world wailing like babe echoing against the dark walls of the winter palace. Finally it struck me. My little brother, who had been beside me since I was a toddler, had left the Earth and joined the House of Heaven. I buried my face in my hands, knelt on the floor, and just cried. So swiftly had he left, a bright soul that was gone from us. If only I had known, I could have treasured him more. My poor little brother.
Doctor van Swieten came out of the chamber. Everyone looked at him, but he said nothing. Holding his large black bag, he turned and walked down the hall, his shoes clicking on the floor. A footman tried to hold open a door for him, but he pushed him aside and slammed the door shut behind him.
From the hall, I heard the distinctive voice of Madame von Brandeis say, "Oh God, help us."