Je T'aime. - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Marianna's apartments were located in an awkward spot. They were worked into the center of the palace complex in order to reduce some of the draft, but close enough to my mother's imperial apartments in case anything went wrong. They didn't contain the layout of a normal archduchess's apartments, but then again, Marianna was not a normal archduchess. I was convinced that the room used to hold china or a wardrobe, as it was so small, but Marianna never complained and didn't seem to mind. I supposed she figured it was cozy, and I could slightly see the appeal.
Marianna wasn't one for surprises. I showed up at her door sharply at noon, as she had requested. As I reached to knock, she already opened the door. "Hurry, hurry," she said, ushering me in. "You're letting all of the warm air out. For me and the plants."
Marianna returned to her jungle by the window. The window was so small that each plant competed for real estate, so some hung from the ceiling while others occupied the windowsill and a nearby table. She brushed a reaching vine aside and began to gingerly water her plants. Against the sun that came through the window, the flora flourished, and Marianna tended to them like their humble servant.
"Did you bring these all with you from Schönbrunn?" I asked earnestly, looking about the little room. Nearly every surface was stacked with books. There was a chart of the stars on the far wall. Assorted crystals and minerals were lined up around mirrors, and in every space it would fit there was a candle of assorted colors. Laying on the bed amongst a pile of shawls and cloaks was a glass case filled with delicately pinned vibrant butterflies. The air had a strange hint of some kind of herbal fragrance.
"Some, not all. Remind me, I have to re-pot this peace lily before she gets too rootbound." She moved to another plant with a small pair of shears and began to snip away at any overgrowth. She performed her tasks dedicatedly, though the lump in her back was pitying. "So, what did you want to see me for? Not everyone wants to come into the mad scientist's laboratory. Well, except for Herr von Born, but of course he's a scientist too."
"I wanted to ask you a favor. About that miniature. The ones Papa had painted for our future fiancé."
Marianna took a spray bottle and stood on her tip-toes to spritz one of her hanging plants. "What about it? It's in my jewelry box. I'm a spinster, I'm not going to be using it." She turned to the side and coughed into her elbow.
"Would you be mad at me if I said it was a miniature of me and I sent it off to this guy in Italy?"
Marianna turned and raised an eyebrow. "Does Papa know about this guy in Italy?"
"Papa wants me to marry him and I absolutely do not," I explained.
"Ah," Marianna said with a slick smile. "And your miniature is..."
"I gave it to Albert. And he left. Off to the front somewhere."
Marianna smiled with satisfaction. "There it is. Gave it to your Saxon captain. Sure, you can have it. Just don't get in any trouble, because I don't want it circling back to me. I'm an innocent party. I just sit up here and pin butterflies. Among other scientific things, but I won't bore you."
With excitation I opened Marianna's jewelry box. Between pearl necklaces and diamond bracelets I found what I was looking for. An image of Marianna, looking very able-bodied, though pretty as always, in a green dress holding a collection of flowers. "Do you think he'll notice?"
Marianna chuckled softly. "No. Unless he notices that it says Maria Anna on the back."
"What?" I turned it over to see the irritating gold script. "Do you have any black paint?"
Marianna was already laying a tube in my hand. "You're lucky I do."
As I was blotting out the name I glanced over onto the table. On the bottom of a glass jar with its legs in the air was some kind of experiment. "Is that a dead frog in a jar?"
"Herr von Born sent that up. We're going to dissect it later today. Did you know he wants to found a natural history museum?"
I looked around Marianna's cluttered space. "I think this is the natural history museum. Maybe he can move all of this to a location next to the art gallery Albert wants to found."
Marianna scoffed. "Do these men think that we're made of money?"
"They're low in status. The money we have overwhelms them so that they think it's infinite."
"Mama seems to think it's infinite, with the amount of money she spends on the military. By the time this war ends we'll be living on the streets."
"Bargaining with her is a lost cause, and we both know that."
Marianna sighed and looked over at the clock. "Well, unless you want to stay and dissect a frog, you better get going. Ignaz will be up in just a few minutes."
I returned to my own chamber and sat at my writing desk, placing the miniature before me. Usually writing was a great joy of mine, but I sat there blankly staring at the paper. If I wasn't staring at the paper, my gaze was cast out of the window. Finally my wrist moved and I wrote.
To His Highness Prince Benedetto Mario Maurizio of Savoy, Duke of Chablais,
Full names. Full titles. Right back at you, motherfucker.
I am making contact with you at the discretion of my father, as he has insisted that I write to you. It its my understanding that you have previously tried to write to me, and that your letter has been lost in transit somewhere between Turin and Vienna. Though I have been told that you have requested a miniature of me, and hopefully by now you have seen it, for I will send it alongside this letter. I hope that it is everything you wished for.
Within the last few months I have made an acquaintance in my sister-in-law, Isabella of Parma, whose home district is within a day's travel of Turin. Italy sounds beautiful but I am not sure that it is to my tastes. I do not expect happiness in Turin. Peace within Europe and the stability of politics would be the only driving forces for me to continue with a union between us. My father insists upon this, though I find it much distasteful.
To be quite frank with you, with all due respect, I wholly disapprove of a union with you and I would not be affected if we never spoke again.
Kind Regards,
Her Royal Highness Maria Christina Johanna Josepha Antonia of Habsburg-Lorraine, Archduchess of Austria
I sealed the letter with a bit of red wax and a stamp of the seal of Austria. Default. Emotionless. Perfect. I placed the miniature within the envelope and bid it farewell. Hopefully it would arrive in Turin and I would never have to hear from Prince Benedetto again. With all hopes, he wouldn't tattle on me to my father, but I wasn't highly optimistic. Maybe he was the type to keep pushing and pushing at me until I broke. But maybe a letter from the Crown Princess telling him to shut up would push him into silence. I knew Isabella would happily do it. But now all I could do was wait. For the letter to get there, and the letter to get back. Maybe by then I would get a letter from Albert from the front. God, how I hoped so.
That night I decided to read a little poetry before I went to bed. The Sappho book, hidden at my beside, was my pick of poison for the night. There was something about the flickering orange of candlelight on the yellowing pages that brought pure joy to me. The wind was beating against the palace, sending a gentle rumbling to the window frame. Luckily I was all bundled up in bed, or the chill would be unimaginable.
On the inside cover of the book there was a little drawing of some island in Greece, overlooking that beautiful, warm Mediterranean that was the cradle of flourishing trade. The picture showed an olive orchard by the coats, foamy waves lapping at the shore while a Grecian girl harvested the olives, placing them into a basket on her hip. A large dog trotted along behind her. It was such a beautiful picture, and certainly a beautiful existence. It was all that I wanted. To live so simply, without a royal care in the world.
The door to my wardrobe opened, and I jumped. "Jesus, Pia," I glanced up, Isabella's beautiful smile blessing me with her presence. "Oh, you're not Pia!"
Isabella closed the door behind her and I heard the clicking of the lock. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Pia showed me this secret passageway and I think it's much more fun." Isabella stepped into the light now, and the candles seemed to cast her in light no less than perfectly. Her hair was fully undone, casting over her shoulders in frizzy brown currents.
"You-" I was struck speechless by her standing before me so simply. "Your husband."
Isabella waved away my statement. "Oh, no, he's fine. He sleeps like a rock. He won't notice a thing. Eleanore will back me up," she winked, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Do you mind if we have a little sleepover?"
"Oh, no, not at all," I said as I put the book away. "How did you manage this?"
"Well," Isabella sat on the edge of the bed and began to take off her shoes. "Right before bed I told Joseph I was having one of those migraines. Well, I do get the migraines, but just not right now. So I said I was going to sleep in Eleanore's rooms because it's darker, you know? And then from there Pia showed me these service stairs and here I am!" She forced down a chuckle as she said, "And Eleanore went all out. She put pillows under the blankets with an old hairpiece to look like me! That girl, I don't know where she comes up with these crazy ideas."
"I couldn't tell you either. But that's a brilliant plan," I watched Isabella slip her banyan off and toss it onto the chair next to my writing desk. The candlelight shone through the delicate linen of her chemise, forming a silhouette of her body like a fine art painting. A shiver shot through her body. "Goodness, aren't you cold?"
Isabella stood and came to the other side of the bed. The candlelight really flattered her now, casting an amber glow to the skin and a honey-colored shine to her eyes. Her chemise of the crispest white hung loosely from her shoulders around her body, ending with a hem of lace mid-thigh. Her stockings were nearly as white, a floral embroidery piece serving as decoration at her ankle. Just above her knees, pink ribbon garters held her stockings in place. "Yes," she replied, laying into bed beside me.
For some reason my body just froze. She was so lovely. She laid on her stomach, her arms folded under her head, her hair running down her back. She reached forward and took a strand of my hair between her fingers, running it through over and over again. "I never realized my hair had gotten so long," I commented.
Isabella glanced up for just a moment. "Don't cut it. You can do so many different things with so much hair. And it's such a pretty color, too," she sectioned the strand and began to work it into a tiny braid. "My mother used to call these fairy braids."
"Fairy braids?"
A slight but nostalgic smile crossed Isabella's face. "I went through a fairy phase when I was about four or five. It's strange to think that at that time, she was my age."
I took a moment to do the math in my head. "She was fourteen when you were born?"
Isabella nodded. "Twelve when she was married. My father is seven years older. In my opinion she was much too young."
"I was born on my mother's twenty-fifth birthday. To the hour, nearly."
"I see why Joseph says you're your mother's favorite, then."
"Oh, he's full of crap," I sighed. "He's the heir to the throne. He's Mama's favorite for sure. The son she hoped so hard for. That she prayed so dedicatedly for. She's convinced that Saint Joseph sent him. That's how she named him."
"Now that I'm thinking about him and my mother," Isabella said as she braided another section of my hair. "My mother had a child, not a baby or a toddler but a child, at the age I am now. And I'm just a newlywed."
"Times change," I replied, "But the pressure is strong for you to have a child. To secure the throne."
Isabella sighed exhaustedly. "Oh, I know. And I'd be a horrible mother." She was snug up against me now, her fingers working dedicatedly in my hair.
"How so? I mean, my mother chose you as a bride for a reason. If she didn't want you as a mother she wouldn't have chosen you."
Isabella looked up with a half-irritated expression. "She chose me for my lineage, not my personal traits. Spain and France fought against Austria in the war that fought over your mother taking the throne. But now, with Prussia as a threat, France and Spain allied with Austria. And the marriage between Joseph and I is the living proof of the treaty. A child between us, whether male or female, would cement the pact. It's more than just the line of succession. I'm half Spanish and half French. It's perfect. The genealogy lines up. But I'm such a melancholic soul that I fear my offspring would be, too. And why would I want them to suffer as I do? And to be born into royalty! I would save them the struggle by never having them being born at all."
"But if a child is not born, then what is to become of the-"
"Joseph can just marry someone else. He can divorce me for not fulfilling his needs and you and I can move to Versailles. Joseph is a good man, and I do have a sense of duty to him, but I don't see myself being here for the long term. The only thing that keeps me at this court is you."
"If you don't produce an heir to the throne, the court will despise you. Life will be much, much worse. Right now, the court is enamored with you. And for good reason. But public opinion can be changed on a dime."
Isabella sighed, resting her face on my collarbone. "You know what your mother told me? 'Isabella, your womb is the cradle of the future of the Empire.' But I'm more than a brood-mare, doesn't she get that? I'm more than that."
"My mother has had sixteen children. It's impossible to debate her on debacles of having issue."
"I know that. And it's infuriating. You'd think a woman could provide her daughter-in-law with some ounce of support!"
"Trying to get through to her on anything that she doesn't see fit is like boating upstream without a paddle."
"Oh, you're telling me. It's exhausting. But you know what I have been talking to her about," Isabella said as a mischievous smile began to cross her face.
"What? What in the world could you be up to?"
"I want to throw a masquerade ball for Joseph's birthday. The grandest, most wonderful party that Vienna has ever seen. Champagne, music, the greatest costumes in the Empire. We'll invite everybody. It'll be grand. The Crown Prince only turns twenty once."
"And she agreed?"
"Nearly. But I'll get there. Do you know any good seamstresses? Not good," Isabella corrected herself, "Brilliant."
"Oh, I'm sure," I replied. "I think this may be one of your grandest ideas yet."
"You haven't even seen all of my ideas yet, my dear. But for now-" Isabella leaned over and blew out the candle on her side of the bed, casting the room into half-darkness. "I think we should get some rest."
I obliged, blowing out the candle on my side, too. The only light in the room was the slight silver glow of the moon, which put forth a dull cast through the window. The rose and sandalwood fragrance of the Princess of Parma blessed me once again, as she laid in my own bed. My own bed! It was frightening and wonderful at the same time.
I brushed a stray hair out of her face. This curl was looser and more irregular, unlike its sisters that were a tighter spiral. I glanced down at the tiny braids that she had worked into my hair, dedicatedly woven with sweet memories of her late mother. I was never going to undo them unless I was forced to. They were worked into the back of my hair anyways, and could be hidden easily, unlike the growing closeness of Isabella and I. But with her snug against me like this, I didn't think that we could possibly get any closer.
The rising and falling of my chest with breath was restricted somewhat with the weight of her head, but I didn't mind much. I glanced down at her. She was already asleep. So beautiful, too, like a princess cursed by a spinning wheel. I figured that I would join her, and closed my own eyes, quickly falling asleep too.