Je T'aime. - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Night came as swiftly as Apollo could drive his chariot away from the sky. The court was in a frenzy trying to fit into carriages to take everyone to the opera house on such a short notice. For once, my younger siblings were in bed when the court went on some excursion. The youngest of my siblings that came along was Amalia, a girl of fourteen.
The darkness of night was cast over the palace and the city as Marianna, Liesl, Amalia and I climbed into a carriage, struggling to see in the dark. There was quite a bit of shuffling as four luxurious gowns were folded into the carriage.
Amalia glanced at her reflection in the window of the carriage and adjusted the feathers in her hair. "Are you nervous, Li-li?" Liesl asked, elbowing Amalia with a grin. "Your first big girl court function."
Amalia glanced over to our sister with an irritated glare that could have cut diamonds. "Yes, if you wouldn't elbow me and mess up my hair."
"Oh, come on. Lighten up. Maybe they'll be cute boys," Liesl squealed, excitement nearly beaming out of her bright blue eyes.
"You'd get a sideways glance from a gardener and you're satisfied," replied Amalia with a roll of her eyes. "As long as he's male, you don't care."
"Amalia! You're the only one who can crush on boys with me!" Liesl insisted. "God knows Marianna and Mimi aren't going to!"
"Whatever. You can scope out boyfriends, I'm going to watch the opera."
We came to the operatic theatre, a brilliant building that nearly glimmered in the night. We came out of the carriages and were immediately ushered into the lobby. Thousands of candles glimmered across perfectly polished marble. Conversation echoed against the dome ceiling, which was painted with the constellations of the stars.
I barely had time to admire the lobby before we were rushed into the theatre, taking the place in one of the box seats near the stage, high above the ground. The theatre itself was truly grand. Everything was either in red velvet or gold, and even the tiniest place had a carving of decoration. In the closest box to the stage I sat with my sisters, an empty place to my left and Marianna to my right. In the orchestra pit just below the stage, the orchestra was beginning to warm up. The sound of distressed violin notes and shuffling papers echoed throughout the entire theatre.
There was a sound of shuffling behind me. A green gown passed my vision, and soon Isabella sat next to me. "I love that gown, Christina, a very lovely color."
I looked over to her. Over a petticoat and stomacher of a rich cream, Isabella wore a gown of sage green with matching embossing. A collection of daisies, a rather nondescript flower for such a court occasion, were tucked into her gently powdered hair. But her gown seemed to make up for it. "Thank you. You look rather grandiose yourself."
"Thanks," Isabella said with a smile. She turned around in her seat. "There you are, Joseph. Hurry up, it's about to start!"
Joseph came into the box and moved a chair over to sit next to his wife. I pulled out my hand-fan and began to direct air onto myself. "Rather stuffy in here, don't you think?"
Isabella followed suit. "Yes, though I wasn't going to say it outright."
Joseph sighed and crossed his legs, leaning back slightly in the chair. "I never liked the opera. Especially when it's a sudden performance. There aren't any windows in here. It's always stuffy."
"Really?" inquired Isabella, "I love the opera. You should see the opera house in Paris. It's the most beautiful place that I've ever seen in my life."
"Does it have windows?"
"Not in the audience, no."
"Then I doubt I could enjoy it, my dear."
Applause spread across the theatre as a white-haired man took his bow at the director's podium. "Is that the composer?" asked Isabella, leaning to whisper to me.
"Indeed, that's Herr Christoph Gluck," I replied. "He's the music teacher of my siblings and I."
The gas lights around the stage began to brighten, and servants put out the candles in the hall, darkening the theatre everywhere but the stage, which shimmered with light. "Shh, shh!" Isabella said cheerfully. "It's starting!"
The actors soon took the stage, Orfeo with his lyre and crown of laurels, accompanied by a band of sprites and spirits. The orchestra struck up a chord, and the opera began. I had always loved opera, and this was no different. By the first note that left Orfeo's lips, I was enchanted. And Isabella, gently fluttering her fan beside me, was just an added bonus.
The plot was fairly simple- Orfeo was a young musician who had found love in a nymph named Euridice, and he was heartbroken when she died suddenly of a snake bite. He was then instructed by love incarnate that he could travel to the underworld and retrieve her. In the underworld he was met by spirits and ghosts who performed a simply lovely number. It was so lovely, in fact, that I was startled by the curtains drawing for intermission.
"By God," Isabella said as she rose from her seat. "Beautiful. Truly beautiful. Don't you think, Joseph?"
Joseph squinted as he stretched his back. "Very nice, yes," he glanced over at the next booth, full of laughing gentlemen. "If you do excuse me, I must go over and talk to the Duke of Bavaria and the Count of Palatine for just a few moments. A simple political matter, it won't take long."
"That's alright, Christina and I are going to stretch our legs for a little while," Isabella said as she took my hand. "Come on, Christina." As I departed from the box with the Princess, Liesl gave me a warm smile over her shoulder.
Isabella and I wove through the crowds of the finely dressed and highly noble, who hissed whispers to each other as we passed through. Isabella pressed open a door, and we went down a narrow stairway that spit out into the lobby of the theatre, which somehow was empty. The candlelight glimmered magnificently, and it almost looked better than Hofburg Palace. "It's so much more wonderful empty," I commented.
Isabella hopped off of the last stair and admired it with me. "It is, isn't it?"
From our right side, muffled singing came from a room attached to the lobby. It was just a simple scale, something to keep the pipes warmed up while sets and costumes were changed, but it was an incredible sound nonetheless. Isabella turned to me. "That must be Orfeo."
"Still singing for his Euridice. What a depressing plot."
"Singing and playing the harp for a girl that mellows in melancholy," Isabella said as she gave my hand a squeeze. "A bit like us, don't you think?"
"Oh, Isabella, you're not dead. You glimmer with life," I contradicted her.
Isabella glanced down to the floor, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "'Tis the harp-player that keeps me so."
"Then that's who we shall be for Joseph's masquerade. I'll be Orfeo, and you'll be Euridice."
Isabella's face lit up. "That would be magnificent. We'd be the belles of the ball,"  The orchestra struck up again, a crescendo of strings echoing through the lobby. Isabella grabbed my hand. "We've got to hurry, they're starting!"
Effortlessly gathering her skirt in one hand, she began to pull me towards the stairs. I struggled to keep up with her and not trip over my gown. "Isabella! Slow down!"
"No time for slowing down!"
We turned the corner, nearly wiping out an usher that was putting out candles. "Sorry!" I turned back to shout at him, but he was just a figure in the distance by the time the words left me. We slid into the box, the curtains rising just as we collapsed into our chairs.
Joseph turned in his seat with wide eyes. "What are you two out of breath from? The hundred yard dash?"
Isabella tucked a rogue piece of hair back into place and pulled out her fan.
"Somewhat."
Joseph lowered his voice to a near inaudible hiss. "Dear, please mind yourself. The Crown Princess and the Archduchess of Austria don't run around like children. They're staring. Don't embarrass yourself."
The crowd seemed to be suffocatingly silent, save for a few coughs. I glanced over to the next booth. Joseph wasn't lying. One of the gentlemen leaned over to whisper something to the lady beside him. Isabella's cheeks flushed red, and her usual sparkle fell from her eyes. "Oh." She was silent for the remainder of the opera. Every time I glanced over at her, her gaze was focused on the stage, but her ears were still rosy.
She watched silently as Orfeo charmed the King and Queen of the underworld with his music. He was able to retrieve Euridice, but only if he did not look back at her until he exited the underworld. Orfeo was just about to exit as he looked back, thinking that the King had tricked him. Euridice was forced back into the underworld, this time forever.
The opera ended, and the performers took their bows. We all stood for thundering applause. The Imperial family was rushed into the lobby, and we all stood in line for a royal greeting. Isabella stood beside me, but she was still silent, and occupied her hands by fiddling with her wedding ring. "Are you alright?" I whispered to her.
Isabella whispered back without turning towards me. "I'm fine," she glanced over to Joseph, who was busy talking to a passerby. Her whisper was so faint that I could barely hear her. "After this. The church."
I nodded gently, and we both turned back to the royal duties at hand. Herr Gluck came dashingly strutting through the lobby like some kind of overexcited peacock, the tails of his coat fluttering behind him. "Your Imperial Majesties," he stated, bowing dramatically to my parents.
"Marvelous, Herr Gluck. Just marvelous," commented my mother. "When some other group comes into town you must certainly perform it again."
"We certainly will, Your Majesty, with your kind patronage. May I introduce you to my stars?" My mother gave the affirmative.
"Come, come," Her Gluck waved to his toga-clad performers. "Good Orfeo, Gaetano Guadagni."
Orfeo took a step forward and bowed to all of us. Standing on my right, Liesl grabbed my sleeve. She whispered sharply to me, "Mimi, look at him!"
"I'm looking at him!" I replied frustratingly.
Liesl swooned. "Isn't he gorgeous?"
I looked over to Orfeo. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a fixed gaze and a sharp jawline, but his body was more boyish. "I suppose? I'm not too interested."
The gaze of the Italian actor seemed to pause on Liesl, and her breath caught in her throat. "Oh God," Liesl whispered shakily.
"Compose yourself," I hissed back.
Herr Gluck introduced his two actresses. "Euridice, Miss Lucia Clavereau, and Amore, Miss Felicita Bianchi." Smiling brightly, the two actresses nervously curtsied.
Gaetano began to speak, though his German was broken and clogged with a thick accent. "It is a pleasure to perform for you, your Imperial Majesties and Royal Highnesses." Though beside him, the actresses stayed silent.
Isabella seemed to notice something, and she spoke in Italian. "De che parte d'italia vieni?"
"Lodi," replied Gaetano.
"Oh," said Isabella. "Non lontano da casa mia, Parma!" The two shared a laugh. "E voi, signore?"
"Lazio," said Felicita.
Stated Lucia, "Sanremo."
Isabella sighed. "Mi manca la buona Italia."
Gaetano gave a sincere smile. "Anche noi, Vostra Altezza."
Isabella stepped back in line, her conversation with the Italian opera singers concluded. She glanced down at the floor and took her husband's arm. "Well," announced Herr Gluck, "We best be letting you all on your way. Surely we will perform for you again, no?"
"Of course," replied my mother, and we began to make our exit.
As we exited the theatre, I noticed that Liesl had lingered behind. Gaetano had kissed her hand. "Elisabeth!" I called out to her. They both turned, startled. Liesl made a hasty goodbye and came over to me. "What are you doing?" I murmured in her ear.
Liesl's brows furrowed. "Why do you have to squash every ounce of joy that I have?"
"He's like, twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six. You're seventeen. I shouldn't have to explain my disapproval of that to you."
Liesl grumbled, "You're eighteen and Albert is twenty-two."
"And I've known him forever. You two just met. Not to mention that Albert is of proper royal birth, not some random singer you just met. Have you looked at him? He even stands like a playboy."
Liesl pouted. "You ruin everything that I try and do."
"I'm your big sister. That's my job. Come on, get in the carriage. It's cold out here,"
We loaded into the carriages. The ride back to the palace, which was only a few blocks, was a silent one. As I got out I told my sisters, "I'm going to the church, if anyone asks where I am."
The Augustinian was silent and dark, saved for a few oil lamps. Dimly the gold of the place glimmered in the light, the silver from the moon and stars mixing harmoniously with it. All of the monks had gone to bed, and it was strange to be in here without the background of a hymn or a Gregorian chant. It was so quiet that I could nearly hear my own heartbeat.
The door opened, creaking in the silence. Isabella emerged. "What is it? Are you alright?" I asked, nearly begging for an explanation to her torturous expression.
"Depends on how you define alright," replied Isabella, gently closing the door behind her. In her expensive fine gown she looked as beautiful as ever, but her face was dull. "Every time I try to have a little bit of fun, your brother always crushes it."
"It was a court occasion," I tried to explain. "He was trying to prevent you from being embarrassed. He had good intentions."
"He could have been a bit nicer about it."
"You know how Joseph is. He can sound a bit cold sometimes, but he always means well. Just try to talk to him about it, I'm sure he'll understand. You two are married. Married people work out their problems together."
"Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to be married to him," rebutted Isabella. "At least you get to marry a man you actually love. I'm so happy for you." She smiled, genuinely, but there was a tinge of sadness on the edge.
"I'll only get to marry him if he lives," I admitted. "And by God, I hope that he does."
"I hope so too. I always liked him. Very sweet. You two will be the perfect pair. You'll get married and move away from here. Maybe even make your own little court. And I'll stay here. For eternity, I suppose."
"Not eternity. You can come and visit us."
Isabella smiled gently. "Visits. Yes, visits," she took a daisy out of her hair and tucked it behind my ear. "There. Aren't you a pretty picture! Why don't you ever paint self-portraits?"
"Oh, I don't know," I admitted. "I never could get them to look quite right."
"I wish I could draw. I'd draw you all day, every day. In the morning light, in the afternoon light, from each angle, in the sun, in the rain, in the starlight. The starlight, just like right now. You seem to glow in the moonlight, did you know that? Your eyes turn this kind of silvery color. If only there was a mirror in here."
"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."
"Please do, because I know that if you looked for yourself you wouldn't believe me. I don't know what it is, but for some reason I see such wonderful things in you that you yourself are blind to. The smallest little details, but the most enchanting things about you. And you miss them all. Or cast them aside, I guess. Like the dimple on your left cheek when you smile. Or the freckle on your ear. Or that scoff you make before you start laughing. Or the-"
My mind rushed with love and all of my brain was overridden. I placed my hands on each side of Isabella's jaw, my fingertips grazing her hairline. I pulled her in and I just kissed her. Without thought, and without mind. "God, I'm sorry," I said as we pulled back. "That was dumb. I should have-"
Before I could finish speaking my lips were on hers again, but this time by her discretion. It wasn't like the sweet, half-afraid kisses we shared before, this one was filled with confidence. We were closer than I ever thought two people could be, the fabric from the bodices of our dresses meeting in clashes of green and pink. My brain somehow was paralyzed, taken away from my body, which seemed to move on its own. This wasn't right. And in a church, of all places. We should stop, I thought. But now there was no way to.
We broke for breath, panting like dogs. We spoke no words, though a million of them ran through my head. I just couldn't seem to put them into an actual sentence. As I looked into Isabella's eyes I noticed how large her pupils had gotten. It  wasn't even that dark in here. A childish grin crossed Isabella's face, and she turned to run down the aisle. With a springing step, she jumped to sit on the altar, the place where the body and blood of Christ usually sat during mass. From her place, it seemed as if the Holy Mother's statue seemed to reach out to her.
Isabella sat just on the edge of the altar, her feet dangling just a bit off of the floor. A grin spread across her face. The moonlight from the stained glass windows shone upon her, like she herself was a goddess. I kneeled before her, just like I would do at communion, and clasped my hands in prayer. "I'll just worship you, then," I said. Like she was the gold-plated statue of a long dead saint, I bent to the floor and briefly pressed my lips to her shoe. I glanced up at her, like a traveler at a holy relic. I didn't know if it was for myself or for God, watching me with another woman, but I crossed myself. "Forgive me of my sins, O gracious one."
Isabella's sweet laugh echoed through the church. She scanned me up and down with her eyes, and hummed gently. "I like this... power," she said as she choked back a smile. "If you want your sins renounced," she put her left leg over my shoulder, the heel of her shoe digging into my shoulder blade. "Then beg for forgiveness."
Suddenly my senses were overloaded and my body froze. Heat came over my cheeks, and I was sure that they were bright red. "I..."
"Don't get stage fright, now."
"It's hard to not be nervous in the presence of a goddess," I finally admitted. I stood slowly and approached the altar, Isabella's leg adjusting to be around my waist. I was overcome with adoration of the golden calf, something I promised not to do long ago. But things could change. "Ardently I worship."
The tension broke between us and we were soon grasping at each other's clothes, breaking our kiss to let out a shaky breath or to whisper some word of adoration. The highest crescendo from the opera echoed in my mind.
On the altar where they were married, I made love to my brother's wife.