Je T'aime. - Chapter 32: Chapter 32

It was official. Joseph's birthday masquerade was a definite. Under Isabella's careful watch, the party unfolded in countless papers and sketches of planning. The most interesting detail of this ball was that it was not to be held at court, but rather at the Mehlgrube, a public dance hall located smack in the middle of the city. This decision sparked whispers throughout the court, but Isabella, surprisingly, had the support of the Empress. And that was not easy to achieve.
Less than two weeks remained before the grand party was to take place. The apartments that Isabella and Joseph shared were nearly as scattered as the brains of the couple. The papers and books thrown about could be a roulette as to whether they were the party planning papers of the Princess or the Crown Prince's political agendas. And the mind of dear Isabella the day that I went to see her was no more organized.
I entered her apartments, as was requested of me, and saw Isabella rushing around gathering papers in her arms. It was like she didn't even know that I had entered until I cleared my throat, and she turned around, a beaming smile beginning to cross her face. "Oh, there you are. Dreadfully sorry about the mess. So much is happening all at once." The way she spoke was light-hearted, but it seemed like there was a tinge of stress at the end of her voice.
"Not a problem," I replied looking over the mess with a loss. "Do you want me to help you carry anything?"
Isabella was still shuffling papers, but she directed me to a pile that was on her bedside table. "The blue folder, that'll be all. Thank you."
Curious, I opened the cerulean portfolio. Inside were a few rough sketches of masquerade costumes. The word Euridice was scribbled across the bottom of the page. Though the artistry of the sketch left much to be desired, the actual ideals of the dress were very beautiful. It was a fashionable silhouette, the main construction being some sort of white silk. Floral and ribbon touches decorated the gown like a beautiful tiered wedding cake of the most rich construction. The next paper consisted of a classical Greek inspired costume that was more masculine in nature and featured elements of gold and silver. The bottom of the page, the script matching the one that uttered Euridice, said Orfeo.
"Did you design these yourself?" I asked, admiring the the scripture of thought that was translated from the brain to the movement of the pencil across the page.
"Yes," Isabella replied, "But it's no kind of art. Just trying to get the thoughts down somehow before they flew out of my ear or something," Isabella laughed. She had gathered everything she needed and brought it up to her chest, holding it tightly against her like she was going to lose it. "Is the carriage waiting for us outside?"
"Carriage?" I said, teasing her. "I didn't say anything about a carriage."
Isabella squinted with confusion. "How are we getting into the inner city to visit your seamstress friend without a carriage?"
Clip-clop, clip-clop. Soon the two of us were riding horseback through the streets of Vienna. I rode Gladiator, and Isabella found a friend in Cleopatra, who Albert had left behind before he departed for war. Trailing behind us, yet still keeping a watchful eye without gathering attention, was François.
Isabella tightened her cloak around herself and gazed up at the buildings surrounding her, both modern and traditional. "Vienna never ceases to amaze me," she uttered, though now we were starting to venture into more poverty-stricken areas of the city. "I've toured quite a few cities, and Vienna is my favorite in the Germanic regions."
"Oh?" I questioned playfully, "Only in Germanic regions?"
"Paris is my favorite city out of all," Isabella replied with a nostalgic smile. "You know, this week would have been Carnaval."
"Carnaval? Do enlighten me."
Isabella's face lit up. "I'm not quite sure what it's for, and I don't think that anyone really does. But it's a party all across Paris. Parades, confetti, feasts, music, dancing! And the grandest, most elaborate costumes seen anywhere else in Europe. More vibrant colors than a tropical bird. And masquerades. That's what inspired me to have a masquerade for Joseph. A surrogate Carnaval."
"It sounds wonderful."
"When you and I go to Paris together, we'll go," she pointed at me with declaration, "And we're going to Paris. Before I die we're going to Paris."
I scoffed. "Who said you're dying first?"
"I guess we'll have to wait and see," we both laughed. "Can you imagine us as old ladies? All wrinkly with gray hair, not understanding anything?"
"These kids don't know anything!" I said in a high-pitched, grouchy voice. "When I was their age I lived through a war!"
Isabella laughed. "As soon as an old war ends, another begins. Those kids will live through a war too."
"The Empire."
"Precisely."
"Ah- a left here," Isabella and I turned onto the narrow street where Klaudia lived, François trailing somewhere behind.
The claustrophobic buildings seemed to block out the light from the sun. Although it was a dry day when Isabella and I visited, the streets had just as many puddles as the day I travelled here months before. I could smell the tannery from all of the way down the street. It was a good choice that Isabella and I wore neutral colors, I in a charcoal gray and she in a muted brown, otherwise we would stick out like a sore thumb.
A few barefooted children ran out in front of our path, running after their ball. They paused to stare at us, dirty faces and crooked teeth unknowingly casting their gaze on royals.
Isabella sniffled and wiped at her nose. "Ugh, it smells," she commented, "Like more than one foul thing."
"There's a tannery up here. That's what it is. In fact, we have to walk through it, so you may want to pinch your nose," We left our horses out front with François, and began to work our way through the tannery. Noticing Isabella's hesitance, I looped her arm with mine, and we began to climb the narrow, twisting staircase towards the apartment.
I knocked on the door. "Klaudia? It's me."
The door opened, and Klaudia ushered us inside. "Come in, come in. Again, I apologize for the mess," I took a glance around the apartment; it didn't look any different than the day I first saw it. Isabella took off her hood and looked around with a kind of enchanted bewilderment. Klaudia curtsied. "You must be the Crown Princess."
"I am," Isabella said, her attention fixed on Klaudia's face. "I'm sorry, have we met? You look familiar."
"Not formally, I don't think," Klaudia replied. "But my daughter-"
"Ah, that's it!" Isabella exclaimed joyfully. "You're the mother of that delightful cherub that ran up to me! Where is the dear? School?"
There was a pause from Klaudia and I, brought on by Isabella's joy. I placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder. "She passed away, I'm afraid," informed Klaudia.
Isabella's expression sank. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. She was the sweetest thing," she looked around the tiny, messy apartment. "And you live here, all alone, stitching and stitching to earn just a few coins- I pity you, I truly do."
"It's not a bad life, Your Highness, I assure you. Besides the grief for my daughter I am satisfied. I visited the palace, and frankly I was overwhelmed with the luxury of it all. My quaint apartment is all that I could ever want," Klaudia explained. "Pity me not."
Isabella took an emotionally stabilizing deep breath. "Well, it would make me feel much better if I was able to spend money on you, so let's have a look at these sketches and you can sew some things for us." She took out the papers and laid them across Klaudia's small dining table near the street-facing window.
Klaudia picked up the sketch of Orfeo and held it aloft. "Oh, very pretty! I love the silver and gold, as well as the Greek key. I'm afraid I don't know the context, but that sounds like a long and complicated tale."
"Somewhat," I replied. "That one's mine."
"Very cute," said Klaudia, beginning to rustle through a box of fabrics on the now unused dinner chair. "How long do I have?"
"Thirteen days."
Klaudia's eyes went wide. "Thirteen days! Thirteen days for two elaborate gowns. Well, I'll see what I can do."
Isabella intercepted. "We'll pay you extra for the inconvenience. A hundred Thaler."
Klaudia stuttered. "That's not- I- this place only rents twenty-five Thaler a month."
"Two hundred," I added.
Isabella worked with my offer. "Each."
Klaudia gasped quietly with disbelief. "Four hundred Thaler? I couldn't take that offer. You'll bankrupt yourselves."
Isabella smiled sweetly, placing a hand on Klaudia's shoulder. "We're royalty, my dear, royalty doesn't go bankrupt. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes. We do."
"Good," Isabella replied.
Bidding Klaudia farewell and all good health, Isabella and I exited the little apartment and mounted our horses. When we pulled out onto the street, Isabella was strangely quiet. "Lost in thought?"
Isabella glanced up. "I suppose," she said as she tucked a renegade lock of hair back behind her ear. "That poor woman. Living in that tiny, smelly apartment on..." She glanced around at the cracking and disheveled buildings, fitted close together in the darkness of the alley. A withered housewife, leaning against a splintering doorframe, gave us a scowl as we rode past. Her confidence lowered when François passed by. "This side of town."
"Well, you know she has no choice. This is all she can afford."
"With all good hope," Isabella said, "she can use the funds we give her and move into a better place. Maybe it's because I'm a Princess, but I don't know how anyone stands to live in such absolute squalor."
"It's much better here than in Paris," commented François, riding up closer behind us in order to be included in our conversation. "Barely enough room there to breathe."
"The parts of Paris that I saw were the most gorgeous figures of human creation," Isabella corrected.
"You only saw the part for princesses and those close to it, Your Highness. The part for real Parisians was kept from you. Rose-colored glasses do taint one's view," François replied. "Do forgive me if I sound harsh."
Isabella immediately shut her mouth, forcing down whatever words were reactionary. "You would know it better than I."
As we exited the narrow street, St. Stephen's rang out its bells with the hour, as if God himself was able and willing to hear them. The tune was easily recognizable as a section of Handel's Messiah, a piece that my mother adored and had played at court often. Following it was the deep, long bells that indicated the new hour. The main plaza of Vienna began to flood with people on their commutes, as well as more well-off folks going for leisurely strolls.
We passed the Stephansplatz, where the grand cathedral overlooked everything like a medieval holy sentry. The Mehlgrube was just across the street, silent and still at such a daytime hour. Carts, pedestrians, and riders had to quickly part for the carriages, some with up to eight horses, as they carelessly plowed through the plaza's crowds. Some of these carriages, I noticed, belonged to the aristocracy.
In the corner of the plaza with a bird nestled in his hat was the equestrian statue of my grandfather. Green streaks ran down his face, evident of the passing time between his casting in copper and the present day. His gaze was fixed over his home city, within viewing distance of Hofburg. The inscription of "CAROLUS VI" read boldly and proudly, but the passing Viennese barely gave the dead emperor a glance as they walked past. Dead, gone, and out of sight, I supposed.
"Who's that?" Isabella asked, noticing my lingering watch on the statue.
"My grandfather. My maternal one. The Emperor."
"Did you ever meet him?"
"No, he died two years before I was born."
"Well, when we go to Versailles you can meet mine. He's going to love you, I'm sure of it. He loves paintings and art. He's commissioned some of the grandest painters in Europe."
"Maybe, then, he would be of great knowledge to Albert and his art museum."
Isabella laughed. "Yes, yes. He would enjoy that."
We returned to the Hofburg just two figures came out of the stable, one male and one female. The girl reached down to pluck a piece of straw from her dress. "By God," Isabella hissed to me. "Is that your sister?"
"Which one?" I whispered back. "It's too far, I can't see. And who's that boy she's with?"
"It looks like Amalia," Isabella replied. "And I don't know, but it's not one of your brothers."
"What is she doing? Having a rendezvous? With who?"
"Maybe it's best not to stick our noses in it too much right now," offered Isabella. "We did just go off into the inner city with only one guard to protect us both. Our tans are as worthy to hide as hers."
"I don't care about getting her in trouble. I just want to know who that boy is, because if it's not some visiting suitor, Mama can't find out. We'll have to keep close watch on her. I'll tell Pia about it."
"Are you inquiring that we spy on her? Is that justified?"
"It's for her own protection," I replied. "I'm her big sister, after all," I watched Amalia and her friend pass a few whispers before the boy said goodbye and disappeared behind a section of drilling guards. Soon too did Amalia depart, heading for our younger sisters in the garden. "Come, she's gone."
Isabella followed me into the stable, turning over her shoulder to watch Amalia go. "I hoped that drama would subside before I throw this huge party, but I guess that hope was in error."