Je T'aime. - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

The day had finally arrived. For quite a while Isabella's grand birthday bash felt like a distant event, and in some instances, almost felt like it was fiction. But the imaginary day, the thirteenth of March, had come to light in reality.
The actual day was spent with much anticipation, trying to paint to keep the nerves at bay. Isabella was gone all day; she was at the Mehlgrube putting the final touches on her decorations. But by the fourth hour of the afternoon she had returned, and she had welcomed me into the chamber that she and her husband shared yet again.
Klaudia had our finished costumes sent the day prior, and now they stood on dressmaker's mannequins just before Isabella's red-coated bed. Laid out atop Isabella's dressing table were our masks and jewelry. It was raining gently outside, and the falling water created a gentle sound that carefully mixed with the cracking of the fireplace. Spring was coming, and the falling rain foretold it.
Isabella undid her daytime hairstyle, tossing her day cap down onto the bed. "I'm so excited. And nervous. God, is it normal for your stomach to feel all up in knots?"
"That would be the nerves. It'll all work out. Promise me you're going to have fun and not nitpick over every little detail. That's what the butlers are for," I said, unpinning the shawl from around my shoulders.
"I'll try my best," Isabella replied. Carrying the conversation away from her emotions, Isabella ran her fingers over the silvery satin sleeve of my costume. "These are gorgeous. Worth every penny."
"I told you she was a good seamstress."
"There, I'll admit it. You were right," Isabella said with a chuckle. "But I don't think I can get this on without help. You may have to sew me in, even."
"That's what I'm here for. But to get on the good dress, the daywear has to come off."
Isabella rolled her eyes as she slipped the robe of her francaise off of her shoulders, a sarcastic smile peaking through. "Yeah, yeah. I'm getting there. Yours does too, you know."
I grinned at her as I undid the pins on my stomacher. "Don't you want any maids in here?" I asked, glancing over at the complicated gown that hung on the mannequin. "That thing looks pretty involved."
"We'll call for them if we need them. We'll be around people all night. Let's keep it between us for now. A little calm before the storm."
Isabella and I were to our stays now, and she tied a pair of wide panniers over her hips. I came up from behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. We both looked at ourselves in the mirror. "You can still stand to be around me with so much on your mind?"
"A pleasant distraction," replied Isabella.
We spent the rest of our time helping each other get ready: lacing stays, tying petticoats, putting on shoes, attaching decorations, doing each other's hair, and putting on makeup. Finally, we were all put together. And while I thought I looked rather grand, I trembled in comparison to Isabella. Her gown was already gorgeous, but the ribbons that were intertwined in her hair and the flowers that were tucked just behind her ear made everything come together perfectly. How lucky I was to stand beside her.
Isabella playfully reached up and adjusted the crown of laurels that sat in my hair. "Ah, one more thing," she picked up a compact from her dressing table and opened it, swiping a brush across a tin of bright pink powder. She ran her fingertips along my jaw, redirecting my face to be towards her. "Here, just a little..." She swiped the brush on the apples of my cheeks, leaving a rosy blush to my face. "Boop!" she exclaimed as she touched the brush to my nose. "Much better!"
"I look French," I commented, looking myself over in the mirror. "With the rouge and all."
Isabella ran her hands over her skirt. I assumed this was a nervous tic, as there wasn't a wrinkle to be seen. "Isn't that the best way to be, my dear?"
Somehow in perfect unison, we both took a nerve-stabilizing sigh. "Are we ready?"
"Well, I suppose I have to be at some point. And the point must be now."
Isabella and I got into the carriage just as the sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. Isabella had trouble cramming her dress in the carriage, and spent most of the ride fumbling over it and plucking off pieces of lint that I wouldn't have even noticed. I spent most of my time gazing out of the window at the streets of Vienna, pools of water from the afternoon's rainstorm reflecting the warm oranges and bright pinks of the sky at sunset. The streets seemed abandoned. Maybe the city policing forces had initiated a curfew. That wasn't uncommon when royalty came into the city.
The first part of the ride was silent except for the sound of the horses' hooves on the cobblestones and the creaking of the carriage. Somewhere in the distance a crow was calling, but I couldn't locate where it was. Even St. Stephen's, it seemed, was quiet. Then, as we turned closer and closer to the Mehlgrube, we met with another carriage, this one heartier and for heavier travel. Isabella's face lit up. "I thought he said he was going to be late!"
"What? Who?"
We put our masks on and descended from the carriage, François accompanying us from a distance, of course. The rider of the other carriage got out too, in a striking suit of blue velvet trimmed with gold lace. He was an older man, followed by an African servant boy in almost nearly as striking of a uniform. The blue-suited man groaned as he stepped out, stretching his back as soon as he had both feet on the cobblestones. "Gah, I'm getting too old for this."
"Do you recognize us, sir?" Isabella asked with a wide grin, stepping towards the man in blue.
The man laughed heartily, and opened his arms for a hug. "Oh! Goodness! Hello, Izzy!" It was the Prince of Lichtenstein, Isabella's guardian on her trip from Parma to Vienna. "Barely, just barely! How are you settling in?"
"Wonderfully, Wenzel. Joseph and I get along well and I couldn't be happier. And I've found the greatest of friends in my good sister-in-law." Isabella turned to me with a gentle yet knowing smile.
"I'm glad. See, you had nothing to worry about. And now look at you, planning parties. Caesar- get my cane, would you?"
"Yes, sir," replied the servant boy.
Isabella's expression dropped slightly. "You didn't use a cane back in October."
"Ah, don't you worry about it," said the Prince, waving off Isabella's concern. "The gout's just getting to my right leg. Nothing too major. The doctor says it might have something to do with that time a goddamn Ottoman struck me in the leg with his sword, but that was a very long time ago and I'm not sure I believe that."
"I see," replied Isabella. "You can still dance, correct? What's a party without dancing?"
Prince Wenzel smiled. "Oh, I don't know! A real boring time, that's what!" We all laughed. "Now, let's get inside. I'm going to have a talk with that husband of yours. Your father wants me to write a report about him."
We walked with the masked prince into the narrow entrance hall of the Mehlgrube, François and Caesar following behind us. "Papa?" Isabella inquired. "He barely writes. Grand-père writes me over and over. He said Papa took Ferdinando and Luisa to Versailles."
"He wanted them to see it," was Wenzel's simple reply. "Come, Izzy, let's have fun. We can deal with all of this nonsense later."
We entered the grand hall of the Mehlgrube, which was filled with the most excellently dressed people. I recognized some as members of the court, and others as wealthy Viennese residents. Isabella had opened the ball to the public- that was, anyone who could be properly dressed and have good manners. Chatter and music filled the air. A double staircase was in the back of the room, which led to a balcony that was swarming with masked guests. In one corner was a small orchestra. Among them I recognized Mr. Leopold Mozart, his daughter playing the viola and his son at the harpsichord, his feet just dangling off of the edge of the bench. A servant swung around me, nearly startling me, and offered me a glass of champagne. Overlooking the crowd that was laid out before me, I happily took one.
Somehow when I turned around, Isabella and Wenzel were gone, swept away in the ocean current of the ballroom. Orange candlelight kept the place lit, but not enough to properly identify anyone. The masks certainly didn't make it any easier either. People were dancing in the middle of the floor, which made it hard to navigate the place without being swished with a swirling skirt.
One figure that I couldn't help but recognize was a man standing shyly within a circle of friends. He wore a burgundy ensemble that was printed with a fashionable yet subtle floral design. The sparkling golden crown atop his head marked him as my brother, the Crown Prince. "Hey, Joey, happy birthday! I thought I wasn't going to see you here. You're not exactly the partying type."
"I'm not, but my wife so kindly planned it for my birthday. The least I could do is show up. I feel a little silly wearing this thing, but to each their own," Joseph said as he motioned to his mask, a simple silver bordered with rubies.
Joseph's friend Ernest leaned over his shoulder, brilliantly dressed as a stag. "Well, I'm having fun," he grinned at some passing girls, "Are you, ladies?" They giggled affirmations, and Ernest gave them a wink. "Where's the party planner, anyways?"
"That's what I was trying to find out," I admitted. "I walked in with her, and by the time I turned around, she and Wenzel were gone."
Joseph raised his eyebrows. "She invited Wenzel? That old fart can still party?"
"I suppose so."
Joseph took a heavy sip of his champagne. "Jesus, I hope he doesn't break a hip."
The crowd parted, and I saw a brilliantly dressed Euridice chatting with everyone she passed. "Oh, there she is!"
Joseph suddenly halted his drinking and lowered his glass from his face. "Wow," he managed to utter. "Look at her."
"Isn't she brilliant?" I said, accidentally excitedly.
"More than brilliant," he whispered before she approached. Joseph pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I don't even know how you managed to plan all of this."
"I have my ways," Isabella said with a wink. "You like it?"
"I love it. I can't thank you enough. I think this may be my best birthday yet."
Isabella took a few steps to her right and placed her hand on Mr. Mozart's shoulder, signaling him to pause the music. At the stop of the sound, every guest turned their attention to the orchestra. Isabella grabbed Joseph's hand and pulled him up the staircase, hoping that all of the guests could get a proper view. Those who noticed first, including me, tapped their glasses to direct attention to the royal couple.
"Distinguished guests!" Isabella declared, her words echoing against the walls. "I thank you all so very much for coming. Tonight we are celebrating a very special day. Twenty years ago today, Empress Maria Theresa gave birth to a much-desired Prince!" There was a moment of cheers from the crowd, which Isabella let pass before she spoke again. "And throughout all perils, Crown Prince Joseph has continued to live, marking the longevity of the Empire. And with all good hope, our descendants will increase that longevity. Cheers to the Crown Prince, and God Save the Empress!"
The crowd recited with great excitement, "And Long Live the Empire!" The words faded into whooping, cheering, and applause. As Isabella and Joseph descended the stairs, I could see the redness of his cheeks building from behind his mask. Either in a display in actual affection, marital support, or national pride, Isabella pressed a kiss to her husband's lips, and my heart twisted so violently that I was forced to turn away. I had to work on that.
It was not long before Mr. Mozart struck up again and the party continued. "We're going to dance, aren't we?" I said to Isabella, watching couples flock to the middle of the floor.
"Oh, of course!" Isabella exclaimed, "I wouldn't attend a party without dancing with you. God knows Joseph won't dance."
"Not because I don't want to," Joseph corrected, "Because I'd embarrass myself if I tried."
"Well, then?" I held out my hand to Isabella invitingly.
Just as Isabella was about to place her hand in mine, an usher leaned over her shoulder. "Your Royal Highness, I do beg your pardon. Your presence is requested."
Isabella closed her eyes and smiled. "They made it, didn't they?"
"They did, Your Highness."
Isabella turned. Standing before her was a handsome young couple. The man was costumed as the sun, and the woman the moon. "Uncle Louis!" Isabella wrapped the man in a hug.
Joseph grasped my sleeve. "Did she tell you that she was inviting the Dauphin and Dauphine of France?!"
"No!" I hissed back. "Have they even visited Mama!?"
"There's been no formal court visit that I was made aware of. And sorting court visits is part of my job."
Isabella and her uncle broke from their embrace. "Your grandfather told me how big you had gotten, fleur, but I scarcely believed him. Look at you, a young lady! I usually can't tolerate parties, but this one is excellently planned."
"I missed you," said Isabella sincerely. "I miss Versailles. How are the children?"
The Dauphine spoke, her voice soft and gentle. "Poor Louis-Joseph is ill. The doctors don't expect him to live past April."
"Oh, no," Isabella said breathily. "I'm so sorry. Louis-Auguste will be heir, then?"
"We hope that he remains the Duc de Berry, and his brother lives," said the Dauphin. "But we wouldn't miss this party for the world. Ever since the invitation arrived I have been elated to see you."
The Dauphine looked around the room. "You said my brother attended the Viennese court before he went to war?"
Isabella's face lit up. "I want you to meet someone," she grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the French royals. "My sister-in-law and closest friend, Archduchess Maria Christina of Austria." I curtsied to the two visiting royals.
"Oh," said the Dauphine, "It's a pleasure to meet you. My brother may have mentioned you. Albert- Prince Albert Casimir, do you know him?"
"I-"
Before I could have even get another word in, Isabella blurted out, "They're engaged, they're engaged!"
"No no no no no," I replied hurriedly, watching as the Dauphine's mouth opened in a gasp. "Not officially, anyways. We'd like to be, when he returns from war, whenever that may be."
"Do pardon me, but isn't my little brother too low of rank to marry a woman of such high standing?" asked the Dauphine.
"Yes, that is what most would say, but I have the permission of the Empress. The direct permission. It will be a love match."
"Oh, how wonderful! Louis and I are actually planning to marry one of our sons to an Archduchess. We have a meeting with the Empress tomorrow afternoon. We were hoping it was going to be for Louis-Joseph but," The Dauphine took a pause to sigh, "It would be more likely that it would be our second son Louis-Auguste."
"Well, Antonia's five," I replied. "Maria Antonia. My youngest sister. Very energetic and bubbly. The brightest blue eyes and a great shock of ash-blonde hair. She's quite the sweet girl. Not very focused on her studies, but then again, she is only five."
The Dauphin butted into our conversation. "What was her name again? We will be talking to the Empress about her."
"Maria Antonia."
"Louis and Antonia," said the Dauphin, taking his wife's hand. "But in French, Antoinette. Marie Antoinette has a ring to it. Don't you think, Josephine?"
"Yes maybe if we have another daughter we'll have to steal that name."
Isabella took a moment to look around the room. "Come, come Uncle, you must meet my husband! We must catch him before he works his way off into the night. He's not exactly the most partying type."
"I'd be elated to meet him. Come Josephine, You heard her! We have to catch him!"
Before they departed, the Dauphine turned to me. "I love that costume, by the way."
"Oh, thank you."
As Isabella and her family departed, I scanned the crowd for some other accompaniment. To my shock, there was a familiar face dancing in the crowd, dressed as some kind of gypsy. Through the mask I could see that she was dancing with a handsome Italian.
I approached her just as the song stopped, and the two flirtatiously departed from each other. "Liesl!"
Liesl turned. "Jesus, Mimi. You scared me."
"I thought I told you to stay away from him," I hissed into her ear.
Liesl playfully jingled the ribbon-decorated tambourine that she held against her hip. "Gaetano was invited by Isabella. It's fine."
"Look," I sighed, "Two weeks ago I saw Amalia snooping around the stables with some boy. I can't manage both of you at once."
Liesl's eyebrows raised. "A stable boy, huh? Good for her. I've seen them- very strong boys."
"No, no. He was very well dressed."
"Oh," Liesl exclaimed. "It wasn't that prince from Zweibrücken, was it?"
"What prince from Zweibrücken?"
"The Duke of Zweibrücken came to court last month to talk to Mama and her advisors. Duke Michael, I think? He was sent by the Elector of Hanover."
My heart dropped in my chest. "The Elector of Hanover?"
"...yeah."
"The Elector of Hanover and the King of Great Britain are the same person."
"No," Liesl corrected me. "The last King of Great Britain was also the Elector of Hanover. He's dead. There's a new elector now."
"Liesl. When one king dies, the heir takes over. George III is the Elector of Hanover as well. And guess what? We're at war with Great Britain. A prince associated with the enemy cannot be hanging around Amalia."
"What?" Liesl said, narrowing her brows. "Are you saying that some fourteen-year-old could be a spy?"
"I wouldn't put the idea past him."
"You're mad, Mimi. It's just some young fling. It'll be fine."
"Fine. But I'll still be keeping an eye on the two of them."
"Orfeo!" cried out a voice from behind me. I turned just as Isabella stopped before me. "I still owe you a dance! Come on, dance with me!" She grabbed my hands, and before I could utter another word, she had pulled me to the middle of the floor.
"What dance are we even doing?!" I asked hurriedly.
"I don't know, just follow me."
Before I even knew it, Isabella and I were dancing gracefully around the ballroom. But I could feel the searing heat of hundreds of pairs of eyes glued to us. "They're staring," I whispered to Isabella.
Isabella grinned. "Let them stare," With a swell in the music, she put her weight onto me and pushed off of the floor. I lifted her a few inches off of the ground for just a moment, enough for a half rotation, before setting her back down again. "That'll give them a reason to."
With her actions came those dreaded whispers again, but before long, the Dauphin and Dauphine were dancing alongside us. With their invitation, more and more couples joined until nearly the entire party was engaged in dance. Gowns and coats of the most vibrant colors made the Mehlgrube look like an Indian spice market. The clacking of shoes on the polished wooden floor served as a kind of drumline to Mr. Mozart's music. The dancing went well into the night, and we continued to have the time of our lives beyond the strikes of the clock of early morning.
By about three on March the fourteenth, my body ached in nearly every joint. About half of the party had already departed for the night, and the cleanup operation had already begun. Isabella and I were on our third, maybe fourth, glasses of champagne; the memory escaped me.
Isabella clung to Joseph's hand as he lingered at the door. "Won't you stay? Another hour?"
Joseph replied, "No, I'm sorry. It's almost half past three. I absolutely must get some sleep. I have important business to attend to tomorrow- today. Thank you, I had a wonderful time."
"But it's your birthday!" Isabella begged.
A slight smile crossed Joseph's face. "Not anymore. Lieutenant Baptiste, see that she is delivered home safely."
"Yes, sir," replied François.
From somewhere within the Mehlgrube, Eleanore, dressed as a shepherdess, emerged. "Isa? You're still here?"
Isabella stared at the door sadly, fixated on the place where Joseph had departed. "Joseph left. He's no fun."
"To be fair," Eleanore stated, "He was here for about five hours. That was his limit."
"But he could have stayed for a little while longer. There's barely anybody here anymore."
Eleanore placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder. "Come on, querida. Let's get some fresh air."
Eleanore, Isabella, François, and I navigated a set of narrow stairs until we reached a rickety door in a creviced corner of the Mehlgrube. A blast of air struck my skin as I crossed the doorway into the dark. We stood on the dance hall's roof. We all sat down on the rough roofing tiles, sighing at the liberation of our tired bodies.
Isabella rested her head against my shoulder and stared up at the glimmering stars above us. The world was quiet except for the occasional carriage and the barking of a dog somewhere to the south. I took the cape off of my costume and laid it over her shoulders. "It's so beautiful up here," she said simply.
"I used to stand guard on the roof of Versailles," Francois began. "I loved that shift more than anything. You could see every inch of the garden from up there."
"Oh, don't mention Versailles," Isabella mumbled. "I'll get homesick. Seeing my uncle was bad enough. He looks so much like my Mama."
I looked out over Vienna. The fountain in the city square just before the Mehlgrube still flowed with water, even though there was not a soul to see it. "The Dauphine looks like Albert. They have the same eyes."
"From soldier to soldier's fiancé, Mademoiselle," said François, "When I was away in general combat, my wife always told me to look up at the moon at night. Because no matter how far we were apart, we always looked at the same moon."
"That's very sweet," I replied. "Do you think he's looking at it now?"
"It's so bright tonight. I think it's unavoidable to look at it," François stated.
"Is your wife looking at the moon now?" asked Eleanore.
"No," François replied. "She's among it. She's one of the stars. Maybe that one," he pointed up at the sky. "Or that one. There's too many of them."
There was a moment of silence before Isabella asked, "What was her name? We'll pick a star and name it after her."
"Rosalie."
"What about that one?" Isabella pointed to the brightest star in the sky, located right next to the moon. It nearly pulsed with celestial light.
François chuckled. "Yeah, that one seems like her. You know, I'm not supposed to tell you personal things. It's against protocol."
"Last time I checked, there was no protocol on a rooftop at three in the morning."
"I suppose you're right. Just don't tell my supervisor."
"Trust me," Isabella said with a warm expression, "We won't."
To the West, I could just see the hazy orange light of a barge on the Danube, destined for some city port that would lead out into the ocean. Behind us, just across the street, was the imperial mausoleums where my ancestors were laid to rest. The spire of St. Stephen's stuck out over the city, the cross on top keeping hold over Vienna's skyline. I looked over at Isabella, whose eyelids fluttered with sleep. "Come on. Let's go home. You can take a nap in the carriage on the way back."