Je T'aime. - Chapter 42: Chapter 42

"Shit," I gasped to myself, holding my skirts up as I sped-walk through the long corridor of Schönbrunn Palace. I dodged a few footmen still bringing in belongings and baggage. The hall was soaked in sun, streaking the art on the walls with golden blocks of light. It was four hours later than my mother expected me. Hopefully she wouldn't notice. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. "Shit, shit, shit."
I hoped that Isabella didn't get in trouble. If she did I would take the blame for it. It was the least that I could do. Turning the corner, I nearly smacked into a Swiss Guard. "My apologies, Madame," he said, bowing deeply at the waist. "Her Majesty sent us to search for you."
"Did she?" I implored, my heart rising in my chest. "Well, there's no need. I'm right here. Where is she?"
"In the drawing room, Your Highness."
"Thank you. At ease," the guard bowed to me again. Did anyone know what 'at ease' meant? Certainly not me, as I hurried my pace and began gritting my teeth with nerves. I caught a reflection of myself in a vase in the hall. God, this fichu looked awful. But it was better than letting my mother see obvious evidence of sin.
At least Isabella could blame anything on her husband. I had no scapegoat- any evidence turned myself into an adulteress. As an unwed maiden, I was supposed to be a virgin- I laughed to myself at that- and as a fiancee, official or unofficial, I was set to him. Luckily Albert was not here to be swept into any issues that may arise. It was for his own good.
I turned on my heel and stormed into the drawing room. Upon seeing the scene within I halted in my tracks. Shimmering like imperial jewels in the sun was my mother, her spectacles balanced on the tip of her nose, paging through manuscripts. Around her like attentive muses were her ladies-in-waiting, the wives of Austria's most powerful. They tootled at some domestic task- embroidering, lace making, writing letters, sketching. As soon as I emerged they lifted their heads, almost in unison, as if I had shattered their serenity. One lady, working on her needlework in the back, locked her chocolate eyes with mine, paired with a delicate smile.
My mother looked over the top of her glasses, making her almost look dual-eyed. "There you are, Mimi, where in God's name did you run off to?"
"I went to go see Father Lachner," I lied. "I wanted to ensure blessings for the new season."
My mother smiled softly. "That's my girl," I couldn't believe that worked. "Is that a new fashion? High fichu and brooch combination?"
I chuckled to myself, but I felt my cheeks turning red. "Uh- no. My skin has just been strangely sensitive to the sun recently."
My mother licked her fingertips and turned a page. "Well, the weather is warming up, and you can spend some more time outside. That should even it out."
Without skipping a beat or looking up from her lace making, one lady commented, "I don't mind it. I think it is very becoming of a young lady. An Archduchess should contain the privilege of such a fabric allowance to cover herself."
Another lady replied, "It would be a travesty to cover up a young lady's youthful beauty while she still has it. What is your opinion, Isabella?"
The Crown Princess looked up from her needlework, seemingly bewildered by her sudden inclusion into the conversation. "Well," she exhaled, "I think that whatever fashions my dear sister-in-law prefers, she pulls off remarkably well, and may as well be the greatest Viennese beauty."
I felt my face flushing again. The prudish lady again commented, "It is unanimously agreed that the title goes to Archduchess Maria Elisabeth."
Isabella replied, "Then my opinion shall swim against the current."
"Mimi, dear," my mother invited, "Play the harp for us."
I obliged amongst the backdrop of the other ladies approving the proposal. I crossed the room to the harp, which sat in the very back of the room. I sat at the stool and brought my hands to the strings.
The harp was right next to Isabella, who sat prim and properly with her spine against the back of the chair. She worked at the embroidery in her lap, constantly moving the needle in and out of the fabric. It was a floral design, and very pretty at that, with edelweiss and violets.
I began to pluck at the harp's delicate strings, playing a piece by C. P. E. Bach, a favorite of my mother since he visited the court a few years prior. Dreamy music soon filled the room. It was like my fingers played all on their own; I didn't put much thought into the process and just let the music carry me on its wings.
I watched Isabella toy with her skirt as I played. She acted as if she was brushing something from the fabric, and as she swished it around a corner came to rest on the hem of my gown. She let it stay there and she grinned slightly at me, like we were holding hands in secrecy. With her legs crossed daintily in the chair, Isabella moved her foot to the rhythm of the song.
My mother clicked her tongue as she turned another document. "Prussians, Prussians, all I hear about are the goddamn Prussians and their idiot king!"
One of the ladies sat forward, her face brightening. "Did you hear, Your Majesty," she began in a low voice, drawn out as if pulling at the tensions of those in the room. "Of King Frederick and his awful affairs? Sinful affairs, one could say."
My mother's eyes widened. "Go on."
"Well," hissed the lady, "Their are rumors that the King has had numerous liaisons with other men, going back all of the way to when he was a boy of sixteen. The first of them was with his father's pageboy, can you believe that? Then with a Palace guard, his valet, and possibly even Monsieur Voltaire."
My mother stifled back a laugh. "Well, that explains a lot. No wonder he is childless!"
"Yes, the poor Queen," the lady added. "It is said that he is revolted by her in the bedroom, and that it troubles her so."
My mother was chuckling as she took off her spectacles, setting them on the table beside her. "And to think I was almost married to him! If he was my husband I would stuff my pockets with rocks, throw myself into the Danube, and be drowned."
"You are among the lucky few princesses that could marry for love, Your Majesty," added the lady, "Noblewomen the world over are jealous of your privilege."
"And what a husband I have!" swooned my mother, "So handsome and dashing, so courageous and so strong! So-"
"Mama!" I admonished, embarrassment seeping into my flushed cheeks as I halted my playing. "That's my father!"
My mother wiggled her eyebrows "Oh, yes, honey, I know."
"MAMA!"
Isabella's hand flew to her mouth as she tried to suppress her laugh. "I'm sorry!" came squeaking through her hand between giggles.
"You'll understand when you're married, dear Mimi. You'll join that small collection of love-bound princesses," said my mother.
"With all good hope," I sighed, remembering Albert's placement on the battlefield. "To be a soldier's bride is the most interesting of predicaments. And until Papa approves-"
My mother's face grew stern and serious, like it sat in her portraiture. "He will approve. I am the Empress, he wields to me. As long as I sit on this throne you will marry Albert. From the Imperial holdings he will get a duchy to preside over, and you and inheritance. I have this all planned out. My eldest is a happy spinster. I got the first marriage done," she waved vaguely at Isabella, "And I'm onto the next. With thirteen children you must have a plan."
One lady's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Saxon?" but her words went forgotten.
My mother continued, "And now I am in the turbulent process of satisfying both my own husband and the Duke of Chablais."
The Duke of Chablais. I had not heard that title in so long, ever since my mother offered herself as an ally to the matrimony of Albert and I. "Prince Benedetto?" came from my lips in the most quiet of tones, almost unnoticable. Isabella turned towards me, her eyes wide with concern at the mention of such a dreaded cousin.
My mother continued rambling steadfastly. "He wants an Archduchess as a wife and Francis will not give up this motion. He grieves for his poor sister, and I understand that, but he puts behind him our daughters' power in a political match. I do not need to make alliances with the House of Savoy. What I need is to solidify relations with Spain and France, more than Isabella's marriage could ever do, even once a child is born. Christina is off the market, so I offered the Duke Liesl instead."
My soul dropped. Liesl, the prettiest and kindest out of all of us, to inherit my misfortunes! I shivered at the thought. My sister was worth so much more than some lowly Duke. Liesl could have married the grandest king in Europe, as far as I was concerned. Isabella and I made frantic eye contact. "Does Liesl know of this?" I asked.
"She will know with time. She is only seventeen, he scarcely twenty. She does not need to know until everything is set. My offer was sent out yesterday afternoon. She will like Turin. It's a temperate, laid back country. She will be most happy, and I believe she will be spoiled appropriately."
The clock chimed, ripping me from my silence of shock. "Well, the clock bids me farewell," I said, rising from behind my harp. "Until this evening, Mama."
"Yes," Isabella stood along beside me, her half-finished embroidery dangling from her hand. "I'm afraid I must take my leave as well."
"Very well, until tonight."
At the leave of the Empress, Isabella and I curtsied and scurried out of the room. Grasping Isabella's arm, I hissed, "Oh my God!"
"I know," replied Isabella, shaking her head with disappointment. "Her own daughters, like mere pawns on a political chessboard."
"We have to tell Liesl."
Isabella nodded approvingly. Gathering our skirts, Isabella and I charged towards Liesl's apartments, halfway across Schönbrunn Palace. Her future laid in the balance.