Je T'aime. - Chapter 45: Chapter 45

Isabella had been a rare figure at court for a week. She spent most of her time alone in her chamber, and when she did emerge her eyes were heavy with sleep. Every time I came to visit her, she was either asleep or only feeling well enough for light conversation. But over time, her physicality seemed to be improving, and so she was more able. No matter who I bitterly questioned, not a soul would tell me the extent of her illness or any kind of diagnosis. I could scarcely sleep. After this long week, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed answers. I went to Isabella's apartments and pleaded for her to divulge it to me, for my own peace of mind.
Isabella paced back and forth across her chamber, pinching the bridge of her nose. The light of the daytime sun shone faintly through a gap in the window curtains. It casted down across her cheeks beautifully, though unusually pale they were. The clock struck with the hour, echoing across the quiet room. I sat on her bed, twisting the bedspread between my fingers, watching her. "Christina, it's two weeks late. Two weeks! And I skipped last month. It's usually irregular but not this irregular."
"That doesn't mean anything," I replied, standing before her in the middle of the room. I reached out to touch her but pulled back; she didn't even turn to face me. Her hair was pulled out of her face messily, and she wore her wrinkled white and pink banyan untied from her waist. "It may be just because of the migraines. That can throw your timing off of its rhythm."
"But it's been different than the migraines. That's just what I've been calling it because I don't know what else to call it." The dark bags that had appeared under her eyes struck my heart with concern and pity. Isabella brought her hands to her face, dragging her cheeks down with the heels of her hands.
"Shall I call for van Sweiten?" I asked pleadingly, "Or any doctor at all?"
"I doubt that he could help me. I just- I need to speak to your mother."
Puzzlement built up inside of me, clouding my thoughts. "My mother is not a doctor, Isabella. If you feel ill, you need medical attention, especially if you have felt this way for over a week. I'm sure Joseph has already told you this and this is one of the rare times that I have to agree with him." The fact that I even had to say that contorted my stomach with disgust.
"No," she held out her hand to stop me. "You don't understand, I need your mother. She knows what I need more than anyone else at court. She has the most experience. Please, get your mother."
"Isabella-" I cupped her face in my palm.
Her eyes were wide and glassy, red veins of exhaustion streaking across them, seemingly in a different place than any time that I had ever known her. She grasped my wrist, reassuring but not tender. "Christina," she said in a sad whisper that almost seemed to be not her own.
"Please," I begged. "Tell me what's wrong. You look so tired. Please let me help you."
She cast her gaze away from me, her eyes swelling with tears. She sighed defeatedly. "I think I may be with child."
"What?"
"We knew this would happen," she explained, talking through the urge to cry. "It was going to happen eventually. That's why I'm here, isn't it? For the treaty, for the Empire?" She looked to me earnestly for just a moment. "Do you see why I'd like to talk to your mother?"
I just stood there, staring at her, dumbfounded. "Have you told Joseph?"
She shook her head. "I want to verify with your mother that what I'm feeling is actually pregnancy before I tell him. I don't want to disappoint him. She has been pregnant sixteen times. She knows what it feels like."
I could barely believe what I was hearing. It was like the impossible was actually happening.  But it was almost like the news wasn't good, like the prospect of a birth was not a happy outcome. The realization came from me in a whisper. "Shouldn't you be happy?"
Isabella's trembling hands hovered over her stomach, as if she was afraid to touch her own skin. There were tears building up in her eyes, her breathing shaky. "What if I miscarry? What happens if I let everyone down?" I tried to comfort her, but no words came up. "What if it kills me," she said quietly, looking back at me. Her eyes were glassy, like they were never even hers. "What if it kills me?"
I tried to say something, but I couldn't think of anything. Isabella turned, tilting her head backwards to restrain the tears. Everything that we had feared was coming to fruition. "I'll- I'll go get my mother."
"Please."
I turned and twisted through each of the palace's hallways, looking through every doorway for my mother. My heart pounded like it was going to break through my ribs, and my own saliva was thickening so extremely that it nearly choked me. I received half-pitiful glances from unknowing courtiers who came to pass me by chance. They curtsied and bowed to me out of respect, but I hardly felt worthy of a pause. I was just a tearful little girl looking and pleading for her Mama.
I poked my head into the drawing room and was blessed with the image of my mother at a little writing desk. Her glasses were low on her nose, a shawl wrapped over her shoulders. She looked like a feeble little old lady, not the grand and powerful Empress that I had always known. "Oh, Mama," came from me with no hesitation, more pleading than I had intended.
My mother looked up from her writing, putting her pen down. Her eyes softened. "What's wrong, dear?" she beckoned me to her side, and if I was still small, I would have leapt onto her knee without hesitation. But now, I was a woman. I knelt beside my mother's chair and let my face fall into her lap, crying into the familiar warmth of her printed cotton damask. "Sweet Mimi," she said quietly, taming my hair with her palm like she did when I was just a little girl.
"Mama," I said into her skirt. "Isabella is not feeling well."
"I know that. Has she called for a doctor?"
"She requests your presence at her chamber for your good advice and direction," I tried to explain. "She believes that she may be with child."
My mother let out a sharp gasp. She lifted my face from her lap, ignoring the tears that threatened at the very edge of my waterline. "Oh, praise Jesus, why would we cry over so grand a discovery! My first grandchild!"
I could not match the excitement of my mother with the promise of a new life. I didn't care about the little life that grew inside of Isabella, as my mother did. I cared about her. I cared about the mother, the woman who had been tangled into this political mess through only her blood and biology. This baby that somehow lived within her I could not come to love yet. Maybe I could, but for now it was a growth of danger, a blessing of a possible feminine death. "It could kill her," I finally admitted to my mother, raising myself off of my knees.
"Oh, hush," said the Empress, her eyes glowing with enchantment and wonder. "It's a miracle. A beautiful thing. Our dynasty shall live on. How I hope it is a son!" she exclaimed, as giddy as a teenaged girl. She grasped my hand, nearly dragging me along out of the drawing room with a destination of Isabella's apartments. One would think that after sixteen, my mother would be tired of babies. And after the deaths of three before they turned four and one at fifteen, one would think that she would take into account the connection between the entry of life and death. My mother seemed to push that all aside and would only think of the unborn head that would support her crown and her name.
I brought my mother to Isabella's chamber, closing the door behind her and leaving the two mothers in there alone. They hadn't excluded me per say but I decided if they carried out their conversation in private. For a moment I felt like a little girl again, excluded from adult discussions. Isabella had surpassed me- the child that she would bear, though so much younger, would outrank me. I liked to think to myself that I was a grown woman with a fiancé, a future, a good position. But now Isabella had become the reality of the royal woman. She was a wife and would be a mother. The only thing left for her to achieve was to become an Empress and a Queen, and there was only way to do so. She had to wait for my mother to die.
There was muffled conversation through the heavy oak door that I decided to neglect, turning away down the long hallway. I quickened my pace, trying desperately not to cry. This was what was for the best of the Empire- I was supposed to be happy for Isabella! But somehow what was groomed as the greatest revelation of her life twisted my darling's face with petrification and devastation. And in the hour of her greatest need, she had cast me from her presence. I tried to not let it bother me- she was under great stress. But I couldn't deny that it had hurt.
"Your Highness," a voice came out from nowhere, and I had to pause to steady myself from lashing out at an innocent passerby. "A letter for you." Curtsying, a maid placed a crinkled letter in my hand. Recognizing the handwriting scribbled on the front, I teared it open.
Dear Christina,
I write to you from the ever-continuing march as we push from Dresden towards the countryside of Silesia. I am happy to report that the Saxon-Austrian coalition was able to ward off the invading Prussian forces and turn them around for good! When my officers brought me the news of the enemy's retreat I wept with joy. It is such a great relief to know that my homeland is safe once again. It will take much for the city to heal, but the terror is finally over. I know that my dear mother watches over me from Heaven, and that our victory was partially orchestrated by her and the Almighty. I like to think that the Prussians are losing power, and that we take more steps before eventual peace day by day.
With one task completed, it was told to us that we would be needed to support troops into Western Poland, where we now make our march. It will be a long one, a week and a half if we keep a good pace. But the weather is fair and our troops in high morale, so all should be well. The drums roll and the fifers play, and mostly everyone is in good health. The summer will bring about much better conditions for all- and hopefully more generous rations! God knows that we will need it- they say that the fighting on the Polish fronts is much more desperate and chaotic than it is in the Germanic theatre. Though I hope that we have not left them, please keep myself and the regiment within your prayers.
I know the time of year, and it dreads me so that I have missed the opening of Schönbrunn for the summer! It was always one of my favorite court occasions. I could nearly smell the orange blossoms from memory alone- I am sure that they were wonderful. Give all back in Vienna my love and good wishes. I will try to make it back home to you as soon as I can, if the Prussian offensive is willing! I cannot wait until the day that I may gaze upon your face again. I miss you terribly. I love you, please write!
Your very own,
Captain Albert Casimir, Prince of Saxony
Oh, dear Albert! Pushing into Poland, where the fighting is the most severe! I wasn't quite sure what I had expected. This was all so inevitable, yet the news struck me straight in the chest. Maybe it was all my fault for being so naive, so airy-headed. But now it all felt so real, so heavy. Things moved too quickly, all without me. It left me alone, a little girl in the world of men and women. Death stared me in the face. Without Isabella and Albert, I was nothing. If I lost them there was nothing for me. I may as well would accept the marriage proposal of Prince Benedetto and move to Turin. Either that, or I would throw myself off of a bridge and plunge into the Danube.
Pushing the letter into my pocket, I sought out the solace of my own apartments. I slammed the door behind me, sinking my back into the stability of its thick oak structure. My legs gave out, and I sunk into the floor into a melting puddle that was once one of Europe's grandest princesses. I folded my legs against my chest and pressed my face into my knees. And there I wept, my sobs echoing against the walls, taunting me with my own sorrow. In an instant, everything had changed!