Je T'aime. - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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For five days, Isabellla's advice lingered in my mind. It was always at the edge of my lips, but I just couldn't find the right time to finally set it free. With every moment that her words stayed dormant in my head, the more I took it apart and analyzed it, piece by piece. I finally decided that before I even brought my ideas to Albert, I had to get the opinion of my parents. This, I knew, would be difficult- between imperial affairs and leisure, my parents rarely had a spare moment together for me to council them.
Finally, on a rainy day of late October, I built up the courage to finally tell my parents my plan. I knew that after their council meetings they would be lounging in my mother's salon, enjoying an afternoon coffee. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. As I waited for a response, I noticed that my hands were shaking. No, I thought. This was my life. I had the right to take charge.
"Come in," I heard my mother say from behind the door. I slowly opened the door and stepped into the salon. My mother was seated in a great armchair, a stack of imperial papers beside her. She sat her silver coffee cup down atop the papers. "Hello, Mimi, dear," My father sat on the chaise diagonally across from my mother, his nose buried in a book. "Have a seat, have a seat!"
I sat down in another chair next to my mother. I took a deep sigh, trying to remember the script that I had made for myself in my head. "I wanted to ask you both something," my mother leaned forward, intently ready to listen. Her slight action gave me a small grain of reassurance.
"Theresa," my father began. "Don't we have more important things to do?"
"Franz," my mother snapped. "You're sitting here sipping coffee and reading natural science books. I think you have time for what your daughter has to say. Go ahead, Mimi."
I tried to regather myself before I proposed my ideas. My father's interventions had thrown my thoughts off course. "Joseph's wedding has encouraged me to begin thinking about my own marriage," I began. "I'm eighteen now, and we all know that my marriage is soon impending. And although it isn't customary, I'd like to get myself involved in my own arrangements. It is my life, after all. And my first note would be to put forth a husband for myself. Prince Albert of Saxony. I do care for him greatly, and I think that we would make a very happy pair. He and I-"
"No," my father said outright. "We already have someone picked out for you."
My mother intercepted. "We didn't decide on that, Franz. It was just an idea."
"Hush, Theresa."
"I am the Empress! You do not tell me to hush!"
My father ignored my mother's words. "My sister's son, Prince Benedetto, Duke of Chablais, is a good man who would happily marry you. He has a sizable estate in Northern Italy, near Turin, and is closer to you in age than Albert. For as long as I am alive, I would like to see you married to him. The Houses of Lorraine and Savoy need unity that can only be found through marriage."
I was at a loss for words. "But I've never met Benedetto. And have you? At least you both know Albert. Isabella says he really likes me. You could give us one of your duchies, Papa. We'd be so happy together."
My father scoffed. "So you're getting romance advice from a girl who's been married for five days, via an arranged marriage? Do you know how silly you sound, Mimi?"
"Franz! Enough!"
I finally snapped. "Well, damn me for wanting to live a good life with someone I actually like!"
My father stood from his chair. "You ungrateful child! My little sister died giving birth to that boy. She died, Mimi! And you want to marry some unimportant Polish kid? Get out. Now."
"But Papa-"
"OUT! NOW!"
I left the salon, slamming the door behind me. From behind the door, I could hear my mother telling my father off. I felt the tears building up in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away and headed towards a place where I knew I could finally be alone- the drawing room.
I entered the drawing room. It was the room of the palace that was filled with the most figures of an ordinary life. My painting supplies were kept in the drawer of the center table. One of Antonia's dolls lay on the chaise, with Ferdinand's toy sword not too far away. Muted gray sunlight came through the windows, and illuminated the bluish-green tone of the wallpaper. In the corner of the room opposite the window sat my harp, which had been neglected in the exciting last few days. I sat down on the stool that stood dutifully beside it, and hovered my hands over the strings. I remembered sitting by this exact same harp when I was a little girl, barely even able to reach the very rear strings. That little girl was long gone now, I knew.
Absent-minded, I began to pluck at my harp's strings. I knew compositions much more complicated than the song I began to play, but it was the first song I had ever learned. I knew it would make little Christina proud to know that twelve years later, I could still play it. It was a very old song from England, and some said that it came from the pen of Henry VIII. In the stillness of the drawing room I began to sing along.
Alas my love you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you oh so long
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever thou would'st crave,
I have waged both life and land
Your love and goodwill for to have.
Greensleeves was my delight
Greensleeves my heart of gold...
From behind me I heard a sweet singing voice finishing the verse along with me.
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
Slowly I turned, convinced I was just hearing a ghost. Standing in the doorway wearing a smile was Isabella. " I can finally say I've had the privilege to hear you play. You sound great." She came and pulled over a chair, sitting next to me.
"Thank you," I replied simply.
Isabella gave me a curious look. "What's wrong?"
I glanced over to her. She overlooked me with eyes of understanding pity. "I talked to my parents about Albert," I said.
Isabella sighed. "It didn't go well, did it?"
I shook my head. "My mother seemed fine with it, but my father not so much."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Isabella placed her hand atop mine. "What did he say?"
"He wants me to marry his nephew Benedetto, who I didn't even know existed. But I feel bad because my aunt died giving birth to him." I could feel the tears building up again.
"Christina, look at me," I looked over to Isabella, but her form was blurry behind my wall of tears. I finally blinked and the tears rolled down my cheeks, clearing my vision again. "This is your life. And if your father doesn't care about your happiness, then you know what?"
"What?"
Isabella smiled. "Fuck him. You remain a bachelorette until he dies, and then you can marry whoever you want," I couldn't help but smile. "See? The best plan ever, right?"
I nodded and wiped the tears off of my face. "Best plan ever."
"There you go!" Isabella exclaimed. "Now, are we telling Albert?"
"Oh, hell no," I scoffed. "He'd flip his lid. The most I'm going is Marianna. Liesl's too much of a gossip."
"Well then," Isabella held out her hand expectantly. "Let's not tell the whole court. This can be our little secret, huh? I'm certainly not telling Eleanore. But it's your choice who to tell. Alright?"
"Alright." I grasped Isabella's hand and gave it a firm shake.
Later that evening I was relaxing in my chamber before dinner. Pia was across the room from me, folding laundry. At first glance it was almost shocking that Pia Bauer was not royalty like the rest of us. By Archduchess standards the clothing rations that she was given were rather meager, but on a girl so lovely her linen and wool outfits could have been made of the finest silk. But sometimes, if it could easily pass under the nose of her supervisor, I would slip Pia a small piece of finery. A lace cap, a new pair of shoes, or a brooch. Unlike the dignified, glamorous handsomeness of the court, Pia was a natural and rural beauty. She had a soft, round face with high-set, dignified cheekbones. She had round blue eyes that showed her ever emotion, and freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. She had strawberry-blonde hair that she unfortunately had to shove under a cap all day. She worked at such mundane chores with a dedicated focus that anyone could envy. I assumed it was the farmer's blood in her.
"Well, that's one more wedding in the books," Pia said as she matched pairs of my stockings. "Hopefully all of these dignitaries and well-wishers will leave the palace soon. It's been twice as busy downstairs ever since they showed up. Hopefully the next few weddings I'll be in service for will be much more low-key."
Marriage, marriage! God, all anyone ever talked about in this damned palace was marriage! "For the children of an empress, I wouldn't expect anything less than the grandest," I replied. There was a knock on my door. Pia looked at me. "Let them in," I said, hoping it was just another maid dropping off something of mine.
Pia opened the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her drop quickly into a curtsey. "Oh, Your Majesty."
I stood from my chair. My mother was standing in the doorway. "Mimi, honey, I came to talk to you. Pia. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Pia scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
"You didn't have to do that," I said. "It's just Pia."
"I know. But I wanted to talk to you privately. I'm sorry about how your father reacted this morning. He can be a little... hot tempered. He didn't mean to yell at you."
"Why isn't he here apologizing to me himself?"
"You know how he is. He's not a man to humble himself before anybody. But he shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm telling you that now. But his little sister- you have to understand how much he loved her. He's dead-set on finding a good place for her son. To be honest with you, I don't think the match is that great. But you have to understand where he's coming from."
"So if not Benedetto, who would you match me with? The Prince of Wales?" I grumbled.
"Oh, no! He's a Protestant. We can't have that. I was thinking..." My mother smiled.
"Prince Albert of Saxony."
"Really?" I squealed.
"Really!" My mother wrapped me in a hug. "If he makes you happy, honey, then I'd take him as my son-in-law no matter what. And anyone's better than Louis Eugene."
"Oh, please, Mama. He was just a summer fling from last year. My head wasn't quite on straight."
My mother and I shared a laugh. "No kidding. But really, the only thing that stops you from getting married right now is your father, and I really can't do anything about that. But I'm sure he'll come around eventually."
"Thank you, Mama, thank you."
"You're welcome, pumpkin. But don't you go off telling your siblings just yet. I'm only doing one romantic marriage. The Empire outweighs all, and I didn't have that many children if I wasn't going to make alliances. I have several letters in correspondence already. I'll see you at dinner, Mimi. Love you." My mother gave me a kiss on the forehead and was gone.
I was left standing in my bedroom, nearly aghast. I got what I wanted- my mother's support. But I knew deep down that by convincing my mother to let me marry Albert for love, I just doomed my siblings to cold political marriages in distant states. I thought of little Antonia, who for now was still playing with dolls and carefreely dancing with the son of a court musician. But in my mind I saw her ten years from now in a carriage, her entire life packed into suitcases, destined for Naples, Paris, Lisbon, Munich, Madrid, or some other far-off capital. I knew that as my siblings grew older and they learned of what Mama did for me out of favoritism, they would hate me for it. Why did Mama care for me so? My sisters were just as good as I, maybe even better. My intelligence was no greater than Marianna's. My beauty was nothing compared to Liesl. Amalia was much more compassionate than I could ever hope to be. In the grand scheme of my siblings I was woefully average. In the world of the court I was woefully average. Standing next to Isabella I looked like nothing more than a scullery maid. Why did my mother, the most powerful woman in all of Europe, choose me?
And why did Isabella, the most beautiful, charming, and intelligent woman that Vienna's court had ever seen, choose me as her accompaniment? What did I ever do to deserve bounties of such luck? Isabella, Isabella. I thought of her incessantly. Her name was always on the tip of my tongue. However strange it may have seemed, our interactions of the day played in my head every night before I finally fell asleep. When I laid in bed at night, I would think about what it would be like to roll over and see her lying next to me in bed, asleep in quiet tranquility. When I overlooked a landscape painting in the palace, I just wanted to grab Isabella's hand and pull her into that land of brush-strokes and oil paints with me, so that we could romp over the hillsides together without a care in the world. Just she and I. I could tuck fragile meadow wildflowers in her hair under a warm and bright summer's day. We could lounge under the shady branches of an ancient tree together. I could serenade her with my harp until she fell asleep in the grass beside me...
Whatever. I shoved these thoughts aside and turned to my writing desk. Maybe if I wrote my father a letter, like the ones of imperial duty that he sorted through every day, he would listen to me. But as I sat down I saw there was already a note waiting for me. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the blue wax seal that was brandished on the crisp white paper.
Dear HRH Archduchess Christina,
I am writing to you again just to tell you that I am beside you in every endeavor that you take. I am immensely proud of you for taking your marriage into your own hands- something that I could not even bring myself to do. I have only been in your company for a strikingly short amount of time, but I feel a connection to you like I have not had with anyone else before. Truly, I would be lost in this court without your guidance. The least I could do is return the favor. And please- do not hesitate to send notes and letters of your own. I look forward to speaking to you at every opportunity. Since the wedding is over now, I would anticipate seeing you less and less. It would bring me great joy to speak to you through pen.
Yours Truly,
Princess Isabella of Parma-Austria
Finally, on a rainy day of late October, I built up the courage to finally tell my parents my plan. I knew that after their council meetings they would be lounging in my mother's salon, enjoying an afternoon coffee. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. As I waited for a response, I noticed that my hands were shaking. No, I thought. This was my life. I had the right to take charge.
"Come in," I heard my mother say from behind the door. I slowly opened the door and stepped into the salon. My mother was seated in a great armchair, a stack of imperial papers beside her. She sat her silver coffee cup down atop the papers. "Hello, Mimi, dear," My father sat on the chaise diagonally across from my mother, his nose buried in a book. "Have a seat, have a seat!"
I sat down in another chair next to my mother. I took a deep sigh, trying to remember the script that I had made for myself in my head. "I wanted to ask you both something," my mother leaned forward, intently ready to listen. Her slight action gave me a small grain of reassurance.
"Theresa," my father began. "Don't we have more important things to do?"
"Franz," my mother snapped. "You're sitting here sipping coffee and reading natural science books. I think you have time for what your daughter has to say. Go ahead, Mimi."
I tried to regather myself before I proposed my ideas. My father's interventions had thrown my thoughts off course. "Joseph's wedding has encouraged me to begin thinking about my own marriage," I began. "I'm eighteen now, and we all know that my marriage is soon impending. And although it isn't customary, I'd like to get myself involved in my own arrangements. It is my life, after all. And my first note would be to put forth a husband for myself. Prince Albert of Saxony. I do care for him greatly, and I think that we would make a very happy pair. He and I-"
"No," my father said outright. "We already have someone picked out for you."
My mother intercepted. "We didn't decide on that, Franz. It was just an idea."
"Hush, Theresa."
"I am the Empress! You do not tell me to hush!"
My father ignored my mother's words. "My sister's son, Prince Benedetto, Duke of Chablais, is a good man who would happily marry you. He has a sizable estate in Northern Italy, near Turin, and is closer to you in age than Albert. For as long as I am alive, I would like to see you married to him. The Houses of Lorraine and Savoy need unity that can only be found through marriage."
I was at a loss for words. "But I've never met Benedetto. And have you? At least you both know Albert. Isabella says he really likes me. You could give us one of your duchies, Papa. We'd be so happy together."
My father scoffed. "So you're getting romance advice from a girl who's been married for five days, via an arranged marriage? Do you know how silly you sound, Mimi?"
"Franz! Enough!"
I finally snapped. "Well, damn me for wanting to live a good life with someone I actually like!"
My father stood from his chair. "You ungrateful child! My little sister died giving birth to that boy. She died, Mimi! And you want to marry some unimportant Polish kid? Get out. Now."
"But Papa-"
"OUT! NOW!"
I left the salon, slamming the door behind me. From behind the door, I could hear my mother telling my father off. I felt the tears building up in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away and headed towards a place where I knew I could finally be alone- the drawing room.
I entered the drawing room. It was the room of the palace that was filled with the most figures of an ordinary life. My painting supplies were kept in the drawer of the center table. One of Antonia's dolls lay on the chaise, with Ferdinand's toy sword not too far away. Muted gray sunlight came through the windows, and illuminated the bluish-green tone of the wallpaper. In the corner of the room opposite the window sat my harp, which had been neglected in the exciting last few days. I sat down on the stool that stood dutifully beside it, and hovered my hands over the strings. I remembered sitting by this exact same harp when I was a little girl, barely even able to reach the very rear strings. That little girl was long gone now, I knew.
Absent-minded, I began to pluck at my harp's strings. I knew compositions much more complicated than the song I began to play, but it was the first song I had ever learned. I knew it would make little Christina proud to know that twelve years later, I could still play it. It was a very old song from England, and some said that it came from the pen of Henry VIII. In the stillness of the drawing room I began to sing along.
Alas my love you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you oh so long
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever thou would'st crave,
I have waged both life and land
Your love and goodwill for to have.
Greensleeves was my delight
Greensleeves my heart of gold...
From behind me I heard a sweet singing voice finishing the verse along with me.
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
Slowly I turned, convinced I was just hearing a ghost. Standing in the doorway wearing a smile was Isabella. " I can finally say I've had the privilege to hear you play. You sound great." She came and pulled over a chair, sitting next to me.
"Thank you," I replied simply.
Isabella gave me a curious look. "What's wrong?"
I glanced over to her. She overlooked me with eyes of understanding pity. "I talked to my parents about Albert," I said.
Isabella sighed. "It didn't go well, did it?"
I shook my head. "My mother seemed fine with it, but my father not so much."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Isabella placed her hand atop mine. "What did he say?"
"He wants me to marry his nephew Benedetto, who I didn't even know existed. But I feel bad because my aunt died giving birth to him." I could feel the tears building up again.
"Christina, look at me," I looked over to Isabella, but her form was blurry behind my wall of tears. I finally blinked and the tears rolled down my cheeks, clearing my vision again. "This is your life. And if your father doesn't care about your happiness, then you know what?"
"What?"
Isabella smiled. "Fuck him. You remain a bachelorette until he dies, and then you can marry whoever you want," I couldn't help but smile. "See? The best plan ever, right?"
I nodded and wiped the tears off of my face. "Best plan ever."
"There you go!" Isabella exclaimed. "Now, are we telling Albert?"
"Oh, hell no," I scoffed. "He'd flip his lid. The most I'm going is Marianna. Liesl's too much of a gossip."
"Well then," Isabella held out her hand expectantly. "Let's not tell the whole court. This can be our little secret, huh? I'm certainly not telling Eleanore. But it's your choice who to tell. Alright?"
"Alright." I grasped Isabella's hand and gave it a firm shake.
Later that evening I was relaxing in my chamber before dinner. Pia was across the room from me, folding laundry. At first glance it was almost shocking that Pia Bauer was not royalty like the rest of us. By Archduchess standards the clothing rations that she was given were rather meager, but on a girl so lovely her linen and wool outfits could have been made of the finest silk. But sometimes, if it could easily pass under the nose of her supervisor, I would slip Pia a small piece of finery. A lace cap, a new pair of shoes, or a brooch. Unlike the dignified, glamorous handsomeness of the court, Pia was a natural and rural beauty. She had a soft, round face with high-set, dignified cheekbones. She had round blue eyes that showed her ever emotion, and freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. She had strawberry-blonde hair that she unfortunately had to shove under a cap all day. She worked at such mundane chores with a dedicated focus that anyone could envy. I assumed it was the farmer's blood in her.
"Well, that's one more wedding in the books," Pia said as she matched pairs of my stockings. "Hopefully all of these dignitaries and well-wishers will leave the palace soon. It's been twice as busy downstairs ever since they showed up. Hopefully the next few weddings I'll be in service for will be much more low-key."
Marriage, marriage! God, all anyone ever talked about in this damned palace was marriage! "For the children of an empress, I wouldn't expect anything less than the grandest," I replied. There was a knock on my door. Pia looked at me. "Let them in," I said, hoping it was just another maid dropping off something of mine.
Pia opened the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her drop quickly into a curtsey. "Oh, Your Majesty."
I stood from my chair. My mother was standing in the doorway. "Mimi, honey, I came to talk to you. Pia. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Pia scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
"You didn't have to do that," I said. "It's just Pia."
"I know. But I wanted to talk to you privately. I'm sorry about how your father reacted this morning. He can be a little... hot tempered. He didn't mean to yell at you."
"Why isn't he here apologizing to me himself?"
"You know how he is. He's not a man to humble himself before anybody. But he shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm telling you that now. But his little sister- you have to understand how much he loved her. He's dead-set on finding a good place for her son. To be honest with you, I don't think the match is that great. But you have to understand where he's coming from."
"So if not Benedetto, who would you match me with? The Prince of Wales?" I grumbled.
"Oh, no! He's a Protestant. We can't have that. I was thinking..." My mother smiled.
"Prince Albert of Saxony."
"Really?" I squealed.
"Really!" My mother wrapped me in a hug. "If he makes you happy, honey, then I'd take him as my son-in-law no matter what. And anyone's better than Louis Eugene."
"Oh, please, Mama. He was just a summer fling from last year. My head wasn't quite on straight."
My mother and I shared a laugh. "No kidding. But really, the only thing that stops you from getting married right now is your father, and I really can't do anything about that. But I'm sure he'll come around eventually."
"Thank you, Mama, thank you."
"You're welcome, pumpkin. But don't you go off telling your siblings just yet. I'm only doing one romantic marriage. The Empire outweighs all, and I didn't have that many children if I wasn't going to make alliances. I have several letters in correspondence already. I'll see you at dinner, Mimi. Love you." My mother gave me a kiss on the forehead and was gone.
I was left standing in my bedroom, nearly aghast. I got what I wanted- my mother's support. But I knew deep down that by convincing my mother to let me marry Albert for love, I just doomed my siblings to cold political marriages in distant states. I thought of little Antonia, who for now was still playing with dolls and carefreely dancing with the son of a court musician. But in my mind I saw her ten years from now in a carriage, her entire life packed into suitcases, destined for Naples, Paris, Lisbon, Munich, Madrid, or some other far-off capital. I knew that as my siblings grew older and they learned of what Mama did for me out of favoritism, they would hate me for it. Why did Mama care for me so? My sisters were just as good as I, maybe even better. My intelligence was no greater than Marianna's. My beauty was nothing compared to Liesl. Amalia was much more compassionate than I could ever hope to be. In the grand scheme of my siblings I was woefully average. In the world of the court I was woefully average. Standing next to Isabella I looked like nothing more than a scullery maid. Why did my mother, the most powerful woman in all of Europe, choose me?
And why did Isabella, the most beautiful, charming, and intelligent woman that Vienna's court had ever seen, choose me as her accompaniment? What did I ever do to deserve bounties of such luck? Isabella, Isabella. I thought of her incessantly. Her name was always on the tip of my tongue. However strange it may have seemed, our interactions of the day played in my head every night before I finally fell asleep. When I laid in bed at night, I would think about what it would be like to roll over and see her lying next to me in bed, asleep in quiet tranquility. When I overlooked a landscape painting in the palace, I just wanted to grab Isabella's hand and pull her into that land of brush-strokes and oil paints with me, so that we could romp over the hillsides together without a care in the world. Just she and I. I could tuck fragile meadow wildflowers in her hair under a warm and bright summer's day. We could lounge under the shady branches of an ancient tree together. I could serenade her with my harp until she fell asleep in the grass beside me...
Whatever. I shoved these thoughts aside and turned to my writing desk. Maybe if I wrote my father a letter, like the ones of imperial duty that he sorted through every day, he would listen to me. But as I sat down I saw there was already a note waiting for me. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the blue wax seal that was brandished on the crisp white paper.
Dear HRH Archduchess Christina,
I am writing to you again just to tell you that I am beside you in every endeavor that you take. I am immensely proud of you for taking your marriage into your own hands- something that I could not even bring myself to do. I have only been in your company for a strikingly short amount of time, but I feel a connection to you like I have not had with anyone else before. Truly, I would be lost in this court without your guidance. The least I could do is return the favor. And please- do not hesitate to send notes and letters of your own. I look forward to speaking to you at every opportunity. Since the wedding is over now, I would anticipate seeing you less and less. It would bring me great joy to speak to you through pen.
Yours Truly,
Princess Isabella of Parma-Austria
End of Je T'aime. Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Je T'aime. book page.