The Accidental Empress (29 page)

Her dress is cumbersome and he helps her as she hoists her skirt up to the altar. And then she turns to look out over the cathedral, her eyes combing the scene so that the sea of a thousand unique faces blends into one fuzzy tableau.

But there is just one face she seeks, her eyes roving hungrily down the columns of onlookers. Don’t let them read the longing on your face, she reminds herself. She breathes out, slowly. Has he come?

The noise throbs so loudly around her that she longs to stop her ears, to drown out some of the din, but she knows she must not. A deity does not quake simply because the crowd yells. An empress stands fixed, immutable; the calm that continues on even as the world rages. Even though, all along, she has known the opposite to be true.

Chapter Seven

HOFBURG PALACE, VIENNA

APRIL 1854

Sisi could have
wept in relief when Franz told her, on the fifth night of their marriage, that he would be taking her away from court.

“What do you think of taking a
Flitterwochen
, Empress?”

“A honeymoon?” Sisi shut her eyes, melting into the pillows as the candle beside the bed expired. A chance to get away from the endless and exhausting days. A reprieve from Sophie’s unsought advice and pinch-lipped looks of disapproval. And mostly, a break from the constant crush of people who encircled them—watching, whispering, observing. Not just at the state lunches and banquet dinners, but all day.

They were always accompanied by at least half a dozen in their retinue—Sophie, to be sure, as well as Countess Esterházy and Count Grünne, and many of the other aides and ministers whom Sisi had met in Bad Ischl. The short, monocled palace secretary, the man whom Sisi had come to know as Herr Viktor Lobkowitz, had become her constant shadow.

There were others, too. Women, who, in just the short weeks’ time, had become regular fixtures in Sisi’s daily routine. She now had, through no choice of her own, an entourage. Ladies-in-waiting. Beautiful young women whom she’d first beheld at the Kissing of the Hand, but who spoke as if they were old friends of Franz’s. She’d inherited this group almost at the same time she’d been given her suite of rooms, and the small party included Countess Paula Bellegarde, Countess Marie Festetics of Hungary, and Countess Karoline of Lamberg.

It was yet another expectation of her new role under which Sisi bristled; how odd, she found it, that these noblewomen, the rising stars of the court, had been the same women who had previously hoped to win Franz Joseph’s hand. And now she was to trust them with dispatching her letters, organizing her wardrobe, and helping her rise and bathe each morning?

Yes, a break from it all was precisely what Sisi needed. She opened her eyes, looking at Franz in the dark room. “I quite like the idea of a honeymoon. To where?”

“Not far, I’m afraid.” Franz propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. They lay, side by side, in bed. Sisi savored this time, the few hours of solitude they could steal once all attendants and servants had been dismissed. “To one of my . . . our . . . castles just outside of the city. Laxenburg Castle.”

“Laxenburg Castle.” Sisi repeated the name. “Can’t we go farther?”

He laughed, a surprised look, as he shifted his weight on his elbows. “I would love to take you farther,” he paused, shaking his head, “but things are unstable abroad.”

Sisi crinkled her nose, making a face to ask:
What does that have to do with our honeymoon?
“Then we’ll stay within Austria. But let’s just go somewhere far away.”

Franz shook his head, continuing. “Russia has declared war on the Turks. And England and France have jumped to challenge the tsar. All the while, Hungary is still threatening revolution from within the empire. I’m afraid I can’t be away too long—world politics will not wait for us to honeymoon.”

Sisi put a hand on his cheek, touching the skin that had become flushed while he catalogued these problems.

“I would take you to Paris. Or Florence, if I could. But . . .”

She interrupted him, pressing her finger to his lips. “Laxenburg sounds just wonderful, Franz, my darling.”

In truth, what she meant was that anywhere away from court—anywhere away from her new role—sounded wonderful. The first week of their marriage had been an endless stream of banquets and parades and introductions and waltzes. Frenzied days followed by sleepless nights. Communal family breakfasts and then more busy days. Always, they were accompanied and trailed by a horde of expectant faces.

Sisi didn’t think she could learn one more name or manage one more quick-paced dinner conversation, filled with smiles so permanent that her cheeks ached and stares so probing that she felt that her guests could see beneath her shift. All Sisi wanted in a honeymoon was a reprieve, a chance to spend time with her husband and no one else. A chance to speak without having to smile; to wake in the morning without meeting a legion of faces as soon as she opened her eyes.

But Laxenburg did not afford Sisi that opportunity.

The first morning there, Sisi stretched in bed, in a state halfway between slumber and waking. A splash of soft morning sunlight filtered in through the opened curtains, and the notes of several birds trilled from a nearby beech tree. If she kept her eyes shut, Sisi might have imagined herself back at Possi—far away from Vienna and the Hofburg and the unwanted servants and unknown courtiers. She yawned, reaching for her husband. She had, at last, slept well. And now they had the day to themselves. But as she rustled the sheets, Sisi’s hand did not find Franz’s warm, reposing body. She opened her eyes. Franz’s half of the bed was tousled, its pillows and sheets haphazardly tossed aside. Empty.

“Agata?” Sisi called out to the empty room, aware that someone always lurked on the other side of the door, regardless of the time. The maid, awake and dressed since dawn, would be summoned, informed that her lady called.

“Good morning, Empress.” The Polish maid swished into the room several moments later, her hands laden with a porcelain vase of fresh-clipped snapdragons and lilies. She was the only maid Sisi had brought from the Hofburg. “Did Your Majesty sleep well last night?”

Sisi nodded, sitting up. Agata deposited the vase on the bedside table before reaching for Sisi’s red slippers, holding them forward to her. “Thanks, Aggie.” Sisi yawned. “But where is Franz?”

Agata’s smile wilted, but before she could answer, another figure burst over the bedroom threshold. “Good morning, Elisabeth!” Sophie entered without invitation, her loud voice unsettling the previously peaceful room like wind stirring up dust. “Why, you’ve slept quite late, I was wondering if perhaps I should come in and rouse you. But Franzi had ordered me to let you rest.”

Sisi sat up straighter in bed, tugging the bedcovers so that they concealed her flimsy sleeping shift. She crossed her legs, as if to hide her worn red velvet slippers, knowing that they were a part of her old self and her former life—a life of which her aunt vehemently disapproved.

“Aunt Sophie . . . why, hello. You’ve come from Vienna?” True, it was only a short carriage ride to Laxenburg from the capital—she and Franz had made the journey in just over an hour the previous evening. But Franz had never mentioned that they wouldn’t be alone on their honeymoon.

Sophie nodded, tugging on the curtains to allow in more daylight. The day would be a warm one.

“Franzi . . . the emperor, has gone back to the Hofburg to tend to his papers and meet with his ministers for the day.” Sophie turned and looked at her niece now, a haughty smirk pulling her lips upward. “The empire needs running whether a man is on his honeymoon or not. And my Franzi is not one to shirk his duties.”

Sisi’s shoulders dropped. “When . . . when will he return?”

“Don’t pout so.” Sophie waved her hands, busying herself by crossing the room toward Sisi’s wardrobe. “Your husband will be back for dinner. He wouldn’t hear of being away from you for longer than that.”

Then that was some small relief. Sisi had just the day to get through. That night at supper she would speak to him, beg him not to leave her again the next day.

“Now, how about you dress and we will ask Countess Esterházy to join us for a walk in the gardens?” Sophie clipped toward the bed now, her hand outstretched with a gown of pale violet for Sisi. “I’ve ordered us veal schnitzel for dinner . . . his favorite.”

Sisi’s breath caught in her throat. “You are planning to stay, then? For supper?”

Sophie stood up tall, throwing her shoulders back. “Not just for supper, my dear. Franz is going to have a busy few weeks, what with traveling back and forth between Vienna and Laxenburg every day. Someone’s got to keep you company. I offered, of course. It was such a tremendous relief to Franzi to know that you wouldn’t be here alone every day.”

As expected, Franz returned to Laxenburg that evening for supper. What Sisi had not expected, however, was that the newlyweds were joined at the table by the Archduchess Sophie, the Countess Esterházy, and Count Grünne.

Franz greeted Sisi with a kiss. “How was your day, my darling? Did you and Mother enjoy yourselves? Aren’t the grounds lovely? I thought you might enjoy walking outside.”

But before Sisi could answer, Franz had turned to Count Grünne, who sat to his left at the dinner table. “Grünne, did you receive the reply from Paris yet?”

Franz spent the remainder of dinner discussing France’s declaration of war on Russia. Sisi sat in silence, barely touching the schnitzel that her mother-in-law had ordered for her first honeymoon dinner, as the Countess Esterházy droned on to Sophie about some Hungarian count’s recent marital troubles.

Later, Franz knocked on the bedroom door. “Elisa?”

“Come in.” Sisi sat before the mirror, unweaving her braided hair. It was late, as Franz had spent several hours after dinner with Grünne.

“Hello, my bride.” Franz entered the room carrying two glasses and a bottle of champagne. “I’m glad you are still awake.”

“Of course I’m awake. I did not intend to miss my one chance to see you all day.” Sisi turned to face him. If Franz noticed her barbed tone, he did not acknowledge it.

“Good. Because I thought perhaps we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Sisi stood up from the vanity, kicking off her red slippers as she walked toward the bed.

“Why, what do you think? Our honeymoon.” Franz poured the bubbling drink into each glass, a small amount of the white fizz overspilling and wetting his fingers. He poured a glass for himself, and then a second. “For you,” he said, handing her the drink.

She avoided his glass, outstretched to clink against hers, before lifting the drink to her lips and taking a big gulp.

“Do you like it?” He leaned past her to blow out several of the candles.

She nodded, placing her glass down.

“Good, because I’ve ordered a hundred more bottles. As a gift for you. It’s my favorite vintage.”

Sisi did not thank him. She didn’t need any more gifts. She needed him.

“You seem quiet tonight, Elisa. You barely touched your supper.” He smiled, leaning toward her. “Not a fan of our Viennese schnitzel?”

“The dinner was fine.” She angled her body away from his.

“Are you missing your mother again?”

“Franz.” She sighed. Why was she so nervous to speak the truth to her own husband? “I missed
you
today.”

Franz finished his drink and poured himself a refill, avoiding her eyes now. She watched him, his features traced in shadow against the glint of candlelight. “I know,” he said, eventually.

“I was quite sad to see you gone this morning.”

“I left before you awoke so that I wouldn’t upset you with a goodbye.”

Sisi couldn’t help but scowl at his logic. “But I was upset to awake and find that you’d—” She shook her head, trying to remain calm. “This is our honeymoon, is it not?”

“Elisa, I’m sorry. I told you, the situation is very unstable at the moment.” He filled his glass once more.

“But perhaps tomorrow you don’t have to go? As you said, the gardens here are lovely. And I have yet to ride since arriving in Vienna. Perhaps tomorrow you and I could—”