The Accidental Empress (10 page)

A clamorous silence now stretched between the seated woman and her three visitors, the only sound in the room being that of the little dog snoring in the archduchess’s lap. The young officer, still standing, cleared his throat.

Sophie took a slow sip of tea and then tried again. “Well, what do you have to say to that, Helene? Do you find Austria beautiful?”

Speak!
Sisi wished to yell to her sister. She threw a sideways glance in Helene’s direction, urging her sister on with her eyes. But Helene, still chewing on her lower lip, remained as mute as the guards positioned at the doorways throughout the room.

Sophie arched her eyebrows now. “Did you lose your tongue on the journey at the same time that you lost your trunk of fresh dresses?”

A quick glance toward her mother confirmed to Sisi how dismally Helene was performing. Ludovika scowled, her hands clutching the black folds of her skirts, her tight lips finding no words with which to intervene.

Reacting as she had done so many times before, Sisi instinctively stepped forward to stand beside her sister.

“Indeed, Your Highness, my sister was so enthralled by the Alpine scenery that she’s grown extremely tired.” Sisi bowed low before her aunt, noticing that the young officer stood up straighter, fixing his eyes firmly on Sisi as she spoke.

Sisi forced herself not to look in his direction as she continued: “I can’t tell you how Helene prattled on about how beautiful her new country was! Why, Mamma and I felt that she had already forgotten her Bavarian roots in her eagerness to embrace her new homeland.”

“Is that so?” Sophie, slowly stroking her dog, turned her gaze on Sisi. “Your sister prattling on? I can hardly imagine it.”

“Well, it is hard not to become effusive when beholding the views of Upper Austria,” Sisi answered.

To the combined relief of the three visitors, Sophie’s lips curled upward into the hint of a smile. “And how do
you
like it, Niece Elisabeth?”

“It is unimaginably beautiful here,” Sisi answered honestly. “I should think there is no life more glorious than that of the Austrian goat herder.”

Now Sophie erupted in laughter, her sharp features creasing in delight, and the sound cleared the tension in the room like a thunderstorm clears the oppressive summer heat. “My goodness, Ludovika, you sure have raised up a spirited girl in this one, haven’t you? A little duchess longing to be a goat herder—I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Sophie turned to her young officer and they exchanged a chuckle.

Sisi, too, caught the eye of the young guard and she felt herself flush. His gaze was so intensely fixed upon her, she felt as though he wanted something from her.

“Well, are you going to sit, Ludie? You and the girls must be eager for some refreshment. Tea, tea”—Sophie waved her hand and three footmen descended on the table, helping the ladies into their seats and filling porcelain glasses, painted in a delicate, vinelike pattern, full of steaming tea. Sisi settled in beside her sister, joining her aunt and the others at the small round table. The gray, pinch-faced woman still stood silently in the corner, motionless. She could have been a statue, if not for the slight rising of her bosom that indicated she was breathing.

“Come now, Elisabeth, how can the fate of the Austrian goat herder be superior to that of the Austrian emperor?” Sophie seemed to have forgotten entirely about Helene as she spoke now to her younger niece.

“Of course my aunt knows that there is no fate more glorious than that of the Austrian emperor.” Sisi looked longingly at the biscuits spread before her on the table. Must she wait until the archduchess invited them to partake of the food? She turned back to her aunt. “But I would never allow myself to imagine what such a life is like—for that role belongs only to God’s chosen vessel, my dear cousin Franz Joseph, and therefore it is not for us commoners to covet.”

“You are not a commoner, you are a duke’s daughter.” Sophie lifted a small lemon cake to her lips, taking a bite, but not inviting the others to do the same. Ludovika took measured sips of her tea. Helene sat perfectly still.

“Indeed, but next to Emperor Franz Joseph, we all feel common.” Sisi bowed her head once more, casting her eyes humbly toward her lap.

“True,” Sophie said, a crumb of lemon cake clinging to her chin.

This was easy, Sisi thought to herself. All the woman wanted to hear were compliments about herself, her country, and above all, her son.

“She’s quick, this one.” Sophie turned to the aged minister dressed in gray silk, sitting beside her. And then, as if her two nieces were not in the room, she addressed her younger sister. “Ludovika, it’s a shame that Elisabeth is not your eldest. She has the appearance and the disposition much more suited for the crown.”

Sisi winced, not daring to raise her eyes from the floor for fear that she would scowl at her aunt. How dare that woman utter such an insult in front of Helene?

“You are kind to compliment my Elisabeth, Sophie.” Ludovika spoke through a tight jaw, her tone more submissive than Sisi had ever heard it. “Elisabeth is spirited, but nowhere near as well-educated as Helene. And Sisi . . .
Elisabeth
 . . . has promised to devote all of her energy to the assistance of her sister, as Helene prepares for this most august role with which you have honored her.”

“Is that right?” Sophie looked from one niece to the other as if comparing two reams of silk—her gaze, like the blue-eyed stare of the officer beside her, lingered on Sisi. With a final sigh of resignation, Sophie turned back to the girl intended for her son. “Helene, I will allow that the journey was fatiguing. But please get out of that drab clothing. You would benefit greatly from some rouge to those cheeks, and perhaps a smile once in a while? And for God’s sake, stop chewing and gnawing on your poor lip as if you would eat it off. You’ve come for a marriage proposal, not a funeral.”

Ludovika leaned forward, her tone almost plaintive. “We intend to go locate our trunks and change immediately, Sister. As soon as it is your pleasure to excuse us. In fact, I would very much appreciate it if we could change before meeting the emperor.”

“Meet the emperor?” Sophie smiled at her sister, a cake held between her ringed fingers. “Well, you’re too late for that, I’m afraid. He’s right here.” Sophie jerked her chin to her left, toward the handsome young officer sitting beside her. The man whom Sisi had assumed to be a military advisor or aide.

“Your Majesty!” Ludovika gasped, hopping from her chair before bowing forward. Her eyes fixed on the ground, she spoke in barely a whisper. “My sincerest apologies. I had no idea. Why, you have grown and changed so much, I did not even recognize you.”

This young man in the army uniform was the emperor? Their host and the owner of this palace? Helene’s groom? And then Sisi remembered a young boy with delicate features and hair the color of cinnamon. Her mind careened, and she was certain that her face betrayed her surprise. But she quickly recalled herself. Responding like her mother, she too lifted herself from her chair to curtsy before him. Poor Helene wobbled next to Sisi as if she might faint.

The young man smiled at them, speaking for the first time. “There is no need to apologize, Aunt Ludovika.” His blue eyes, softer and kinder than his mother’s, fell on each of them as he addressed them. “Please, rise, rise, all of you. You are my family, not my subjects.”

“Why, you made no introduction, Sophie,” Ludovika said, looking at her sister with a bewildered expression.

“It’s a little game we like to play. It allows Franzi to observe for a change . . . something the poor boy can never do when he is always on display.”

“But I feel quite ashamed that my daughters and I did not offer the proper respect.” Ludovika still stared at her sister, her tone betraying discomfort and even slight irritation. “One does not enter the presence of the emperor without a suitable show of humility.”

“It is quite all right,” Franz said, his voice lighthearted opposite his aunt’s. “I rather like being inconspicuous once in a while. Being able to watch without being watched.” Franz looked from his aunt to Sisi, his light-blue eyes holding hers, like a patch of cloudless sky. “Won’t you please rise? I cannot have you all on your knees after the punishing journey you’ve undertaken at my request.”

“My goodness, Franz.” Ludovika beamed toward her nephew as she sat down once more. “What a handsome emperor you make.”

Franz reached forward, shocking his aunt as he took her hand in his own. “Aunt Ludie, it is so good to see you. And welcome to Austria. I can’t wait to get to know your daughters better.”

He was engaged to marry Helene, but Franz’s eyes lingered on Sisi as he said it.

III.

As the doors open, Sisi is stunned by a blast of color, an eruption of trumpet notes. Hundreds of courtiers line the route, waving flags as they look on, eyes wide and lips moving in indistinguishable shouts and prayers.

They stand plumed in their finest robes and suits, the women with meticulously coiffed hair. Behind them, the common people jostle and elbow and cheer, a wall of merchants, peasants, children, and tradesmen. All of them swarm the processional route with one purpose: to catch a glimpse, however fleeting, of the queen.

In front of Sisi, noblemen hoist their banners, charting a course for the cathedral where it waits atop the hill. Imperial musicians press glistening trumpets to their lips as guards stand stiff and erect, lining the path now walked by royal feet.

Sisi keeps her eyes down as she processes, just a few steps behind him. She listens as the people cry out, uttering her name like a holy incantation: “
Éljen Elisabeth!
Long live Queen Elisabeth!”

The only noise louder than the cries of the crowd is the roar of the cannons, jarring and bone-thumping as a summer thunderstorm. The barrels fire off a steady salvo as the monarchs make their way up the hill.

As they reach the massive doors to the cathedral, the bells clang so uproariously overhead that it sounds to her as though the bell tower might crack. The organ blares deafeningly loud as its pipes contend
with the trumpets.

“Here we go.” He turns to her, adjusting his cape one final time. Sisi nods.

“Yes, here we go.” Her body trembles, as it had on her wedding day, but she forces out the hint of a smile. Today shall be nothing like her wedding day. She is nothing like the girl who made that wedding march.

Chapter Three

IMPERIAL RESORT AT BAD ISCHL, UPPER AUSTRIA

AUGUST 1853

Their moods lifted
markedly when they arrived in their rooms to find their trunks awaiting them.

“Agata!” Sisi ran toward the Polish maid, falling forward into a hug.

“Hello, misses!” The round-faced young woman laughed. Before her sat the trunks, opened and spewing out heaps of bright clothing.

“Agata, we’ve missed you.” Sisi hovered beside her servant, savoring her familiar presence in this foreign place. “And we’ve missed our
dresses
!”

“Miss Sisi, don’t you seem merry.” Agata leaned back and took in Sisi’s figure. “No, you don’t seem a bit weary from your journey. And you, Miss Helene, how are you feeling?” Agata cast a nervous glance toward the more subdued Helene.

Helene shrugged her shoulders. “Tired. It’s good to see you, Agata.”

“Oh, our dresses. Helene, look!” Sisi picked up the dress atop the opened trunk, an afternoon gown of rich emerald silk, and completed a wide twirl with it across the room. “Agata you have no idea how tired we are of black.”

“I can see that.” The Polish maid giggled, her ruddy cheeks spreading out over her wide face.

“And how are you, Agata? How was the rest of your journey?”

The maid turned back to sorting, retrieving a riding jacket, which she placed beside its matching skirt. “Shall I tell you honestly, Miss Sisi?”

“Of course, Aggie.”

Agata paused, considering her words. “The journey was long. I had no idea we would be so far from home.”