The Accidental Empress (30 page)

“It’s bad enough that I’ve left court, Elisa. But I can’t be entirely removed. Mother was not happy when I told her that—” Franz’s eyes darted at hers, a quick flicker of hesitation, before he paused, sighing. “I can’t entirely abandon my duties.”

Sisi sighed. “Well, then, can I come with you?”

“Oh my darling, you’d be terribly bored. I simply work all day. No, no, no. Stay here. You are exhausted from this past month. Rest. You can manage without me during the days. At least Mother has kindly offered to be here with you.”

He leaned forward, and before Sisi could object, he kissed her, his lips chilly and sweet from the champagne. His kiss was not soft like usual. He seemed agitated, restless, even. He made love to her quickly. Afterward, they lay side by side in silence.

“Franz?” Sisi propped herself up on her elbow.

“Hmmm?” Franz was staring at the ceiling, his eyes devoid of the usual glimmer with which they beheld her each night.

“Is anything . . . is everything all right?” She didn’t understand. His letters to her before their wedding had been page after page about how he longed for their time in Bad Ischl. How, once they were married, they would ride together as they had last summer. How, whenever she was not beside him, he ached for her. And now, he had her here, and he was planning to leave her each day of their honeymoon?

Franz sighed, bringing his hands to his temples as he shut his eyes. “This war in the Crimea . . . it’s a bloody mess. The Russians expect us to declare war on England and France along with them. And I should. I know I should. Russia is my closest ally. But can I afford to make an outright enemy of both France and England?”

After a long pause Franz clapped his hands, opening his eyes as he sat up. When he spoke, it was with a forced merriment in his voice. “Oh, but never mind. I swore I would never discuss politics with you.” He put his hand on her cheek. “I will not furrow this beautiful face with my burdens of the State.”

“Franz, you can talk to me. Of course you can talk to me about your affairs. I long to know what you—”

“No,” he answered, his voice suddenly firm. A tone that she’d never heard him use before. And then he smiled, as if to soften the impact of his declaration. “No, my darling.” His voice was hushed now, even contrite. His fingers grazed her cheek, trailing a line down to her neck and into the dip in her collarbone. “You are pure to me, Elisa. My source of goodness.”

Sisi stared at him, her mind swinging along with his rapidly changing moods. As she studied him, she saw that his features had a pinched quality, a look that somehow aged him. She considered what he had just said. If he needed her to be his antidote, the counterpoint to his harried and onerous days—could she be that?

“Please, Elisa.” He leaned forward, his finger under her chin. He looked weary, even wearier than she herself felt. “Please, let me escape to you.”

She sighed. “All right, Franz.” She took his hand in hers and placed a kiss on his fingers. “Then let’s talk about something else. What would you like to talk about?”

He thought about this. “My grandfather,” he said, pouring them each another glass of champagne.

“Your grandfather?” Sisi asked. “What about your grandfather?”

“Do you know what a good emperor he was, Elisa?” Franz handed her the refilled glass. Already, she felt her head spinning with the familiar effects of the wine. She suspected that these late-night drinks with her new husband were the cause of the headaches with which she now awoke each morning.

“His name was Emperor Franz, as well. I was named after him.
Franz der Gute
.”

“Franz the Good,” Sisi said, repeating the epithet. “As I am sure you shall be someday, as well.”

“He was more like a father to me than a grandfather. I remember when he fell ill.” Franz’s voice was quiet now, his expression far off, as he stared at the wall across the bedroom. “I was only five. The court physician told him that all he could consume was tea. You know what I did?”

“What?” Sisi propped herself up onto her elbow, allowing her hair to cascade around her body as she angled herself to listen to him.

“I told my governess that I, too, would have nothing but tea. And I kept to it. I had nothing but tea until my grandfather . . . passed.”

“At age five? My word. How long did that last?”

“Only a few days. Fortunately my dedication as a grandson was not tested too extremely. Otherwise Mamma might have intervened.”

Sisi looked at him, her finger brushing away a loose wisp of hair that fell across his eyes. “Do you remember him well, Franz?”

“I do. I remember that he would come to the nursery and watch me while I played with my toy soldiers. I remember how he used to take me outside the palaces to watch the imperial guards conducting their drills. And that he gave me my first military uniform. When I was just four.”

Sisi thought about this. At how many years of a head start her husband had had on her in preparing for his role as emperor.

“I remember there was one night . . .” Franz was in full storytelling mode now, his voice wistful with remembering. “Grandfather had not come to my nursery that day. He had been out hunting, I believe. There was to be a great ball that night. I was crying and carrying on in the nursery, telling my governess, the Baroness von Sturmfeder, that I missed Grandfather terribly. That I could not possibly go to bed until I had seen him. Well, the good Frau Sturmfeder tried to tell me that Grandfather was giving a ball that night, and that I would see him the following day. But I would not be appeased.”

“So what did you do?”

“Frau Sturmfeder put me in a dressing gown and snuck me out of the nursery into the hallway. She led me to the balcony above the
Redoutensaal
, the Great Hall, and there I stood, looking down on the ball. I remember seeing Mother looking beautiful in a plumed headdress, and Grandfather appearing very dignified in his military uniform. I remember the courtiers queuing in line to pay their respects to him. I remember thinking then . . . now
there
was an emperor.”

Franz paused, swallowing. Silence hovered between them in the dark bedroom. After a moment Franz spoke: “Sometimes I still feel like that little boy, looking down. Cowed by it all. As if the
real
emperor is somewhere else, and I am just standing in for him.”

Sisi sighed, considering her answer to this confession. She longed to tell Franz that there was nothing more understandable than that feeling. That she felt the same way, and had, since the day he had asked her to marry him. That he was only human, even if more-than-humanness was expected of him. She parted her lips to say these things, but he spoke first.

“Which I know is a silly way to feel, since I am, after all, the one God chose for this role.” Franz said it matter-of-factly. He looked at her now, the blue of his eyes unburdened, in control once more.

Did she agree with that? She wasn’t sure. Certainly it was how Sophie felt. And everyone else in Vienna. But if kings really ruled by divine right, why were they so often toppled?

“Oh, Elisa, my beautiful bride.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, this time more slowly than before. “Your brow creases when you are deep in thought. Where have you gone? What are you thinking about?”

But for a reason she couldn’t quite explain—not to him, not even to herself—she didn’t answer.

He leaned toward her, asking, “Have I overburdened you with my heavy thoughts?”

“No, darling, of course not,” she said, smiling innocently. “I’m just thinking of how much I love you.”

Sisi felt him sliding his body on top of hers under the sheets, his desire for her evident once more as he kissed her. Sisi knew that a good wife was not supposed to encourage a man’s excessive physical advances. She was to accommodate his needs, yes. But she was not supposed to encourage him. And she was most certainly not supposed to reciprocate his longing.

She broke that rule, however. After entire days apart from Franz, and with all of their waking minutes harried and overcrowded, these precious moments were the only ones Sisi had in which Franz was entirely hers. In these moments, at last, they communicated with a language that was meant for the two of them. In the dark of the night, Sisi knew that Franz wanted no one else with him, only her. And so she welcomed his kisses, knowing that at least in his physical expression, he was telling her that he loved her.

In spite of the fervor with which she cherished their nights together, Sisi couldn’t help but admit to herself that she found the actual marital act to be somewhat disappointing. It always started out well enough. She loved the way Franz looked at her when he joined her in bed. The way he kissed her. The way he appeared like a captive in his love for her.

But instead of quenching some desire deep within her, when it was complete, it only seemed to leave her with further longings, prompting her to suggest that they continue their lovemaking. What, precisely, she was seeking, she did not know. Only that her body clamored to still be joined with her husband’s, and that when he pulled away from her so quickly after his own needs were satisfied, she was filled with a gnawing dissatisfaction. Some unmet craving. She’d go to sleep feeling this way, knowing that, in the morning, he would be gone from his side of the bed before she awoke.

As the honeymoon wore on, Sisi began to notice a change in Franz that happened each night. After his needs were met, he would withdraw to the far side of the bed, pleading an excuse of fatigue, or sometimes even a headache. And suddenly, in that moment, he was different. She would reach for him, would ask him if she had offended him in any way, and always he would smile and say, “Of course not, my darling.” But he was different, somehow. Different than the supplicating, affectionate, wide-eyed lover who had come to their room and their bed at the beginning of the evening.

After several weeks had passed in this pattern, Sisi grew increasingly frustrated. Laxenburg had come to feel less like a honeymoon and more like a sentence. She found it harder to bite her tongue when Sophie offered unsolicited advice on how Sisi ought to dress. She found it hard not to scowl when her aunt and Countess Esterházy spent the entire lunch meal exchanging court gossip—discussing names she didn’t know, and scandals she didn’t care to hear about. She found Franz’s daily absence increasingly unbearable. And she found herself fuming when Sophie repeatedly rejected her requests for a ride, insisting that the three women undertake some other activity instead.

Sisi was bored in spite of having her every minute scheduled; lonely, in spite of being in the constant companionship of her aunt and Countess Esterházy. She was, to her own surprise, eager to return to the Hofburg, if only for a change of scenery. There at least she could slip out into the imperial stables and saddle up Blume or Diamant and escape into the nearby woods.

Franz had told her that Laxenburg was to be her break—an escape from the court and a chance for more relaxed days. But it did not feel like a honeymoon when she never saw her husband. Each day, he rode back to his ministers and their papers before five o’clock in the morning. At night, he didn’t return until it was time for a crowded and hurried dinner. The excuse he always offered was politics, but he would explain no further.

Troubling as this was, Sisi hoped that things would improve when they returned to Vienna. That was, after all, where Franz would feel more at home. And there she wouldn’t have the physical distance away from him each day. She begged him to take her back to the capital with him. Eventually Franz complied and their honeymoon came to its end.

“Let’s be quick about it.” Sisi looked on, watching as Agata sorted her trunks from Laxenburg. “I would like to finish before Countess Esterházy arrives. If she sees you unpacking, she’s going to insist she stay and oversee.”

Sisi was back in Vienna and settling in, along with the rest of the court, at the summer residence of Schönbrunn Palace.

“Where would you like these, Empress?” Agata asked, holding up a pair of leather gloves.

“Give those to me,” Sisi said, tucking the gloves into her pocket. She intended to ride later.