The Accidental Empress (33 page)

Though Sisi knew that as the emperor’s wife it was practically heretical to wish for anything other than a quick succession of fat baby boys, she couldn’t deny that, in private, she longed for a baby girl. A little girl with Franz’s auburn hair and blue eyes. A little girl to cover in lace and tulle. A doll for Franz to dote upon, as Sisi was certain that he would. She had no doubt that Franz would be an attentive and affectionate father. Would she be as patient and steady as Mamma had been? Yes, she would be, she assured herself. She and her daughter would be the closest of friends, an example to the women of the court—soft and gracious, yet strong. Sophie’s style of brute force and bullying would appear undesirable, and the archduchess’s power would wane as the empress’s influence would flourish.

Now that she had discussed it as a possibility with her husband, the hope for a little girl consumed Sisi. When she was alone, with no one but Agata in her bedchamber, Sisi referred to the swelling bump as “Helene.” Staring at herself in the mirror, watching as her gowns were taken out anew on an almost weekly basis, Sisi wondered: How was it possible to love something that, weeks earlier, she had not known existed?

Sophie’s behavior changed entirely over the course of the summer. Suddenly the archduchess sought out Sisi’s company rather than pretending she didn’t see her. On mornings when Sisi felt ill, Sophie skipped the meetings of the privy council and rushed to her daughter-in-law’s bedchamber, toweling Sisi’s wan face and holding the basin while her daughter-in-law emptied her stomach. If Sisi felt hot, Sophie ordered Agata and the rest of the maids to fan her; if Sisi felt cold, she demanded to know why they did not cover Sisi with cashmere blankets.

The trade-off was that, while her ladies-in-waiting were largely relieved of their duties (“Their gossip will irritate the baby,” Sophie announced one morning after dismissing them rather abruptly), the archduchess was now Sisi’s constant companion. Countess Marie Festetics was allowed to stay on, at the request of Sisi, to assist with answering correspondence and responding to the notes of congratulations that poured in from across the empire and the rest of Europe. But other than Marie’s specific role, Sophie seemed almost jealous of anyone else who tried to get near her daughter-in-law. On mornings when Sisi received petitioners in her state room, Sophie attended and sat beside her, forbidding the entry of the sick and often answering on behalf of Sisi.

“You must rest, my girl. That baby inside you is a future emperor, and very strong-willed. Best give him what he wants.”

Everything that occurred inside Sisi’s changing body was, to Sophie, the confirmation of her predictions that the baby would be perfect. And male.

As Sisi grew round much faster than the other expecting ladies of the court had, it was because “Franz had put a strong son in his wife’s womb.”

When Sisi’s appetite at luncheon was much more voracious than usual, it was because “Franz’s son already has the appetite of an emperor.” And Sophie would promptly order a second helping of chocolate almond pudding for her daughter-in-law.

In late July, Sisi grew fatigued at the feast and services given in honor of St. Anne, the patron saint of fertility, and Sophie excused her. “St. Anne blesses us already.”

Sisi was relieved at the shift, though she remained wary of her formidable aunt. But Sophie’s overtures continued all throughout the summer. The archduchess sent gifts to Sisi’s suite almost daily, so that Agata and the secretary, Herr Lobkowitz, were constantly entering with baskets of fruit, new hats trimmed in the latest millinery fashion from Paris, or new silk gowns, which Sophie instructed Sisi to wear without a corset. Letters from home carried news that Sophie’s boasting had spread as far as Bavaria.
“My sister is blissfully happy with her son’s choice of bride, suddenly. She seems to have forgotten entirely the obstructive role she sought to play,”
Sisi’s mother wrote.
“Bravo, my darling daughter. Based on the reports I receive from my sister, I think you have earned your place and need no longer question the affections of your mother-in-law.”

Sophie insisted, while the summer months stretched out across Vienna, filling the city with festering stink and hot, fetid air, that her daughter-in-law spend her time safely nestled within the palace gates. She ordered Sisi not to visit the palace’s petting zoo, where Sisi liked to watch the parrot that had been given to her as a wedding present from Franz.

“You must
stop
looking at that parrot, child.”

“Why?” Sisi asked, alarmed by this latest piece of unsolicited advice.

Her aunt pursed her lips, her cheeks reddening. “I’ve spoken to the doctor about it. It’s dangerous to constantly look at animals. For, however your thoughts take shape, that is the shape that the future emperor will take. It’s much better you spend that time staring at the portraits of your handsome husband.”

Sisi put a hand to her lips, attempting to hide her laughter. And yet, for the sake of peace, she heeded this instruction.

Riding was flatly forbidden. So, instead of her beloved excursions into the Alps, Sisi spent the summer largely indoors listening to the court musicians and stitching the tiny clothing in which she would soon dress her baby. Sophie would accompany Sisi on daily carriage rides, during which time the horses were permitted to move no faster than at a lumbering walk, but otherwise she restricted Sisi’s daily outings. “We can’t have you overheating,” Sophie would warn.

Sisi took it all in stride, laughing at how attached and doting her formerly prickly mother-in-law had become, even sometimes relishing the fact that her aunt boasted so openly about her and her baby.

“One month, that’s all it took them to conceive. Can you believe it? It must be a record for the Habsburgs!” Sophie invited Baron von Bach to dine with them for luncheon one day late in September. “Why, even Maria Theresa with her brood of sixteen didn’t become
enceinte
this quickly!”

Sisi nearly choked on her bite of pâté.
Sixteen
children!

Sophie continued: “I believe that this union will lead to many, many little princes and princesses. Why, look how fertile she is! Less than five months along and already you can see the swell in her belly.”

“It certainly seems that way,” von Bach replied, his cheeks reddening beneath gray whiskers. Sisi always had the impression that Baron von Bach was slightly ill at ease with Sophie’s blunt, blustery manner of speaking.

“Why, von Bach, if we marry their little ones right, we will have a Habsburg on every throne in Europe.”

The minister nodded politely, his eyes fixed on his luncheon plate.

“Elisabeth, my girl.”

“Yes, Aunt Sophie?”

“After lunch you must go out and walk the grounds. But be sure to walk past the gates, and
slowly
! We want the people on the
Strasse
to catch a glimpse of your belly. So that they might go home, or to the coffeehouse, or wherever, and report that they saw you grown large with the little prince.”

The thought mortified Sisi: the idea of parading around the grounds with her swollen belly. A performer for the crowds who perpetually huddled on the other side of the gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

“Aunt Sophie, I’m not certain—”

“No, no, no arguing, child. You
must
do as I say. We want the whole empire to be abuzz with excitement to welcome the crown prince.”

One thing was for certain—if Sophie loved her grandchild even one half as much as she loved her son, then Sisi would never have to worry about her child having a champion at court.

The heat rolled out of Vienna, taking summer’s stink and thick moisture with it. Now that the warm days no longer posed a threat, Sophie swore that the autumn chill presented even bigger risks, and she all but forbade Sisi to spend time out of doors unless she wore the heaviest of cloaks.

Sisi laughed at her aunt’s perceptions of her frailty. Why, October was her favorite month back in Possenhofen. The harvest being done, the entire village came together to celebrate the Oktoberfest; there were weeks of festivals and musical performances, with both villagers and farmers partaking in the beer that had been brewed and the crops that had been culled.

From the letters she received from home, Sisi knew that her parents were set to welcome an endless stream of guests during this autumn’s fest. Cousins, including Ludwig, Bavaria’s future king, would travel to Possenhofen to sample the thick beer, dance to the polka music, and meet the beautiful German women the area was known for producing. Perhaps Karl might even meet his future bride during this month’s revelry.

Sisi felt a stab of homesickness during this period. As the days passed, she recalled the freedom she had once enjoyed to ride into the village with Ludwig and Néné. There, slipping among the crowds, she was anonymous, just another participant in the carefree merrymaking. And so, at night, Sisi wrapped her arms even tighter around her husband, reminding herself that there was nowhere she’d rather be than beside Franz.

Franz was overjoyed with her swelling belly. He spoke often of their child, detailing to Sisi the titles and lands he would heap upon the future prince. But even though his nightly visits to their bedchamber continued, he no longer wished to make love to her.

“Am I not appealing to you, now that I’m so big?” It was a chilly night in October and they lay, fully clothed, under a heavy coverlet of goose down. Sisi looked down at her protruding belly, finding it hard to believe that she still had months of growing to do. “I worried that I would lose my appeal when I started to get round.”

“Elisa!” Franz scoffed at the remark. “Believe me, you have
not
lost your appeal.” He pulled the blankets aside, revealing her swollen breasts and belly, her curves barely contained by her tight silk slip. “Just look at you! I don’t think you’ve ever been more beautiful.”

“Well then, what is the matter, Franz?” She tried to kiss him but he pulled away.

She sat back, quiet. It was troubling, this sudden retreat from their marital relations.

“I’ve been warned, Elisa . . . about certain things.”

She turned, looking at him. “What things?”

“That it might be hazardous for the baby’s health if we continue . . . as man and wife. To . . .”

“To make love?”

Franz nodded. Sisi had never heard that. In fact, she’d heard from Agata some rather bawdy morsels about how coupling during these months was a good thing. That it helped pregnant women find some comfort. “Who told you that, Franz?” But even as she asked, she guessed the answer: “Your mother?”

Franz nodded.

Sisi could not contain the sigh that escaped her throat. “Franz, will you allow her to dictate such a thing?”

“Well, not just her.” Franz fidgeted, sliding his body away from hers in bed. “She also had Doctor Seeburger come talk with me. And he urged me against it.”

Sisi knew Doctor Seeburger, the emperor’s physician, very well. Sophie brought him to pay almost daily visits to Sisi’s suite.

“Interesting that she didn’t have him tell me,” Sisi grumbled. “Anyhow, I don’t believe it. I am certain that Doctor Seeburger told you whatever your mother told him to tell you. And I have heard that many a couple continue to lie with one another well into the—”

“Elisa, please. Let’s not be vulgar.”

“Franz, it’s bad enough that your mother tries to control you in the state rooms. I won’t have her dictating your behavior in our marital bed as well.”

“Elisabeth, please stop.” Franz’s tone unnerved her. “I will ask that you do not disrespect me—or Mother—like that again. She does
not
control me.”

He was wounded; she realized that as she studied his features.

Sisi breathed out, slowly. “Forgive me, Franz,” she answered, reaching for his hand. She hated the thought of quarreling with him.

But he pulled away, still cross. “And secondly, I ask that you exercise some feminine restraint. Showing too great an appetite for such things is unbecoming of a lady. I expected better from you.”

Now
she
was wounded. Stung to speechlessness. Never before had Franz chastised her. And worse, made her feel ashamed for expressing her thoughts. She shifted her large, awkward body away from him to the opposite side of the bed and wrapped herself in the blanket once more.

“Come now. Don’t retreat from me.” Franz tugged on her arm, his tone softening.

“I’m tired,” she said, prying her arm from his grip.

Franz scooted his body up behind her, so that he held her in an embrace.

“My sweet Elisa. Please don’t be cross with me.”

She didn’t answer him. She still burned at his censure. He reached around her, cradling her full belly in his hands. After a long pause she turned, her voice sounding jarringly loud in the quiet room.

“Franz, these nightly visits are all that we have. Shall I never see you anymore? What’s next? Shall you begin sleeping on the cot in your dressing room, because your mother tells you not to overcrowd me in bed?”

“Hush, Elisa. Why must you fret?”