The Accidental Empress (44 page)

“Yes, I heard that.” The hard edge became obvious in Sisi’s voice. “I’ve wanted to speak with you about that, Franz. You must write your mother immediately and tell her that we are all very well back here, and that you want your daughters back. All right, Franz?” She attempted to soften her tone, but even she knew it sounded frantic.

“Let’s not be too hasty. Let’s just wait and let you get your strength back. The heat might return, and we heard reports that there is fever in the city.”

“No, Franz, I cannot wait,” she snapped. “I must be allowed to have my own children with me. Can’t you understand?”

He stared at her, his eyes unblinking—perhaps growing irritated at his wife’s quick displeasure. But just then, Grünne appeared at the edge of the archway.

“Pardon my interruption, Your Majesties.”

“Grünne, what is it?” Franz waved his general forward, breaking Sisi’s gaze. She scowled, knitting her hands together on the table with a sigh of protest.

“We’ve received our answer from our envoys in Paris.”

“You have the letters?” Franz dropped his fork, eyeing his minister.

“Right here, Your Grace.”

“Excellent, take them to the council. Get everyone together; we’ll have a meeting as soon as I’ve finished luncheon.”

“Right away. Oh, and we’ve heard back from Petersburg.” Grünne shifted restively from one foot to the other.

“And?”

Grünne shook his head.

“Go on, tell me.” Franz barked at his aide in a manner that Sisi had never before seen.

“Our fears have been . . . confirmed.”

“What did the Russians say?”

Grünne looked a moment at Sisi, apologizing for conducting the foreign policy discussion in her presence. Then the aide answered: “The tsar is resolved. Russia will pull out of the alliance.”

“Can we not convince them . . . is there nothing?”

Grünne shook his head. “We are very much alone, I am afraid.”

Franz cradled his head in his hands, and Sisi saw how his auburn hair was traced with thin streaks of silver. Signs of age and worry that she had never before noticed.

“Can’t I have one lunch with my wife without the world threatening to collapse around us?”

“I do apologize, Majesty, for the less than preferable news.”

“Leave us, Grünne. I shall finish my meal and take this up in an hour. Get the council assembled.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“That’ll be all, Grünne.” Franz turned back to his veal dumpling, a glower now clouding his face.

Grünne bowed and sped from the Gloriette without another word, leaving Franz in a restless silence and Sisi stewing. Was it best to press him now, while he was distracted, or would she just further aggravate him with her domestic petitions? What could her own personal anguish matter when Russia had just declared Austria to be its foe?

But the matter of her two girls being returned to her could not be postponed. For her, a mother, there was nothing more pressing or immediate. Let the Hungarians and the Russians cry for war all they wanted—to her, all that mattered was being reunited with her daughters.

A pair of footmen swapped out the dumplings for plates of breaded perch accompanied by cold potatoes and garden greens. Sisi felt no appetite for the food, but she poked the fish distractedly as she prepared to reinitiate her suit.

“Franz, let’s talk of joyful things.” She spoke in a chipper tone that belied the gnawing urgency she felt within. “Like our little girls. How I long to see them. Why, I have not even seen Gisela yet. Have not even held my own child. Can you imagine it?”

Franz shrugged his shoulders but kept his gaze fixed on his lunch, which he cut into with quick, efficient movements.

Sisi knew she must continue. “
Gisela.
How did you pick the name? Your mother?”

Franz blinked, dropping the fork onto his plate with a loud clamor. “Elisa, that’s how things are done. Why do you always have to be so obstreperous with court protocol? I wish you would just accept how things are done.”

Sisi stared at her husband, rendered wordless at the blunt rebuke. At Franz’s visible frustration. “Fine.” She nodded, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “You’ll have no quarrel from me. I like the name.”

Franz studied her, unsure of whether that was truly the end of it. Sisi offered a conciliatory smile. He picked up his fork once more and began to stab at his fish.

Sisi cleared her throat. “Now, I would just like to see our little Gisela. Franz, I beg you, write your mother and tell her to return with our girls.”

“Elisa.” Franz lowered his fork again, pushing his plate away. “You just heard a snippet from Grünne. And that’s not the half of it. Things are . . . precarious.”

“Russia, right? They are angered with us.”

Franz snorted, a low, bitter laugh. “They are simply the latest to join the long list.”

“Franz, I understand that events have occurred with Hungary as well. I heard that you’ve been preoccupied with your council, in meetings for days. Before we move on to that topic, please, I need your agreement on our daughters.”

“But Elisa, that’s precisely it. Things have happened in Hungary and I’m not sure it is the right time to bring our girls back to Vienna.”

“What do you mean?”

“I must travel to Budapest.”

“Are we at war with Hungary?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. We have decided to enter into negotiations.”

Sisi sat back, folding her hands before her on the table. She couldn’t help but smirk at that. Hadn’t she suggested this exact route, months ago, while her mother-in-law had continued to advocate aggressive measures?

“Well”—she leaned her head to the side—“I am glad to hear it.”

Franz nodded. “There is so much hostility abroad, with England and France pushing for a treaty with the Russians. And Prussia continues its threats. We are very much alone. Mother might say that we need no one, but we damned well need Hungary. And so I need to shore up Hungarian loyalty from within the empire.” Franz paused, as if reluctant to force out his next statement. “I’m going to Budapest to sit down with Andrássy.”

Sisi let this news sink in. Budapest. It was to the east, she knew, along the Danube. But she knew little else.

“How long shall you be in Budapest?” She imagined the summer stretching out before her—sweating in Schönbrunn, alone, while Franz was in Budapest. She couldn’t stand to be alone with Sophie in Laxenburg, not without Franz there as well.

“Months, maybe more.” He reached for her hand across the table. “I shall stay as long as it takes to repair relations with the Hungarians. I cannot have them declare independence. Not now. Not while Prussia and France are threatening us with war.”

“Months, maybe more.” Sisi repeated his equivocal reply. Her husband was leaving her for an indefinite period of time. As long as he was gone, she stood no chance of regaining control of her daughters.

“I’m sorry, Elisa. It will be difficult, I know. But it will be even more difficult if you oppose me. Please, support me.”

The vague outline of an idea began to take shape in her mind—at first as formless and fragile as a cloud. But as she examined it further, the idea gained strength and substance. She reached for it, greedily. Yes, she decided, she had her solution. Now the thought seemed so brilliant that she was hesitant to speak it aloud, for if Franz refused her, she did not know how she would bear it. But it was the only way. “Franz, take us to Hungary with you.”

Now it was Franz’s turn to be speechless. “Elisa—” he began, but only shook his head. Overhead in the curved ledge of the archway, a bird trilled out a midday carol, mocking the emperor’s muteness.

“Franz, hear me.” Sisi felt encouraged by the fact that it wasn’t a flat refusal. “You say this is a journey to repair a relationship. It sounds as though it will be perfectly cordial. Take us with you. The girls and me.”

“Elisa, I’m not sure that you understand the nature of these . . .”

But she had to seize on his surprise, had to further pierce this opening with the merits of her argument. “It will be wonderful for your image, Franz. Just think of it! The young emperor and his wife come to Hungary with their adorable little princesses.”

“But you are still weak from the delivery, and besides . . .”

“You will win the Hungarians over. Rather than thinking of you as a foreign conqueror, they will see you for the wonderful family man you are. The girls and I will do everything we can to win them over.”

“But it wouldn’t be . . .”

“Just think about it, it will be so good for us. And for your image. A family trip to Hungary, imagine it! I’ve never seen that part of our empire.”

“But you are not thinking of the . . .”

“The empress should visit her people, too, should she not?” Sisi flashed what she hoped was her most disarming smile. “Remember how they loved me in Salzburg and Bad Ischl? Perhaps I might win them over in Hungary as well.”

“I suppose, but not in this capacity. I don’t think—”

“Franz, you know how popular I am with the people. Allow me to help you. Please, I beg you, take us with you.” She clung to his hands, her husband looking at her hesitantly.

Eventually, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Not this time.”

“Franz, if you ever wanted to do anything to make me happy, do this.” The desperation was apparent in her voice now. “Please. I am begging you.”

He let out a long, slow exhale, which Sisi did not know how to interpret.

“Oh my love, how do you always manage to do this?” Franz cracked a feeble, acquiescing smile. “You really wish to come to Hungary with me?”

Her heart seemed to momentarily suspend its beat. “If you agree that the girls can come, then yes, I really do, Franz.”

“Very well,” Franz shrugged. “Hungary it is. To Hungary, with my wild, adventurous wife.”

“Thank you!” She leaned forward and landed an assault of kisses on his stunned face.

“Don’t thank me, Elisa. The journey will not be a comfortable one.”

Sisi smiled. “You forget, Franz, I wasn’t always this coddled empress. The thought of a rough journey does nothing to scare me.”

“Well, Mother would never consider coming,” he said, looking back at his plate, his appetite suddenly returned. “Never mind that she detests the Hungarians, and is angry with me for even going myself.”

Sisi suppressed the laugh that threatened to burst forward from her lips. Instead, she leaned forward and put her hand on her husband’s. “I imagine I’m going to like the Hungarians quite a bit. When can we leave?”

Sisi swept into her bedroom, panting.

“Empress? Is everything all right?” The maid stiffened to attention.

“Agata, everything is wonderful! We must pack at once. I’m leaving for Budapest.”

Sisi was certain that whatever color had drained from her cheeks was back; whatever shine had gone out of her hazel eyes was surely alight once more. The thought of the trip to Budapest had renewed her hope. Just she and Franz and the girls going away together! The family as it was meant to be. And free not only from Sophie, but from Countess Esterházy, and her gossiping ladies, and the rest of the prying, rigid, lonely court.

There was no time to order new clothing—no, she’d have to order her new dresses for herself and the girls in Budapest. Certainly Herr Lobkowitz could find her several talented seamstresses in Budapest. How darling the girls would look, as they sat in the carriage between their mamma and papa, waving out at the crowds of Hungarians as they rolled east along the shimmering Danube. They would win those reluctant Hungarians over, Sisi was certain of it.

To manage and maintain her suite in Budapest’s castle she would take Agata. The maid would most likely be less than thrilled to leave her new husband behind, but it would only be a few months, and Sisi needed at least one servant whom she could trust.

Marie would come as well. Not only was Marie a Hungarian by birth, and thus would prove invaluable in translating both Hungarian words and customs, but she had proven very conscientious in overseeing Sisi’s correspondence and administrative tasks. Plus the countess was eager to visit her homeland.

Herr Lobkowitz would remain in Vienna to manage Sisi’s apartments in her absence—he would oversee her daily correspondences, responding to petitions on her behalf and keeping her abreast of news from court. And hopefully, he would prevent the snooping of bored maids, the fingering of the empress’s jewelry box by Karoline or Paula.

Sophie was summoned, and she returned from Laxenburg with a pinched expression on her face. A barely audible line of complaints about a journey to Hungary being “too taxing for the little princesses.” About Sisi’s unsuitability to have the little girls to herself.

Sisi had been able to hold little Gisela—a sweet little bundle of pink flesh, staring back at her with her mother’s honey-colored eyes—when she had first arrived back at Schönbrunn, but Sophie had been miserly with the girls’ time since. There was always an excuse, and they were never to be found when Sisi sought them out in Sophie’s apartments. The archduchess took them for carriage rides; she brought them to church; she arranged private meetings with the court physician. Imperial guards were perpetually outside Sophie’s doors, so that each time Sisi tried to visit, she was sent away before she could knock on the always closed doors. Many times she was told that “the archduchess and the princesses were sleeping,” even as she heard little Sophie’s giggles within.