The Second Empress (10 page)

To the empress at Malmaison
.

Thursday, at noon, December 1809
.

I have wished to go to see you today, my love, but I am very much occupied and a little unwell. Nevertheless, I am going to the cabinet council. I beg you to inform me how you are. The weather is very damp and not at all healthy
.

Napoleon

C
HAPTER
7

MARIE-LOUISE, EMPRESS OF FRANCE

March 11, 1810

I
HAVE A NEW NAME
. F
ROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF MY
days, I am to be the Empress Marie-Louise. I say it a few times in front of the mirror, trying to match this new title to the same plain face that has always stared back at me. But each time I say it, the reality seems further and further away. In a few minutes, my father will send a courtier to fetch me from my rooms, and my family will ride to Hofburg Palace, where I’ll be married by proxy to the Emperor Napoleon. I want to reconcile myself to this—to be impressed with my new fortune and rank—but I am sick with dread.

I try not to meet Maria’s eyes in the mirror. She has been sitting on my bed since dawn, cradling Sigi. She has not stopped crying since she arrived. Tomorrow morning, when I set out for Compiègne, I suspect the scene will be the same. It will take all my reserve not to become hysterical when I leave. This palace, these rooms, these people with their familiar hatreds and desires, have all been mine since birth. And now, when my brother Ferdinand is made emperor of Austria, I will not be his regent. Someone else will have to guide his hand, and who knows if they’re prepared for his outbursts and seizures. At least Maria-Carolina will have it easier. She will be kept from the public eye and quietly married. I look up at the family portraits on my wall. Ferdinand, Maria-Carolina, Maria, my father …

In twenty-four hours, I will never see any of them again.

There is a knock at my door, and Sigi whines. Maria rushes from the bed and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Change your mind,” she says. “You don’t have to go.”

For the first time, my resolve begins to crumble. “And lose my father his crown? What would happen to Austria? What would happen to you?”

“I don’t know.” Maria weeps.

I bite my lower lip. I will not cry. There is nothing anyone can do, and I will not destroy my father by letting him see me in such misery. None of us wanted this marriage, but Napoleon has made his choice, and only an act of God will see it undone.

There is a second knock, and this time I answer. A man in my father’s red and gold livery makes a deep bow. “Your Majesty,” he addresses Maria. “Your Highness.” He looks sadly at me. Even the pages are loath to see this happen. “The carriages are ready,” he says quietly.

“I would like to see my brother first.”

“He is waiting in the courtyard—”

“Please bring him here. I would like to see him before I leave. In private.”

The page bows at the waist and is gone.

“He won’t know what to do without you,” Maria worries. “How will they control him?”

I don’t know. I sit on the bed and take Maria’s hand. “Be patient with him,” I beg her. “Don’t let him have his own way. He can’t eat sweets for breakfast and then again for dinner.”

“Your father and I will both see to that.”

The door opens slowly and I rise from the bed. “Ferdinand.”

His eyes are red. He’s clearly been told that I’ll be going away and not returning. It breaks my heart to see him weep. He takes my hands in his. “I don’t understand. I—I don’t understand.”

“I’m getting married, Ferdinand. My husband is the emperor of France. Do you know what that means?”

“That you want to love him and not me.”

I inhale deeply. I will not cry. But Maria stifles a sob, and now it’s impossible not to weep. “Ferdinand, I will
always
love you—if I’m in Austria or France.”

“But when will you return?”

I look into his eyes. He is such a handsome boy. If only God had blessed him with good sense. As it is, someone will always have to be there to guide him. If I had married Adam and lived my life in Schönbrunn, it would have been me. But now someone else will fill this role. I reach out to caress his hair, and his tears wet the palm of my hand. “I don’t know when I will be back,” I admit. “But you can write to me anytime you wish.”

“Can I visit?”

I swallow the pain in my throat. “If you behave.” But this is a terrible lie. Although there may be talk of his dull-wittedness and ill health, no one knows just how devastating the seizures are. Our family has been diligent in hiding them. It was cruel enough for my father to see one child suffer, but when Maria-Carolina’s fits started, too … It isn’t fair. But then, Christ never preached about fairness. Only forgiveness and faith.

I exchange a look with Maria, who is too upset to speak. “I want you to keep studying while I’m gone, Ferdinand. Father is depending on you. I want you to memorize your letters, and every new thing you learn, you must write to me about it. Will you do that?”

“I will,” he swears.

“And be kind to the cooks. They can’t bring you apricot dumplings every morning.”

He makes his sad face, and even through my tears, I laugh. Then there’s a sharp knock, and the three of us freeze. My father’s page has returned. And this time Adam is with him.

“They are all assembled and waiting, Your Highness.”

Adam crosses the room and takes my hands. “I’ll look after him,” he swears.

“He needs so much help, and Father isn’t patient—”

“I am.” Of all the soldiers in Schönbrunn, only Adam took the time to teach Ferdinand how to ride. And it was Adam who bought him his first set of brushes so that he could be like me and paint.

I look into Adam’s face and wonder how I will ever manage to live without him. “I will miss you so much,” I whisper.

At the door, my father’s page is waiting with his eyes averted. Adam’s love for me is no secret, and when I greet Napoleon, it will not be as a blushing bride. The man clears his throat, and I cling to Adam tightly.

“It’s time,” Adam replies, and his voice is thick.

Maria takes my arm, and suddenly it is real. We pass through Schönbrunn, and the courtiers step back as if we were part of a funeral, not a bridal procession. A few bow deeply as I go by. They know the sacrifice I am about to make, and how a commandment from Napoleon is second only to a commandment from God. He rules the Western world, from Rome to the Netherlands, and not even the church has power over him. I am marrying a man who has been excommunicated, an emperor who has divorced his first wife without the pope’s consent. Since the church has not granted him a divorce, what am I to be? My father says he has allowed Joséphine to keep her title. So we are both to be called Empress.

When we reach the courtyard, a small, silent group is waiting for me. In addition to my father and Prince Metternich, there is my sister Maria-Carolina, who never speaks, and my youngest sister, Anna, who is holding her stuffed bear and weeping into its fur. Even my youngest brothers are here. Every face is solemn except Metternich’s. If he is to come with me to France, I will never put my faith in him. Never. Perhaps he did not arrange this marriage himself, but someday, when I have gained Napoleon’s trust, I will mention Metternich’s name, and he will tell me that my father’s adviser was the one who first suggested me to him. I am confident in this.

“Metternich is to ride with us,” my father says. He looks old, his face marked by the heaviness of loss. “The prince has advice he would like to give you.”

I follow Maria into the royal carriage, and Metternich begins by complimenting us both. “On such difficult days, the Hapsburg women are examples of resilience.”

I do not return his smile. As the carriage lurches forward, I say flatly, “I hear you have advice. Please give it.”

My father doesn’t chastise me for my rudeness.

“I know you are unhappy,” Metternich begins. “There is no one in this carriage, possibly in all of Austria, who would have wished to see this marriage come to pass. But for all of the pain he has inflicted on this kingdom, the Emperor Bonaparte has also done some good.”

I raise my brows, and when I don’t say anything, he continues.

“The Code Napoleon, for instance. The emperor has created a set of civil laws for his empire to follow. Under the ancien régime, what was legal in one town might be illegal in the next. Now, a strict set of laws governs all of France. It is based on the Corpus Juris Civilis, written in the sixth century by the Emperor Justinian.”

My father grunts and looks out the window.

“But you haven’t told her the best part,” Maria says, her voice icy and out of character. “Come, you know. How ‘women these days require restraint. They go where they like, do what they like.’ How ‘it is not French to give women the upper hand.’ That’s part of the Code Napoleon, too, isn’t it?”

“That has nothing to do with Her Highness—”

“No?” Maria looks at my father. The muscles in his jaw are working fast.

“You’ll be an
empress
,” Metternich tells me.

A second empress
.

When he sees he is not winning my enthusiasm, he tries something else. “I know how Your Highness feels about the Jews, given that your
nurse was a Jewess. Perhaps you will be interested to know that the emperor has not only emancipated the Jews in France, he has also called for a Jewish state.”

I lean forward, despite myself. “Where?”

“In Palestine.”

“And he can do this?”

“He conquered Egypt,” he replies, as if this small and fleeting victory meant that now anything might happen. “Look,” he says, and he takes from his pocket a small gold locket, handing it to me. “From the emperor to you.”

I open it and study the picture inside. If this is a real likeness—and it probably isn’t—then he looks far younger than his forty years. The artist has painted him in an embroidered coat, with his dark hair parted to one side and his gray eyes looking off into the distance. He appears cold, emotionless, a man with foreign lands on his mind, not family or love. I think of Adam, whose dark eyes always look warm, even in charcoal drawings, and suddenly I can’t stop the tears from coming.

“Maria!” my father exclaims, but I raise a gloved hand.

“I’m fine.”

He passes a threatening look at Metternich, but the prince is unaffected. To him, I am a warhorse going into battle. I was born for this duty, and now I am fulfilling it. No matter that I love another man or that Napoleon is old enough to be my father. The Hapsburg Empire must be preserved.

“The emperor sent this locket to you from Paris,” Metternich explains. “I would suggest that when Bonaparte asks about it, you tell him that his picture did not do him justice.”

My eyes go wide. “Is that true?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why would I say it?”