Je T'aime.

XVI. The Empress

After going an entire night with no sleep, I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee and to linger in the drawing room. I was convinced nothing was better on such a lovely, yet chilly, morning.

I was wearing a few petticoats in order to keep myself warm that morning. I was convinced that if we didn't move to Hofburg soon, everyone at court would freeze, turning into aristocratic icicles. But even as a cold winter draft blew in through the shabby window seals, the coffee in my hands was still warm and I was pretty well bundled up. I was content.

The plants in the garden were dormant, brown and wrinkled for the winter. Yet still, my father's gardeners were still loyally bent over the plants, wrapping the weaker ones with burlap and trimming the more sturdy varieties. It was like they never caught a break. The apple trees off in the distance were bare now. All of the fruit was taken into cold storage. My mouth watered thinking about the apple dishes we could be served at Christmastime. Our culinary staff was almost as dedicated as our gardeners. Though, Pia had told me that the two didn't really get along.

I took another sip of my dark, bitter liquid, lightly sweetened with fresh cane sugar from the Caribbean. I had heard all kinds of tales about those islands- lush greenery, sandy beaches, and gorgeous tropical birds. I also heard tales of the pirates. Oh, such horrible pirates! Maybe, with a naval ship with cannon ready to defend me, I could go there someday. But most of the islands were owned by the Spanish or the British. And, with the British, I wasn't getting anywhere near their little islands- their own home land was a little island- anytime soon. But the world was large, and wars came and went with time, like a fresh tide lapping at the shore.

The door to the drawing room opened. My mother came striding into the room with a bound pile of books and papers held tight against her chest. She adjusted her gown as she sat on the chair across from me with a sigh, propping her feet up on the ottoman. "Good morning, Mimi. I figured I would find you in here. Awfully cold day, isn't it?" My mother pulled her shawl tighter around herself, folding her arms across her chest.

"It is. I hope we're moving to Hofburg soon," I commented.

"Well, that's your father's business, not mine, but he told me that we'll be moving sometime next week. He's trying to get everything in order to move two more people over there, and make sure there's apartment space for Isabella and her lady," my mother paused, trying to think. "Whatever that girl's name is. The awfully Spanish one. It escapes me now."

"Eleanore," I replied. "Countess Eleanore of Castile."

"Yes, yes," said my mother. "Eleanore, that was it. She's quite an interesting character, isn't she?"

I took another sip of my coffee, the liquid leaving a warm trail all of the way down my throat. "Indeed she is. She and Isabella are like opposites. It's quite surprising what good friends they are."

"Speaking of friendships and our Crown Princess, what do you think of her, Isabella? I see you two are together quite a lot."

I nearly spat out my drink. "Yes, we are. I enjoy her company. She and I, I think, are going to cultivate quite the friendship." My heart was racing. Did my mother know? Did someone tell her? Did someone see us? She was going to kill me! Joseph was going to kill me! Though my brain was running laps with thoughts, I tried to play it cool.

My mother smiled innocently. "Good, good. Every new arrival needs a good friend. I know that when your father arrived here from Lorraine, he made friends quite rapidly. Your father's always been good at making friends," my mother smiled delicately as she began to flip through her papers. "Maybe a little too good. Your aunt was the same way."

My mother didn't talk about my aunt much. She died when I was a toddler, and I never met her. And if I did, I didn't remember it. Unlike me, my mother only had one sibling that survived early childhood. No wonder my mother named her eldest surviving daughter after her: Maria Anna. Though I was starved with curiosity, I let it go. Aunt Anna was always a sensitive topic. I tried to come up with a related reply, but without involving my mother's dead sister. "Maybe I'll be an aunt soon."