Je T'aime.

XXIII. A Letter and a Chamber-Pot

The previous night, Pia had lit a roaring fire in my bedroom. The temperatures had swept extremely low overnight, and only this massive blaze could keep out the chill. She also warmed my bed with coals, and all snug up in there, I never wanted to get out. But eventually, I knew I would have to brave the cold.
   
So, mustering the courage, I did. I quickly did up my gown and wrapped a wool shawl over my shoulders. Outside of my window, the snow of the gardens were trampled with footprints, a gleaming layer of ice over the snow. Certainly out in Vienna, the streets would be like an ice skating rink.
   
I pulled up a chair and sat near the hearth. When I was a child I would imagine images within the flames; a dancing woman or a great dragon. If I tried hard enough I could still see them, but it was almost impossible to be enthralled by it at this age. Fire was survival. Fire was the mother of civilization.
   
Pia came up the service stairs. "Good morning," she said, adjusting her fingerless gloves.
   
"Good morning," I replied. "You look a bit dishevelled."
   
Pia paused to shove a loose hair back into her cap. "Half of the palace is rushing around. The Empress has herself all worked up into a frenzy. Your brother has a fever."
   
"Which brother, Pia, I have too many."
   
"Archduke Charles. Hot water bottles, blankets, remedies. They're all being rushed in and out of his room. I haven't had a look at him, but I'm sure I'll hear the scoop of it at lunch."

"Charles?" I said, turning towards my handmaiden. "Mama always took such a liking to him. She's probably just overreacting. Where's my father? He's more rational."

"I don't know. I can try and find out for you."

"That's alright, I'm sure I'll see him at supper."

"Oh! I almost forgot," Pia exclaimed as she reached into her pocket. "A letter for you."

I took the letter from her. It was unmarked, only saying my name in an unfamiliar script. The seal was a pale blue, decorated with a lion. "This isn't Isabella's," I commented.

"It's not," Pia replied. "Her seal is a richer blue, with one of those French flower things."

"A fleur-de-lis."

"Yeah."

I broke the seal of the letter and unfolded it. The script was flat and unfamiliar, written in an ink of dark brown rather than black. The language, I came to see, was French. Not great French, but French nonetheless. Translating from French to German, I read it aloud to Pia.

To Her Royal Highness, Archduchess Maria Christina Johanna Josepha Antonia of Austria,

I immediately rolled my eyes. Anyone who addressed me by my full, royal name and title definitely wanted something out of me.

It is my distinct pleasure to finally be able to speak to you. I hope that this letter finds you well. I have been in correspondence with my uncle and your father, Franz Stephan, Holy Roman Emperor, and from his descriptions of you, you seem like a truly incredible woman, and of an impressive lineage. Both I and your father believe that we would both get along very well and would make quite the handsome couple. And, of most importance, our marriage would solidify the ties between the houses of Lorraine and Savoy, and with all hope, that of Habsburg.

I have my own wing in the Royal Palace of Turin, which we call the Palazzo Chiablese. Turin itself is a beautiful city, located along the grandest mountains in Northern Italy, where the olives grow aplenty and the weather is beautifully warm. I have heard that you take up painting as a hobby. Here we have the most beautiful landscapes that would make any artist weak in the knees. Not to mention that Italy has the richest operas and musicians the world over.

Behind my father, my older half-brother, and his two sons, I am in line to be the King of Sardinia. Though I do admit that my chances are rather unlikely, so I am hoping to soon join the military forces of Sardinia, if we do choose to enter the current war. If we do, we will enter on the Franco-Spanish front, though away from any naval conflict, as the British will surely crush us. I watch the British become more and more powerful every day and I wonder how your mother can keep her eyes on the Prussians with so looming a threat.