instructions?” she asks.
We stare at each other in the flickering light, and I can see the cleverness in her gaze. She knows this is not a woman’s decision. This is the whim of a man who is accustomed to getting everything he wants, a man who doesn’t like having to wait.
“Her instructions,” I say honestly. When her eyes well with tears, I add quietly, so that not even the lady-in-waiting behind her can hear, “He will be surprising you in a week at Compiègne.”
C HAPTER 10
MARIE-LOUISE, EMPRESS OF FRANCE
Compiègne, France
“ I think of you always, and I always shall. God has given me power to endure this final shock, and in Him alone I have put all my trust. He will help me and give me courage, and I shall find support in doing my duty toward you, since it is all for you that I have sacrificed myself .”
—LETTER FROM MARIE-LOUISE TO HER FATHER, EMPEROR FRANCIS I
I F MY FATHER WERE TO SEE ME TODAY, WITH MY GOWN cut so low a seasoned Strichmädchen would blush to wear it, he would never recognize me. From my narrow leather shoes lined in pale green silk to the cameo of Napoleon around my neck, I am all but French. I think of Joseph Wright’s Portrait of a Lady with her ridiculous hat and impertinent gaze and wonder if this is what Napoleon hopes I’ll become. A tear escapes and lands on my necklace.
“What theatrics,” Caroline snaps. “It’s a change of clothes.”
I do not reply. If she can’t see that this is nothing to do with fashion, then there is no reasoning with this hateful woman. And while she maybe ten years older than I am, she would do well to remember that I am an empress.
Caroline claps her hands for Collette. “Fix her hair,” she instructs.
I sit patiently while Collette gathers my hair into a bun, and listen as both women discuss the weeklong journey ahead. We are to reach Compiègne by way of Munich and Strasbourg. Between those cities are to be a dozen stops, so the important men of Europe can say that they’ve met me.
“Of course, there’s nothing to do in Stuttgart,” Caroline says, as Collette places tortoiseshell combs in my hair. “But in Compiègne …”
The women exchange glances. They don’t know that the servant from Haiti has already told me that my new husband will be waiting in this city.
“Well, Prince Metternich will be joining us there,” Queen Caroline says.
“ Prince Metternich will be joining us?” I ask. “I thought he would meet us in Paris.”
Both women look down at me, as if they’ve forgotten I understand French. Caroline shrugs cryptically, and I immediately wonder how well she knows the prince.
Collette steps back to admire her work, and the queen’s spacious room suddenly feels oppressive. The fire is too hot, the bed is too near. And what is that in my hair? I lean closer to the mirror and see that the tortoiseshell cameo depicts Alexander the Great. They’re all obsessed! With conquest and ambition.
“What do you think?” she questions Caroline, and my sister-in-law appraises me with a look.
“It will do.” The queen turns to me, then scowls at Sigi. “Are you ready?”
“You said we would depart at eight o’clock. It’s seven-thirty.” These were her words, not mine.
“Then make your farewells. And find someone to take care of that dog.”
When the two of them leave, I run to my little spaniel. “Maria will take good care of you,” I swear. He hangs his head low to the ground, and I’m certain he can understand what I’m saying. “I’ll have Adam take you back to Vienna,” I say, in a voice full of false enthusiasm. But Sigi whines plaintively, and I think of how my carriage will ride away without him. My hands begin to tremble. We are together every day. I know the sound he makes when he’s hungry, and the bark he uses for getting attention. I know when he’s tired or just lazy. I can tell when he’s anxious because the soldiers in the courtyard have been too loud. I have written Maria a
We stare at each other in the flickering light, and I can see the cleverness in her gaze. She knows this is not a woman’s decision. This is the whim of a man who is accustomed to getting everything he wants, a man who doesn’t like having to wait.
“Her instructions,” I say honestly. When her eyes well with tears, I add quietly, so that not even the lady-in-waiting behind her can hear, “He will be surprising you in a week at Compiègne.”
C HAPTER 10
MARIE-LOUISE, EMPRESS OF FRANCE
Compiègne, France
“ I think of you always, and I always shall. God has given me power to endure this final shock, and in Him alone I have put all my trust. He will help me and give me courage, and I shall find support in doing my duty toward you, since it is all for you that I have sacrificed myself .”
—LETTER FROM MARIE-LOUISE TO HER FATHER, EMPEROR FRANCIS I
I F MY FATHER WERE TO SEE ME TODAY, WITH MY GOWN cut so low a seasoned Strichmädchen would blush to wear it, he would never recognize me. From my narrow leather shoes lined in pale green silk to the cameo of Napoleon around my neck, I am all but French. I think of Joseph Wright’s Portrait of a Lady with her ridiculous hat and impertinent gaze and wonder if this is what Napoleon hopes I’ll become. A tear escapes and lands on my necklace.
“What theatrics,” Caroline snaps. “It’s a change of clothes.”
I do not reply. If she can’t see that this is nothing to do with fashion, then there is no reasoning with this hateful woman. And while she maybe ten years older than I am, she would do well to remember that I am an empress.
Caroline claps her hands for Collette. “Fix her hair,” she instructs.
I sit patiently while Collette gathers my hair into a bun, and listen as both women discuss the weeklong journey ahead. We are to reach Compiègne by way of Munich and Strasbourg. Between those cities are to be a dozen stops, so the important men of Europe can say that they’ve met me.
“Of course, there’s nothing to do in Stuttgart,” Caroline says, as Collette places tortoiseshell combs in my hair. “But in Compiègne …”
The women exchange glances. They don’t know that the servant from Haiti has already told me that my new husband will be waiting in this city.
“Well, Prince Metternich will be joining us there,” Queen Caroline says.
“ Prince Metternich will be joining us?” I ask. “I thought he would meet us in Paris.”
Both women look down at me, as if they’ve forgotten I understand French. Caroline shrugs cryptically, and I immediately wonder how well she knows the prince.
Collette steps back to admire her work, and the queen’s spacious room suddenly feels oppressive. The fire is too hot, the bed is too near. And what is that in my hair? I lean closer to the mirror and see that the tortoiseshell cameo depicts Alexander the Great. They’re all obsessed! With conquest and ambition.
“What do you think?” she questions Caroline, and my sister-in-law appraises me with a look.
“It will do.” The queen turns to me, then scowls at Sigi. “Are you ready?”
“You said we would depart at eight o’clock. It’s seven-thirty.” These were her words, not mine.
“Then make your farewells. And find someone to take care of that dog.”
When the two of them leave, I run to my little spaniel. “Maria will take good care of you,” I swear. He hangs his head low to the ground, and I’m certain he can understand what I’m saying. “I’ll have Adam take you back to Vienna,” I say, in a voice full of false enthusiasm. But Sigi whines plaintively, and I think of how my carriage will ride away without him. My hands begin to tremble. We are together every day. I know the sound he makes when he’s hungry, and the bark he uses for getting attention. I know when he’s tired or just lazy. I can tell when he’s anxious because the soldiers in the courtyard have been too loud. I have written Maria a
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