“Joscha, think about it. What if Max goes to unstable America and gets assassinated?”
I know that his end is execution by firing squad.
“Do you think Mother and Charlotte would be able to live sanely after that?”
“Why do you think Max would go? If that upstart made it all the way to Max, it means the other royal families refused him. Max isn’t that stupid.”
At Joseph’s certainty, I fell silent for a moment.
Should I tell him that Max’s inferiority complex, born of having lived his whole life as a spare, that belief that he could do better as emperor than Joseph, would be what made him choose Mexico?
“Joscha, you do know that to me, you’re sixth, don’t you?”
“Sixth?”
Did you think you were first all your life?
“Don’t get strange ideas. Max, Bertie, and Lugi aren’t included.”
“Then who is?”
Is he seriously asking?
“Sophie, Gisela, Rudolf, Ferdinand, Adriana, and then you.”
And I’m number zero.
“Sophie and the twins are old enough to begin lessons in etiquette now.”
Ha, he does have his cute sides when you look at him.
I pretended not to notice his jealousy and was about to return to the main topic, but stopped.
It is better not to create misunderstandings between husband and wife.
If I gave off even the slightest nuance of praising Maximilian, Joseph’s complex might flare up.
“If we return to Vienna, could you invite Mother here?”
“Mother?”
Joseph looked as though he doubted his own ears.
For me to be the one to call my mother-in-law first, and not to Vienna but here to Venice. Even the sun rising in the west would be less shocking than this.
“Why? Do you dislike the idea?”
“No, of course not! Mother will want to see Adriana as well. But I thought you might be uncomfortable…”
I didn’t think he would be this pleased.
“When the weather cools a little, let’s go hunting together in Bad Ischl.”
“All right.”
Joseph spent the next week looking somewhat more at ease, and then departed for Vienna.
「To my dear cousin, Elisabeth.
I pray that the Lord’s grace be with you and with the noble newborn archduchess. Word of your safe delivery has reached Prague as well, and my wife and I rejoiced sincerely and offered prayers of gratitude.
……
As lambs of the Lord, my wife and I also strive to live piously, but He has not yet allowed the warmth of life into our arms. I wished to ask cautiously whether there is a saint to whom you particularly offer prayers, or whether the court physicians in Vienna recommend any special regimen or place of recuperation.
……
My wife, Maria Theresa, also longs earnestly for the same miracle as yours. If you would share even a little of your wisdom with us, we would not forget the grace.
May the peace of the Lord be with you.
Henri.」
…How am I supposed to answer this?
It would have been better if the letter had come from Maria Theresa instead.
Put a pillow under your waist, try a different position…
“What is the Count of Chambord’s marital relationship like?”
“I know that they are on good terms.”
“Really? I heard rumors that they were not.”
Joseph and I didn’t really make any special effort.
“Was the Countess of Chambord from a collateral branch of Modena?”
“Yes, she is the eldest daughter of Francesco IV.”
“Ah…”
I let out a short sigh.
The House of Este of Modena. A family conservative to the bone, no less so than my mother-in-law—if anything, more so.
The husband was a Bourbon, a specter of the past, and the wife an Este, the final boss of conservatism.
I could see it clearly: the two of them lying in bed reciting Bible verses.
“Invite the two of them.”
Joseph and I could sleep holding hands and the stork would bring us a child.
Mother-in-law has ceremonies to attend to, is deeply involved in state affairs, and as hostess of society must have a schedule packed with documents to handle and meetings to hold.
It will take several days just to adjust and clear that.
Besides, there is no way she would come at once simply because I asked her to.
“Prepare about three more letters to the Archduchess.”
Since I am asking earnestly, we need to make it look as though she carved time out of her schedule to come specially.
The first letter: “Vienna’s schedule is busy.”
The second letter: “If you truly want it, I shall consider it. But there is also the Emperor’s schedule…”
Only when the third letter finally arrives will she say, “The young Empress is struggling, so as an elder, I must help her,” and come.
And it is the same when I go, conversely.
Since an elder of the family has requested it, I move with the appearance of acting for the empire rather than for my own body.
As expected, the first to arrive were the Count and Countess of Chambord.
“I did not think you would arrive in only five days.”
With the help of my ladies-in-waiting, I received them in the drawing room.
The Count of Chambord is forty-one this year, and the Countess was forty-four, was she?
In any case, this is truly the very last chance to hope for a miracle.
“You must have suffered on the long journey, Cousin.”
When I greeted them with a bright smile, Maria Theresa looked first not at my face, but elsewhere.
At my belly, still slightly swollen with the signs of childbirth.
I never thought I would live to run a couples’ clinic.
“My wife has been very rude.”
Henri offered an apology, but I did not mind.
“Esterházy, have everyone withdraw.”
“When you need us, please ring the bell.”
After sending out even the ladies-in-waiting and guards, only the three of us remained.
There was no need to be stiff. What I was about to discuss would be a little awkward for nobles to overhear.
The Countess’s physical condition is worse than I thought.
Even with a corset on, her shoulders were uneven, with a forward neck posture and even scoliosis.
She means to give birth with that body? Forget childbirth—even pregnancy would look dangerous.
The Count of Chambord is the last survivor of the French Bourbon line. There is also a high chance he has been cowed by the eyes around him.
“Count of Chambord.”
“Please speak.”
“First, you should separate the retainers around you from the Countess.”
“What do you mean by that? My wife has a weak body; without the care of her maids, she even has difficulty moving. Besides, they are loyal women who have served my wife since Modena…”
“Loyal watchers, you mean.”
At my words, Henri’s mouth closed.
“Count, when you embrace your wife in the bedchamber, are the maids standing outside the door?”
“…Is that not natural by royal custom?”
“Then they must ask every morning whether there was good news the night before. Or inspect the bedsheets.”
The Countess’s shoulders flinched visibly.
I knew it. I knew it.
If they are maids from the House of Modena, it is obvious.
“But is that not only natural?”
For an ordinary royal family, perhaps.
“When I became pregnant with Sophie, it was like that.”
After that, there was never such a case.
I rose from my seat and approached the Countess.
Seen up close, her condition was even more serious. Eyes sunken beneath makeup, wrists that looked as if they would snap if tapped.
“Madam, pardon me.”
Without waiting for an answer, I moved behind her. Then, feeling over the dress, I searched for the knot of her corset.
Joseph is good at this.
“Y-Your Majesty?”
“Countess, stay still.”
When I loosened the knot, the Countess’s complexion became somewhat more comfortable.
“While you are in Venice, corsets are forbidden, Madam. And that stifling black dress is forbidden as well. Send the maids away too, and take your meals in the bedchamber with just the two of you.”
Come to think of it, bedchamber etiquette differs from country to country.
I returned to my seat and asked,
“Countess, how do the Bourbons share a bed?”
Unlike the image of arranged marriages, the Habsburgs have had many devoted lovers.
Empress Maria Theresa, Leopold II, Joseph II, Franz II…
Even the brusque Archduke Albrecht turns into Joseph before his wife.
That’s right, we had our Franz and Joseph too.
“First, we perform the c-coucher…”
The Countess lowered her head deeply and was busy hiding her face with her fan.
What coucher? That was for after the Restoration.
“Count, please tell me.”
“First, before entering the bedchamber, holy water blessed by a bishop is sprinkled on the four corners of the bed. Then we kneel and offer prayers to the saints for thirty minutes, and afterward we perform the sacred rite.”
Mm. Mmm.
Even Joseph does not go that far.
“Words like that you love each other, or that she is beautiful…?”
“How could one make idle chatter while performing a sacred rite?”
This is not a marital relationship. It is a religious ceremony.
Modena—yes, they would do that and more. That place is practically a convent.
Which means.
“You do it wearing nightclothes that come down to the ankles, don’t you?”
The Countess nodded carefully.
I was like that for a while too.
In the old days, I would drink, and once the mood had ripened enough, I would lie down and pass out.
Joseph had been dissatisfied with that, and at some point, the empty formalities diminished.
I rang the bell and called Esterházy first.
“Esterházy. Tell Ida to bring the Spielkarte from the third drawer. And the mask too.”
A short while later, Ferenczy arrived carrying a deck of playing cards.
Ida Ferenczy held out a mask and a small box wrapped in velvet.
Anyone watching would think it held some sacred rosary.
This is something Joseph and I use when we want to do something a little different, but I shall specially teach them.
I opened the box and took out one card.
“Is that not simply a playing card?”
Count Henri asked with a puzzled expression.
“It is, if you simply look at it.”
I handed the card to the Countess and said,
“Carefully hold the card up to the candlelight.”
The moment the Countess reached out and shone the card in the candlelight—
“Kyaa!”
Startled, she dropped the card.
I took out another card and brought it near the candle.
In the place where the candlelight made the pattern disappear—
“Reduce the time you spend praying, and try following the picture that appears here.”
Ta-da, a position between a man and woman appeared.
“B-but something so sinful…”
But nothing. God is not what matters right now, I’m telling you.
Is this the time to look for sin? Over something everyone else does?
“And Countess, this mask is my gift.”
“Wh-what is this?”
“The mask His Majesty the Emperor asked me to wear when I conceived Ferdinand.”
Henri’s eyes grew round.
I doubt he would react like that even if I gifted him a true holy relic.
“Countess, put out the candles and focus only on each other’s senses in the darkness. If you are still embarrassed, wear this mask.”
It is a mask that even the stubborn Joseph was bewitched by. Somehow, it has become a symbol of fertility, but…
I had originally brought it to wear again in Venice. In any case, they sell identical ones in the town square.
The two of them blushed as though their faces might burst, but they did not refuse the box of cards or the mask.
What are a married couple in their forties doing, blushing so red over this…?
Clicking my tongue inwardly, I confined them to the island of Torcello.
Because they have no power, they pay even more attention to such etiquette.
Compared to ’48, our own etiquette has lessened a great deal too.