Empresses' Tea: Veiled Barbs and Hidden Agendas
"Even the French Empress—"
"Just call me Empress Eugénie."
"Then you can call me Empress Elisabeth too."
In truth, the two of us had often been lumped together as rivals, but we'd faced similar predicaments in different eras.
It all stemmed from Joseph deciding to side with Russia and join the war.
I'd just given birth when Joseph headed to the Italian front, and Empress Eugénie had been pregnant when Napoleon followed his uncle to the Italian front.
"Empress Eugénie, the French Emperor stood by your side during your confinement, didn't he?"
Empress Eugénie fluttered her fan lightly.
"But is that the same as my situation? I didn't know, but the Austrian Emperor knew full well and still left for the front."
"Is postpartum the same as confinement? There's a world of difference between someone undergoing purification rites and someone who needs protection."
I fluttered my fan just like her.
Empress Maria set down her teacup and spoke.
"The Emperors bear the weight of their empires on their shoulders. They can't think only of us."
Well... that's true.
"How are things between you and the Archduchess these days, Austrian Empress?"
Russia still hasn't gotten over their grudge.
This wasn't an attack on me—it was deliberate, meant to sideline Empress Eugénie from the conversation.
"I'm keeping a proper distance from Archduchess Sophie."
Not really, but you know it and I know it—badmouthing court elders is poor form.
...I could always send a letter of lament to my parents.
"How did you overcome it, Russian Empress?"
"Overcome? There's nothing to overcome. The late Emperor doted on me in my youth, so I lived comfortably."
We all knew her mother-in-law, Charlotte of Prussia, had made her life hell at first.
The one person who couldn't ask a single question: Empress Eugénie.
She hadn't lived with her in-laws.
And unlike us—Hessian grand duchess and Bavarian duchess who also held princess titles—Empress Eugénie came from ordinary nobility.
Eugénie, trying to break the dynamic, turned to Maria.
"How did you raise the crown prince, Russian Empress?"
"The crown prince... is the empire's child. Before he is one boy, he must embody Russia itself. I assigned him the sternest tutors and the strictest discipline."
Empress Maria gave Eugénie a faint smile as she concluded.
"All I can do is pray to God that the child can bear the empire's weight unscathed, Frenchwoman."
While the three empresses sized each other up, their attendants watched from behind.
Austria's Mistress of the Household for the Empress's apartments: Countess Sophie Esterházy-Lichtenstein.
France's Chief Lady of the Bedchamber: Pauline de Bassano.
Russia's Senior Lady of the Bedchamber: Anna Tyutcheva.
Bassano moved first.
She signaled the footmen with a glance and approached the table where the three empresses sat.
"Your Majesty, I've brought the dessert you ordered prepared earlier."
Eugénie swiftly changed the subject.
"Empress Elisabeth, Russian Empress. This is prepared by the palace's finest chef in your honor."
A vatrushka was placed before Maria, a Sachertorte before Elisabeth.
Bassano didn't miss Eugénie's wording.
'Austria by name, Russia by nation.'
Confirming the shift to culture, Bassano returned to her seat.
"I wanted to showcase Vienna's splendid dessert culture in Paris too."
"Thank you for the thought. Paris's desserts are exquisite as well."
I gave the perfunctory reply, and Eugénie smiled at Maria as if she'd been waiting.
"The newly renovated streets and squares you saw upon arriving in Paris are my greatest pride, alongside His Majesty's. Art shouldn't linger only in palaces—it must have the power to transform the life of the entire city."
Empress Maria took a quiet sip of her black tea.
"Paris's vibrancy is truly impressive, but true art's power comes not from novelty, but from eternity."
I watched their duel while savoring my dessert.
"Lately, I've been lavishly sponsoring the Imperial Russian Ballet. An empire's greatness emerges from such pure, perfect language of the body."
Esterházy watched me, wondering when to make her move.
'Her Majesty hasn't yet sponsored any arts.'
Eugénie countered Maria.
"Of course, tradition is a shining legacy. The Paris Opera Ballet supports its dancers generously as well."
Maria gripped her fan at the implication that Russian ballet was merely a derivative of French. I didn't get it.
Bassano relaxed upon seeing the faint smile on Eugénie's lips.
Anna Tyutcheva approached the table without hesitation.
"Your Majesty, if I may."
Tyutcheva gave light nods to the other two empresses, then handed Maria a handkerchief.
"Fearing Paris's summer sun might burden Your Majesty's delicate health, accustomed as you are to St. Petersburg's cool summers, I prepared this."
Maria gently set her gripped fan on the table and took the peppermint oil-scented handkerchief from Anna.
"Your thoughtfulness remains as keen as ever."
Maria pressed it lightly to her temple, then dabbed her wrists.
Eugénie feigned concern for her guest's health.
"Oh dear, Russian Empress. Are you alright? We should have added more shade."
I watched them both with interest, still eating my Sachertorte.
Delicious.
Maria had fully regained her composure.
"Thank you for your concern. The weather here is as passionate as Paris's energy."
She subtly emphasized "passionate" to critique Eugénie's overly fervent ballet talk.
Esterházy grew a bit worried inwardly.
'Does Her Majesty feel awkward from rarely appearing at salons? No, she understands the Archduchess's rhetoric well enough.'
Truth be told, I had nothing to say.
What would I even know? The mood's gotten weird all of a sudden.
My arts patronage had only just begun—with a theatrical adaptation of Frankenstein, dismissed as mere philosophy-less novel.
In this situation, savoring the sweet dessert I'd usually skip for my diet brought utter bliss.
I set down my teacup, having watched their fierce battle like a fire across the river.
Esterházy approached immediately and dabbed a crumb of Sachertorte from the hem of my dress with her handkerchief.
You need to say something.
Catching Esterházy's glance, I looked at my now-empty plate, which had been my solace.
When did I finish it...?
"It's good enough to steal the chef back to Vienna."
"Empress Elisabeth, I'm thrilled to hear that."
So she says.
Not sincere, though.
A French chef would faint if they saw what I eat.
Even the empress's kitchen staff cry while cooking daily.
When I crave a midnight snack and head down, their joyful faces as they change out of nightclothes make me pity them.
They didn't enter the palace to make jus, milk, orange sorbet.
"The Tuileries gardens are truly beautiful."
Dessert done—time to move.
This dull skirmish seems over, and sitting too long has me fidgety.
"Indeed. It's my favorite garden these days. Shall I show you both around?"
Empress Maria and I nodded and rose.
Esterházy approached and held my parasol.
...This isn't normally her duty.
Something up with the maids?
Eugénie and Maria exchanged puzzled glances with their own attendants.
I murmured to Esterházy alone.
"Where's the reading maid?"
This is usually little Ferenc's job.
"The others are preparing Your Majesty's bath."
Ah, can't be helped then.
Unlike our fully equipped palace, everything here had to be sourced one by one in Paris.
We strolled the Tuileries gardens, inhaling rose scents.
Pretending to smell the roses, I fell back a bit.
"No different from the Hofburg."
No real difference from Sophie's gardens.
And they complain about our stiff palace?
"Can't be helped in such a sensitive time."
Eugénie had just completed her purification rite and ventured out. Unlike our coffee or tea, she'd drunk sage tea.
"That doesn't mean His Majesty should make you endure it."
"Wasn't I sensitive for a while too?"
Actually, the period before and after purification is the worst.
Painkillers do nothing, breasts bound tight.
"Empress Eugénie is stepping away with her maid for a moment."
Probably for a massage.
Empress Maria approached and spoke to me.
"Empress Elisabeth."
"I like the Tuileries gardens."
"Now that we're alone, I have a question, even if it's impertinent."
"Ask away."
"...Why did Austria join the war so late?"
She really is sulking over Nicholas I's death.
"Who knows? I'm just the empress. You'd have to ask His Majesty the Emperor."
"Understood. I wished to express gratitude for the great aid at the late Emperor's funeral."
"His Majesty followed him like a father, so it was merely repaying a fraction of that grace."
I wish we'd drop the pride contest. My head already ached concentrating on French words.
So tiring. At first, the vibe was fine, wasn't it?
