Sorbet in the Smoky Skies of London
“His Majesty seems in low spirits, so please bring some dessert.”
I could hear every word.
Countess Esterházy, who was starting to find long journeys a burden at her age, was waiting back at the empress's palace, so Countess Hunyadi was filling in temporarily.
“Your Majesty, violet lemon sorbet.”
As I savored the sorbet the maid brought, my thoughts turned to the children.
They'll be fine, right?
I wanted to bring them to London, but Sophie was too anxious for now, Gisela and Rudolf were still too young, and Ferdinand was just a newborn—overseas travel was out of the question.
Not to mention the journey itself, but seeing that black smog in the distance...
“Good thing I didn't bring them.”
Better than having them come and cough their lungs out for no reason.
The Thames was crammed with hundreds of trading ships, and the sky was blanketed in smoke from factory chimneys.
Vienna's crisp air was incomparable to this murk, but that murky haze reeked of money.
To beat Prussia and Russia, we'll have to get our hands dirty with grease too. Seeing this, though, Britain is one enemy we absolutely can't afford.
Charlotte beside me seemed a bit excited.
Related to Queen Victoria, right?
Charlotte's father, King Leopold I of Belgium, was the queen's most trusted uncle.
Anyway, her intentions are crystal clear.
The smile playing on Charlotte's lips was closer to smug superiority than genuine delight. Back in Vienna, she'd been second fiddle to me as empress, but here in the British court, she wanted to flaunt her royal bloodline.
“You look pleased, Archduchess.”
At my question, Charlotte snapped her fan shut and tilted her chin up slightly.
“I'm just thrilled at the thought of seeing my cousin after so long. We used to play at Windsor Castle all the time when we were little.”
Cousin sister, huh.
Deliberately calling her 'sister' instead of 'Your Majesty.' She's rubbing it in that I've got no connections here.
“Prince Albert was so fond of me too. He'll welcome me with open arms when I arrive.”
She was subtly looking down on my ignorance of London's social scene.
So for Charlotte, this London wasn't her in-laws' turf—it was practically home turf, as comfy as her parents' house.
Fine, you're the big shot.
Why does she only act like this with me?
I knew from the papers how intellectual she was. I even knew the Milanese subjects adored her. So why did she turn into this around me...?
Maybe next time I should style her hair in those ridiculous rolls.
It'd suit her perfectly, the way she spits out those flighty lines while hiding behind her fan, all 'ohoho.'
Looking at Charlotte, I finally got why villainess characters flop in real life.
“Let's take a trip to Greece together sometime.”
Otho was still holding the fort as her cousin, at least. Greek-style Othon.
She'd sent a letter begging for help last time anyway. Maybe I should swing by with just Sophie.
At least we sided with Russia this time, so no war guilt like before—small mercies.
I glanced sideways at Charlotte, and she was glaring at me, clutching her fan.
What? Glare all you want.
I shook my head with an exaggerated sigh.
I shouldn't have stooped to her level. But this Dutch girl from Austrian Netherlands kept needling me, and I just snapped.
“Sisi, Lotte, fighting again?”
““You think we fight all the time?””
Max had wandered back from admiring the harbor view up on deck.
He grinned slyly and draped an arm around Charlotte's shoulders.
“Knock it off, Lotte. Keep frowning like that, and you'll get wrinkles. And sister-in-law, cut her some slack. Being back in England must be stirring up homesickness—she's just excited.”
Maximilian grabbed a chair from nearby and sat down.
“Anyway, next coronation will be in Milan, right?”
Probably. Hungary was unique—Germans and locals were evenly split population-wise.
“Still trouble from the nationalists?”
“Not really, but...”
He waved off the attendants.
“Rumors are swirling that Sardinia's about to invade the Papal States.”
“For real? His Majesty hasn't breathed a word.”
Metternich hadn't mentioned it either.
“Guess Napoleon’s got headaches from that time France sat out our war with Sardinia.”
...Unbelievable. Those Savoyards are shameless.
“So Lombardy-Venetia’s off the table for now, and short on cash, they’re picking a fight with the Papal States? What about the other Catholic powers?”
Historically, they couldn't touch it till the Second Empire fell.
“They got the green light everywhere but Rome. Spain's too busy with Morocco anyway.”
“...Got it. Next kid, I'll pop out in Venice first.”
Was planning to prioritize Croatia, but order's changing.
“What about the coronation?”
“That's up to His Majesty. I'm just the empress.”
If Joseph wants it, he'll do it. Thinks I'm the empress regnant or something?
“Brother's putty in your hands, Sisi.”
“Spare me. Just look after your archduchess.”
Her lips were pursed again, all pouty.
“Lotte doesn't sweat the small stuff.”
That's not 'not sweating it' in your eyes?
She looks ready to brain you with that fan.
“Lucky you.”
I tossed that out and stood up.
“What is?”
“Nothing.”
If the ship hadn't docked right then, she might've actually cracked his skull.
With Maximilian escorting us, we disembarked to find the Prince of Wales waiting to greet us.
He flashed a ceremonial smile that froze the moment he saw me—eyes widening in shock.
His outstretched hand hovered awkwardly in midair, lost, as he stared blankly before snapping to and hastily offering it properly.
“The rumors did you no justice, Madam.”
“...Pardon?”
He kissed the back of my hand courteously, then looked up with a playful glint in his eyes.
“Words like 'Europe's greatest beauty' fall woefully short of capturing Your Majesty's radiance. Now I know why London's dreary fog fled the instant it beheld you.”
Ha. Joseph couldn't touch this guy's pinky toe.
Isn't he only seventeen? Smooth as silk. That pause was probably acting.
Good thing Joseph can't string together lines that long yet.
“My thanks for the Prince of Wales's warm welcome. Your kindness already eases the fatigue of our journey. Might you escort us to Buckingham Palace, so I may convey greetings to Her Majesty the Queen?”
Edward bowed gracefully and offered his arm.
“It is my utmost honor to escort Your Majesty.”
I took his arm and boarded the carriage. Sorry, Charlotte—I'm still the empress even in London. You trail behind.
“First time in London?”
Edward grinned and asked.
“I can certainly feel the vibrant air.”
“Different from Vienna?”
Well... My Vienna felt a bit different. The palace was stuffy, but the city wasn't this bad.
“As long as we're not talking politics, it's not suffocating. I'm sure the Prince of Wales knows that well.”
Austria's laid-back, romantic, somewhat slovenly vibe.
“You've heard: 'Berlin's serious but not hopeless; Vienna's hopeless but not serious'?”
Funny how the British think the opposite of the Germans.
“If I'd known Vienna was that fun, I'd have visited ages ago. Letters from my Berlin cousins are all duty, discipline—stifling stuff.”
“A parade ground can't be a café, after all.”
I replied, taking a candy from Hunyadi and handing it to him.
“Reminds me of my son.”
His roguish smile vanished, replaced by flustered stammering.
“Son... oh, a son? He's... two this year?”
“Yes, Rudolf. So curious, he can't sit still for a second.”
“Ah... haha. R-right. Crown Prince Rudolf...”
I've fielded enough flirting in my life. Falling for obvious plays is... fun, but tricky all around.
“Need more snacks? Plenty ready.”
This is the line, right?
He popped the candy in his mouth right away.
“Your Majesty, may I call you Sisi...? Just in private. You're the first friend I've clicked with like this.”
“Sure. I'll call you Bertie.”
“An honor! Feels like sneaking a friend past Dad.”
“Prince Albert might feel left out if he hears 'secret friend.'”
“Dad doesn't need friends. He's got Mother, rules, and lessons.”
Bertie grumbled, but his tone mixed rebellion with affection for his father.
“I serve someone similar, so I get it.”
“Being around them can be suffocating sometimes.”
True that.
I rubbed my waist in sympathy.
“One corset does the job just fine.”
Bertie cracked up, clutching his sides at my joke.
Nationalities and ages apart, but stifling royals bonded us quick.
“Sisi, after the official stuff, I'll show you real London. No boring Buckingham or museums.”
“Real London... theaters? Horse races?”
“Hunting too, if you like.”
His eyes sparkled mischievously.
Albert would clutch his neck and keel over, but it sounded tempting to me.
“Chance to test Europe's top equestrienne rep.”
“Looking forward to it, Bertie.”
We kept chatting, getting to know each other, until the carriage passed Buckingham's gates.
Bertie and I click pretty well.
The carriage halted in Buckingham's inner courtyard.
“We're here, Sisi.”
Guided by Bertie, I stepped down—didn't feel all that different from Vienna, really.
“Mother and Father are waiting.”
We passed the guards' lines and entered the palace.
The audience chamber doors opened, revealing Queen Victoria and Prince Albert awaiting us.
“Auntie! Uncle!”
Charlotte, forgetting protocol in front of the empress, beamed and rushed to them.
Victoria's stern face melted like snow at the sight of her.
“Oh, my darling Lotte. Such a long journey—well done. How's your father?”
“He's great! Sends his regards.”
And the empress is right here. Not forgetting etiquette in front of me, is she? And they just take it... Did I do something wrong?
At least it confirmed Charlotte wasn't lying.
Queen Victoria lowered her gaze, scanning me from head to toe—dress, expression, eyes.
Our eyes met, and she gave a curt greeting.
“Welcome, Empress. Your fame precedes you.”
Short and sweet?
...What a pill.