Free The Second Empress by Michelle Moran Page A

complimenting us both. “On such difficult days, the Hapsburg women are examples of resilience.”
    I do not return his smile. As the carriage lurches forward, I say flatly, “I hear you have advice. Please give it.”
    My father doesn’t chastise me for my rudeness.
    “I know you are unhappy,” Metternich begins. “There is no one in this carriage, possibly in all of Austria, who would have wished to see this marriage come to pass. But for all of the pain he has inflicted on this kingdom, the Emperor Bonaparte has also done some good.”
    I raise my brows, and when I don’t say anything, he continues.
    “The Code Napoleon, for instance. The emperor has created a set of civil laws for his empire to follow. Under the ancien régime, what was legal in one town might be illegal in the next. Now, a strict set of laws governs all of France. It is based on the Corpus Juris Civilis, written in the sixth century by the Emperor Justinian.”
    My father grunts and looks out the window.
    “But you haven’t told her the best part,” Maria says, her voice icy and out of character. “Come, you know. How ‘women these days require restraint. They go where they like, do what they like.’ How ‘it is not French to give women the upper hand.’ That’s part of the Code Napoleon, too, isn’t it?”
    “That has nothing to do with Her Highness—”
    “No?” Maria looks at my father. The muscles in his jaw are working fast.
    “You’ll be an empress ,” Metternich tells me.
    A second empress .
    When he sees he is not winning my enthusiasm, he tries something else. “I know how Your Highness feels about the Jews, given that yournurse was a Jewess. Perhaps you will be interested to know that the emperor has not only emancipated the Jews in France, he has also called for a Jewish state.”
    I lean forward, despite myself. “Where?”
    “In Palestine.”
    “And he can do this?”
    “He conquered Egypt,” he replies, as if this small and fleeting victory meant that now anything might happen. “Look,” he says, and he takes from his pocket a small gold locket, handing it to me. “From the emperor to you.”
    I open it and study the picture inside. If this is a real likeness—and it probably isn’t—then he looks far younger than his forty years. The artist has painted him in an embroidered coat, with his dark hair parted to one side and his gray eyes looking off into the distance. He appears cold, emotionless, a man with foreign lands on his mind, not family or love. I think of Adam, whose dark eyes always look warm, even in charcoal drawings, and suddenly I can’t stop the tears from coming.
    “Maria!” my father exclaims, but I raise a gloved hand.
    “I’m fine.”
    He passes a threatening look at Metternich, but the prince is unaffected. To him, I am a warhorse going into battle. I was born for this duty, and now I am fulfilling it. No matter that I love another man or that Napoleon is old enough to be my father. The Hapsburg Empire must be preserved.
    “The emperor sent this locket to you from Paris,” Metternich explains. “I would suggest that when Bonaparte asks about it, you tell him that his picture did not do him justice.”
    My eyes go wide. “Is that true?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Then why would I say it?”
    “Because his ego is delicate,” Maria puts in, and when I look from my father to Metternich, neither contradicts her.
    “What, is Napoleon a child?”
    “He is an emperor with a new throne,” my father says wearily. “Old crowns never have to be polished in this way.”
    “But that also means you will be treated to more furs and jewels than any empress in Europe,” Metternich adds. That he thinks this is appealing shows how little he has learned about me these past nineteen years.
    “Does he paint?”
    Metternich frowns. “He is an emperor, Your Highness.”
    “Does he at least have an appreciation for the arts?” I demand.
    Metternich shifts on his seat, and I can see that he