The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette

by Clegg, Melanie

  'My little Antonia,' she said, leaning down to embrace me fondly and murmuring into my ear. 'I will miss you more than I can say. Don't ever let them bully you.'

  'I won't.' I hugged her back and rubbed my cheek against hers, inhaling her delicious scent of roses and lilies, unwilling to ever let her go. 'Please don't forget me.'

  She smiled then and kissed my cheek. 'I promise that I won't.'

  Joseph coughed discreetly behind her and with a sigh she turned away to give a final hug and kiss to Max and Ferdinand before returning to her place at Joseph's side. 'I think it is time to go,' she murmured, smiling at the footman who appeared with a large pink parasol to protect her complexion from the sun during the short walk to her new pale green and gold carriage.

  I watched as she walked away her head held high and her heavy silk skirts trailing behind her on the cobbles. In another minute she would be gone forever, in another hour she would be far away, never to return. There was a murmur of shock from the assembled courtiers as Karl stepped out from the crowd and stood in front of her. I held my breath, willing her to take his hand and run away from all of this, but instead they looked at each other for a moment without saying anything or even touching before he stepped aside and let her go. Joseph placed his hand on Karl's shoulder for a moment as he passed and I saw a look of pain and understanding pass between the two young men.

  'Disgraceful!' I heard Christina mutter to Elizabeth. 'And shame on Joseph for encouraging such common theatrics!'

  Karl stood alone for a moment, looking up at us all, with one hand shading his eyes against the sunlight. I smiled at him, hoping that he knew that one of us at least was on his side but he didn't smile back or even appear to see me. Instead he stared at Mama as she stood silent and haughty beneath the shade of a black silk parasol, her hands calmly folded in front of her and her gaze focused on her son and daughter as they climbed into their carriage. He stared at her, his face full of contempt then very deliberately turned his back and walked away.

  Tuesday, 4th July, late.

  I don't know what to say. What is there to say? All I can think about is the fact that one day it will be me who leaves Vienna, never to return.

  Wednesday, 19th July.

  A lovely sunny, Summer's day. I went outside with the Princesses of Hesse-Darmstadt and my ladies in waiting and we all lazed about on soft woolen blankets and silk cushions spread underneath a pink silk canopy erected by the footmen, reading poetry aloud to each other and feasting on sugary little cakes, apples, enormous china bowls full of strawberries and cherries and glasses of lemonade and fresh, delicious milk while Anton lay on his back and slept in the sunshine, one arm thrown across his eyes.

  Joseph's little Theresia was brought down by her governess and was greeted with smiles as she prettily curtsied to us and then came to me for a cuddle. She is seven now and very pretty with blonde curls and huge, bright blue eyes. It is odd to think that she is the heiress to the empire, this small, rather fragile little girl who gazes at me with such adoration. I try to imagine her in Mama's place and find it impossible but then I can never imagine Mama as a little girl either. The very udea seems incredible.

  After a while we began to feel restless and so Clementina, Anna and I went for a stroll around the terraces, leaving Lucia and the Princesses dozing beneath the canopy. We were silent as we walked, happy to simply enjoy the heavenly warmth, the delicious scent of the flowers that surrounded us and the birdsong that floated down from the trees overhead.

  'What a lovely, perfect day,' Anna said at last with a smile. 'I wish that it could always be like this.'

  'You would miss the snow,' Clementina pointed out with a grin. 'Imagine never being able to go sledging again and how disappointed the gentlemen of the court would be if you were never again able to flash your ankles while skating.' They both began to giggle.

  'Archduchess!' I quickly turned to see Karl standing in the pathway behind us and gave a hastily muffled cry of surprise. 'I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you!' He stepped briskly forward and lifted my hand to his lips. 'Mesdemoiselles,' he murmured, bowing to my ladies in waiting, who were both staring at him in wide eyed astonishment.

  'Karl,' I stared at him, still holding on to his hand. 'I thought that you had gone forever!'

  'I am leaving today but I wanted to say goodbye to you first,' he replied with a smile. 'You are not like the rest of your family and I wanted to take my leave properly because who knows when we will meet again?'

  'I thank you,' I murmured, thinking how handsome he looked with the sunlight dappling his tawny hair and his skin slightly bronzed by days spent outside. His eyes gleamed as he bent over my hand again and for a brief instant I felt a peculiar frisson that had vanished as quickly as it occurred. 'I hope that we will meet again someday.'

  He smiled at me. 'I hope so too, Archduchess.' He bowed again to all three of us and then turned away, saying over his shoulder: 'Remember me when you are Queen of France!'

  We all watched as he walked down the path and then vanished from view. 'How handsome he is,' Anna murmured with a rapturous sigh as she stared after him. 'He is just as a young man should be.'

  Clementina nudged her. 'Hush, he isn't for us!' She stepped forward and lightly touched my arm as I stood motionless in the middle of the path, my mind full of turmoil. 'Shall we walk on, Archduchess?'

  Friday, 21st July.

  A letter has arrived from Amalia, which Marianna read out to the family after dinner. Mama nodded and smiled at Amalia's descriptions of Parma, which she seemed rather enamoured by. One might almost think that the whole marriage was an enormous treat designed with no other aim than to make Amalia happy.

  'There is always sunshine here and I wish that you could see the way that the russet brick buildings blaze in the golden light. It is so very different to the cold, harsh light of Vienna, you can have no idea. Everything here is so bright and warm and delightful.' It had never before occurred to me that even the light could be different somewhere else and I wondered about France and what other differences there might be between Paris and Vienna.

  'I feel that I could be very happy here and long for the day when I can invite you here to see for yourselves.' There was no mention at all in the letter of her new husband, but one presumed that he was ever present and lurking in the background. I wondered what he was like, this strange half French prince who was poor Isabella's little brother.

  'Your devoted and loving sister always, Amélie.' Elizabeth and Christina rolled their eyes and tutted with annoyance.

  'How terribly pretentious,' Christina muttered with a superior curl of her lip. 'Amélie indeed! It sounds like an actress... or worse.'

  Elizabeth giggled and waggled her painted fan in front of her face. 'I totally agree, Mimi ! How very affected it sounds! Poor Amalia, I am quite embarrassed for her.' They both continued in this vein for quite some time, while I excused myself and went to the Abbé, who had been invited to join us for the occasion and who was standing in a window regarding my elder sisters with an amused eye.

  'They are jealous,' I whispered to him behind my fan. 'I don't think Elizabeth will ever forgive any of us for getting married while she has to remain here. She was always the beauty of the family, you see.'

  'I do see,' the Abbé replied with a smile. 'I believe that there was even talk of a match with King Louis at one point until...'

  'Until.' I said finally, with a small shrug. 'And of course Mimi has always hated we younger girls and I have never quite known why.' I looked up at him and closed my fan with a snap. 'After all, she has always been Mama's favourite and we could never have been any sort of threat to her or her position within the family.'

  He nodded as though he understood, and I think that really, maybe he did. 'I believe that it is usually thus within large families,' he murmured with a sympathetic look. 'The elder children are often several years older than the youngest, sometimes even old enough to be parents themselves. It is only natural that ther
e should be rivalries, jealousies and disagreements. Your sister has probably always wished to be the petted baby of the family and instead she has had to endure a constant stream of small brothers and sisters.'

  'I suppose so.' I felt ungracious but did not wish to make excuses for Mimi's behaviour. 'Sometimes I think that I really cannot wait until I am married and far away from them all. I will miss Vienna terribly but to remain here always would be intolerable.'

  'I can well imagine.' Vermond replied kindly, before changing the subject and directing my attention to a particularly bright display of stars in the sky.

  Friday, 4th August, Laxenburg, an unbearably hot day.

  The court has finally moved to the countryside, just as the weather in Vienna itself grew increasingly more stifling and unpleasant. I tried to walk beside the Danube with my maids of honour but the terrible stench prevented us from getting very close and shortly afterwards Mama decreed that we were to remove to Laxenburg, where the air is at least always healthy and fresh. Max and Ferdinand are both thrilled to be here and wriggle like impatient puppies throughout breakfast in the blue and white parlour, longing for the moment when they are allowed to leave the table and are free to run wild with their dogs in the gardens and woods around.

  We are all on holiday here, except for Mama who still rises at dawn to begin work and spends much of her day cloistered with her advisors, priests and ministers and me, who must continue my daily lessons with the Abbé. Here though we sit beneath a huge parasol on the lawn while he teaches me French for a couple of hours before we cast our books aside and then spend the rest of our time just talking about France and Versailles and the family that I am about to marry into. It seems like mere idle chatter but I always find afterwards that I remember every single thing that we have spoken about so perhaps I am learning after all.

  'I can't wait to see France for myself!' I exclaimed during one of our conversations, my eyes shining as I imagined myself walking around the famous gardens at Versailles or sitting in my own box at the Opéra. France sounds so much more thrilling and elegant and wonderful than Austria.

  'All in good time, Your Highness,' the Abbé replied with a smile. 'I am sure that France is just as impatient to see you too.'

  Sunday, 13th August, morning before Mass.

  Today my sister Carolina is seventeen. It seems like such a long time since we last saw each other and I still long for her daily. I do not think that I will ever get truly used to our being apart.

  Happy birthday, Carolina, wherever you are.

  Tuesday, 15th August, Italian lesson.

  Mama informed me after breakfast that I am to accompany her on a journey to the shrine of Mariazell in northern Styria, which is in south west Austria. The shrine there is the most important pilgrimage site in Austria and Mama believes that it would do me good to visit. Naturally, the idea of undertaking a long journey alone with Mama is extremely daunting, however I cannot help but be excited to be travelling outside Vienna and it is an honour, of course, to be singled out in such a particular way. I am sure that Christina will be extremely envious.

  Sunday, 20th August, I don't know where we are.

  We set off two days ago from Vienna and have been on the road ever since , breaking our dry and dusty journey at castles belonging to Mama's highest ranking courtiers, who have frantically ridden ahead to prepare their homes and retainers for our arrival.

  'No fuss, please no fuss,' is Mama's constant refrain and yet we all know that if she is not greeted by a roaring fire, a sumptuous dinner, a hot scented bath and a comfortable bed then there will be trouble indeed for all concerned.

  As for me, I care not. I sit opposite Mama in the rolling, bumping Imperial carriage with its soft russet velvet seats and do my best my best to divert her with endless card games and sometimes by reading aloud from a book of devotions. She still spends much of the day working, with official documents piled on the seat beside her and hanging over the edges of the small mahogany writing desk that she props on her knees. At these times I am left to my own devices and after a fruitless half hour spent pretending to read, I usually end up breathing on the windows and drawing pictures or dozing with Mops curled up on my lap as pretty villages, shimmering rivers and lush woodland flash past the window.

  Sometimes we pause our carriage in a particularly picturesque village and descend to receive homage from the populace. Mama changes at times like these and becomes smiling, benevolent and even carefree. She bends her head eagerly to listen to the people that surround her and smiles with easy and genuine delight at their children as they cluster around her and offer flowers.

  At first I hung back awkwardly, feeling shy and uncertain as I was so unused to contact with ordinary people. Mama has always encouraged us all to be on good terms with the hundreds of servants and retainers who work in our residences but that is very different to the ordinary, humble Austrians who live in the villages outside Vienna. Soon, however I found myself following Mama's lead and bending down to smile, laugh and chat just as she did, clasping their work roughened hands between mine and lifting the small children up for a kiss and a special smile just for them. I find that I enjoy these interludes very much; how sweet it is to be able to make other people so happy just with one's mere presence alone.

  'You have a good way with the people, Antonia,' my mother praised me after we have climbed into our carriage after one such occasion. 'It reminds me of your dear father and I think that he would have been very proud had he lived to see it.' We both had tears in our eyes after this and had to gaze out of our respective windows for a while until we had quite composed ourselves.

  Tuesday, 22nd August, Mariazell.

  We have arrived and are staying in a mansion in the middle of the town, which is situated high up in the mountains, where the only sound is that of the villagers, the distant lowing of goats and the melodious tinkling of the little bells around their necks. The views of the enormous lilac mountains from my bedroom window are impressive and as I write this I cannot stop glancing across and catching my breath again at how stunning it is. I have never before seen anything like it and I wish that Ferdinand and Max were here as well as I am sure they would be just as amazed as I am although I am sure they would rather be here in the Winter when I am told that the mountains and surrounding area are coated in thick white snow.

  Tonight we dine with the local dignitaries and then tomorrow we will visit the shrine itself.

  Wednesday, 23rd August, late after dinner.

  After a breakfast of hot chocolate and rolls with jam, we were taken by carriage to the old basilica which lay on the outskirts of the town. Mama's eyes filled with tears as she gazed up at the lovely white and pink old building with its beautiful tall gothic spire and she reached across and took hold of my hand. I wanted to say that it looked as though it had been made out of icing but decided not to as Mama looked so emotional.

  'I took my first Communion here,' she murmured as we stepped through the intricately carved archway into the basilica. 'I still remember the day well. My parents were here and all of the court and I wore a beautiful dress of white satin and lace, with my hair flowing down my back. I thought I looked like an angel.'

  I walked at her side down the prettily tiled aisle, wondering at how bright and pretty everything was and looking about myself at the enormous and beautiful old stained glass windows and serene faced wooden statues of saints that stood in alcoves in the whitewashed walls. The basilica was almost empty, except for a few townspeople, who stared at us curiously as we passed but did not approach.

  'Here.' Mama stepped inside a chapel and I followed, catching my breath at the exquisite silver work that surrounded the altar and gazing up in awe at the huge silver statues arrayed above it. There in the very centre was placed a tiny wooden statue of the Virgin Mary with the Holy Child on her lap, both crowned and gazing indifferently out upon the world. Mama immediately fell to her knees and crossed herself and after a moment's hesitation I followed her lea
d, gasping a little as the chill of the tiled floor seeped through my thick blue velvet skirts. I closed my eyes tightly and thought about Carolina and Amalia, who were both so far away, about France and the Dauphin, which were to be my own fate and Josepha, Johanna, Josephina, Isabella and poor Papa who were all dead now. I opened my eyes and gazed up at the solemn, beautiful face of the Virgin and felt all my worries and concerns drain away so that finally and for the first time in months I felt entirely free of anxiety and at peace. I knew then with absolute certainty that everything would work out for the best and that I had nothing to fear.