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Yuletide 2009
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2009-12-24
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Voices Heard

Summary:

The Countess Esterházy-Liechtenstein trying to understand what she hears at Elisabet's door one night.

Notes:

I saw the prompt in your Yuletide Letter and felt inspired by it, and decided to give it a try when treat-writing time rolled around. I hope you enjoy it! Death's presence is mainly implied, but I gathered from the letter this would be all right.

I didn't have time to specifically get this betaed or the opportunity to check out any historical stuff, so if any errors remain, I apologise and will correct them when I spot them. I figured I shouldn't base the Countess on the historical character (or what we can know of her) anyway, as in the musical she is more like all of Elisabeth's ladies-in-waiting together.

Work Text:

The Countess listened behind the door. She felt worried. The Empress was having one of those spells again. The Countess could hear her talk in a quiet but intense low voice, throw out replies as though she was speaking to someone, though the Countess fully well knew there was nobody else in the room.

"Haven't I told you, leave me alone!" she heard and shuddered. The first time she had heard the Empress say something like that she had rushed into the room, frightened that somebody was bothering Her Majesty without permission, but there was nobody there. Elisabeth had first been furious to be disturbed, then when the Countess had said what she had heard, she had looked bemused and said she did not realise she had spoken aloud, she thought it was only in her mind.

"I only argued with my own moods," she had said ruefully. "A desperate state of mind will perhaps go away if you talk to it as to a human being. Who knows?"

The Countess had felt very sorry for the Empress, but as no odd behaviour had followed after the incident, she had thought it best to leave the matter alone. But lately she had again heard Elisabeth arguing with her own moods, and now she felt worried.

"Oh, you would say that," the Empress said bitingly to the nothingness. "Don't think I don't know by how how you try to charm me to your side. But your words won't have effect on me, you'll see that I am stronger than you. Yes, stronger than you, stronger than anyone!"

The poor soul. Though many people thought the Empress a spoiled child, the Countess couldn't help feeling sorry for the confused young woman underneath the surface. Elisabeth had never been properly taught to live with duties like this, how could such a sensitive child learn it without trouble? Of course she was often wilful and difficult, but the Countess felt sure that with the right mixture of gentleness and firmness she could learn to live with the duties of her position and even enjoy it. If only everyone didn't pick on her so much! It made the poor Empress so prickly and nervous that she didn't trust anyone and believed that everybody, including the Countess, was hostile towards her.

But what did this constant arguing with herself mean, and the loss of awareness of what she was doing? Was the Empress going delusional? There were already ill whispers aboard that Elisabeth was not quite right in the head. The Countess did not think so - and who should know better than she, spending all her days serving the Empress? But what if the poor child was beginning to break down under the pressure of her environment and her own excessive, unrealistic expectations? The Countess thought she saw more and more signs of such breaking down in the increasingly nervous behaviour of the Empress.

Suddenly she jolted in fright as she heard the Empress cry out something incoherent. She nearly rushed into the room, but then froze as she thought she heard something at the door. It was as though a distant voice, almost like the wind around the corners of the Hofburg, had said:
"Don't think I don't know what the future holds for you. You will want me yet."

Now, very clearly, she heard the Empress shout: "Go!"

The Countess fancied she felt a cold breeze pass her. Then it became quiet.

Nervously, she moved to the door, telling herself that she had only imagined those disembodied words. Perhaps the corridor carried voices from another room, random harmless words which had transformed into something else in her mind. It was no wonder if such a thing happened, she told herself, when one waited day in and day out on a nervous Empress who argued with her own mind and didn't let one sleep properly with her constant agitation.

When she opened the door, she found Elisabeth lying face down on her bed and crying. The Countess approached her warily.

"Are you all right, Your Majesty?" she asked, curtsying hastily as Elisabeth lifted her head in surprise.

"I didn't hear you coming in... I'm sorry. Did I speak out loud again?"

"You did, Your Majesty. I was afraid something was the matter. Did you argue with your moods again?" She tried to ask it as lightly as she could, to make it sound like she thought it was no unusual thing to do, arguing with one's moods.

"Yes," Elisabeth replied sullenly. "I'm sorry you had to hear it. I wasn't aware I was speaking out loud. You mustn't think I'm crazy."

The Countess brought her a shawl to wrap around her shoulders - warmth and comfort would surely be good for her now. "Of course I don't think Your Majesty crazy," she said as she arranged the shawl on Elisabeth's shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sure everyone does, including you," the Empress said bitterly. "I know what they talk. But I'm not! I'm not!" Her voice raised to a desperation at the last words.

"Of course you aren't, Your Majesty."

Elisabeth wrapped the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "Please don't tell about this to anyone. About what you heard."

"I won't. Not to a soul," the Countess promised.

"Now I'd like to rest... I feel so very tired. You believe me when I say it's all just because I'm so tired, don't you?"

"Of course. Your Majesty is only tired, nervous and agitated. I'm sure if you could take a little trip to a spa or some nice quiet place in the mountains, even if you just moved to Laxenburg for a while... I'm sure your nerves would rest and you would feel like yourself again."

"Yes, yes. Perhaps I shall do that. A trip could be just the right thing."

At that moment, they heard a knock to the outside doors of the Empress's apartments. Elisabeth started. "Please tell whoever it is that I'm tired and will see no-one. I must to bed soon."

The Countess left to obey the order, but she met the Emperor at the door. He looked exhausted and his eyes were unhappy.

"Can I see the Empress?" he asked quietly.

The Countess curtsied deeply. "She is tired, Your Majesty, and wishes to rest."

"Is she unwell?" The worry in Franz Joseph's eyes increased at the information, and the Countess felt sorry for him. The Empress in her bitter moments liked to think her husband neglected her, but the Countess knew he was as devoted as a man with his position and his sense of duty could be. It was sad that even his lovely wife brought him at least as much worry as she did joy. Though of course the poor child did not mean it.

"She is only tired and her nerves are overwrought. She asked me to say that she will see no-one. She will be better by the morning, I'm sure."

The Emperor sighed a little. "I would wish to at least talk to her and make sure she isn't too poorly. Could you perhaps ask her if she would receive me for a while? Even just a short conversation."

The Countess didn't have the heart to refuse his tired eyes. He would be off to his lonely bed soon enough and deserved to at least see the wife he so loved. She went to Elisabeth and repeated Franz Joseph's request. First Elisabeth was going to refuse, but the Countess boldly pleaded his case.

"Your Majesty, he only wishes to see you for a moment. To see the lovely wife, the thought of whom lights up his long, lonely working hours."

"Why should I be available at his pleasure when he leaves me alone for days?" she asked bitterly.

"It's only because of his duties - he feels so bound to what he must do, and it's not his fault at all. He would gladly spend more time with you if he only could. Surely you don't need to rob him even of the few chances he has."

"I said I'm tired," Elisabeth said.

"I know Your Majesty feels lonely and abandoned, and I don't wonder it. But if you permit me to say... He is very devoted for a man with such all-consuming duties. He does all he can for you, it's not his fault -"

"Not his fault! He could try to give in to his duties less and do more what he wants. I don't suppose he can care so much about me if he won't do that."

That was what she thought, of course, and the Countess did not know how to reconcile such radically different points of view. She only said: "If you would only believe that he does try and it's not so easy... I know it's not in my place to say this, Your Majesty, but still... You were so young when you married him, it was difficult to get accustomed to everything. But now you are both older and know each other better - would you not rather give both of you another chance to be happy? Life would be much more pleasant for you as well if you allowed yourself and your husband to support each other."

Elisabeth seemed to bite back some bitter reply that had been on her tongue. She fell contemplative for a while. Her mouth became a determined line and some hard expression in her eyes made the Countess believe it was above all to triumph over that something she had argued with earlier, that Elisabeth said: "Fine. Do let him in and then leave us alone."

Feeling relieved, the Countess returned to let the waiting Emperor in.