skipped to her and hung on to Berthe’s skirt as she spoke with an adjutant from the Lower Belvedere, which housed Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s shadow general staff. The adjutant. Lieutenant Petschner, asked for her husband.
‘I am sorry, Herr von Werthen is working on a case in Styria,’ Berthe told the officer.
The lieutenant paused for a moment. ‘His Imperial and Royal Highness will be disappointed.’
There was a moment more of silence on the line, and then a new voice appeared, higher than the first.
‘Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Frau Meisner? This is the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.’
Berthe felt her stomach do a flip.
‘Hello,’ she said with more enthusiasm than intended. She realized she had no idea how to address an archduke, then simply followed the lead of Lieutenant Petschner. ‘Hello, your Highness.’
She shocked herself by performing a half curtsy as she spoke to the heir apparent to the throne of Austria-Hungary. Even Frieda noticed the change in her mother, looking up at her with wide eyes.
‘I was hoping to speak with your husband about a delicate matter,’ Franz Ferdinand said, ‘but my adjutant informs me he is otherwise engaged.’
‘That is so, your Highness.’
‘Then perhaps
you
would do me the favor of discussing the matter. I was most pleased with the clever way you handled the Bertha von Suttner affair.’
This had been her last case in which Berthe – with a little help from Franz Ferdinand – had been able to save the good name of the peace activist, von Suttner, foiling the machinations of the General Staff’s espionage agency, the Bureau of Information.
‘Kind words,’ she said, and then added, ‘your Highness.’
‘Archduke is sufficient and will you do me the good service of meeting with me?’
‘Of course. When?’
‘Time is of the essence in this matter. Could you possibly come now? I can send an automobile for you at your flat.’
She did not give it a second thought. ‘Yes. Now is fine.’
Setting the receiver back in its cradle, Berthe felt a sudden sense of pride to be summoned by the Archduke. She thought she was above such feelings regarding royalty. They put their breeches on one foot at a time just like other men. But now she saw that she was not so different from the rest of the mass of humanity, awed by the power of royalty.
Berthe turned to her cook. ‘I need to go out again, Frau Blatschky. Perhaps I should call my in-laws at their hotel.’
The cook made a sour face at the suggestion, but otherwise did not resist the suggestion. Frieda could be a handful, and Frau Blatschky needed to get on with dinner preparations.
Karl’s parents had decided to stay in Vienna for a few days while Berthe looked into the Lipizzaner matter. They were lodged in their usual rooms at the nearby Hotel zur Josefstadt and Berthe was able to reach them and ask them to come over now instead of later for dinner.
The car for the Lower Belvedere arrived before the von Werthens did.
Franz Ferdinand received her in his study at the Lower Belvedere Palace. Though Karl had often talked of his meetings with the Archduke, for Berthe this was a new and rather exciting experience. She began to feel disgusted with herself for being so in awe of all this majesty as she was led down a long corridor, its walls covered on one side with a Gobelins tapestry depicting what appeared to be American natives hunting a striped horse, as well as a rhinoceros. A zebra? she thought. In the Americas?
It took only this odd juxtaposition to snap Berthe’s mind out of its sense of wonderment and into a more critical mode. Thus, when she finally reached the Archduke she no longer wondered about curtsying or the proper forms of address. She merely reached her hand out to Franz Ferdinand and he happily shook it.
‘A great pleasure to finally meet you, Frau Meisner,’ he said. Berthe was happy that her husband had obviously appraised Franz Ferdinand of the fact that she had
‘I am sorry, Herr von Werthen is working on a case in Styria,’ Berthe told the officer.
The lieutenant paused for a moment. ‘His Imperial and Royal Highness will be disappointed.’
There was a moment more of silence on the line, and then a new voice appeared, higher than the first.
‘Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Frau Meisner? This is the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.’
Berthe felt her stomach do a flip.
‘Hello,’ she said with more enthusiasm than intended. She realized she had no idea how to address an archduke, then simply followed the lead of Lieutenant Petschner. ‘Hello, your Highness.’
She shocked herself by performing a half curtsy as she spoke to the heir apparent to the throne of Austria-Hungary. Even Frieda noticed the change in her mother, looking up at her with wide eyes.
‘I was hoping to speak with your husband about a delicate matter,’ Franz Ferdinand said, ‘but my adjutant informs me he is otherwise engaged.’
‘That is so, your Highness.’
‘Then perhaps
you
would do me the favor of discussing the matter. I was most pleased with the clever way you handled the Bertha von Suttner affair.’
This had been her last case in which Berthe – with a little help from Franz Ferdinand – had been able to save the good name of the peace activist, von Suttner, foiling the machinations of the General Staff’s espionage agency, the Bureau of Information.
‘Kind words,’ she said, and then added, ‘your Highness.’
‘Archduke is sufficient and will you do me the good service of meeting with me?’
‘Of course. When?’
‘Time is of the essence in this matter. Could you possibly come now? I can send an automobile for you at your flat.’
She did not give it a second thought. ‘Yes. Now is fine.’
Setting the receiver back in its cradle, Berthe felt a sudden sense of pride to be summoned by the Archduke. She thought she was above such feelings regarding royalty. They put their breeches on one foot at a time just like other men. But now she saw that she was not so different from the rest of the mass of humanity, awed by the power of royalty.
Berthe turned to her cook. ‘I need to go out again, Frau Blatschky. Perhaps I should call my in-laws at their hotel.’
The cook made a sour face at the suggestion, but otherwise did not resist the suggestion. Frieda could be a handful, and Frau Blatschky needed to get on with dinner preparations.
Karl’s parents had decided to stay in Vienna for a few days while Berthe looked into the Lipizzaner matter. They were lodged in their usual rooms at the nearby Hotel zur Josefstadt and Berthe was able to reach them and ask them to come over now instead of later for dinner.
The car for the Lower Belvedere arrived before the von Werthens did.
Franz Ferdinand received her in his study at the Lower Belvedere Palace. Though Karl had often talked of his meetings with the Archduke, for Berthe this was a new and rather exciting experience. She began to feel disgusted with herself for being so in awe of all this majesty as she was led down a long corridor, its walls covered on one side with a Gobelins tapestry depicting what appeared to be American natives hunting a striped horse, as well as a rhinoceros. A zebra? she thought. In the Americas?
It took only this odd juxtaposition to snap Berthe’s mind out of its sense of wonderment and into a more critical mode. Thus, when she finally reached the Archduke she no longer wondered about curtsying or the proper forms of address. She merely reached her hand out to Franz Ferdinand and he happily shook it.
‘A great pleasure to finally meet you, Frau Meisner,’ he said. Berthe was happy that her husband had obviously appraised Franz Ferdinand of the fact that she had
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