I’ve finally solved the mystery of the Mayerling Affair

It was the mother of royal scandalabras, as Walt Winchell might have said, and remains one of the greatest historical conundrums of all time. I refer to what became known as the Mayerling Affair: the sensational apparent murder-suicide of Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria, son and heir of Emperor Franz Josef and the tragic Empress Elizabeth, and his young lover, Baroness Marie Vetsera. Both Elizabeth and Rudolf happen to be collateral ancestors of mine, and I recently visited their gilded and frescoed rooms at the Hofburg Palace in Vienna, wondering what really befell the wretched prince, and, armed with new information, including personal letters never before published, I may (scoop alert!) be in a position to solve the Mayerling mystery once and for all.

A troubled family background foreshadowed the violence that was to occur on a winter’s night in 1889. Elizabeth was born into the Ducal House of Bavaria, Germany, in 1837. Her father, Duke Maxi, was considered mildly insane, and sent to live apart from the family after committing the social error of shooting off guns in the dining room while important guests were present. Elizabeth’s mother, Duchess Ludovika, was the aunt of the new emperor of Austria, the young Franz Josef, the world’s greatest catcheroo. It had been agreed he would marry Elizabeth’s elder sister, Helene, but when the young swain saw the 16-year-old Elisabeth, it was a coup de foudre.

Elizabeth, according to my great-great-grandfather Emil, was the swan of all time, with verveine eyes, skin like moonlight and chestnut hair to her knees. She came of age at the same time as the medium of photography and happened to be the subject of the first paparazzi photo. Women wanted to be her, and copied her habit of wearing a face mask of raw mutton, which must have alarmed Austrian husbands.