The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1697: Chapter 60: In Memory of Officer Robert Cali (Part 2)

But today, without a moment’s hesitation, he walked through the passage opened by the crowd, stepping into the silence and solemnity of the occasion, until he stood in front of Mrs. Kali.

He took off his hat, pressing it to his chest, and lowered his head slightly—something he had never done even for Napoleon: ”Madam...”

The sound of breathing in the crowd diminished considerably, as Rowan moved his throat, raised his hand in salute, and said, ”As the Commander, I failed to protect my subordinate, for this, I am truly sorry.”

Many of the old police officers in formation found themselves with tingling noses at the scene, and even the usually frivolous journalists put away their pens.

Silence lingered for a few seconds in front of the church, then suddenly, a voice emerged from the crowd, softly leading the others, ”May he rest in peace.”

”May he rest in peace.”

The belated blessings of the past year resonated together in front of St Martin’s Church.

Mrs. Kali nodded gently, as if she wanted to say ”thank you” to Rowan, yet no words came out.

She simply bowed her head, her shoulders trembled slightly, and her previously tightly pressed lips slowly relaxed, as a tear slipped down her cheek, dripping onto the still vibrant white roses at her feet.

Beside her stood Mark Cali, motionless; his face showed neither tears nor expression, yet today he had polished his father’s ill-fitting leather shoes to a bright sheen, as if the shoes could reflect his father’s portrait at the tips of his toes.

His jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes unmoving, as if desperately holding something back.

The young David Cali bit his lip, holding his mother’s hand tightly with one hand, while gripping his brother’s coat with the other.

His fingers were trembling, yet stubbornly, copying his brother’s demeanor, he did not cry out loud.

Raindrops fell on the brim of Rowan’s hat, sounding a few light notes, and then on the white rose petals on the ground, causing a gentle spray of water.

Not the sort of thunderous, torrential downpour, or the malicious, cold gusting rain, but something fine and light, yet enough to soak into everyone’s heart.

”London is raining again.”

The voice was not loud, yet carried its usual gentleness and undeniable presence as Arthur quietly appeared behind the Kali family.

He wore a tailcoat uniform he hadn’t donned in years, with a pair of white gloves draped over his left arm, and in his right hand, an opened umbrella, shielded Mrs. Kali and the two children.

He said no more, just slightly lowered his head, first looking at Mrs. Kali, then at her two children.

”Madam.” His tone was calm, as if exchanging pleasantries with an old neighbor: ”This rain doesn’t seem like it will stop soon; why not enter the church first?”

Just as everyone was about to head into the church, the crisp sound of hooves approached from a distance, piercing through the misty rain’s low sky, slowly nearing St Martin’s Church.

The crowd instinctively parted to clear a path, and one gentleman after another removed their hats, their gazes following the street’s end.

A black with gold-trimmed royal carriage slowly came into view.

A guard on horseback preceded and followed the carriage, donned in capes of red and blue, with epaulettes that gleamed with a dim gold in the rain.

On the carriage’s side door, a familiar emblem was embedded: a three-part shield depicting a lion and a unicorn. Around it, two Latin mottos were intertwined: Honi soit qui mal y pense (shame on him who thinks evil of it), Dieu et mon droit (God and my right).

”A carriage from Kensington Palace?” someone whispered in the crowd, ”Could it be the Duchess of Kent?”

”Not just her, the Princess might be here as well.”

The carriage slowly halted in front of the church.

The first to descend was Lady Leisen, dressed in a deep green cloak, she steadily and silently opened an umbrella.

A moment later, a small boot stepped onto the damp stone steps, followed by a well-tailored black wool dress and a cloak adorned with pearl buttons.

She wore no veil, nor did she conceal her expression, but her youthful face was now overlaid with a new layer of solemnity.

”The air is chilly,” she said softly.

The presumptive heir to the British throne, Princess Alexandrina Victoria.

On the far side of the carriage, the Duchess of Kent was also assisted down by Sir John Conroy.

Although attending merely a police officer’s memorial service, the Duchess of Kent’s attire today clearly showed the importance Kensington Palace placed on this event.

Under the gray and blue satin cloak was a mourning gown, with a black satin flower pinned in front as a symbol of condolence.

Her expression did not waver with any surplus emotion, yet wherever her gaze landed, it prompted those present to instinctively stand a little straighter.

She did not step forward immediately but stood at the bottom of the steps, first nodding a greeting to Minister Rowan and the officers present.

Rowan promptly took a few steps forward, whispering, ”Your Highness, Madam, you need not personally attend.”

The Duchess of Kent gently shook her head, ”Precisely because of that, we must come.”

With that, she looked up at the trio in front of the church, her gaze briefly softening as it fell on the two young children valiantly holding back tears.

The Duchess looked at her daughter, gently patting her shoulder, ”Delina.”

Yet before she could finish, Victoria had already stepped forward, not revealing her identity, she approached Mrs. Kali, extending her hand gently in gesture.

Immediately, Lady Leisen presented a bouquet brought from Kensington Palace.

It was a few stems of quietly elegant, snow-like hyacinths, wrapped in fine linen paper, bound with a somewhat imperfectly tied black ribbon.