The Shadow of Great Britain

At that moment, the atmosphere was as stiff as the stone statues in the Kensington Palace Garden, and no one moved first.

Victoria’s gaze quietly shifted from the envelope to her mother, then to Conroy, and finally fixed steadily on Arthur.

As for Arthur, he remained standing between her and Conroy the entire time.

Conroy’s mouth twitched, and a hint of impatience flashed across his once poised face.

He lowered his head, seemingly trying hard to restrain himself, and only after a moment did he speak again: ”Sir Arthur, it is now Her Royal Highness the Princess’s class time.”

Conroy controlled his tone, trying to maintain it at the edge of politeness: ”Since Her Highness is currently receiving instruction, even if it’s to deliver a letter from His Majesty the King, shouldn’t we wait until Her Highness’s lessons are over and have the Duchess, or myself, accompany her to handle it more appropriately?”

As he spoke, one hand was already slowly reaching for the letter, attempting to take it under the guise of safekeeping.

But instead of stepping back, Arthur moved forward and swiftly pocketed the letter, as clean and neat as when he used to patrol the streets and apprehend pickpockets.

”I’m afraid I cannot accept this proposal, Sir John.”

Arthur’s tone was cold, and every word was measured: ”This letter was assigned by His Majesty the King to be delivered jointly by His Lordship and myself, the seal is intact, and the recipient is clearly stated, it must be opened personally by Her Royal Highness Princess Victoria. The original intention of His Majesty probably left no room for a third-party handover.”

Conroy laughed in anger, stepping back half a step, but the veneer of politeness on his face was peeling off inch by inch.

”Sir Arthur, your remarks have indeed become sharper lately.” Conroy’s tone rose uncontrollably by half a degree: ”It’s merely delivering a letter, yet you act as if you are bringing a decree from the Privy Council on behalf of His Majesty. Were you also making a mountain out of a molehill like this back then at Scotland Yard and the Foreign Office?”

Unexpectedly, not only did Arthur not counter, but he nodded in acceptance: ”You are correct, I am accustomed to having people sign for things in person. If back in the day at the Tower of London and in St. Petersburg, I had exercised a bit less subjective initiative before handling matters, I wouldn’t have suffered so greatly. Although I wouldn’t call myself wise, I am not so foolish as to not learn from experience.”

Of course, Conroy could hear that Arthur was mocking him, and he spoke up in furious ire: ”Sir Arthur, you are now at Kensington Palace, do you still remember your own identity? Or is it that ever since some Countess publicly toasted you at a wedding banquet, you consider yourself part of the Royal circle, able to adjudicate the household affairs of Kensington Palace?”

Upon Conroy’s outburst, the expressions of the few in the room changed instantly.

In the circle of the nobility, arguments and bickering are common, yet whether in Parliamentary debate, courtly socialization, or even Cabinet meetings, the aristocratic style of speech is always characterized by understated sarcasm. Even when arguing, one must win in stance.

Nobles may be angry, but they must not lose composure. They can exchange cold words, but must not descend into vulgar quarrels. They can exit by throwing a cup, but must not pound the table and shout.

Even during crises like the Parliamentary Reform of 1832, when several old nobles in the House of Lords angrily rebuked reformists, their expression still followed rhetorical structures, attacking opponents with historical references and allusions, rather than engaging in blatant quarrelling.

Conroy’s outburst was precisely an exposure of his lack of genuine acceptance in high society.

Because although Conroy holds a knight title, he is not a nobleman in the traditional sense, but rather an ambitious half-noble, half-bureaucrat surviving by aligning with the Crown prince’s mother, leaning on the ”Kensington System.”

He cannot rely on traditional resources like bloodline, inheritance, or estate, but only on manipulating authority and the dependency between mother and daughter to maintain power.

It is precisely because of this that he always feels a lack of confidence before those true nobles, hence frequently displaying his authority over Kensington Palace with extra assertiveness.

However, when facing Sir Arthur Hastings, a man truly risen from the bottom, yet deeply trusted by both parties and the Royal Family through his own finesse, he is especially prone to emotional outbursts. What he most fears is the exposure of the reality that ”he is nothing but a glorified caretaker.”

But clearly, he chose the wrong target to vent his anger on this time.

Because Sir Arthur Hastings likewise does not belong to traditional nobility, though the Hastings family has acknowledged him as kin with the Secretary General of the Police Commission, fundamentally, Arthur is a new type of noblesman, even an atypical noble.

He is neither a hereditary aristocrat nor a moderate scholar, nor an opportunistic player striking it rich at the gaming table, desperately mimicking aristocratic life with gilded teaware and fox hunting outfits, nor is he among those bourgeois lawyers, bankers, or publishers who see titles as business extensions.

In him, there is no complacency from shortcut-taking, nor is there servility from clinging to the powerful.

He never boasts about his accomplishments, letting time and connections speak for him.

The University of London knows him as a three-year academic award winner, the most outstanding alumnus the school has had to date.

The Royal Greater London Police Department knows he has been serving at Scotland Yard since 1829, proven through a series of cases like the murder and cadaver theft cases, and the sea slave trade case.

White Hall knows him as the chairman of the board at Imperial Publishing, a Fleet Street mogul skilled in manuscript discernment and media manipulation.