shadow of britain

Chapter 769 Fate's Decree
The nine-nine diagram is completed, the stars are fixed, and the three-three matter is completed, the wheel of life turns.

Two shoulders, one carelessly lifting a fleeting dream; a single word, and the civil official's true form is revealed.

My name is like the moon's radiance, leaving no trace; my body is like a playful butterfly, drifting through the dust of the world.

My foolish heart is hard to express, but looking back, I realize every step I took was genuine.

—Arthur Hastings, Foreword to Sir Elder Carter's Autobiography

Just as the Beagle was about to dock and Elder was excitedly making a heart shape with his hands towards the crowd on the pier, an untimely commotion suddenly broke out on the other side of the crowd.

"Get out of the way! You're stepping on my foot, Arthur!"

"Then don't put such a huge lump of Alexander on my side!"

"How come I'm a lump? This is how adults should weigh!"

Arthur and Dickens were seen carrying a plump Frenchman wearing a top hat, shoulder to shoulder.

Dumas' left leg was draped over Arthur's neck, while his right hip rested heavily on Dickens' shoulder, a brass telescope held before his eyes. He was trying to search through the telescope, across the surging crowds, for a prized animal that had gone missing a few years earlier on the Thames.

Such a spectacular sight naturally drew gasps of amazement from the onlookers.

The group couldn't help but mutter among themselves, "Slavery was just abolished last year in both our homeland and overseas territories, and this year these blacks have already become the masters?"

“I’ll ask you one last time, Alexander, did you see clearly?” Arthur Hastings’ tone was relatively mild, but the throbbing veins on his chin betrayed him: “Are you sure today is the day the Beagle is returning to port?”

"What's your hurry?" Alexandre Dumas replied seriously, his brass telescope still in its socket. "Do you think it's easy to find a monkey on the vast Thames?"

Dickens wasn't as physically fit as Arthur; even Arthur was struggling, let alone Dickens, a great writer who didn't usually exercise.

Perhaps from exerting too much force, Dickens's face turned red: "Then...then you should find Charles, find Mr. Charles Darwin, he should be easier to find than Elder."

Arthur chimed in, "That's right, find Charles! His head reflects the sunlight!"

“Whether Charles’s head reflects light or not is none of your business.” Dumas, holding a bronze telescope, circled around, searching. “I’m looking for the monkey! The free-roaming little monkey, native to Nottingham, the one who likes to wear a little hat. I lost it, and for the past five years I haven’t been able to sleep well at night.”

“You’ve lost your monkey, but we’ve lost our backs!” Dickens’s face turned redder than a tomato, and he almost shouted, “Alexander, your ass is like a siege cannon, it’s making it hard for me to breathe!”

Just as Arthur and Dickens were about to settle accounts with the fat man, Dumas suddenly shouted, "Found him!"

"Where?" Arthur and Dickens shouted almost in unison.

Before he could finish speaking, Dumas was thrown by the two of them together, and like a sack of potatoes just unloaded from a truck, he crashed to the ground with a thud, his hat rolling far away.

Alexandre Dumas, still clutching his backside and not fully up, was already cursing: "You two damned Englishmen! You just threw me down the ground the moment I called you? Damn it, if you're so good at throwing things, why doesn't the Ordnance Department hire you two to carry gunpowder boxes?"

Arthur rubbed his shoulder and glared at him: "Stop talking nonsense, just tell me who you saw?"

Dumas patted his behind and pointed southwest: "There they are! The group of people on the dock! A ship has just docked, and there are some decent-looking guys and a bald man standing side by side on the deck. Although I can't see their faces clearly, I think it would be hard for any other ship other than the Beagle to have such top-notch equipment."

……

On the south bank of the Thames, sunlight shines on the red and white Royal Banners, and the band members are busy tuning their brass instruments.

Under the large parasol at the very front stood the Duchess of Kent, while Victoria, still with a touch of baby fat, was getting impatient.

She had not seen her uncle Leopold for four years since he went to Belgium in 1831 to be sworn in as King of Belgium, nor had she visited him at his Clermont estate in England.

You see, Clermont Manor was probably her favorite place to go. Only there could she not do what her mother asked, and she could have her own room there and no longer have to sleep in the same bedroom as her mother.

In addition, Victoria's half-sister Feodora also married into a German family and became the wife of Prince Ernst I of Hohenlohe-Langenburg.

In recent years, the only person she could trust at Kensington Palace was Mrs. Lezen.

Although her uncle and sister have written to her almost every month for the past two years, cold words can never compare to living people.

Holding the bouquet of flowers she had picked herself from Kensington Gardens, she watched anxiously as ship after ship sailed down the Thames.

Just as Alexandre Dumas was thrown to the ground by Arthur and Dickens, on the south bank of the Thames, the anchor of the Beagle fell into the water, the ship shuddered, and the journey that had been sealed for five years finally came to an end.

Darwin, sitting on the bridge, straightened his clothes and whispered nervously to Elder in front of him, "Elder, who do you think the Admiralty will send to greet us?"

Elder, puffing out his chest in triumph, waved his hat vigorously at the crowd on the shore: "Who cares? Even if the First Sea Minister himself greets us, it's only right. We've suffered so much on the ship, what's wrong with making the welcoming ceremony a little grand? Look, there's a little girl over there holding a bouquet of flowers, I wonder which noble lady she is. Heh, there's even a flower presentation ceremony, the Admiralty has really put in some effort this time."

Just as Elder was waving his hat triumphantly and was about to flirt with the "noble lady," there was a loud bang, and the gangway for disembarking was already in place.

Victoria stood in the shade of the parasol, her expression shifting between light and shadow. Her gaze was fixed on the mast and stern flag of the Beagle, and for some reason, a subtle unease suddenly arose within her.

She glanced discreetly at her mother beside her. The Duchess of Kent still wore that social smile that was eight parts appropriate and two parts distant, standing among several Admiralty officers and talking to them, while Lady Leather was looking down at a protocol book and did not notice her expression.

My uncle's boat has already docked.

however……

No one moved.

No one went to greet them.

No one mentioned her uncle, Leopold.

Victoria suddenly felt a familiar sense of isolation from the adult world.

When it comes to the things she cares about most, adults always choose to turn a blind eye.

She bit her lip and looked down at the bouquet in her hand, which she had carefully selected in the garden an hour earlier. It contained pink roses, blooming daisies, and marigolds, all in the colors she remembered Uncle Leopold loved most.

She glanced back at the indifferent adults, clenched her fists, trembling all over, and then slowly relaxed them. She had resigned herself to her fate.

But somehow, a familiar noise seemed to pop up from the noisy crowd.

She seemed to hear a faint voice coming from the depths of a distant memory through the gaps in the crowd.

Our doubts are traitors; they scare us away from trying, causing us to lose what we could have won. —Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Arthur's commentary boomed in her ears: "Your Highness, as Shakespeare said, the world is not lacking in clever people, but in the courage to take the first step."

She glanced at her mother standing beside her, then at the silent Mrs. Lezen not far away. Something hard in her heart seemed to suddenly and quietly shatter, and a small flower seemed to bloom from the cracks.

She didn't wait any longer. Instead, she picked up the bouquet, took a step forward gently, and then another, quietly stepping over the edge of the parasol, from the edge of the protocol order, into the sunlight of reality.

Her still-growing feet, clad in ill-fitting formal boots, slowly made their way across the stone pier toward the gangway.

The adult world behind her didn't seem to realize the inappropriateness of her actions immediately.

She wanted to personally hand this bouquet of flowers to her uncle.

Just then, Elder on the deck noticed a small figure approaching the gangway, and he immediately spotted the brightly colored bouquet of flowers.

Instinctively, he naturally assumed that this was a welcome wreath arranged by the Navy for the "triumphant returning soldiers," and for a moment, he couldn't help but beam with joy.

Elder shook his head and sighed softly, "It's not gentlemanly to make a lady walk such a long way to present flowers."

Before Darwin could even react, Elder took off running down the street, grabbing his hat.

"Your Highness, please wait! Watch out for the gangway!" The ceremonial guard at the dock realized something was wrong, but before he could even finish his shout, Elder was already on the ground, respectfully and excitedly reaching out his hand to Victoria.

"Oh, miss, you've come at the perfect time. These flowers are for me... oh, no, for us, aren't they?"

Immediately afterwards, Elder straightened his chest, stepped forward, smiled, and accepted the bouquet of flowers from Victoria's hands without a word.

Victoria paused for a moment.

She instinctively tried to pull away, but it was too late, because there was nothing left in her arms.

Elder looked "moved to tears" as he bowed deeply to Victoria, his voice so loud that even the distant military band could hear him clearly.

"Thank you, kind lady. I accept your respect on behalf of all the crew of the Beagle! May God bless your pure heart!"

As he spoke, he waved his hat at the cheering crowd around him, then took a deep breath, intending to salute the ceremonial platform where the high-ranking officials were located.

Before Elder could finish enjoying himself, he heard a childish yet cold voice coming softly from behind him.

"who are you?"

Elder was startled. He turned his head and saw the little girl staring at him. The shyness in her blue-gray eyes was gone, replaced by a displeasure with royal arrogance that was familiar to the servants of Kensington Palace.

She stopped speaking and just stared at him, not with anger, but with an extremely complex expression.

Feeling wronged, surprised, disappointed, and even a little...sad.

Elder stood there, staring blankly into the girl's eyes, not understanding what was making her so sad.

Is it because I didn't sign an autograph for her?
As Elder pondered this, he began to take a pen out of his shirt pocket.

"Your Highness, Your Highness, please step back!" A naval officer dressed in a black tailcoat with a silver clasp on his chest rushed out from under the parasol in a panic, standing between the two and stopping Elder from bowing again.

Close behind was Henry FitzRoy, the 5th Duke of Grafton, with his neatly trimmed silver hair. He walked along, looking quite embarrassed, and shouted at Colonel FitzRoy, "Robert, what stupid thing are your men doing?"

Although Colonel FitzRoy didn't know exactly what had happened, his reaction to his uncle's rebuke was no better than Elder's reaction to his uncle.

He reluctantly took off his hat and gave his uncle a slightly stiff military salute: "Uncle Henry, what are you doing today..."

Duke Grafton was furious upon hearing this: "How many times have I told you, use your job title when you're at work!"

Colonel FitzRoy blushed and stood at attention: "Excuse me, Your Excellency."

The Duke of Grafton strode forward, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

He strode up to Victoria, paused, then knelt on one knee, bowed deeply, and said, "Your Highness, I hereby offer my sincere apologies on behalf of my nephew's crew for their earlier disrespect and recklessness."

The port officials quickly stepped forward, removing their hats and speaking with an almost regretful tone: "Your Highness, the fault lies with us. His Majesty Leopold's ship was originally scheduled to enter the port before the Beagle, but for some reason, the Beagle arrived in London earlier than expected. Although we informed the Duchess of Kent of this half an hour ago, we forgot that you may not know this. This... this is entirely our mistake."

The port authority's apology had barely finished when a sudden commotion broke the tense atmosphere.

"Get out of the way, don't step on my shoes!"

"Alexander, now's the time for your bulk to come in handy. Give it your all and push forward!"

"Oh my God! My back!"

Suddenly, the crowd jolted, and a well-dressed gentleman was abruptly pushed out of the throng. Immediately afterward, two more figures fell on top of him.

After delivering a devastating blow to the fallen Arthur, Dumas and Dickens rolled to the side like two pill bugs with their bellies turned inside out on the open ground.

"Damn it! Charles! Alexander!" Arthur clutched his chest in agony, "I told you, I have a heart condition!"

Victoria stared at them for a long time before realizing that the newcomers looked somewhat familiar.

For a moment, she even forgot about her anger and couldn't help but take two steps closer: "Sir Arthur?"

Arthur was struggling to sit up, his elbows still on the ground, when he heard the crisp "Sir Arthur," and he was instantly jolted awake as if struck by lightning.

Arthur looked up abruptly and realized that the princess, who looked completely bewildered, was staring intently at him from a distance.

Arthur's face immediately changed color. He first stood up slowly, straightening his back, then brushed the dust off his coat, smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers, and reached out to wipe the top hat that Dumas had bent askew. The whole set of movements was smooth and fluid. Before long, he looked just like the portrait hanging in Scotland Yard.

He took a deep breath and gave a standard gentlemanly bow: "Your Highness."

Victoria blinked, her tone tinged with curiosity: "You... what are you doing here? And... were you just thrown by that fat gentleman?"

(End of this chapter)