shadow of britain

Chapter 829 Uproar in Albion
Inside the Albion villa's living room, heavy curtains hung tightly shut, keeping the night and sea fog out of the windows.

The combined light from several gas lamps and oil lamps cast dappled patterns of light and shadow on the wall, and the portrait in the gold frame seemed to be watching everyone in the room from the shadows.

The Duchess of Kent leaned back on the sofa, clutching an embroidered handkerchief in her hand, her gaze occasionally drifting toward the bedroom door upstairs.

“John…” she hesitated before speaking, “Are you really not going to follow Dr. Snow’s instructions? Delina’s fever has lasted for three days, and she couldn’t even drink any soup at noon today. I think this might be more than just a tantrum.”

Conroy stood by the floor lamp, his shadow stretched long by the light. "Your Highness," he said, "I understand your concerns. But even if Her Highness is indeed ill, if we rashly administer medication before Dr. Clark returns from London, especially using Snow's treatment which is not yet widely accepted, who can bear the responsibility if something goes wrong?"

“But she is my daughter.” The Duchess of Kent clenched her handkerchief. “If she is truly ill, she should take her medicine. Besides, wasn’t Dr. Snow vouched for by Flora? He is a doctor at Westminster Hospital, not some quack.”

“That’s precisely why we need to be even more cautious.” Conroy walked to the coffee table and picked up the bottle of quinine that John Snow had left behind. “Even if he was Flora’s doctor, who can guarantee that he wasn’t sent by the Duke of Cumberland to assassinate the princess? If she takes the medicine tonight and her condition worsens, no one will be able to clear their name tomorrow. But Clark is different. He was recommended by His Majesty Leopold and has served the royal family for many years. I’m more willing to trust his judgment.”

Conroy's words sounded righteous and dignified, but if Arthur were here, he would surely expose the man's hypocrisy to his face.

Regardless of the fact that Dr. Clark was originally sent back to London from Ramsgate by Conroy, and that Conroy's motives for getting rid of Dr. Clark were far from pure, Arthur believed that both getting rid of him and getting rid of Clark were merely part of Conroy's plan to force Victoria to sign an agreement extending her regency and promising to appoint Conroy as the Queen's private secretary and chief advisor after her accession to the throne.

Even before he arrived in Ramsgate, he had been plotting how to attack Victoria. To ensure that Victoria would eventually give in, he had to get rid of all dissidents he could and isolate her as much as possible.

First Clark, then Arthur; if the Duchess of Northumberland hadn't arrived from London earlier, Lady Leachn would probably have been driven out of Albion Villa by Conroy by now.

Now that Victoria's condition is critical, Conroy finally realized that he might have made a big mistake, so he hurriedly sent someone to recall Dr. Clark from London.

Whether Clark can cure Victoria is not important; what is important is that once Clark returns, he can shirk responsibility and blame the cause of Victoria's serious illness on Clark's poor medical skills.

Since Clark was recommended by Leopold, this became the fault of the Belgian king.

But if he follows Snow's medical advice now, he might not be credited if the disease is cured, and if it is not cured, it would be because he misjudged people.

He was not willing to make such a decision where the risks far outweighed the benefits.

He had only reluctantly agreed to let John Snow treat Victoria because of the insistence of Mrs. Lerzen and Miss Flora Hastings. If he weren't afraid that something might really happen to Victoria, he wouldn't have even let Snow in.

Now that Victoria's condition appears to have stabilized, he is naturally in no hurry to make a decision.

Instead, he wanted to take advantage of Victoria's illness to coerce her into agreeing to sign a regency agreement.

Conroy wasn't unaware of how dangerous this step was from a political perspective, but if Victoria refused to agree to anything, then all his efforts over the years would be in vain a year later when Victoria came of age.

The Grand Steward of Kensington Palace could not accept this outcome under any circumstances.

The Duchess of Kent frowned slightly, clearly uneasy. She still trusted the man who had managed the daily affairs of Kensington Palace for many years, but the scene of Dr. Snow arguing with Conroy in front of her today still made her feel vaguely worried.

She certainly wanted to be regent, but ultimately, she was also Victoria's mother.

When she saw her daughter bedridden and a professional doctor arguing fiercely with Conroy over her condition, she had to admit that she was very worried that Victoria might actually be in mortal danger.

The Duchess of Kent spoke uneasily, “Well… if Dr. Snow’s words are unreliable, then perhaps we should take Lyzen’s advice and invite Dr. Prendels, who lives on Nelson Crescent Street, to come and take a look? At the welcoming ceremony that day, didn’t everyone say that he was the most skilled doctor in all of Ramsgate?”

“Dr. Prendels…” Conroy narrowed his eyes slightly, tapping the neck of the quinine bottle lightly with his fingers: “Your Highness, are you referring to that renowned local doctor who had a pleasant conversation with Sir Arthur Hastings and who fawned over Lezen at the welcoming ceremony?”

The Duchess of Kent felt a pang of anxiety at those words, but still nodded: "Yes, he's a local, and very popular. Perhaps he can..."

“No!” Conroy immediately interrupted, “The situation is already complicated enough. Anyone not certified by our trust system entering the princess’s room poses an uncontrollable risk. I’ve tolerated Snow once; there can’t be a second time. Your Highness, please understand, I’m not against treatment, but rather preventing new trouble. Think carefully: if Dr. Prendels’ diagnosis differs from Dr. Clark’s, whose opinion should we follow? If opinions clash, it will ultimately waste Her Highness’s time.”

At this point, Conroy seemed to realize that his tone had been a bit harsh, and then paused, softening his tone as if to reassure the other party: "Hang in there for one more night, and Dr. Clark will arrive in Ramsgate tomorrow morning. By then, we will have a generally accepted basis for judgment, whether it's medicine or something else."

The Duchess lowered her head, her gaze falling on her handkerchief, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the fabric.

She didn't argue further, but the worry between her brows didn't fade in the slightest: "Okay, John... you're always right."

Inside the room, the flame of the gas lamp flickered gently, and the shadow cast by the lampshade trembled accordingly, just like the ripples in her heart.

Just then, a steady and powerful knock came from downstairs.

Boom boom boom!
The rhythm was distinct, neither too fast nor too slow, yet it struck everyone's ears like a hammer blow.

Conroy drew back the curtains and glanced down, then winked at the servant standing guard at the door: "Go see who it is."

Upon hearing the order, the servant immediately hurried downstairs and went to open the door.

The front porch of the Albion villa was dimly lit, sea fog had seeped in, and the air carried a damp, salty smell.

The brass buttons on Sheriff Murphy's tailcoat gleamed slightly under the light.

"Good evening!" Murphy slightly raised his hat in a curtsy. "Excuse me for disturbing you. Please tell the Duchess of Kent that Sheriff Frank Murphy of Ramsgate has come to visit as is customary. He has an urgent matter concerning the safety of Her Highness Princess Victoria that he needs to deliver in person."

The servant instinctively took the document, but dared not open it casually, instead holding it close to his chest with a hint of wariness in his eyes: "Sir Sheriff... it's late, the Duchess and Princess have already gone to bed, could you wait until tomorrow morning..."

Before he could speak, Murphy shook his head, politely but firmly raising his hand to interrupt, "I'm afraid that won't work, sir. This is a formal search warrant; you already have a copy, and I'm keeping the original. The reason is clearly stated: recently, a group of unidentified robbers has allegedly infiltrated Ramsgate. To ensure Her Highness's safety, we must immediately verify the situation inside." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, "I understand this is the residence of a member of the royal family, so my men will enter with your permission, without disturbing anyone else. However, time is of the essence; this is a serious matter. Please help me convey this message as soon as possible."

The servant hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting between Murphy and the direction of the stairs inside the door, as if weighing whether he should report it immediately.

Just as he hesitated, he heard hurried footsteps coming from the stairs.

Conroy hurried down the street, buttoning his coat as he went.

"Who are you?" He walked to the corner of the front hall, his gaze passing over the servants and landing on the sheriff standing outside the door.

The attendant explained in a low voice, "Sir, it's Sheriff Ramsgate, he says it's urgent..."

Conroy interrupted directly, "It's so late, what can't wait until tomorrow?"

He walked a few steps to the door, closing the distance between himself and Murphy, but still keeping a door frame between them, as if deliberately drawing a line between them: "Sheriff, I am very grateful for your concern for His Highness's safety, but I assure you that everything is fine here."

Murphy stood firmly outside the door, unfazed by Conroy's stern refusal: "Your people have received a copy of the search warrant. The reason is clearly stated: suspected unidentified intruders have broken in. According to procedure, we must confirm this tonight."

“Intruder? Ha…” Conroy scoffed, as if suppressing some offense: “I think you’ve been misled. The Albion Villa is well-defended against anyone with ill intentions. As you know, there are not only royal attendants here, but also guards I personally selected. It’s no exaggeration to say that not even a fly could get into the Albion Villa.”

Murphy smiled and said, "If everything is as you say, then this search is just a formality and will be over soon."

However, Conroy ignored his response and instead adopted a polite tone: "The problem is that the residence of a member of the royal family is not suitable for a disturbance in the middle of the night. What His Highness needs right now is peace and quiet to rest, not the footsteps of strangers and questioning. I understand your desire to fulfill your duty, but I hope you can understand the way I protect His Highness."

At this point, he lowered his voice slightly and threatened inwardly, "Sir Sheriff, if there really are robbers, I guarantee they won't even be able to touch the wall. But if you insist on taking action now, it will only create unnecessary tension between the royal family and the Ramsgate local government."

Murphy adjusted his hat brim in apology, but his attitude remained unyielding: "Sir John Conroy, you may certainly trust your defenses, but I must also trust my duty. A search warrant is not the decision of any one person, but the natural duty and power of every local sheriff, granted by an official document authorized by the City Council and approved by His Majesty the King. Its effectiveness is not diminished by who owns the villa."

“Sheriff.” Conroy’s lips twitched, his voice much lower than before, tinged with barely suppressed anger: “Are you questioning my ability to protect His Highness? Or are you suspecting that Kensington Palace is harboring a criminal in this room?”

Murphy didn't back down; instead, he looked directly into Conroy's eyes. "I have no doubt about your character, Sir. But I do have doubts about any unverified security assumptions. My duty is to ensure that no one can say 'the sheriff failed in his duty' afterward."

Conroy scoffed, "Duty? If you truly understood duty, you'd know that the royal residence isn't under your jurisdiction, especially late at night. You're being offensive..."

"It was the robbery gang that offended you, not me! Besides, Villa Albion is not His Majesty the King's private property; it is not a royal residence." Murphy interrupted him, his tone even harsher than before: "Therefore, if I don't even go in, that would be dereliction of duty!"

These words struck Conroy like a hammer blow, making his face darken.

Generally speaking, when he starts making threats, these local nobodys will back down.

But to his utter surprise, he had run into a tough opponent today.

Conroy slowly exhaled, seemingly trying his best to suppress his anger: "Fine! Since you're determined to come in, then you'll have to wait for me to ask the Duchess. If she doesn't agree, I guarantee you won't be able to take a single step in."

Murphy nodded slightly: "Then please ask for permission as soon as possible, Sir. My men and I will be waiting outside."

Upstairs, the sound of light yet hurried footsteps muffled on the carpet.

Supported by her maid, the Duchess of Kent descended the stairs, her skirt billowing. The crystal chandelier in the living room made her face appear somewhat pale, her brow still furrowed.

"John, what happened?"

Conroy stepped forward and bowed slightly: "Your Highness, it is the local sheriff. He said he wanted to search the villa late at night for security reasons. I have already told him that everything is fine here and that he doesn't need to bother with me, but he insists on making a fuss here and forcibly breaking into your residence."

Murphy removed his hat and bowed, saying, “Your Highness, I understand this is your and the Princess’s residence, so I’ve kept my visit as simple as possible. However, I have a formal search warrant here because intelligence indicates that unidentified suspicious individuals have been seen in Ramsgate. For Your Highness and the Princess’s safety, we must ensure that there are no hidden dangers in any part of the house.”

The Duchess's hand slowly tightened at the side of her skirt. She glanced at Conroy, as if asking for his opinion, then turned to Murphy: "Is what you're talking about... really urgent?"

“Yes, Your Highness.” Murphy’s tone was not exaggerated at all: “I would not disturb you at this time unless absolutely necessary.”

Conroy immediately chimed in, trying to steer the atmosphere back under his control: "Your Highness, you are aware of the defenses of Albion Villa, these rumors..."

Before Conroy could finish speaking, a loud bang suddenly came from the backyard of the villa.

It sounded like someone had kicked over a wooden chair, accompanied by the crisp sound of porcelain shattering.

Immediately afterwards, several low but urgent shouts came from the direction of the backyard, interspersed with suppressed footsteps and dragging sounds.

"Get your hands off your weapons! Cover your head with your hands and crouch down!"

"Did you hear me? Put down your sticks right now! You're surrounded!"

"If you dare to move again, I'll take it as resisting arrest!"

(End of this chapter)