shadow of britain

Chapter 833 Is the golden scale a thing in the pool?

The air in Windsor was slightly damp, and the vaulted ceilings of the stone arcades gleamed with a cool, greyish-white hue in the winter afternoon light.

Led by his attendants, Arthur walked down a corridor lined with portraits of members of the royal family. Just as they turned a corner, Arthur suddenly spotted a familiar stranger: a middle-aged gentleman of medium build, dressed elegantly, with a slightly receding hairline.

He heard footsteps, slowly raised his head, and his eyes quickly and politely fell on Arthur.

Those eyes didn't have an interrogative edge, but they naturally gave people a sense of being judged.

Mr. Edward Drummond, great-grandson of the 4th Viscount Strassoron, is a shareholder of Drummond Bank.

Of course, most importantly, he was the private secretary to Sir Robert Peel, the leader of the Conservative Party.

“Sir Arthur Hastings.” Drummond nodded slightly, his voice steady, with a touch of professional politeness: “Do you have time?”

Arthur smiled slightly, as if he had expected to meet him here. He took out his pocket watch and glanced at it: "If you ask, we can exchange pleasantries for three to five minutes."

Drummond nodded slightly, said nothing more, and naturally gestured forward with his hand.

Arthur apologized to the servant beside him, saying, "Please wait a moment."

He then followed Drummond, strolling leisurely through a side door into a secluded gallery filled with armor and other artifacts.

Arthur looked around and, seeing that no one was there, spoke with relief: "Now that we've met, I presume you didn't just come here for a few pleasantries. So, let's be frank, do you gentlemen have something you wish to convey to me?"

Drummond rested one hand on the railing of the display stand: "There have been many opinions, Sir Arthur. I haven't forgotten any of the discussions that have taken place at Windsor Castle these past few days."

"And what about the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel?"

Drummond paused, then began casually, "As you know, Sir Charles is always cautious, and he believes it is inappropriate for him to interfere in the internal affairs of the royal family. So all he does is sigh before His Majesty the King about Conroy's 'overworked and loyal,' saying that he is 'always loyal, but inevitably prone to acting rashly.' You should understand what I mean by such conciliatory remarks."

Arthur understood Drummond's meaning perfectly well. Peel appeared to be defending Conroy, but in reality, he was stirring up trouble and planning to kill Conroy.

Just as Arthur was about to ask another question, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the gallery.

Immediately, a young man strode in, his face beaming with barely suppressed excitement. His suit jacket was buttoned haphazardly, as if he had rushed here without having time to straighten it.

Drummond's brow twitched slightly, and he slowly withdrew his hand from the railing, his expression unchanged, merely glancing indifferently at the newcomer.

“Sir Arthur,” the man said, his voice tinged with impatience, “I have come on the orders of the Viscount of Melbourne to invite you to come in for a moment.”

Arthur turned around and glanced at the uninvited guest.

He recognized the young man; the two often met at balls at the Olmarkt Club. Mr. William Cowper, as the surname suggested, was Mrs. Cowper's son, and also the nephew and private secretary of the Viscount of Melbourne.

His reputation is not as high as Drummond's, nor has he served four Tory prime ministers, including George Canning, Viscount Godridge, the Duke of Wellington, and Robert Peel. However, even though Mr. Cowper has relatively little political experience, as the current prime minister's private secretary, no one can ignore the weight of his words.

Upon seeing Cowper arrive, Drummond spoke up before Arthur could even make a request.

He offered to resign, saying, "It seems I don't need to take up any more of your time."

Drummond bowed slightly and took his leave in a concise, almost aloof manner: "Sir Arthur, let's continue our conversation another day."

After speaking, he tucked his briefcase under his arm and slowly left through the other corridor.

Cowper watched Drummond's disappearing figure and couldn't help but mutter a few words: "It's always like this, he acts like he's seen a ghost whenever he sees me..."

He then turned to Arthur and asked, "What did he say to you just now? It seemed like something very important."

Arthur chuckled and fastened his pocket watch again. "Important? Perhaps, but right now there is nothing more important than seeing His Majesty the King. Are you in a hurry? If not, you can wait until I have seen His Majesty the King."

Cowper was momentarily stunned by Arthur's words, but then he remembered what he was carrying in his arms.

He eagerly pulled a neatly folded document from his inner pocket and handed it to Arthur: "Meeting His Majesty the King is of course important, but before that, please allow me to pass this document on to you."

“A document?” Arthur raised an eyebrow and took it, his fingertips gliding over the clear stamp on the cover. It was a document format from the Home Office, with neat handwriting that any senior police officer who had ever served at Scotland Yard could recognize. It was the Home Secretary’s personal approval.

Arthur opened the document, his eyes quickly scanning the approval document on the paper.

He originally thought it was a document recently issued by the Ministry of the Interior, but who would have thought that it actually recorded an old story from years ago.

These are a series of internal directives issued by Viscount Melbourne, then Home Secretary, around the time of the Cold Baths Incident in 1833.

"The authorities are urged to exercise restraint... officers should refrain from using firearms... however, in the event of a dangerous situation, they should fully support Scotland Yard in maintaining order..."

Regarding the Viscount of Melbourne's series of instructions, Arthur did not believe that these historical documents alone could influence his basic judgment on the Cold Baths incident, since historical documents did not have practical significance in actual operation.

Because Arthur had already learned the details of the incident from Scotland Yard and magazines such as The Poor Man's Watchman and The Workers' Friend.

Before the National Committee of the Proletariat officially convened the Cold Baths rally, Scotland Yard had already learned of the time and place of the rally and reported it to the Home Office and the Cabinet. The then Prime Minister, the Earl of Grey, immediately ordered Scotland Yard to arrest the organizers of the rally if it took place. The Home Secretary, Viscount Melbourne, acting on the Prime Minister's instructions, ordered the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Charles Rowan, and the Deputy Commissioner, Richard Mayne, to disperse the rally.

What is not widely known is that Rowan and Maine, upon receiving the Home Office order, did not immediately comply. Instead, they questioned the legal basis for the order issued by Viscount Melbourne. Because British citizens legally possess the right to assemble, the two ministers immediately requested to discuss the matter with Viscount Melbourne in person.

Ultimately, the two ministers were persuaded by the Viscount of Melbourne and received his personal assurance. Scotland Yard then immediately began posting notices declaring the gathering illegal and warning participants that they would be dispersed if the gathering took place.

However, despite repeated warnings from the police, the large-scale protest rally of 4000 people still took place as scheduled.

Scotland Yard kept its promise and deployed 600 police officers at the Cold Baths on the day of the rally. A fierce clash broke out between the two sides, and Sergeant Robert Culley, who was involved in the operation, was killed on the spot.

Following the incident, the jury rejected the evidence presented by the police and ruled that the police's actions were fierce and brutal, and that the conflict was not caused by provocation from the public. The jury also found the murderer not guilty because the police did not read out the Riot Act or order the crowd to disperse.

However, Sir John Campbell, Attorney General for England and Wales, immediately challenged the verdict, and the acquittal was overturned by the King's Bench Court of the High Court on May 30. Culley's death was ruled as "premeditated murder by one or more unidentified persons."

However, a few days later, the original jury wrote to Parliament protesting the King's Bench Court's decision to overturn their verdict, claiming that the King's Bench Court's ruling had tarnished their character. Their protest also received tremendous support from public opinion.

Under immense pressure, the House of Commons was forced to convene a special committee to investigate the case. However, their investigation revealed that the Viscount of Melbourne had never signed the proclamation declaring the Cold Baths gathering illegal, and therefore the proclamation was not legally valid.

What chilled Scotland Yard the most was that the Viscount of Melbourne told the committee that he only wanted to arrest the ringleaders, not disperse the crowd.

But Deputy Minister Richard Mayne, a lawyer by profession, came forward to prove that the Viscount Melbourne was lying, because he had preserved the minutes of his meeting with the Viscount Melbourne.

Arthur would certainly trust the accounts of his Scotland Yard colleagues more than the documents provided by the Viscount of Melbourne today.

The reason he never visited Viscount Melbourne after returning to London was because he was furious at Melbourne's duplicity in the Cold Baths incident.

While being two-faced is a necessary skill for politicians, the Viscount of Melbourne has taken it to an extreme.

The more Arthur looked at the documents, the more disheartened he became, until he turned to a page of appointment letter—"Decision on the Appointment of Joseph Thomas as Deputy Chief Constable of Manchester Police."

Joseph Thomas—perhaps many forgetful Londoners have already forgotten this name.

But as a veteran Scotland Yard officer, Arthur remembered his old colleague Thomas, who had been a superintendent in charge of security patrols at Covent Garden Market and a key figure in command at the Cold Baths incident.

Because he was such a key figure, he rightfully faced strong criticism from the public after the Cold Baths incident and had to follow Sir Arthur Hastings' example by resigning from Scotland Yard.

Three years later, Thomas, who had been out of work, was successfully reinstated in the newly established Manchester Police Department, and the Viscount of Melbourne deliberately slipped the letter of appointment into the documents related to the Cold Baths incident.

His meaning couldn't be clearer.

It was simply a matter of trying to ease tensions between him and Scotland Yard... or rather, to ease tensions between him and Arthur.

Arthur gently closed the document, but the look in his eyes darkened in an instant.

How could he possibly forget the heavy history of his past hesitations, evasions, and ambiguities?
Even if he is naturally forgetful, Scotland Yard would not forgive him easily.

However, when he looked up again, a gentle smile had returned to his lips: "I understand His Excellency Melbourne's good intentions. There have been too many rumors over the years, which inevitably leads to misunderstandings. But in fact, he doesn't need to bother explaining so much to me. I have never regarded him as an enemy. If there is any misunderstanding between us, it is because the outside discussions are too noisy. In politics, it is all about the big picture. Some things are three years in the past, and it is no use for anyone to dredge up old grievances."

Upon hearing this, Cowper chuckled and replied, "As you know, my uncle is a very suspicious person. I already told him that you're not an ordinary person and wouldn't take such a thing to heart. Well, now he probably won't hesitate anymore."

"Hesitate? Hesitate about what?"

Cowper lowered his voice, but still couldn't help being smug: "You should know the policy direction of this cabinet, right?"

"Reform?" Arthur thought for a moment, then replied with a smile, "The Whig Party's policy is nothing more than reform, that's nothing special."

“That’s right, reform. But more accurately, a steady reform, not a radical one.” Cowper lowered his voice, but still couldn’t help but feel smug: “This police reform… he was still hesitant about whether he had chosen the right consultants. But now it seems that his worries were all unnecessary.”

Arthur's heart tightened, but his expression remained gentle: "Police reform consultant?"

Cowper realized he had let something slip, so he quickly coughed, a barely concealed smile on his lips, and vaguely said, "You don't need to ask now, you'll know in a few days."

After saying this, he patted Arthur's arm again, with the carefree confidence unique to young people: "In time, you will definitely feel that this is the most appropriate arrangement. Sir, I will not take up any more of your time, His Majesty the King is waiting to see you."

Cowper dropped his smug expression, turned around and gestured for them to proceed. The two walked through several doorways and stopped in front of a magnificent, gilded room.

“Sir, I cannot see you off any further.” Cowper stopped and said with a smile, “What follows is between you and His Majesty.”

The servant at the door was already waiting. When he saw Arthur arrive, he first nodded slightly, then raised his hand and knocked on the door, saying, "Your Majesty, Sir Arthur Hastings requests an audience."

After a moment of silence, a hoarse but powerful voice came from inside the heavy door: "Let him in."

The heavy door was slowly pushed open, and a smell mixed with herbs and old parchment wafted out.

William IV was sitting in a high-backed chair by the window, wearing a large, dark velvet robe, as if intentionally concealing his increasingly thin body.

The current William IV is no longer the imposing naval admiral in the portrait. Now, his face is sallow, his cheeks are slightly sunken, and the bloodshot and swollen eyes reveal days of illness and worry. Yet, he still sits upright, his back perfectly straight, as if using this posture to resist the fading vitality of life with the passing years.

His fingers trembled slightly, yet he stubbornly pressed them against the armrest, as if reminding himself and everyone present that he was still the king.

The servant gently closed the door, and silence followed.

William IV’s gaze slowly shifted to Arthur. He raised his chin with difficulty and extended his hand, as if gesturing for Arthur to come closer: “Sit down, Sir Arthur. We have no idle talk to discuss.”

(End of this chapter)