shadow of britain

Chapter 840 Conroy, are you trying to rebel?!
For a moment, the atmosphere was as tense as the stone sculptures in Kensington Palace gardens; no one made the first move.

Victoria's gaze swept discreetly from the envelope to her mother, then to Conroy, and finally settled on Arthur.

Arthur, on the other hand, always stood between her and Conroy.

Conroy's lips twitched, and a hint of impatience flashed across his normally composed face.

He lowered his head, as if forcibly restraining himself, and after a moment, he spoke again: "Sir Arthur, it is now Her Highness's class time."

Conroy controlled his tone, trying to maintain a polite distance: "His Highness is currently receiving instruction. Even if a letter from His Majesty the King needs to be delivered, wouldn't it be more appropriate to wait until His Highness's class is over, and then have the Duchess, or I, accompany him to handle it?"

As he spoke, a hand slowly reached for the letter, attempting to take it away under the guise of safekeeping.

But instead of retreating, Arthur advanced, snatching the letter into his pocket with the same swiftness and efficiency he used to display when patrolling the streets and subduing a thief.

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

Arthur's tone was cold, each word deliberate: "This letter has been delivered by His Majesty the King, with His Excellency and I jointly appointed. It is sealed intact, the recipient is clearly stated, and it must be opened by Her Highness Princess Victoria. His Majesty's original intention was probably not to leave any room for it to be forwarded to a third party."

Conroy laughed in anger, taking a half step back, but the politeness on his face was slowly peeling away.

"Sir Arthur's words have indeed become increasingly sharp lately." Conroy's tone rose slightly. "It's just delivering a letter, yet you act as if you're bringing His Majesty a Privy Council decree. Did you make such a fuss back in Scotland Yard and the Foreign Office?"

Unexpectedly, Arthur not only did not retaliate, but also nodded in agreement: "You are right, I am used to having people sign for things in person. If I had exercised less initiative before acting back in the Tower of London and in St. Petersburg, I would not have suffered so much. Although I would not call myself a wise man, I am not so stupid as to not have the wisdom to learn from my mistakes."

Conroy could tell Arthur was being sarcastic, and he retorted angrily, "Sir Arthur, you are at Kensington Palace now. Do you even remember your place? Or have you come to think that you've entered the royal circle and can now judge Kensington Palace's internal affairs ever since some earls toasted you at their wedding banquet?"

As soon as Conroy said this, the expressions of the people in the room changed immediately.

In aristocratic circles, while arguments and bickering were common, their style of speech, whether in parliamentary debates, courtly social gatherings, or even cabinet meetings, always emphasized subtle satire. Even when arguing, they aimed to win through demeanor.

Nobles may be angry, but they may not lose their composure. They may engage in heated exchanges, but they may not resort to vulgar insults. They may smash a cup and leave, but they may never slam their fists on the table or shout profanities.

Even during a crisis like the parliamentary reforms of 1832, when several old nobles angrily refuted the reformers in the House of Lords, their expressions still followed rhetorical structures, attacking their opponents by quoting history, allusions, and sarcastic remarks, rather than engaging in blatant arguments.

Conroy's outburst was precisely an exposure of his lack of true acceptance by high society.

Although Conroy held a knighthood, he was not a nobleman in the traditional sense, but rather an ambitious semi-noble and semi-bureaucrat who relied on the Kensington system for survival by getting close to the Crown Prince's mother.

Unable to rely on traditional resources such as bloodline, hereditary status, or estates, he could only maintain power by manipulating authoritarianism and the dependency relationship between mother and daughter.

This is why he always felt insecure in front of true nobles, so he often asserted his control over Kensington Palace in an exceptionally strong manner.

When he faces Sir Arthur Hastings, a man truly of humble origins who has earned the trust of both parties and the royal family through his own shrewdness, he becomes particularly prone to losing control of his emotions. This is because what he fears most is having the fact that "he is nothing more than a nanny's steward" exposed.

But it's clear that he's targeting the wrong person this time.

Because Sir Arthur Hastings is not a traditional nobleman either. Although the Hastings family has become related to the secretary-general of the police commission, Arthur is ultimately a new type of nobleman, or even an atypical nobleman.

He was neither a hereditary nobleman, nor a lukewarm scholar, nor the kind of opportunist who got rich quick at the card table and then desperately imitated aristocratic life with gilded teaware and fox-fur coats, nor one of those middle-class lawyers, bankers, and publishers who treated titles and ranks as extensions of their businesses.

He showed neither the smugness of someone who takes shortcuts nor the servility of someone who curries favor with the powerful.

He never boasted about what he had done; time and connections spoke for him.

The University of London knew he had won the gold medal for three years of study and was the most outstanding alumnus to date.

The Metropolitan Police knew that he had served in Scotland Yard since 1829 and was a veteran who had proven himself in a series of cases, including murder and corpse theft and the slave trade.

Whitehall knew he was the chairman of the board of Imperial Publishing Company, a Fleet Street tycoon who could read manuscripts and manipulate public opinion.

The King and both parties knew that he was the pillar of the nation who saved the country from collapse during the wave of parliamentary reforms in 1832, and the key figure who saved the Ramsgate edifice from crumbling.

Unlike those ninth-generation marquesses or thirteenth-generation viscounts who could lull people to sleep with a string of hereditary titles, Arthur's surname didn't have a long list of ancestors. His family tree consisted of only a few lines, and no one even knew for sure if he was really the nephew of some country gentleman. In contrast, his resume was very clear.

He was a rising star among the meritocracy. His knighthood might not have stood out among the marquises and dukes, but it was a reward for serving the country and being loyal to the royal family, not a tribute to his family lineage.

He earned his title through merit, not the other way around.

Even standing before the Duke of Wellington, William IV, or Tsar Nicholas I, Sir Arthur Hastings could stand tall without any psychological burden. He was not the son of any nobleman, but he could become one himself if he so desired.

Arthur's eyes remained unmoved, as if he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to Conroy's provocation: "Of course I remember who I am."

He paced back and forth in the room, hands behind his back: “I am merely His Majesty’s servant, a public servant of the British people. My duty is to act according to orders, without personal feelings or presumptions. Whether this letter is addressed to Her Highness the Princess, a strike representative in some mine in the north, the Prime Minister Viscount Melbourne, or the Leader of the Opposition, Sir Robert Peel, I will treat it the same way, seal it, and deliver it in person.”

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. His expression remained gentle, but his tone was unusually calm, as if a flawless sheet of paper was laying itself bare before them: "I have no ancestral carriage, no family crest, and no silver tableware that can be passed down through three generations at a palace banquet. I only have a transfer order and a duty, commanding me to come and deliver this letter."

At this point, he slowly raised his head, looking at Conroy and then at the Duchess of Kent: "I am a bailiff, not a steward, so I will not try to manage a family's accounts, nor will I advise Her Highness on whose teachings are more appropriate. I also never feel that I have the right to choose for Her Highness which letter to read on which day, at which moment, or whose advice to take."

The words had barely left his lips when Conroy's expression changed slightly. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he couldn't find the words to reply. Even the Duchess of Kent beside him stiffened, as if the words "I never" were meant for her.

"I never forget my identity. I am His Majesty's servant, a nobody who can be dispatched at any time. Whether it's a Whitehall clerk or a cabinet minister, they assign me tasks, and I carry them out according to the rules, without adding or subtracting anything. But I don't find anything tragic about being a servant. Because I have fulfilled my duties and completed my mission. The truly tragic thing in this world is not that servants forget their insignificance, but that some people cannot distinguish between a servant and a monarch. Some people always want to add pens to papers that don't belong to them, sign their names next to those that don't belong to them, treat royal orders as family letters, and family letters as royal orders."

Victoria was standing at the door, looking reserved.

But when she saw Arthur smiling at her, she smiled too.

The air at the scene seemed to freeze for several seconds.

Lord Chamberlain cleared his throat, breaking the silence as if trying to bring the atmosphere back to the bounds of royal etiquette: "Your Highness, His Majesty's letter has arrived."

Victoria took a deep breath and took two steps forward.

Her movements were somewhat stiff, but each step she took was more solid than the last.

As she approached Arthur, she extended her hand and said, "Please give me this letter, Sir Arthur."

Victoria's voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear clearly.

Arthur looked at her, nodded slightly, took out the letter bearing the bright red imperial seal from his inner pocket, and solemnly handed it to her.

The Duchess of Kent's face was ashen, and her knuckles beneath her gloves were slightly white.

She wanted to speak up and stop them, but with His Majesty the King and Lord Chamberlain as witnesses, she knew that if she spoke up now, she would only appear to be being unreasonable.

Conroy turned his back, seemingly adjusting his cuffs, but actually using the opportunity to hide the annoyance on his face.

Victoria opened the envelope, quickly read the letter, and then said softly, "Thank you, Sir Arthur, and thank you, Lord."

Arthur bowed slightly, removed his hat, and said, "It is an honor to serve you, Your Highness."

Lord Chamberlain winked at her playfully: "Please remember to reply promptly; His Majesty the King is very anxious."

After speaking, Lord Chamberlain stepped forward and bowed to the Duchess of Kent, saying, "Now that Her Highness has accepted the envelope, Sir Arthur and I have completed our mission. Please excuse us for taking our leave, Your Highness."

The Duchess of Kent closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn't speak, but simply waved her hand to indicate that she understood.

Arthur and Lord Chamberlain bowed and took their leave. They had only taken a few steps and had not yet exchanged their thoughts when they noticed a familiar gentleman standing in front of a pillar in the corridor—Baron Stockmay.

Stockmall looked like he'd been standing there for a while; if Arthur and Conroy had really gotten into an argument earlier, he'd probably have gone in to smooth things over.

Stockma saw the two of them come out, and simply raised his chin to gesture for them to go outside and talk.

The three of them walked out of Kensington Palace side by side. Before Arthur could even take out his cigar case, Stockmay said, "Dealing with Conroy must be quite difficult, right?"

Arthur had just taken out his cigar case when he heard this, but he nonchalantly closed the case and put it back in his pocket.

In this private setting, Lord Chamberlain didn't bother maintaining his refined aristocratic demeanor. He spoke directly, "Not easy? That's an understatement. He gives the impression that Victoria isn't a 17-year-old girl, but rather he is."

Stockmay was not at all surprised by this answer: "Your opinion is not far from that of His Majesty Leopold, and also, Sir Arthur..."

"Hmm?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

Stockmayer smiled gently. "I just wanted to express my gratitude. His Majesty Leopold wrote from Brussels earlier, saying that if you hadn't stepped forward at Ramsgate, but instead hesitated and failed to expose the entire conspiracy, only heaven knows what would have happened. His Majesty specifically emphasized in his letter that I must thank you in person. By the way, I should also remind you that the telegraph construction plans for the remaining railways in Belgium were approved last week. If the English Electromagnetic Telegraph Company is interested in continuing to participate, they can send me a tender document another day, which I can send back to Brussels with this letter, saving you the trouble."

Arthur listened without changing his expression, only nodding slightly.

"The matter of the railway telegram can be considered another day." He paused, then frowned. "Right now, the Belgian bid, whether successful or not, is just a matter of a few contracts and a few shares. Compared to Her Highness's upcoming coming-of-age ceremony, these are negligible."

Stockma nodded slightly and said, "The newspapers have been building up the buzz around this these past few days; this birthday celebration is truly not to be missed."

Lord Chamberlain spoke up at the opportune moment, asking, "Is Kensington Palace prepared for the birthday celebration? His Majesty the King prefers that Her Highness's birthday be held at Windsor Castle. How confident are you in persuading the Duchess of Kent and Conroy? Judging from the current situation, I'm worried they'd rather have the Princess's birthday celebration as a family tea party, with Conroy sitting beside her and thanking the guests on her behalf, than have Her Highness stand beside His Majesty the King and truly become independent from her mother's wing."

Stockma frowned. "The Duchess and Conroy did indeed start considering the birthday celebration two months ago, and as you guessed, they preferred to keep the celebration at Kensington Palace because the princess is frail and not suited for long journeys."

Lord Chamberlain was immediately in a bind when he heard this. Last year, Kensington Palace had a very unpleasant incident with William IV over his birthday, but that was limited to a small circle. Only high society knew what had happened, and it was not enough to embarrass the royal family.

But this year's Bar Merry Eve celebration has garnered unprecedented attention, with media outlets across Britain—England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales—watching closely. If any scandals erupt this year, he'll be in for a lot of trouble.

The problem now is that neither William IV nor the Duchess of Kent are people who are easy to compromise with.

This coming-of-age ceremony was highly political. On the surface, it was just a matter of where a birthday was held, but in reality, it was a power struggle between St. James's Palace and Kensington Palace for control of Victoria. If something was handled carelessly and went wrong, not only would you not gain any credit, but you could also easily get yourself into trouble.

(End of this chapter)