shadow of britain

Chapter 841 The King Has Passed Away? Quickly Summon the Royal Physician
The afternoon sun shone through the windowpanes onto the oak desk in the study of Windsor Castle, casting dappled shadows.

William IV sat in a high-backed armchair, wearing his favorite blue woolen waistcoat and a loose white silk scarf. He held a cane, which tapped lightly on the carpet in a rapid, disordered rhythm, just like his mood at that moment.

"She refused?" William IV's voice was hoarse, his eyes half-closed, as if confirming a ridiculous rumor. "Is it true?"

Lord Chamberlain hesitated for a moment: “Your Majesty, Her Highness the Princess did indeed… handwrite a reply. In it, she mentioned her youth and inexperience, and said that she was willing to remain under her mother’s protection, unwilling to go against her mother’s wishes, and willing to continue to entrust her mother with the management of the finances and the mansion.”

"She copied it?" William IV repeated, "Did she copy it, or did she write it?"

“Your Majesty, based on the handwriting, I am certain that this letter is indeed from Her Highness the Princess’s hand,” Arthur added calmly. “However, I cannot be certain whether she drafted it herself. Because based on my understanding of Her Highness the Princess, there are many wording habits in this letter that I have repeatedly instructed her to avoid as much as possible.”

William IV rose slowly, his movements much slower than before.

He walked to the fireplace, stood with his back to the two men, and gazed at the oil painting on the fireplace depicting the Battle of Trafalgar.

“They dare to do this…they actually dare!” William IV murmured. “This letter certainly wasn’t written by Delina.”

Lord Chamberlain stepped forward, attempting to soothe him in a calm tone: "Your Majesty, perhaps she is only temporarily under your mother's control; she did not act of her own volition..."

"Of course she didn't mean it!" William IV roared. "That's precisely what I can't tolerate!"

He turned around abruptly, his eyes bloodshot: "I have survived the plague in the Caribbean and steered the ship through storms in Gibraltar, but no matter what difficulties I have encountered, I have never felt as strongly as I do today that the great ship of Great Britain is about to run aground and sink!"

“She is the Crown Princess, the future Queen!” He raised his cane and slammed it against the ground. “But right now, she’s like a little bird in a golden cage kept by Conroy and that woman, even her feeding time is at their beck and call! I want the whole nation to know that she is not their little puppet, at least she never will be! On her eighteenth birthday, I will personally hand the scepter to her, so she understands that she belongs to the entire Empire, not…”

Before he could finish speaking, William IV's face suddenly turned pale.

He swayed violently, and his cane slammed onto the carpet with a dull thud.

Arthur reacted quickly and stepped forward to support him.

"Your Majesty!" Lord Chamberlain exclaimed, "Are you alright?"

William IV's forehead was covered in sweat, his eyes glazed over for a moment, and his back slumped as if he had been shot in the spine.

He raised his hand, his mouth half-open, trying to speak, but only managed a muffled gasp before collapsing heavily backward.

Arthur supported his shoulder and back with one hand and his arm with the other, gently laying him down on the chair: "Quick, go and call the royal physician!"

Lord Chamberlain had rushed out of the study, while Arthur bent down, carefully checking his breathing.

William IV's lips trembled slightly, as if he was still conscious. He opened his eyes with difficulty, looked at Arthur beside him, and gently shook his head.

“Your Majesty…” Arthur leaned down and asked, “Is there anything you need?”

He didn't rush to say more, nor did he shout; he simply asked in a low voice.

Perhaps no one in the world understands the feeling of negotiating with death better than him. When he fell at the foot of the Tower of London, he only wished for a quieter world.

William IV's eyes were half-open, and a slight cough escaped his throat.

He weakly raised his hand and pointed to the cushion next to the chair, indicating to Arthur to help him sit up straight.

Arthur quickly bent down to steady him, and picked up a cushion from beside him to place behind his back.

“Water…” he said hoarsely.

Upon hearing this, Arthur felt a little relieved. He turned around, poured a glass of warm water, tested the temperature with a silver spoon, and then brought it to the man's lips.

William IV took a sip and then closed his eyes to rest for a moment.

After a long silence, he finally spoke slowly: "Arthur, my good lad... tell me... will I... live to see Delina's birthday..."

Arthur looked at him and nodded softly, "It can be done, Your Majesty."

To everyone's surprise, William IV shook his head slightly upon hearing this. His eyes suddenly became much clearer. This clarity did not seem like the recovery from a period of delirium due to illness, but rather like that of an old sailor checking the weather and tides one last time before returning to port.

In that instant, Arthur vaguely saw the shadow of Mr. Jeremy Bentham in William IV.

He also remembered that he felt the same way when he last saw Mr. Bentham on the eve of the parliamentary reform.

“I know I can’t hold on much longer… this body… a gust of wind could knock me over…” William IV chuckled self-deprecatingly, then coughed a few times: “But as long as I can see her… standing beside me… and hear me personally declare her independent, the heir to Britain… then even if I die the next day, I… I will die without regrets…”

He closed his eyes slightly, then slowly opened them again, his gaze seemingly piercing through the ceiling of the study: "Of course... if God has mercy... I still want... I still want to live until June 18th... Waterloo Memorial Day."

He muttered intermittently, "If I could... if I could stay sober on Waterloo Remembrance Day... wear this vest... and walk into St. George's Chapel again, even if it's just to sit in the last row and listen to a Mass for fallen veterans... I would thank God... and then go to see Horatio Nelson, to see John Moore, to see my brother and father with satisfaction..."

When he finished speaking those last words, his voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

Arthur leaned down to listen, only to find that William IV's head had slowly drooped, his eyes, which had previously shone with a bit of spirit, were now slowly closing, his eyelashes drooping, casting a pale and powerless shadow, and his hands were still on the armrests, but he no longer had the strength to hold them tightly.

"Your Majesty?" Arthur called softly, but received no response.

He did not panic immediately, but instead reached out and pressed his hand against the king's pulse.

The pulse was still beating, but extremely slowly, like an old pocket watch that hadn't been oiled for years, winding itself up for the last few turns.

Arthur gently adjusted his shawl and took his hand in his. The hand that had once directed sailors on deck and made decisions at royal meetings was now as cold as snow.

The study was eerily quiet, with only the ticking of the clock, as if time itself had slowed down, waiting for the frail old king to finish writing his final nautical log.

Arthur did not get up or call for help, but simply stayed quietly by his side. After a short while, a series of heavy, disordered footsteps came from outside the door. Lord Chamberlain had arrived in haste with the royal physician, followed by a large group of palace servants and nobles who were visiting Windsor Castle.

“She’s fainted,” Arthur said softly as he stood up. “But she’s still breathing.”

Several servants who had served at Windsor Castle for many years had tears in their eyes, but they remained politely restrained, neither crying nor shouting. They simply knelt down and gently bent over to lay the satin stretcher on white linen, then respectfully waited for the royal physician to nod.

The royal physician immediately bent down to examine him. After making a preliminary assessment, he nodded solemnly: "His Majesty the King needs to be sent to the inner palace to rest immediately. During this time, he must not be subjected to any further stimulation."

"I'll go arrange for the eunuchs." Lord Chamberlain turned and beckoned to several eunuchs, "You lot, come here."

Arthur stood by, watching as the royal physician gently straightened William IV's head and placed his hand on his chest.

"Be gentle," the imperial physician whispered. "His Majesty may wake up at any moment."

The servants carrying the stretcher nodded, their movements so light they made almost no sound.

After they had walked away, Arthur slowly turned his head. Lord Chamberlain had returned at some point, holding a half-written letter in his hand.

Arthur asked, "What is this?"

"His Majesty wrote this letter this morning, and it hasn't been sealed yet," Lord Chamberlain said, frowning. "He originally planned to take it to the Privy Council tomorrow. There are a few sentences in the letter that he added very carefully, saying that he wanted to read them aloud himself."

Chamberlain felt a headache coming on just thinking about this.

Now that William IV is in a coma, without the king's order, he doesn't know whether he should forward this letter to the Privy Council.

Just as he was at a loss for what to do, a familiar voice suddenly came from outside the study: "Your Excellency, where is His Majesty the King? I heard he fainted?"

Arthur and Chamberlain turned to look, and standing in the study doorway was Sir Herbert Taylor, William IV’s private secretary.

He looked like he had run all the way here, and was now bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily.

When Chamberlain saw him, it was as if he had seen a savior. He immediately told Taylor about the letter from beginning to end.

Taylor took the letter and glanced at it from beginning to end.

To my most trusted and dearest Privy Council ministers:
Almighty God has mercifully extended my life to this day, though I am old and frail. But I am keenly aware of my responsibility to ensure that the succession to the throne will not be hindered and that the authority of the heir will not be diminished by undue external influence or constraints before God calls me back to His side.

Therefore, I solemnly desire and command that when my niece, Princess Alexandrina Victoria, reaches the legal age of majority, she shall be recognized as fully entitled to all the rights and privileges belonging to the heir to the throne. I decree that no minister, courtier, or member of her family may exercise power in her name without her free will and consent.

The dignity of the crown and the well-being of the nation and its people require that her judgment be regarded as independent, and not subject to any single person, whether it be her mother or any of her attendants or officials...

Taylor closed the envelope and couldn't help but ask, "Was this written by His Majesty himself?"

Chamberlain nodded and said, "His Majesty the King originally intended to read it at tomorrow's Privy Council meeting... but given the current situation, if this letter gets out..."

“Your Excellency,” Taylor said in a low voice, “this matter should not be made public for the time being. At least, we should wait until His Majesty wakes up and makes a decision himself.”

Chamberlain stared at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "But what if he doesn't wake up?"

The air in the study suddenly became heavy. Taylor paced back and forth in the study with his hands behind his back. This private secretary, who had served William IV for many years, was clearly struggling with his inner turmoil.

From the perspective of maintaining national stability, this letter should certainly not be made public now.

However, if it were from the perspective of fulfilling William IV's wishes, based on his understanding of this sailor king, regardless of whether he would eventually recover, he would certainly want to submit this letter to the Privy Council and have it reviewed by both houses of parliament to form a national resolution.

Arthur remained silent until Taylor stopped, at which point he slowly spoke: “Sir Herbert, Your Excellency, perhaps His Majesty originally wished to have it read in the Privy Council. But at this time, he is unconscious. If you rashly send this letter out, it will inevitably be suspected that it was written by someone else, which will give Conroy and the Duchess of Kent ammunition to criticize you.”

Chamberlain and Taylor certainly considered this issue, or rather, this was the main reason they were unwilling to make a decision.

Moreover, even if others do not doubt the authenticity of the letter, handing it over now would certainly offend Kensington Palace.

If William IV had unfortunately died before Victoria came of age, the Duchess of Kent and Conroy might have been able to stir up some trouble during their brief regency of less than a month. However, if they did ultimately extend the regency until Victoria was 21, Chamberlain and Taylor, who had offended Kensington Palace, would likely face dire consequences.

However, unlike Taylor and Chamberlain, Arthur had staked his entire fortune and life on Victoria's ability to take power since the Ramsgate incident.

Therefore, he wasn't afraid of offending Kensington Palace, since he couldn't turn back now anyway.

Chamberlain and Taylor both turned their gazes to Arthur, intending to hear if he wanted to step forward at this moment.

Arthur remained expressionless, simply lowering his cane slowly: "In that case, let's not burden the two of you with this responsibility. His Majesty's last wishes must be witnessed by someone of sufficient stature. Otherwise, whether it is suppressed or made public, it will degenerate into private court gossip."

Taylor frowned, as if he already knew what he was going to say.

Arthur continued, “I propose that we summon some of the most influential leaders in the political arena today: the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, Viscount Melbourne, Lord John Russell, and others. Let them review this letter together and decide whether to submit the matter to the Privy Council and forward it to both houses. In this way, if a resolution is ultimately passed, it will be a collective decision. If the final decision is not to make it public, those who know about this matter will be limited to a small circle. With the wisdom of these gentlemen, I presume they would not publicize this matter widely.”

Chamberlain nodded slowly, but still looked worried: "That's a good idea, but... what if we invite them to Windsor? If the news leaks out, the whole of Britain will probably start guessing that the King is nearing his end."

Arthur did not refute, but instead offered a different perspective, saying, "Your Excellency, that is precisely why we must let people see that His Majesty did not collapse alone in his palace, but entrusted the entire country to the most powerful group of people. In this way, even if he truly cannot speak again, this letter will still be subject to public scrutiny."

Taylor and Chamberlain exchanged a glance, conveying their thoughts through their eyes.

After a long silence, Taylor finally sighed and said, "What you said isn't entirely without merit. If it's just the three of us, we can neither bear the responsibility nor control it. However, before that, I need to inform Queen Adelaide."

Chamberlain nodded slowly and said, "If Her Majesty the Queen approves, then please invite them to the palace. Wellington, Peel, Melbourne, Russell... Regardless of their stance, at least they won't joke about the succession to the throne."

(End of this chapter)