shadow of britain

Chapter 848 The final struggle
Our king is dying; he won't last much longer.

—Henry John Temple Palmerston, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
The night in London had not yet completely fallen, but the lights of St. James's Palace had already illuminated the entire building before the stars.

Tonight, the grand ballroom of St. James's Palace was decorated like a golden honeycomb, with thousands of candles burning in layers of candlesticks. The flames shattered into countless tiny shards of light in the facets of the crystal chandelier, and the shimmering light fell like a drizzle over the guests' heads.

The floor was made of freshly polished soft oak, its smooth surface reflecting the dancers' shoes. The rustling sound of silk and satin gowns trailing behind them with each step sounded like the very breath of the ballroom. Clusters of white gauze and pearlescent shimmered like drifting clouds as the dancers swayed.

The air was thick with the sweet scent of perfume, mixed with the sweat from the dense crowd. However, under the lights and music, all the incongruity was cleverly disguised as a kind of exciting and intoxicating atmosphere.

Sir Arthur Hastings stood in a corner of the crowd, his black tuxedo and breeches impeccably tailored. He carried no sword, but instead placed a short-handled ceremonial staff adorned with silver scrolls on a chair by the ballroom.

He wasn't deliberately looking for anything in the crowd; he just stood there quietly, as if he had deliberately found a quiet place to escape the crowd.

Even though he was in the shadows, he was quickly recognized.

The soft rustling of the skirt brushing the ground grew louder as it approached, like the sound of a long skirt trailing across the grass in the morning mist.

A familiar figure strolled leisurely through the crowd and silently stopped beside him. She stood next to Arthur, neither deliberately maintaining social distance nor getting too close, but rather at a rather subtle distance.

“You’ve arrived earlier than I expected tonight,” Miss Flora Hastings said softly. Her makeup tonight looked beautiful, but not overly glamorous.

Portrait of Miss Flora Elizabeth Rodton-Hastings, by British painter Alexander McKay.

Flora's hair was styled high tonight, gently secured with a silver hairpin. Two strands of hair framing her face were left loose, falling naturally to her temples. Unlike the ladies around her, she didn't wear diamond headbands or feather ornaments; instead, she wore a delicate emerald brooch on her chest, quietly set in the snow-white fabric, its understated elegance highlighting the beauty of her ivory gown.

There were no elaborate pleats or gold threads on the dress, only a dark green satin ribbon around the waist, which looked like a freehand ink painting outline, neatly framing the whole person from neck to ankle.

She didn't say much, nor did she show any extra expression. She simply stood in front of Arthur, slightly raising her right hand, which was covered by a lace glove, as if to say, "You know."

Seeing this, Arthur smiled and took a small step forward, asking in just the right tone, "May I have the honor of inviting you to the first dance of the evening?"

Flora lowered her head slightly upon hearing his words, a very faint smile curving her lips.

Then, she gently placed her right hand, which was still suspended in mid-air, into his palm, neither too fast nor too slow, with just the right amount of force.

She didn't look up at Arthur, but whispered in his ear, "It's my pleasure, Sir Arthur."

Arthur naturally took Miss Flora Hastings' arm and stepped onto the dance floor. As the bells rang softly before the start of the square dance, the space in the center of the dance floor was quickly cleared, and long velvet satin dresses gathered around like blooming roses.

They entered the formation to the rhythm of the music, starting, passing each other, and then turning around.

The rhythm of the Sifang Dance is not fast, but as a dance originating from military drills, it requires a high degree of tacit understanding between dance partners.

Each time they brushed past each other, Arthur could feel Flora's skirt brushing against her boots. In their alternating turns, their eyes briefly met. Flora's eyes flickered, as if she wanted to say something, but were instantly swept away by the rhythm of the next beat.

The first part of the Four Directions Dance is just a pair of circling dancers, but when the second music starts, the exchange between the dancers begins.

In the alternation of the spinning steps, Arthur took a half step forward, his right hand naturally falling into the soft hand wearing a gold-threaded glove.

He looked up and was nearly thrown off balance by the sight of a silver-grey brocade ball gown and a fiery red brooch—it was Lady Dorothy Levine.

“Sir Arthur,” Mrs. Levine said softly, but with a tone characteristic of Russian aristocracy, including a drawn-out lilt and her inherent arrogance and sharpness, “this must be the first time you’ve danced with me, right?”

"It's an honor." Arthur's neck was sweating, but he maintained a polite smile. "I thought you were in Paris..."

"I was indeed in Paris last week, but my good friend Victoria (Duchess of Kent) invited me to celebrate her daughter's birthday, and how could I refuse?" Lady Levine smiled enigmatically. "However, tonight's ball was rather dull, and it would have been hard to satisfy me if I hadn't met you here... Sir Arthur, you should come and dance more often, instead of always hiding in the shadows playing those little tricks."

She deliberately spoke the last sentence in Russian, in a light tone, as if she were chatting casually.

But Arthur knew that this lady was standing up for the Duchess of Kent...

Or at least that's how it appears on the surface.

They spun around twice, then separated again to the music.

When Arthur returned to Flora's side, she was standing in the same spot waiting for him, her posture serene, but her eyes held a hint of undisguised anger.

"Mrs. Leven?" she asked softly, as if confirming, or perhaps reminding, "She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

Although Lady Levine was a close friend of the Duchess of Kent, Flora still disliked this famous European noblewoman.

As a devout believer who received a traditional aristocratic education and held rather conservative views, she had absolutely no interest in these so-called upper-class socialites, and even looked down on them from the bottom of her heart.

Arthur didn't shy away from the question: "I was switched over without really understanding what was going on. Don't worry, we only jumped a short segment, which, strictly speaking, wasn't enough to constitute a complete interaction."

“You shouldn’t have gotten too close to her.” Flora’s hand tightened slightly as Arthur reached out to catch her. Flora spoke softly, as if it were just a casual remark: “Of course, I’m only saying this out of kindness.”

Arthur looked into her eyes: "You mean Mrs. Leven?"

Flora didn't answer immediately, but instead took advantage of the next turn to move a little closer to him.

“Of course I know that it’s difficult to choose your dance partner on an occasion like tonight.” She paused, her eyelashes fluttering. “But… she’s not just an old friend of the Duchess of Kent, but also… a good friend of many others… politically, or… the more embarrassing kind…” She almost bit her lip as she said the last sentence, as if she had made a great decision.

“Of course, I don’t mean to interfere with you.” Flora realized she might have said too much, so she quickly looked away and shrugged. “Perhaps I just… think you deserve to make some friendlier, kinder friends, like… like Mr. Carter.”

Arthur was seriously counting his steps in his mind when Flora suddenly mentioned his old friend, causing him to almost step on Flora's skirt without realizing it.

Although Flora and Elder had known each other since they were very young, they didn't interact often. In addition, Elder had been at sea for the past few years, so her impression of him was mostly from more than ten years ago.

However, Arthur did not want to tarnish Elder's image by going around in the world, because ever since he completed his circumnavigation of the globe and became a third clerk in the Admiralty, his elderly mother, who lived in Nottingham, had always made it Elder's top priority to continue the Carter family line.

In the past year, Elder has attended many balls in London, and he has met more than one or two aristocratic ladies and young women from prominent families.

But the girls that Elder likes don't like him back.

The girls who were interested in him, Elder didn't like.

If we were to pinpoint the cause, Arthur felt that a significant portion of the blame might lie with his most trusted old friend, Elder.

If he hadn't founded The Englishman, Elder wouldn't have become a well-known author in Britain.

Even if Elder becomes famous, if Arthur hadn't given the kid shares in the Imperial Publishing Company, he wouldn't look down on the daughters of merchants or bankers who were willing to offer generous dowries just because he felt rich and powerful.

In short, Elder's mindset is still stuck at the stage of "just playing around, marriage is a long way off".

The thought that Mrs. Carter might move to London to urge her son to get married soon gave Arthur an urge to kick Elder out of 36 Lancaster Gate.

However, on the surface, he still smiled and agreed, "Flora, you know that someone as outstanding as Elder is extremely rare in London."

“Yes!” Flora responded softly to Arthur’s teasing remark, “There aren’t many people as outstanding as him.”

Flora glanced at the swirling skirts in the center of the dance floor, deliberately avoiding Arthur's gaze. She had expected him to respond, or even offer some explanation. But now it seemed he had no intention of distancing himself from the Russian noblewoman, nor did he seem willing to listen to her commentary on the man.

Just as she was about to change the subject, Arthur suddenly spoke up: "Actually, even if you didn't mention it, I usually wouldn't dance with Mrs. Levine. Ever since the Caucasus incident, I've always felt awkward whenever I'm in the same room as a Russian."

“I see…” Flora said with a sudden realization, “I thought… you were just…”

"Is she the only one among the Russians who gets special treatment?" Arthur chuckled and joked, "If I really did, I should be by her side tonight, not being made to look like a suspect about to testify in court by some lady."

Arthur paused slightly at this point, then added playfully, "But if you're willing to be the judge, I'd be happy to plead guilty."

Flora blushed at his teasing, and, lost in her own thoughts, tucked her hair behind her ear: "Then you'd better pray I'm in a good mood, or my sentence will be very harsh... Arthur, do you... think I'm suited to be a judge?"

Upon hearing this, Arthur smiled and said, "If I had the right to vote on this issue, I would certainly vote in favor. But unfortunately, I know that I am in the minority on this issue. Just two days ago, the House of Commons rejected Mr. Grantley Berkeley's proposal to allow women to attend debates in both houses."

Flora rolled her eyes at him reproachfully, "Wouldn't it make the whole room feel fresher if they put a bouquet of flowers in the room?"

Arthur shrugged innocently: "Obviously, the lords of both houses don't think so. However... if Her Highness can successfully ascend the throne, perhaps they can consider making an exception."

Upon hearing this, Flora couldn't help but look up and search for Victoria, the star of the evening.

Today's opening dance was performed by Lord FitzAaron, grandson of Victoria and the Duke of Norfolk, and now her dance partner is Nicholas, son of Prince Esterházy, the Austrian minister.

Although Victoria's birthday is today, the birthday celebrations planned for her will continue until next week.

Over the next few days, she will also visit various landmarks in London and participate in a series of celebrations.

Tomorrow morning, Victoria will depart Kensington Palace with the Duchess of Kent and others for the newly opened National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. The recently established Royal Academy of Arts is holding its first exhibition there this year, and Victoria will be the first member of the Royal Family to attend.

In the evening, she will receive a formal welcome from the Mayor of London and the City Hall, during which fireworks will light up the river beneath Tower Bridge, and representatives from merchant guilds will present her with gifts. The following days will include carriage processions and charity visits. According to Kensington Palace's schedule, the princess will visit several workhouses and vocational schools over the next week, projecting an image of closeness and connection with the poor.

Several newspapers even leaked the news in advance: if the weather is fine in the coming week, Her Highness's carriage will be frequently seen passing by Hyde Park.

Just then, he suddenly heard a familiar voice, with an annoying nasal tone, and short, sharp words: "This list of attendants and servants must be finalized tonight. Your Excellency, she is leaving early tomorrow morning, and the pomp and circumstance of Kensington Palace cannot be compromised."

Arthur's ears twitched, and he instinctively shortened his stride by half an inch on the next beat.

Flora leaned forward and gently pressed her fingertips into his palm, reminding him to return to the cadence.

Arthur nodded helplessly, but while he was still moving around, he intentionally or unintentionally led Flora closer to the source of the sound, and even took a moment to turn his head slightly to look in the direction of the sound.

In the shadows cast between the long window and the pilasters, Conroy, half-turned, held a list in his hand and argued with someone, his face flushed. Standing opposite him was Charles Jenkinson, the Earl of Liverpool.

"Charles Jenkinson, the Third Earl of Liverpool" was painted in 1846 by the German artist Franz Xaver Winterhalter.

The Earl of Liverpool's eyes were almost icy cold, and the veins on the back of his hand, which was holding a cane, bulged: "The procession and attendants are royal matters. Her Highness's birthday celebrations are not something Kensington Palace can decide on its own. St. James has his rules. Moreover, I will not accept this list without Her Highness's personal approval."

Conroy seemed to still want to try his best, forcing a smile as he said, "Your Excellency, Her Highness is still staying in Kensington. Her servants, her carriages, and her outings have always been arranged by us. Now, with just a word from you, you're taking on all the work. If something goes wrong during the handover, can you bear the responsibility?"

(End of this chapter)