The Shadow of Great Britain

He mumbled intermittently, ”If I could... remain conscious on Waterloo Memorial Day... put on this waistcoat... walk into St. George’s Chapel again, even if just to sit in the last row, and listen to a mass for the fallen soldiers... I would thank God... and then contentedly go meet Horatio Nelson, meet John Moore, and see my brothers and father...”

As he finished this last sentence, his voice had dropped to almost inaudible.

Arthur leaned in to listen, only to find that King William IV’s head had slowly drooped down, and the eyes that once held a glimmer had now softly closed, casting a pale, powerless shadow with his lashes; his hand still rested on the armrest, but it lacked the strength to grip firmly.

”Your Majesty?” Arthur called softly, but there was no response.

He did not panic immediately but instead reached out to check the King’s pulse.

The pulse was still there, but extremely slow, like an old pocket watch long unoiled, running its final few turns of the spring.

Arthur gently arranged his cloak and took hold of his hand, the hand that once commanded sailors on deck and made decisive judgments at the Privy Council, now cold as snow.

The study was unusually quiet, only the ticking of the clock could be heard, as if even time had slowed its pace, waiting for this aged king at the end of his life to finish writing his last logbook.

Arthur did not rise, nor did he call for anyone, he just quietly stayed by his side.

Soon, a confusion of heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door, it was Lord Chamberlain bringing the Imperial Physician in haste, followed by a crowd of bedroom attendants and visiting nobles at Windsor Castle.

”He has fainted.” Arthur stood up and said softly, ”But he is still breathing.”

Several attendants who had served at Windsor Castle for years already had red eyes, but they still maintained courteous restraint, refraining from crying out, and instead knelt, gently unfolding a satin stretcher with white linen, respectfully waiting for the Imperial Physician to nod.

The Imperial Physician immediately bent down to examine, and after making an initial assessment, he nodded gravely, ”His Majesty the King needs to be sent to the inner chamber immediately to rest, during this period, avoid any stimuli.”

”I will arrange for the chamberlains.” Lord Chamberlain turned around and waved to several attendants, ”You, come over here.”

Arthur stood aside, watching as the Imperial Physician gently straightened King William IV’s head and placed his hand over his chest.

”Handle with care.” The Imperial Physician whispered, ”His Majesty may awaken at any moment.”

The attendants lifting the stretcher nodded, moving so lightly that they made almost no sound.

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

Arthur asked, ”What is this?”

”A letter His Majesty the King wrote this morning, not yet sealed.” Lord Chamberlain frowned and said, ”He was going to take it to the Privy Council tomorrow. There are a few sentences in the letter he added very seriously, saying he wanted to read them personally.”

Speaking of this, Lord Chamberlain felt a headache coming on.

Now that King William IV was unconscious, without the King’s command, Lord Chamberlain was unsure whether to forward this letter to the Privy Council.

Just as he was at a loss, a familiar voice came from outside the study, ”Your Lordship, where is His Majesty the King? I heard he fainted?”

Arthur and Lord Chamberlain turned to look, and standing at the study door was none other than Sir Herbert Taylor, King William IV’s private secretary.

He seemed to have rushed over, bending over, hands on his knees, panting heavily.

Upon seeing him, Lord Chamberlain seemed to see a savior, quickly recounting the matter of the letter from the beginning to the end.

Taylor glanced over the letter from beginning to end.

To my most trusted and dear Lords of the Privy Council:

The merciful God has graciously allowed me to extend my years, though my age is advanced and my body has grown weak. Yet I am acutely aware of my duties, that before destiny calls me back to God’s side, I must ensure that the succession of the throne remains unimpeded, and that the authority of the successor is not weakened by undue external influence or constraint.

Therefore, I solemnly hope and command: Upon the day my niece, Princess Alexandrina Victoria, reaches the age of legal majority, she should be acknowledged as fully possessing all rights and privileges belonging to the throne’s heir. I require that no minister, attendant, or their family members exercise power in her name without her free will and consent.

The dignity of the Crown and the well-being of the country’s people demand that her judgment is to be regarded as independent and should not be subject to any single individual, whether her mother or any attending officials around her...

Taylor closed the letter, unable to resist asking, ”Is this His Majesty’s handwriting?”

Lord Chamberlain nodded, ”His Majesty the King was originally going to read this at tomorrow’s Privy Council meeting... but now, if this letter gets out...”

”Your Excellency.” Taylor spoke in a low voice, ”This matter should not be made public for now. At least, we should wait until His Majesty awakens and let him decide personally.”

Lord Chamberlain stared at him, his expression complex, ”But what if he never wakes up?”

The atmosphere in the study became heavy; Taylor paced with his hands behind his back, clearly struggling within, having served as a private secretary to King William IV for many years.

From the perspective of maintaining national stability, this letter should not, under current circumstances, be made public at all.