The Shadow of Great Britain

”Princess Victoria and Spanish Hunting Dog Dash”painted by British artist George Hite in 1833

Lady Leisen reached out, gently brushing away a strand of fallen golden hair: ”No one can become a queen overnight. But from today onwards, you must learn to let them see the visage of a queen.”

Victoria quietly gazed at the ink marks on the diary, holding her pen idle for a long time.

Finally, after hesitating for a while, she wrote beneath the lines: ”At three thirty in the afternoon, we shall go for a ride; the loyalty and adoration of the people... may I not let them down.”

Outside, the horn at the palace gates suddenly sounded, shaking the window panes.

Lady Leisen closed the diary, gently urging: ”Your Highness, it’s time to prepare to leave.”

With Lady Leisen’s support, Victoria slowly stood up, the hem of her gown lightly sweeping over the thick Turkish carpet.

She stepped out of the room, her footsteps gently echoing on the wooden floor of the corridor.

Portraits of ancestors of the Hanover Dynasty hung on both sides of the hallway, as if they were coldly eyeing the heir about to step over the threshold of girlhood.

At the corner, the Duchess of Kent was already waiting there.

Her demeanor, appearance, and attire were as dignified as ever, holding an embroidered handkerchief, yet her eyes betrayed a sense of anxiousness.

The Duchess stepped forward, reaching out as if to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, but hesitated, stopping in mid-air, seemingly still weighing something in her mind.

”Delina.” The Duchess of Kent hesitated for a moment before she finally spoke, trying her best to appear calm: ”Remember, your every move today will not only represent you individually but also our family and our dignity.”

Victoria nodded slightly, without saying much.

Just as Baron Stockma and Arthur chatted about a few days ago, Victoria has now learned how to outwardly comply and kindly coexist with those she does not trust or like.

Despite the somewhat costly price she paid for learning this, as the heir to the British throne, these invaluable experiences will benefit her throughout her life.

Conroy stood behind the Duchess of Kent, wearing a tailored dark suit today, leaning lightly on a cane, his lips curling into a polite smile he usually only shows outside Kensington Palace.

Unfortunately, the smile seemed overly strained, even glaringly offensive.

He first bowed to the Duchess, then turned to Victoria: ”Your Highness, please allow me to remind you again. The crowd outside is too overwhelming. If you feel unwell, please communicate immediately, and the Duchess and I will shield you from the pressure without delay.”

Conroy’s words seemed courteous, yet the tone carried an undeniable resolution.

As if hinting: even though Victoria has come of age, who truly decides whether she can face the crowd is still not herself.

Lady Leisen furrowed her brow, her gaze sweeping over Conroy, yet she remained silent.

She gently adjusted the brooch on Victoria’s chest, her voice warm and clear: ”Your Highness, everyone is waiting for you outside. Today is your day.”

Victoria seemed reminded, straightening her shoulders, without responding to Conroy, she waved slightly to the maid behind her, indicating for them to lift her gown and proceed towards the marble staircase. Her pace was not quick but carried a sense of determination.

The Duchess of Kent’s gaze followed her daughter’s figure, half in astonishment, half in fear.

Conroy’s smile stiffened, he remained silent for a long time, his fingers tapping lightly on the cane handle, a gesture of uncontrollable irritation.

The wide staircase stretched beneath her, the deep red velvet carpet flowing like a river guiding her towards the main hall.

Maids and attendants stood breathlessly on both sides, bowing their heads in salute until her gown lightly brushed past them.

In the garden, court attendants were making final adjustments to the ribbons on the carriage, outside the palace gates, hooves clashed with metallic armor as the Guard Cavalry was already in formation.

As Victoria appeared at the top of the marble steps, the light inside and outside the palace converged upon her.

The heavy oak doors were slowly opened, and the sunlight outside was like a curtain being abruptly drawn apart, the street exploding with thunderous cheers.

”God—bless—Alexandrina—Victoria!”