The Shadow of Great Britain

Arthur shook his head, stirring his teaspoon leisurely, the metal lightly tapping against the porcelain, making a crisp sound: ”Eld, what you said really makes people feel sorry for you. So many people scramble to get into White Hall, even if only as a third-class clerk, they could boast about it for a lifetime among their fellow country gentry. Now you manage an entire bureau’s affairs, with dozens under your command working overtime at your behest, yet you still act like a victim. What part of societal injustice? Remember, you got to this position through your genuine talent and learning.”

Eld laughed heartily, fully understanding Arthur’s point: ”Of course, if not genuine talent and learning, would it have been through alumni connections? Only the riffraff of Oxford and Cambridge indulge in nepotism; we graduates of the University of London, out in the world, rely on our abilities!”

Arthur raised his teacup for a light clink with Eld’s: ”To celebrate your rise in the Navy Department, how about taking a day off another time to accompany me to Paris for a couple of days?”

Upon hearing Arthur’s suggestion, Eld reflexively retorted: ”To see Alexander? With that fat man’s pettiness, if he knew I got a promotion, he might just die of anger. Whenever we go, I can pack my bags tonight.”

Arthur gently waved his hand: ”No rush to head to Paris. The Parliament closes on the 17th, and Her Majesty the Queen will attend. Leaving after that won’t be too late. Additionally, after Parliament adjourns, we can travel with Lord Brougham. He’s planning a summer retreat to Provence during the recess. Traveling with him would surely spare us the solitude.”

”Lord Brougham?” Eld froze for a moment, then sneered: ”How ridiculous... A man who once sat on the High Chancellor’s seat now has to run to Provence for leisure. The Viscount Melbourne and the Whig Party are indeed capable of such deeds. They seem to have forgotten who delivered a speech for more than three hours under 85-degree Fahrenheit heat during the 1832 Parliamentary Reform Act deliberations in the House of Lords, ultimately collapsing from exhaustion and kneeling to ask for the bill’s passage. And who, after losing the position of High Chancellor, bore no grudges and helped the Melbourne Cabinet pass the Municipal Reform Bill.”

Arthur put down his teaspoon: ”You’re right, Lord Brougham’s predicament these past years is all thanks to Prime Minister Viscount Melbourne. His methods of undermining old colleagues are far more astute than his outward appearance of dozing off in the House of Lords.”

Like all graduates of the University of London, Eld had long become intolerant of Viscount Melbourne’s faction.

He placed his teacup heavily on the table: ”Melbourne’s faction, when all is said and done, is simply afraid of Lord Brougham’s overwhelming brilliance overshadowing them. What a shame, without Lord Brougham, would the University of London, the Equity Court, or even Britain’s entire education and legal sectors be where they are today? The Whig Party is truly adept at burning bridges.”

Arthur lightly shook the tea in his cup: ”What’s more amusing is that individual still clings to Her Majesty the Queen, professing undying loyalty, acting with utmost diligence. If you saw his fawning manners at Kensington Palace and Buckingham Palace, ha...”

Eld squinted his eyes, glaring at Arthur, half in anger, half in mockery: ”Her Majesty the Queen, still so young, perhaps hasn’t seen through the tricks of these old foxes yet?”

Arthur didn’t speak, only giving Eld a meaningful look.

Though Arthur hadn’t finished speaking, his look was enough to pique Eld’s interest in exposing Melbourne’s misdeeds.

”Him? Viscount Melbourne, William Lamb? Ha! If I didn’t know some of his old dirty laundry, I might actually be fooled by him.”