The Shadow of Great Britain

The summer sun of Britain rarely drives away the dampness of London, but St. James Street, this path to the heart of the powerful, is always dry and tidy.

After all, every carriage from Buckingham Palace to Parliament has to pass through this street, and the leather boots and wheels of the upper-class gentlemen fear nothing more than mud.

The Carlton Club is as quiet as usual today. Serving as the headquarters for the Conservative Party’s election committee, August has never been the liveliest time for Carlton.

Those lords of the House of Lords are either returning home for a vacation or have gone to Windsor.

The newly elected young Conservative Lower House Members also finally get a chance to let loose after the election campaign ended.

The campaign that lasted from the end of July to early August had stifled them, forcing them to write campaign speeches day and night or put on a model moral demeanor in front of the voters. Fortunately, it’s all in the past now, and they can finally seize the opportunity to indulge in some mischief.

Of course, the premise is not to let Fleet Street discover it.

Therefore, leaving London becomes the best choice for most.

However, although many are not in London and the Conservative Party, as the opposition party, does not need to shoulder any government responsibilities, this does not prevent certain figures who see political prospects and the fate of the country as their goal from coming to the Carlton Club as usual.

The light pouring through the high windows casts long shadows on the carved carpet of the reading room, and through the window, several old Conservative gentlemen can be seen scattered between the fireplace and the sherry cabinet, either half-reclining on armchairs reading newspapers or strolling around the room with pipes in their mouths.

”So, despite reclaiming quite a few seats in this election, we still have to sit in this room and drink cold wine?”

Lord Lindhurst laid down The Times and cast a satirical gaze at Peel.

The First Portrait of Baron Lindhurst by British painter Felix Rogue, painted in 1836

Peel did not respond, he just stood by the window, listening silently to party secretary Francis Bonham’s low-voiced report on the by-election accounts, while gently rubbing the watch chain with his thumb.

Seeing Peel ignoring him, Lord Lindhurst added another comment: ”I guess Melbourne is now enjoying tea at Buckingham Palace, poured by the Queen herself.”

This comment caused several heads in the reading room to move slightly.

The Duke of Wellington put down his monocle, folded the newspaper, and said: ”That’s enough, John, if you’re dissatisfied with something, don’t drag Her Majesty the Queen into it.”

Hearing the Duke of Wellington speak, Lord Lindhurst had no choice but to wave his hand: ”Alright, Your Excellency, but what do you think? Her Majesty the Queen seems to appreciate her Prime Minister, perhaps overly so.”

”Young, isolated, newly ascended, thus immature.” The Earl of Aberdeen, with his gentle temperament, sensed the explosiveness in Lord Lindhurst’s words and quickly came forward to mediate: ”She hasn’t learned how to be a competent monarch yet, but at least at the age of 18, she’s not doing particularly poorly.”

”Beautifully said.” Lord Stanley, who left the Whig Party over the Ireland Church issue, sat by the fireplace, pulling a cigar from a silver box: ”So you mean we should mimic Melbourne and choose an amiable old man to visit the palace every day to tell her bedtime stories?”

The Duke of Wellington, seeing that they seemed to be rallying against the Queen, stood up and said: ”That’s enough, gentlemen. Rather than focusing on what kind of stories Her Majesty the Queen likes to hear, we should devote our energies to resolving the negative impact the Whig Party has brought to the government.”

With that, the old Duke instinctively tossed the topic to his most trusted ally: ”Don’t you agree, Robert?”

Hearing the Duke of Wellington call him, Peel had to interrupt the party secretary’s report and turned to console the influential figures within the Conservative Party: ”As far as this election goes, our situation isn’t too bad, certainly much better than five years ago. Although the Whig Party secured 344 seats this time, considering that nearly sixty of these actually come from their allies, those Reform Radicals and the O’Connell Faction from Ireland. Therefore, in reality, the seats they firmly control are only 284. In contrast, on our side, we secured 314 seats this time, and in terms of seat numbers alone, we have surpassed the Whig Party. In other words, with the conclusion of this election, we have basically ensured that the Whig Party will no longer be able to do as they please in the Lower House.”

Hearing this, Lord Lindhurst laughed and said: ”I think this isn’t the most delightful news. If we talk about the most amusing thing about this election, it would have to be Palmerston losing his seat at Cambridge University.”

The few old gentlemen buried in their newspapers couldn’t help but lower their heads further.

Clearly, everyone was secretly laughing.

In theory, nobles like Palmerston wouldn’t need to exhaust themselves participating in election campaigns.

After all, nobles should sit high in the House of Lords and issue commands.

However, unfortunately, Palmerston’s noble title is Irish.

Irish nobility, in terms of political rights, can’t compare with English nobility and those granted United Kingdom titles after 1801, as not every Irish noble can obtain a seat in the House of Lords.