The Shadow of Great Britain

She glanced over several lines of text, initially encountering the formal and rigid colonial report, filled with data on taxes, gatherings, and public order.

But as she turned to the second page, an abrupt line caught Victoria’s eye.

— If my suggestions are again rejected by the Cabinet, then I will have no choice but to resign from the position of Governor of Lower Canada.

Victoria looked up at Viscount Melbourne, a trace of astonishment in her eyes, which soon turned to anger: ”Is he... is he threatening to resign?”

Viscount Melbourne sighed: ”Dalmo is always like this, Your Majesty. His rebellious nature, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. He always remembers that he’s a champion of Parliamentary reform, but often forgets his role as a colonial governor. I know how he thinks; if he can’t implement the principles of responsible government, it’s tantamount to colluding with the reactionaries.”

Hearing this, Victoria couldn’t help but express her anger: ”I do not wish to disrespect the Earl of Dalmo, but if every governor acted like him, threatening resignation when faced with challenges, wouldn’t the very foundation of the nation shake?”

Viscount Melbourne, hearing Victoria’s intense criticism of the Earl of Dalmo, defended him, saying: ”In a sense, without him, the Parliamentary reform in 1832 might not have succeeded. So his achievements cannot be erased. However, we’ve seen the consequences of such radical reform. Have you forgotten? Perhaps Sir Arthur Hastings didn’t tell you about his past, but as a former Home Secretary, I distinctly remember, this finest officer of Great Britain almost perished in this tide.”

Victoria was filled with displeasure due to Dalmo’s ”resign if disagree” threat, but when Viscount Melbourne mentioned the name ”Sir Arthur Hastings,” her heart unexpectedly trembled.

She recalled the letter Arthur sent her from Paris, remembering how this esteemed mentor mentioned that his chest, his heart seemed to ache again these days.

In that moment, Victoria felt somewhat ashamed.

This national hero, despite his discomfort and their quarrel, still remembered the matter of the Buckingham Palace concert.

It wasn’t through intermediaries that he addressed it, but he personally traveled to Paris.

And this was merely to utilize his connections in the arts to find a few pianists capable of supporting the concert for her.

Poor Sir Arthur Hastings, he seemed to always play such a thankless role.

He could have hidden at Scotland Yard during the Parliamentary reform, yet he went to the Tower of London to take a bullet for everyone.

He could have quietly recuperated in Paris, yet he personally reached out to those eccentric artists.

He could have just written a recommendation letter, yet he personally made all the arrangements for her.

For her concert, he was willing to put aside his dignity and bow and scrape to those arrogant pianists.

This old warhorse, even when wronged, kept silent.

At most, he casually mentioned in the letter from Paris, ”the chest pains have worsened somewhat.”

How could there be such a foolish person in this world?

Victoria’s gaze lingered on the letter, though her thoughts were no longer on those lines of text.

Her mind drifted back to that rainy night, the very night that was the final volume of the recently released ”Hastings Case Files,” with the chaotic crowd under the Tower of London, the soldiers’ roars, the echo of stones being thrown, followed by that sudden shot, and the fallen great detective Mr. Hastings in the rubble.

The death of the great detective Hastings still felt like a stone weighing on her heart.

A short while ago, she, like many readers, was displeased that Mr. Arthur Sigma gave the great detective Hastings such an ending and even considered, like other readers, writing to ”The British” magazine to have them change the ending.

But then she got so caught up in the enjoyment of the recent Windsor Ball that she forgot to write the protest letter.

Indeed, time and distraction can fade the memory, but today it was quietly stirred again.

However, now Victoria no longer wanted to write a protest letter. She still mourned the death of the great detective Hastings, but she also admitted it was the best conclusion.

”Your Majesty?” Viscount Melbourne asked, seeing her delayed response and speaking more gently: ”If you are worried about Dalmo’s resignation letter, there is no need to be too upset. Dalmo is indeed rebellious but never intentionally makes things difficult for anyone. Just... sometimes, he’s too stubborn.”

Victoria came back to her senses, appearing somewhat melancholic and tired: ”I understand. It’s not about who’s right or wrong, but today I am indeed a bit weary.”

She closed the letter, adding: ”You may leave. After the Cabinet meeting tomorrow, I will hear your opinions, and then I will give a final decision.”

Viscount Melbourne gave her a glance, perhaps wanting to say something more, but in the end, he only slightly bowed and collected the documents on the table: ”As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The study door slowly closed.

After Viscount Melbourne left, the room returned to its calm.

But this calm could not soothe the disturbance within Victoria’s heart.