The Shadow of Great Britain

The Duchess of Kent did not immediately take a seat. She stood by the breakfast table, her eyes naturally sweeping over the silver pot and bread basket, then, as if finally realizing something, she paused slightly.

”Oh?” she spoke softly, her tone even carrying a touch of perfectly measured surprise: ”Is Sir Arthur sitting in Viscount Melbourne’s seat today? Is the Prime Minister not joining you for breakfast today?”

As these words fell, Arthur couldn’t help but feel a jolt in his heart.

Not because he was named, but because he immediately realized that the Duchess of Kent said this deliberately.

Although it was obviously not aimed directly at him, he still felt as if he were on pins and needles, being caught in the background of a mother-daughter conflict.

Sir Arthur regretted twice in his life learning German, the first time being when Gauss wrote to him about three-dimensional space issues, and the second time was right now.

Victoria raised her head, clearly not expecting her mother to start off like this either.

”He didn’t come today.” She answered quickly, but did not explain the reason.

The Duchess of Kent displayed a faint smile, like a sigh of relief: ”That’s good. I was worried before that the Prime Minister’s affairs had become so numerous that he wouldn’t even spare you on Sunday mornings.”

This remark was made very appropriately, sounding like a normal motherly concern for her daughter.

No accusations, no complaints, not even mentioning Viscount Melbourne’s interference with Buckingham Palace, yet it exposed who more frequently appeared at the breakfast table in Buckingham Palace completely in the sunlight.

The dining room fell into a brief silence.

Victoria’s fingers tightened slightly under the napkin.

Of course, she understood what her mother was saying, even clearer than her mother thought.

”Mother.” She finally spoke, her tone still restrained: ”Viscount Melbourne is just unwell, it was not I who made him absent.”

”I never said you made him absent.” The Duchess replied gently, as she took a seat: ”I am just glad that today he has finally understood propriety.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur almost couldn’t help clutching his heart, preparing to tell a Tower of London story.

It was only at this point that he realized how fortunate ladies were to have the option to faint at balls anytime, anywhere.

But alas, in Buckingham Palace, with so many eyes watching, if he were to faint in front of the Queen and her mother, it would undoubtedly be exploited by various political enemies, leaving him a laughing stock for a lifetime.

Victoria glanced up at her mother.

This was one of the rare times since her ascension that she had directly met that gaze.

”Propriety?” She repeated the word: ”Mother, what exactly do you consider propriety?”

The Duchess of Kent leisurely unfastened her gloves, placing them on her lap, her motions as composed as if this were just an ordinary morning conversation.

”For a young Queen...” she finally spoke: ”Propriety is knowing when the people around you are assisting you, and when they are making decisions for you.”

Having long finished his rice pudding, Arthur kept his head down, attentively slicing the bacon on his plate, as if there were some state secret worth delving into, hidden within its fibers.

He was well aware that even a glance upward at this moment would drag him into a confrontation that wasn’t intended for him, yet he was present for.

”Viscount Melbourne has never made decisions for me.” Victoria replied without backing down: ”He merely provides advice when I need it.”

”I know.” The Duchess of Kent nodded: ”He has always been good at ’giving advice.’ I am just worried that one day, you will realize that you haven’t finished a breakfast on your own, without his company, in a long time.”

This statement finally crossed an invisible line.

Victoria’s hand clenched entirely.

”Mother!” Her voice was a bit clearer than before: ”I am already the Queen.”

”Precisely because of that.” The Duchess of Kent raised her eyes to her daughter: ”I must remind you.”

The atmospheric pressure in the dining room seemed to drop by several kilopascals.

Arthur finally realized that the national secret within the bacon had been thoroughly examined.

He set down the knife and fork, cleared his throat lightly, his tone cautious yet restrained, treading carefully: ”Your Majesty, Your Highness...”

The eyes of both mother and daughter fell on him at the same time.

”If I might dare to say...” Arthur bent slightly: ”After breakfast, there are several scheduled matters to attend to. The Cabinet and Parliament are set to discuss them tomorrow, and considering there are connections to be made in the afternoon, it would be best if Your Majesty could make a decision before nine-thirty in the morning...”

Once Arthur finished speaking, the dining room did not immediately respond.

The Duchess of Kent did not immediately look to Victoria but first returned her gaze to the dining table, seemingly to calm her emotions.

If the previous words had come from Viscount Melbourne, she would likely have coldly pointed out: ”The Prime Minister seems to even want to include the Queen’s breakfast time into the Cabinet schedule.”

If it were an inconsiderate noble speaking, she needn’t even utter a word; a glance would suffice for the other to understand what crossing the line meant.

But the one who spoke now was Arthur Hastings, a courtier whose character and ability had been tested through the reigns of George IV, King William IV, and Victoria over 28 years.

More importantly, he was a Knight who understood propriety during the Kensington days and continued to maintain proper distance after Victoria’s coronation.

The Duchess of Kent remained silent for a moment, finally nodding slightly.