The Shadow of Great Britain

Louis did not deny it, which in itself was an answer.

”The coronation ceremony is imminent, and the French delegation will arrive in a month.” Arthur seemed to be reciting a memorandum he had long memorized: ”Duke of Nemour, Marshal Soult, these two names have appeared on my desk so many times in the past few days that I begin to wonder if White Hall has already come under the jurisdiction of the French Government.”

Louis looked at his teacup: ”I suspect you’ve got Scotland Yard watching me.”

”Not watching you.” Arthur corrected: ”Watching all those who might make that day less dignified, Louis, it’s my duty.”

Louis raised his head and met his gaze.

”So, you should understand now.” Arthur continued: ”Your presence here today is already a problem.”

The living room fell briefly silent.

The sunlight still shone on the table, the scent of muffins lingered, and outside, London seemed unaware of it all. But at this dining table, both of them were acutely aware that what they were discussing was no longer a trivial matter fit for breakfast.

”I haven’t planned anything foolish.” Louis finally spoke, his tone a bit lower than before: ”At least, not at this time.”

”Foolish things usually start that way.” Arthur said: ”With the sentence ’I haven’t planned anything.’”

Louis exhaled lightly, as if finally giving up the idea of continuing to beat around the bush: ”Don’t be nervous, Arthur, I also worked at Scotland Yard, I know these things would get you in trouble. I came here today just to confirm something with you, with absolutely no intention of causing trouble.”

Louis paused, then stood up: ”I hope you can provide me with Marshal Soult’s itinerary in London.”

Arthur’s brow raised almost immediately, not obvious, but firm enough.

”If you just wanted to confirm one thing, then you have now confirmed it.”

Louis hesitated for a moment: ”Arthur...”

Arthur raised his hand to interrupt him: ”The itinerary of the French delegation, whether public or unpublished, should in principle not appear on this dining table.”

”I understand the importance of confidentiality. But I’m not asking for the complete itinerary, I just want...”

”Louis.”

This call wasn’t loud, but it made Louis instinctively halt his words.

”You’ve been at Scotland Yard, and you are my secretary.” Arthur said: ”So you should be more aware than anyone that knowing one single route is enough to stage an assassination.”

As those words landed, the air in the living room seemed to abruptly tighten.

Louis’s expression finally showed a significant change.

”You know I don’t mean that.” He said quickly: ”If I really had such intentions, I wouldn’t be sitting here, much less come directly to you. Arthur, I’m not trying to flatter you, but I believe no criminal in London would come to discuss their crime plans with Britain’s finest officer before execution.”

”You’re right.” Arthur said: ”Those who really intend to act wouldn’t sit here. But the issue is, my duty is not only to combat crime but also to avoid creating favorable conditions for any potential crime.”

He gently tapped the table: ”You wanting Soult’s itinerary, this matter itself isn’t illegal nor necessarily dangerous. But the danger is, if I give you the itinerary, then regardless of what happens later, even if just an insignificant accident, both of us would become suspects.”

Louis remained silent for a long time, then sat back in the chair, clasping his fingers, knuckles slightly white: ”What do you think I’m plotting?”

”I don’t know.” Arthur answered with extreme candor: ”And there’s no need to know.”

”Then what are you basing this on...”

”On your identity, on my position.” Arthur interrupted him: ”On the fact that I must assume the worst-case scenario, instead of the gentlest motives. Louis, you’re not an ordinary exile. Your surname is Bonaparte, and that in itself is a political act.”

Louis gave a bitter smile: ”So even wanting to meet a fellow Frenchman turns me into a potential criminal?”

”You’re not a potential criminal, and I’m willing to vouch to the Home Office for that.” Arthur corrected: ”But the problem is, our Foreign Office doesn’t see things that way. Let me tell you one thing, Marshal Soult’s trip, whether in London or on other British territories, will not include any unofficial contact with members of the Bonaparte family because such actions would be too conspiratorial in nature. The Foreign Office at the moment has no intention of interfering with French internal affairs, nor desires diplomatic tensions with the French Government due to the Bonaparte family.”

”Is that your judgment or a command from the Foreign Office?”

”Neither, it’s reality.” Arthur stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a glass of sherry: ”So, if you want to meet him, you can only do so through public, recordable, ways where the British Government can distance itself from responsibility. Such as in social occasions publicly declared in newspapers that Marshal Soult will attend, introductions through a third party, or you happen to appear in a living room with sufficient witnesses, but those matters shouldn’t be arranged by me.”