The Shadow of Great Britain

"Pieced together?" Arthur stared at him.

"Yes! Sir! Really pieced together! I don’t know anyone from the court, nor has anyone told me the inside story. I just stood at the palace gate, freezing until my nose went numb, and pieced it together sentence by sentence!"

"If it’s merely just that..." Arthur put down the quill, gently closing the dossier, "then there was absolutely no need to invite you to Scotland Yard."

Mr. Lewis was stunned: "What do you mean?"

Arthur picked up his teacup again, almost taking a sip for politeness: "Mr. Lewis, piecing together the program list, seating arrangements, and repertoire of the Buckingham Palace concert from the palace gate rumors is truly your skill, and it’s not illegal."

He paused, gently placing the teacup back onto the silver tray: "But what really interests me is another matter."

Lewis’s throat tightened abruptly: "Which... which matter?"

"How did you know that Liszt was having an affair with a Countess in Paris?"

Lewis was dumbfounded: "I... I knew? Did I write that sentence?"

"Of course you did." Arthur pulled the article from the drawer: "It’s well-written, seemingly ambiguous, half-concealed, and very well-versed. Although the rumors about Liszt’s private life are rampant in the Paris music circle, I think this news hasn’t spread to London yet, right? More importantly, why hint at Viscount Melbourne’s relationship with Her Majesty the Queen in your report?"

Lewis shouted and stood up: "I didn’t hint! I definitely didn’t deliberately hint!"

"Which means, you heard it from someone?" Arthur stared at him: "And you don’t remember who said it, right?"

Lewis, being caught in his thoughts, looked as red as the celebratory red bricks of the outer wall: "I, I..."

His brain was a mush, Lewis desperately tried to recall, but the more anxious he became, the harder it was to remember.

He grabbed his hair: "God! That day standing outside the palace...everyone was talking...who did I hear it from...I, I..."

"Take your time, I have plenty of time today." Arthur held his teacup, casually picking up a newspaper: "This matter is of great importance. The clearer your memory, the more it benefits you. Otherwise, I’ll have to consider it as your personal ingenuity."

"I... I remembered...part of it."

Arthur didn’t even lift his eyes; he shook the newspaper and turned to the next page: "You’d better think again, complete those details. Otherwise, if I see through it, you won’t have any chance to defend further."

Lewis swallowed: "Liszt’s love life, I heard it from...from a gentleman."

"What kind of gentleman?"

"A... gentleman with a hint of a German accent." Lewis tried hard to remember: "He stood outside the palace scolding Liszt fiercely, and his scolding was quite distinctive...so my memory is very vivid."

"What did he scold?"

Lewis recalled the gentleman’s tone, vividly mimicking: "Liszt’s little tricks, I’ve heard them a thousand times in the cafes of Paris. Yesterday he was sighing in the Countess’s embrace, today he’s posing as a saint in front of the British Queen? If it weren’t for his impeccable hands, I’d almost think he’s here to beg..."

That tone, that manner, and that biting sentence structure...

Arthur felt that probably nowhere in the world could one find another person who could say such things.

There are many who bear grudges against Liszt, and quite a few with strong attacks, but to also have a German accent, a biting nature, and rather high literary prowess, who else could it be but Heinrich Heine?

Oh well, not a particularly surprising answer, let it be.

Arthur said nothing, merely continued to inquire: "Then what about the other one? The innuendo about Viscount Melbourne and Her Majesty the Queen. Where did you hear that from?"

This time, Lewis was silent for much longer, so long that Arthur almost thought he was about to start making things up again.

But Lewis was shaking.

"That...that speaking noblewoman..." Lewis’s voice was hoarse: "She...she was sitting in a carriage parked by the roadside, I didn’t see her face, but she seemed to speak in German or Dutch...so should not be an Englishwoman..."

Arthur’s eyelids finally lifted, as if some detail caught his thoughts: "German? Dutch? You understand?"

"I...I definitely don’t understand! Sir, I don’t even speak French! I only heard her speaking a...a non-English language, but it didn’t sound like French or Spanish, so I guessed Dutch or German."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, suspecting Lewis was bluffing him: "Then since you don’t understand, how did you comprehend those innuendoes about Her Majesty the Queen and Viscount Melbourne?"

Lewis hastened to explain: "Yes, I didn’t understand...but she wasn’t alone in the carriage! That woman spoke in a foreign language, but there was also a gentleman, a purely English gentleman in the carriage! The lady spoke in a foreign language, and the gentleman replied to her in English! I inferred from his English responses!"

"So..." Arthur slowly said: "You didn’t understand the lady’s exact words, you’re deducing based on the gentleman’s English reply?"

"Yes, yes!" Lewis nodded quickly: "I definitely didn’t embellish! The gentleman...his tone was particularly obvious when he replied, as if complaining, he was saying how Her Majesty is too young, shouldn’t have those people so close, and...there was one particularly clear sentence..."

"What?"

Lewis mimicked the gentleman’s distinctive local accent: "Now, Her Majesty is surrounded by sycophantic old politicians, especially Melbourne, that old fox, who specializes in capturing young women’s hearts. He’s trying to meddle, thinking he can be her Walpole, but I won’t let him succeed. If we don’t help that foolish girl vet them, the court will eventually fall into that old geezer’s hands. Just wait, just watch, when the time for the coronation comes, when the girl truly dons the crown, without us supporting her, she wouldn’t sit steady."

Silence.

Long and dangerous silence.

Lewis kept his head down, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Arthur stood up; everything was laid bare.

In this world, only one man would describe Victoria in such a manner.

Only one.

John Conroy.

As for the noblewoman speaking German or Dutch riding with him, it could only be the Duchess of Kent.

Arthur knew the Duchess of Kent had once briefly left the ballroom between the concert and the ball that day, but he hadn’t expected her brief absence to be for meeting Conroy. And Conroy, who wasn’t allowed into Buckingham Palace, surprisingly spent the entire night waiting in the Duchess of Kent’s carriage.

What to say?

The fact that these two hadn’t split up until now makes them quite a "star-crossed lovers."

But for Arthur, if he fails to separate these "star-crossed lovers," then reconciliation between Victoria and her mother remains out of reach.

If reconciliation between Victoria and her mother is out of reach, this could affect her view of maternal relatives in minor ways, impacting whether Albert can smoothly become the King’s Consort. After all, Albert, as the nephew of the Duchess of Kent, clearly couldn’t badmouth his aunt, especially when she’s been kind to him.

On a larger scale, if Conroy and the Duchess of Kent don’t separate, and Victoria doesn’t reconcile with her mother, it’s detrimental to Victoria’s public image. Moreover, it gives Arthur no chance to promote the "mother-daughter reconciliation," which helps him further solidify his genuine, honest, upright, and kind persona in his rivalry with Viscount Melbourne.

After all, in this mother-daughter conflict, Viscount Melbourne decisively supports Victoria in drawing a line with her mother, and for differentiation’s sake, Arthur has already taken the opposite side. Losing this battle would indeed affect his career!