The Shadow of Great Britain

"Benjamin? Benjamin Disraeli? That shameless guy isn’t worth getting so worked up over." Heine adjusted his cravat. "What I saw was my cousin-in-law!"

"Cousin-in-law?" Arthur blinked, completely not expecting this answer. "You mean your rival in love? From the past?"

"Yes!" Heine’s voice dropped a notch, but his anger didn’t diminish at all. "That sanctimonious Mozesales! You know him, right? The music director of the London Philharmonic Association! A professor at the London Music College! He’s also at this concert tonight!"

Arthur was stunned for a moment upon hearing this. "Wait, you mean Ignaz Mozesales is your cousin-in-law?"

"What else?" Heine’s eyes flashed a mix of humiliation and jealousy as he said bitterly. "He married my cousin, my poor, naive cousin who was still playing Schubert’s nocturnes! A girl from Dresden, who was not even twenty at the time, and was deceived by that old man!"

Arthur thought Heine’s words were a bit unfair because he remembered Mozesales got married when he was around thirty. Thirty isn’t exactly young, but it certainly doesn’t qualify as old, does it?

But even with these thoughts, to avoid developing "a German hemorrhoid," he had to submit to Heine.

Arthur tilted his head slightly, as if trying to hold back laughter. "I’ve heard that Mrs. Mozesales plays the piano very well."

"Of course she plays well!" Heine snorted. "That’s because I taught her hands-on!"

At this point, Heine seemed a bit dejected. "My cousin is now sitting beside Mozesales, dressed in high-end Parisian fashion, admiring top musicians of Europe in Buckingham Palace, while I can only sneak backstage like an attendant! Is there anything more ridiculous in this world?"

Arthur couldn’t hold back his hemorrhoid remark: "At least it shows that your cousin didn’t marry the wrong man."

"Arthur!" Heine couldn’t help but want to roar: "This isn’t something that can be settled with just signing a few bills!"

Just as Heine was about to lose his temper, Eld’s voice suddenly echoed from the end of the corridor: "Girls, aren’t they all the same everywhere? Heinrich, why get hung up on this?"

"Damn!" Heine rolled his eyes. "Stay out of this! You don’t even understand romance!"

"Romance?" Eld shrugged. "Maybe not. But I understand ports. Girls at the port are like your cousin. They all like men who can play the piano, but once one of them can take them away, they won’t sing your songs anymore."

"Shut up!" Heine blushed, nearly wanting to rush over and grab him by the collar.

Arthur quickly reached out to stop him. "Alright, alright, Heinrich, don’t really take Eld seriously. His mouth always moves faster than his brain. You surely don’t want to become like him?"

Heine angrily let go. "My cousin is different. She’s not that kind of shallow woman!"

Eld was about to tease more, but seeing Heine’s anger, which was nothing like the Great Dumas who could take a joke, he had to relent, saying: "Fine, Heinrich, after tonight’s show, let’s go to Leicester Square. I’ll buy you a drink. If by then you still insist that girls are indeed different, I’ll apologise to you."

Arthur looked at these two troublesome friends and couldn’t help but shake his head. "Leicester Square? I advise you to take it easy."

"Why? Afraid we’ll cause trouble by drinking too much?"

"Trouble is the least of it." Arthur warned, "Due to Leopold’s visit to Britain recently, the Home Office and Foreign Office are keeping a close watch on the public order in London. Leicester Square, being an area with frequent incidents, is naturally a focus for Scotland Yard. If you must go, remember to give them a heads-up, let Scotland Yard know."

Just as Arthur finished speaking, suddenly, lively and brisk string music flowed from the direction of the concert hall.

The moment the strings resonated, the entire palace air was gently vibrated.

Arthur paused in his steps, his expression slightly changed. "It has begun."

It was the overture to "The Barber of Seville," the brilliant work of opera master Rossini and the overture for this evening’s concert.

...

The banquet hall was resplendent, with crystal chandeliers hanging under the dome, lights like flowing streams of gold.

The air was filled with a blend of candle and rose scents, and the music surged from center stage.

In the very front of the guest seats, in the most central position, sat the eighteen-year-old Queen Victoria.

Tonight, she chose a captivating pale gold satin gown, with a Garter Star pinned on her chest, symbolizing her status as head of the Garter Knight Order.

On her right sat Leopold I, who today appeared in a Belgian ceremonial military uniform, silver-lined, with four medals arrayed across his chest.

Leopold owned many medals, but the ones he chose to wear tonight were obviously carefully selected. Besides the Leopold Grand Cross Star symbolizing his status as the head of the Belgian Leopold Knight Order, he also wore the British Garter Medal, the Bath Medal, and the Royal Guelf Medal of the Kingdom of Hanover.

Sitting next to him was the Belgian Queen, Princess Louise-Marie of Orleans from France. Fortunately, her facial features were not overly influenced by her father Louis Philippe, so she didn’t look like a pear, which would have been quite a blow for a young woman otherwise.

"Portrait of Queen Louise-Marie of Belgium" by German painter Franz Xaver Winterhalter, painted in 1841

On Victoria’s left, the seat was occupied by her mother, the Duchess of Kent.

The Duchess of Kent maintained her usual flamboyant attire, with layers of pearls and amethysts adorning her neck.

She smiled, occasionally whispering softly with Queen Adelaide beside her. It seemed that their relationship indeed improved after her daughter ascended to the throne, at least in public. The Duchess of Kent no longer showed jealousy toward Adelaide.

As for Queen Adelaide, her appearance was still haggard, seemingly unable to move past her husband’s passing. She rarely joined in the conversation, only occasionally nodding gently to the music, as if accompanying Mr. Costa’s conducting.

And seated around them were various royal family members, including the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, and several of Victoria’s elderly aunts.

In this particular concert, only those generals who had achieved distinguished service during the Napoleonic Wars could sit alongside the royal family members.

Leading them was the hero of Waterloo, the Duke of Wellington.

The old Duke was seated toward the right center, next to the Leopold couple, his posture still upright. However, each time the music reached its climax, he frowned slightly, seemingly trying hard to discern the layers of notes.

Seeing the Duke of Wellington in this manner, Leopold couldn’t help but switch places with his wife and leaned over to talk to him: "Can you hear the performance clearly?"

The Duke of Wellington replied, "I’m trying, Your Majesty!"