The Shadow of Great Britain

Arthur smiled at the words: "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your fondness for my early experiences."

Victoria was taken aback, as if she did not immediately grasp the weight of Arthur’s words.

Moments later, she realized that he was likening himself to the orphan on the stage.

Victoria’s eyelashes lightly trembled, and an indescribable mix of pity and shock surged in her eyes.

"You mean..." Her voice was so soft it seemed she feared disturbing someone: "You are Oliver?"

Arthur laughed and shook his head, with a hint of self-deprecating humor in his weakened state: "No, Your Majesty. I am not Oliver, but there is a shadow of me in Oliver. At least I didn’t encounter Old Fagin and Bill Sikes, nor did I meet Nancy and Miss Mei Li."

Victoria’s heart tightened abruptly at the mention of "Nancy" and "Miss Mei Li."

She had not read the original work, only seen the orphan’s image on stage, but Arthur’s understated confession cut a wound into her heart like a blunt knife.

She wanted to say something, but her throat was dry, and not a single word could be squeezed out for a long time.

The person before her was not a character from the book, but the teacher she most relied on and revered.

She still remembered how Arthur spoke eloquently in the Rose Hall at Kensington Palace back in the day, his composed courage as described by the newspapers at Golden Cross Station, and the person who rescued her from Conroy’s clutches last year in Ramsgate.

But now, this extraordinary hero, this figure revered by all at Scotland Yard, was sitting on a hospital bed at London Free General Hospital, calmly comparing himself to the orphan Oliver.

Victoria suddenly felt breathless, her eyes misted over.

"Arthur..." She lowered her voice, as if fearing others might hear, or that she might choke up: "Why have you never told me? I wonder... I truly never knew you came through like this."

Arthur looked at her, his gaze peaceful, even carrying a hint of comforting tenderness: "Because it’s unimportant, Your Majesty, those are all things of the past. And now, as your subject, I am very content with the situation I find myself in."

I am very content...

Very content...

This sentence completely shattered the defenses in Victoria’s heart.

Her shoulders lightly trembled, and she raised her hand to cover her eyes, but despite her utmost restraint, tears slipped through her fingers.

Lady Leisen saw this and was about to step forward to comfort her, but Victoria raised her hand to block her.

Recognizing that Her Majesty’s loss of composure today was inevitable, Lady Leisen turned away, pulling Disraeli towards the door: "Sir, let’s go outside and chat."

Disraeli, momentarily speechless from being shocked by the scene before him, felt relieved to comply with Lady Leisen’s suggestion: "Of course, madam, thank you for your kindness."

Victoria couldn’t help but reach out, gently placing her hand on Arthur’s hand, just as Arthur had done for her back in Ramsgate.

An inexplicable sense of guilt welled up within her.

All along, she had always believed Sir Arthur Hastings, her teacher, to be unbreakable, a person who could deftly navigate between White Hall and court, a person whose presence could rally people amid street riots, a reliable pillar in her life.

She even subconsciously regarded him as a sort of superhuman, one who would never tire, never show weakness, never fall.

Yet now, as she grasped this hand that wasn’t particularly broad yet was strong, she truly felt the chill and frailty within.

This wasn’t a superhuman’s hand, but a mortal’s hand, one which had once clung to grass in the cold night for warmth, stared at watery porridge in hunger, and relied on sheer stubbornness to survive as an orphan.

"Arthur..." Her voice was almost inaudible: "In the past... Was I too selfish, too willful? I always thought you were omnipotent. I wanted you to help me out of trouble, to appear at St Martin’s Church, at St. James’s Palace, in Kensington, in Windsor at any time. I never thought that you, too, are human, that you could be tired, could hurt, could need someone’s comfort..."

Her tears slid down her face, landing on Arthur’s hand, spreading into a small damp patch.

"I always thought... If you didn’t say anything, it meant you didn’t care. But actually, you just buried your pain too deep, reluctant to let me see. You taught me independence, taught me how to wield my power, yet I never thought about how you, too, are human... No one has ever said an empathetic word to you, no one has ever thanked you for your sacrifices, as if everything you did was a matter of course..."

"I thought I was a girl who needed protection, so I would rely on you unquestioningly, regard you as a wall, as a crutch that supports me forward. But I forgot, walls can weather, crutches can break. Arthur, I was too selfish, always thinking about what I could gain from you, but never about whether you might need..."

At this point, Victoria finally couldn’t help but choke up, she lightly pressed her forehead against Arthur’s hand, her voice soaked with tears: "Please forgive me, Arthur... Please forgive me..."

For a moment, the hospital room was terrifyingly quiet, leaving only Victoria’s suppressed sobs and breathing.

Arthur looked at the girl before him, or rather, Her Majesty the Queen.

He wanted to reach out to wipe away her tears but was afraid his makeup might be dampened by the tears.

So he merely moved his fingers slightly, using those chilled, trembling fingers to gently hold her hand.

He had actually prepared many lines today and gone over numerous rehearsals in his mind, but no amount of acting could match genuine emotions.

For today’s performance, Victoria’s extraordinary display has already been enough.

At such a display, anything more he said would only be redundant.

Furthermore, at this moment, he indeed didn’t know what needed to be said, or rather, he knew he shouldn’t say anything more.

Admittedly, he was a political fraud, but compared to the seasoned political frauds, his meager conscience still made him seem rather inexperienced.