The Shadow of Great Britain

"Is that so?" Lord Lyndhurst laughed, gesturing for Disraeli to find a chair and sit down. "Sounds like you’ve brought us good news."

Disraeli coughed lightly, hung his hat on the coat rack, and seated himself with his hands folded on his knees. "Your Excellency, I have brought his stance, or, more accurately, his silence."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Peel stared into Disraeli’s eyes, as if assessing whether this Jewish lad was lying. "Did he deny it?"

"He... neither denied nor admitted it," Disraeli spoke with caution. "However, from my conversation with him, one thing is certain; he truly doesn’t know the origin of ’Lady Melbourne’s’ nickname nor what Fleet Street has been up to this past fortnight."

"I find that hard to believe," Lord Stanley exhaled a plume of smoke. "He’s the secretary-general of the Police Commissioner Committee and the chairman of the board for Empire Publishing Company. It’s perhaps an exaggeration to say he can control every pen on Fleet Street, but how could he not catch any wind of this?"

"Indeed." Lord Lyndhurst, crossing his legs, said, "Could it be that he’s been hiding in a cellar for the past fortnight?"

"It might be slightly better than hiding in a cellar, but perhaps not much..." Disraeli’s mind raced as he racked his brains on how to extricate Arthur from the mess. "Arthur has been holed up in Paris these past two weeks."

"Paris?" The Earl of Ellenborough peeked from behind his newspaper. "That does seem plausible."

The ever-kind Earl of Aberdeen also looked up. "Was he on vacation?"

"Something like that." Disraeli feigned hesitation for a moment, then added, "To be precise, he went with Her Majesty the Queen’s orders, to Paris to scout performers for the Buckingham Palace concert."

No sooner had Disraeli finished speaking, than the gentlemen in the reading room displayed disdainful expressions.

"What a grand state appointment that is."

"I wonder if he also, while in Paris, chose a few lace handkerchiefs for the Queen in the fashion shops?"

"Piano this, concert that..." The Earl of Ellenborough shook his newspaper. "As expected, still a little girl, thinking of nothing but balls and amusements all day."

Hearing them once again starting to criticize the Royal Family, the loyal Duke of Wellington couldn’t stand it any longer. "I say, gentlemen..."

Unexpectedly, Peel, who was usually cold towards the Queen, uncharacteristically interjected, interrupting them. "It’s just organizing a concert, I can understand."

Hearing this, Lord Lyndhurst was somewhat surprised. "Oh? Robert, is the sun rising in the west today?"

Peel glanced at them. "Her Majesty is only eighteen this year, just released from that suffocating cage of Kensington, and is at a stage where everything is fresh and new to her. Besides, compared to organizing concerts, would you rather she focused on cabinet communiqués, budget hearings, and workers’ strike reports?"

Everyone in the room had been navigating British politics for decades; they understood Peel’s implication immediately.

A monarch who enjoys organizing concerts is preferable to one who is keen on scrutinizing parliament and financial budgets. Compared to the former, the latter is truly troublesome.

On this point, even the pro-Royal Family Wellington Duke couldn’t deny it.

Of course, if circumstances allowed, the Old Duke still hoped for a strong, wise, and brave King of Britain to appear.

If a king really possessed such capability, and if he were willing to take full control of the country, the staunch Royalist Duke of Wellington wouldn’t mind leading the charge in promoting "great government return."

However, as it stands, that little lass named Victoria does not currently meet that standard.

Lord Lyndhurst shrugged, smiling indifferently. "Alright then, I admit I’d rather Her Majesty the Queen focus her energy on the piano."

Disraeli seized the moment to add, "Actually, Arthur’s trip to Paris... wasn’t just about the pianist."

Peel raised an eyebrow, opened the liquor cabinet, and poured a glass of sherry. "I knew it. Knowing that lad, if it were just for this small matter, the Thames River would have to flow backward for him to make a personal trip to Paris."

The Duke of Wellington looked serious. "What else did he do?"

"Uh..." Disraeli hesitated, moving his lips with uncertainty. "That matter... he actually didn’t tell me the full details."

"Speak frankly," Peel placed the glass before Disraeli, his tone brooking no refusal.

"Alright." Disraeli gave a bitter smile. "He also happened to... make a trip to Brussels."

As soon as the name Brussels slipped out, all eyes immediately focused on Disraeli.

"What’s his purpose in Belgium?"

"From what I know..." Disraeli seemed finally determined. "It’s for the England Electromagnetic Telegraph Company’s business."

Lord Lyndhurst yawned. "Benjamin, do you know your lie is showing on your face?"

Disraeli blushed at his words. "Your Excellency, I haven’t finished. Although Arthur went to Brussels for the telegraph business with Belgium, what Laken Palace wanted to discuss with him was more than just a couple of telegraph lines. Leopold introduced his nephew Albert to Arthur, and I’m sure you all know, Leopold has a visit to England scheduled towards the end of this month, don’t you?"