The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1943 - 59: Spider? What Kind of Web Are You Weaving, You Spider_2

The candlelight danced across Flora’s face, and she could feel the subtle pressure from Arthur’s palm.

Flora’s heart fluttered uncontrollably, a shy blush appearing on her cheeks. Even her breath became slightly hasty, her skirt sweeping across the floor with the rhythm, as if trying to envelop the sudden heartbeat.

The Earl of Liverpool listened to Conroy’s grievances without a change in expression, merely lifting his cane to tap gently on the carpet: "Sir John, please remember that in the matter of succession, merit cannot be anyone’s talisman. However..."

He looked at Conroy, who seemed like a lost dog, and suddenly changed his tone, extending an olive branch: "Your contributions, of course, cannot be denied by anyone. Should the unfortunate truly happen, Her Highness will have to take on responsibilities. She indeed needs a capable assistant for financial matters. If you’re willing to focus your energy on accounting and managing the Treasury, I will consider recommending you for this position to the Cabinet. You will receive a substantial pension and retain a very respectable status."

Conroy’s dull eyes suddenly brightened, but the Earl of Liverpool immediately added a condition: "The premise is, you must not interfere in governmental affairs under any pretense, nor influence Her Highness’s decisions. More importantly, you need to clearly and openly express to everyone that you respect Her Highness’s independence."

Arthur’s dance steps faltered slightly, pulling Flora, who was drowning in dizzy and bewildered emotions, back to reality.

She suddenly realized that she had been immersed in that almost dangerous intimacy, her heartbeat almost more urgent than the music.

Her fingers trembled lightly in Arthur’s palm, yet Flora couldn’t bring herself to withdraw her hand.

When Flora looked up, she coincidentally met Arthur’s faint smile.

In an instant, that gentle smile almost captured her entirely.

She couldn’t discern whether she was afraid or infatuated, only feeling the heat on her cheeks growing more intense, as if her whole being was drawn into Arthur’s aura.

Arthur’s peripheral vision swept across the Earl of Liverpool, immediately grasping the thoughts of the Conservative Party’s elder nobleman.

He, Arthur Hastings, followed the wishes and requests of His Majesty the King and the prominent figures to St. James’s Palace today, and wasn’t the Earl of Liverpool here for the same reason?

However, given the different circumstances and statuses, the means of dealing with Conroy were naturally different.

The Earl of Liverpool never intended to solely dismiss Conroy nor to entirely strip him of power. Such an approach would be too crude and would certainly provoke the strong resentment of the Duchess of Kent, possibly even triggering a backlash from this sensitive German widow. With the previous Ramsgate incident as a lesson, being too harsh on Conroy at this critical moment would instead make Victoria’s situation more precarious.

From a personal perspective, the Earl of Liverpool, this old slippery fish, actually had no desire to overly offend Kensington Palace.

Even though the relationship between Victoria and her mother was currently strained, who could guarantee they wouldn’t reconcile in the future?

If the relationship became too strained, should they suddenly reconcile and become affectionate, the Earl of Liverpool would be caught in an awkward position.

Therefore, what the Earl of Liverpool wanted was a nobleman’s graceful removal.

On the surface, he acknowledged Conroy’s hard work and even generously offered to vouch for Conroy, presenting him with the position of Queen’s Treasury Steward and a considerable pension.

However, this was merely his verbal promise, with no written document to substantiate it.

The Earl of Liverpool could certainly petition the Cabinet and even publicly advocate for Conroy.

As for whether things would work out...

That was beyond his capacity.

If successful, Conroy would be indebted to him.

If not, it would be the fault of the Whig Party Cabinet, and Conroy, even if resentful, would hold a grudge against Viscount Melbourne and his Cabinet members.

This old fox...

Crafts things quite "meticulously"!

He’s taken all the credit for being the good guy!

The flickering candlelight wavered in Conroy’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth, suppressing the bulging veins on his forehead.

Once proud, he now had no choice but to bow his head.

He knew well he had no other options.

If he refused now, he would be driving himself to a cliff, without even a vine to cling to.

Finally, he let out a long sigh: "Your Excellency... since you insist, I can only accept."

As he finished speaking, Conroy slowly extended his hand, his movements filled with reluctance but maintaining a hint of dignity.

The Earl of Liverpool remained expressionless as he calmly extended his hand to shake his: "Don’t be too disheartened, Sir John, your contributions are openly acknowledged. I believe in due time, everyone will understand your good intentions. When that time comes, you will certainly be reinstated. After all, besides the Duchess of Kent, there’s probably no one who understands Her Highness better than you."

Hearing this, a flicker of hope reignited in Conroy’s eyes: "In due time, reinstated?"

"Indeed." The Earl of Liverpool smiled as he took off his hat: "Just like Sir Arthur Hastings."

Upon hearing this, Conroy felt as if he had swallowed a dead fly; the name pierced into his ears like a cold arrow at this unfortunate moment.

Yet, being under the eaves, he had no choice but to bow his head. All he could do was awkwardly agree: "Indeed, just like... Sir Arthur Hastings."

Instinctively, he looked around the dance floor and found Arthur dancing gracefully with Flora, composed and with a faint smile, seemingly oblivious to the turbulent exchanges between Conroy and the Earl of Liverpool earlier.

Conroy’s chest tightened, a nameless sense of humiliation welling up inside.

Recalling his own humble demeanor just moments ago and seeing Arthur in his dignified and effortless stance, it felt like being skinned alive, the bloody shame swirling in his heart.

However, the Earl of Liverpool did not offer him a single word of consolation.

He lightly dusted off his sleeve, put on his hat, and said: "Let this be the end of tonight’s conversation, Sir John. I will remember my promise, and I hope you’ll remember yours."

With that, he nodded slightly and turned to leave, heading straight toward the dance floor.

Liverpool’s steps seemed in sync with the rhythm, his eyes fixed firmly on Arthur.

When the music shifted, he reached the edge of the dance floor, speaking softly to Arthur: "Sir Arthur, please come over when you have a moment. I have matters I hope you can convey to Her Highness, particularly the consensus Sir John Conroy and I reached just now."

Flora was still immersed in her world with Arthur, and when the drumbeat paused, she raised her face, catching her breath as if emerging from underwater, her eyes still dazzled.

Arthur’s palm continued to hold her hand back, maintaining decorum, but a rich scent emanated from him.

"Forgive me, Flora," he said, lowering his voice, as gentle as a whisper: "The Earl of Liverpool needs me over there."

"Now?" Flora instinctively questioned, knowing the answer yet still wanting to extend the moment by even a beat.

Arthur’s fingers gently closed, drawing back her racing heartbeat half a step.

He leaned in a bit deeper than usual, so much that Flora could catch the unique scent of tobacco and citrus cologne wafting from his collar.

"Her Highness needs a reliable messenger." Arthur paused, noticing the tide in her eyes, then bowed lower: "I’m sorry."

"I understand." She tried to keep her emotions in her smile, but her fingers trembled in his palm: "It’s just... I haven’t finished the last half of this dance."

"Then leave that half for me." Arthur’s voice was light, almost a whisper: "When I return, we can continue."

Flora nodded, reluctantly stepping aside, her skirt elegantly retreating like a gentle breeze.

She suddenly realized she was still clutching his lapel, her face reddening as she urged: "Go and come back quickly, I’ll wait for you."

(Another Chapter, coming soon)