Chapter 2184 - 242: Mentor, You Mustn’t! How Can You Establish Another Authority?

The Earl of Dalmo’s residence at 14 Berkeley Square, in the front hall, the gas lamps flickered faintly.

The sound of rain, the sound of boots on wet ground, and faint echoes reverberated in the spacious hall.

Arthur had just stepped inside when the butler quickly closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door shutting and the firm footsteps occurred almost simultaneously.

Arthur’s cloak was heavy with wetness, water droplets dripping from its hem onto the floor, making the servants in the sitting room frown, though none of them dared to step forward. After all, the person standing before them was currently engulfed in a media storm due to his "Police Bill" draft, described by Fleet Street as the monster of Scotland Yard, both celebrated and notorious.

Ellis was the first to notice Arthur in the sitting room, having been discussing tomorrow’s schedule with Dalmo in hushed tones. Upon hearing the footsteps, Ellis turned his head and was dumbfounded, as if he had seen a wild animal that shouldn’t appear in the rain, just escaped from a White Hall hunt.

"My God, Arthur, what is this..."

Before Ellis could finish his sentence, Dalmo had already turned his head.

His eyes, still carrying a tinge of irritation from fury, landed squarely on Arthur.

Dalmo frowned at first, then slightly relaxed his brows; only after a full two seconds, he slowly uttered, "Did you swim up from the Thames River?"

Having said that, he turned his head to instruct the servants: "Fetch two towels, and bring a clean set of clothes for Sir Arthur to change into."

Upon hearing this, the servant immediately moved forward to help Arthur with his cloak, but Arthur gently raised his hand, maintaining his usual politeness yet rigidly stubborn enough to be somewhat infuriating: "I can do it myself."

Arthur was careful in removing his cloak, as if afraid to splash water on anyone.

He folded the wet cloak neatly and handed it to the servant.

The sight stirred Dalmo’s suppressed anger into resurfacing.

He glanced at Arthur’s wet hair, damp scarf, and the shirt still dripping water, his expression turning grim suddenly.

"Did your brain freeze during your time in St. Petersburg?" Dalmo’s words weren’t fast, yet each syllable sparked with ire: "In such heavy rain, you chose this time to come? Do you think you’re made of iron? If you catch a cold, a fever and are bed-ridden for three days, who will take responsibility?"

Ellis, intending to diffuse the situation, dared not interrupt and could only stand by.

"Your Excellency, I’m fine." Arthur’s voice sounded a bit hoarse, having just eaten two overly salty veal ribs earlier: "Getting soaked is better than leaving you here alone to endure all the sneers from White Hall."

Dalmo was taken aback by this retort.

"Spare me! I’m not a little girl; it’s just a slight setback. Do you need to brave the rain to comfort me?"

Arthur did not immediately counter.

He lowered his gaze, seemingly guilty from the scolding.

Seeing him this way, Dalmo felt his reprimand might have been too harsh, yet felt awkward about retracting his words.

Ellis, perceiving this, was about to speak to smooth things over, granting Dalmo an out, when unexpectedly Arthur spoke again.

"Your Excellency, seeing you still have the strength to scold me, I’m finally reassured." Arthur raised his head with a slight smile at his lips: "On my way here, I worried only about one thing. I feared you couldn’t withstand this setback and might be defeated forever. But now that I see you can still get angry at me... I’m relieved."

Dalmo’s mouth twitched, but his tone finally softened: "What do you think of me? I’m not as fragile as you imagine."

Arthur exhaled deeply: "I indeed projected my own feelings onto you."

Dalmo frowned and asked: "Projected your own feelings onto me?"

"At that time... when I was forced to return from Russia over the Caucasus incident." Arthur wiped the water from his hair, self-mockingly and awkwardly: "When I first returned to London, I didn’t dare go anywhere. During those three weeks, I thought I was done for. When I worked in White Hall before, I thought I had made numerous friends. But once I made a mistake, everyone started avoiding me. For a solid three weeks, not a single friend visited, nor did I receive any social or banquet invitations. The only one willing to speak for me in the newspapers was Miss Letizia Landon, who I had never met. Looking back now, it’s truly ironic."

Arthur, mentioning Britain’s most outstanding contemporary female poet, nicknamed the "female Byron," Miss Letizia Landon, wasn’t a mere whim.

Because shortly after Earl of Dalmo took up the post of Ambassador to Russia in 1833, Miss Landon published a politically themed poem—"Sir Thomas Lawrence’s Portrait Poem: Honorable Earl of Dalmo, Current Envoy to the Russian Court."

In the poem, she hoped Dalmo could become part of the Old World’s conscience, persuading Tsar Nicholas I to return the freedoms and sovereignty taken from Poland through his iron fist.

Although Arthur wasn’t forced to leave Russia for advocating Poland’s sovereignty, his actions in the Caucasus incident for the Chechens received high praise from Miss Landon.

Thus, in a sense, the expectations liberals had of the Earl of Dalmo during his time as Ambassador to Russia, which he couldn’t fulfill, were to some extent realized by his protégé Arthur.