Chapter 2201 - 247: The Poetry King of Buckingham Palace_2

Even if it were the tiniest, most trivial thing.

Even if it were only asking her to change a single phrase in a speech, or to postpone a meeting of the Privy Council, or even...

Even if it were only asking her to save him a seat at the dinner in Buckingham Palace.

As long as Arthur could take the initiative to ask something of her, even just once, it would make Victoria feel as if a great weight had been lifted from her heart.

Because that would at least allow her to believe that he was not forever placing himself in the position of sacrifice.

That he was not forever putting her, putting Britain, putting everyone else’s needs ahead of his own.

As long as, at any moment, he had ever been willing to "reach out his hand," she would not be suffering as she was now.

But in truth, he had never asked anything of her.

Never, not once.

Since the day she ascended the throne, powers and riches had surged around her hands like the tide; by rights, any man with ambition, with aspirations, with desire, when faced with such an opportunity, would ask for something—whether a peerage, an office, a title, money, land, an order of chivalry, privileges...

There ought at least to have been a hint, a veiled suggestion.

But Arthur had not.

Not even once.

Not even when she herself proposed to bestow on him the rank of Baronet did Arthur do more than smile faintly and decline with a single sentence: "If even Faraday refuses to deck learning out in titles, then I have even less right to let an honorific stand higher than truth."

Just as she felt herself on the verge of drowning in her own thoughts, a very soft sound suddenly came from outside the door.

"Your Majesty?" Leisen’s voice was gentle, as if afraid of disturbing something fragile.

Victoria did not answer at once.

Leisen walked lightly toward her. Her gaze fell on the copy of "British" upon the windowsill, then on the opened page of verse, and finally back to Victoria’s face. She understood everything.

In a low voice she asked, "Is it... another article by Sir Arthur?"

Victoria neither nodded nor denied it.

Leisen let out a quiet sigh. She came to Victoria’s side and, as she had done countless times in the past, reached out to straighten the light shawl over the Queen’s shoulders.

"Your Majesty, you need not blame yourself for him to such a degree."

Victoria lowered her head, her lashes trembling lightly. "Leisen, you can see that?"

"I have been by your side since the day you were born." Leisen smiled faintly, her eyes full of aching tenderness. "You carry a thorn in your heart; of course I can see it."

As she spoke, she gently patted the back of Victoria’s hand, consoling her just as she had in childhood. "A man like Sir Arthur is not someone who can be toppled by a few stray rumors."

"I know." Victoria spoke softly. "But when I see him like this, I... it feels as though I have nothing to give him."

"Your Majesty, you have already given him what no one else can—your trust, your reliance... these are not things that material rewards can ever rival." Leisen smiled as she comforted her. "Besides, those who truly possess Knightly Spirit do not act for the sake of reward. In that respect, he is very much like his teacher, the Earl of Dalmo."

"Leisen..." Victoria was silent for a moment. "What kind of man... was the Earl of Dalmo? I remember seeing him a few times as a child, but now I can hardly recall him. I only remember that Viscount Melbourne once said he was clever, and at the same time a man so obsessive in temperament that he was impossible to work with."

"Obsessive? Perhaps."

Lady Leisen shook her head lightly.

She had not originally intended to speak in defense of the Earl of Dalmo, but upon hearing Victoria repeat Viscount Melbourne’s judgment, she could not help taking issue with the Prime Minister who was now threatening her own position. "Your Majesty, people are fond of calling ’obsessive’ those who are more steadfast, more pure than they are. The Earl of Dalmo was indeed intelligent, and proud as well. In a party that prized compromise, he very easily became the most out of place. But..."

"But?"

"Yes, but..." Leisen smiled as she recalled. "During your childhood, in those hardest years at Kensington Palace, the Earl of Dalmo was one of the very few Whig grandees who maintained normal relations with us. And early in his life, he enjoyed very good relations with your father, the Duke of Kent."

"The Earl of Dalmo and my father?" Hearing this, Victoria suddenly seemed to remember something and pressed on, "I recall that Father once went to Canada, didn’t he?"

Leisen nodded. "Yes. The Duke was the first member of the Royal Family to visit Upper Canada. He witnessed the promulgation of the Constitutional Act of 1791—that was the act that divided Quebec Province into Lower Canada and Upper Canada. After that, in the subsequent West Indies campaign and the Martinique campaign, the Duke distinguished himself and received commendations in General Gray’s dispatches, as well as the homage of Parliament. The Duchess has kept those commendations to this day."

At the mention of her mother, Victoria’s expression immediately grew a little strained. She deliberately changed the subject. "Commendations from General Gray? Is this General Gray related to Count Grey?"

"More than related—General Gray is Count Grey’s father."

Victoria muttered under her breath, "General Gray is Count Grey’s father, Count Grey is the Earl of Dalmo’s father-in-law, and my father once served under General Gray... no wonder they were close. How long did Father stay in Canada in all?"

"How long?" Leisen cast her mind back. "I remember the Duke saying that he was posted to Quebec in 1791. When there was no fighting, he generally lived at Halifax, where the Commander of the Royal Navy’s North American Fleet had his headquarters. Many municipal works there, including St. George’s Round Church, were built at his instigation. Then in 1799 he was promoted to General in the Army and appointed Commander-in-Chief of the North American British Army. But in less than a year, the Regent King (George IV) ordered him recalled from Canada."

"Why did Uncle George summon Father back so quickly?" Victoria asked, puzzled. "He had only just taken up the post."

Leisen gave a helpless little smile. "From what I’ve heard, it seems the Duke’s discipline was simply too strict. Once in office, he insisted on personally inspecting the Halifax garrison’s morning drill every day at five o’clock, and he punished gambling and drunkenness in the ranks with uncompromising severity. In the end, the common soldiers were full of resentment, and after hearing the recommendations put to him, the Regent King decided to recall the Duke."

As if remembering something further, Leisen added softly, "Though the soldiers feared him, the Duke was in fact a very capable man. He built a great many defensive works in Canada and promoted municipal improvements in Halifax. The local upper classes, whether of French or English origin... all respected him greatly."

Victoria was taken aback. "Respected him?"

"Yes. In that regard, the Duke and the Duke of Dalmo were very similar." Leisen smiled faintly. "Though the Duke was harsh in matters of military discipline, he conducted himself with perfect propriety in society. His manners, his openness—they made many gentlemen in Canada willing to associate with him. Even in the last years of his life, he continued to correspond with his old friends in Canada. From time to time, the Duchess would personally read aloud to him the letters arriving from overseas. They wrote of the development of local ports, of winter in Halifax, and of new regulations in the Church and municipal affairs... all trifling matters, yet every time he finished listening, the Duke was very pleased."

Victoria could not help listening, wholly absorbed. Shortly after she was born, her father had been struck down by sudden illness and passed away.

Thus, almost all Victoria’s impressions of her father came from a few portraits in Kensington Palace.

In the past, Victoria had thought of asking her mother about her father’s deeds, but whenever she mentioned her late husband, the Duchess of Kent could not help breaking down in tears. Little by little, both Victoria and the Attendants at Kensington Palace came to treat memories of the Duke as a taboo topic, never to be touched upon.

Victoria fell silent for a while, her fingertips lightly brushing the fringe of her shawl. "Leisen... just now you said that Sir Arthur and the Earl of Dalmo are very alike, and that the Earl of Dalmo and my father... are very alike as well. In what ways are they alike?"

(One more Chapter to go)