Chapter 2212 - 251: As You Wish, Prime Minister

From Bloomsbury to Whitehall Street is only twenty minutes, but Arthur felt as if he had crossed two seasons of London.

The university campus was blowing a gentle breeze, and the winter sun shining on him felt warm.

But at this moment, in front of No. 10 Downing Street, the air was filled with a cold metallic odor.

The dark iron gate was silent, and the gas lamp under the porch was excessively stable, with no wind and no flickering flame.

When the attendant pushed the door open for him, a dry warmth hit his face.

The interior was quieter than usual, so quiet that it didn’t seem like the bustling Prime Minister’s Office.

Blackwell was left waiting in the hall, only Arthur was led by an attendant through the narrow corridor.

The moment the door opened, the slight friction of wood announced the presence of the Prime Minister.

Viscount Melbourne sat in a sofa chair by the fireplace, holding a neatly folded copy of the Morning Paper.

The flames of the fireplace weren’t high, yet they illuminated the fatigue on his profile fully.

Melbourne didn’t look up, he just casually spoke, "You’ve arrived?"

"Portrait of the Second Viscount Melbourne, William Lamb" painted by John Hoppner in 1796

"Portrait of the Second Viscount Melbourne, William Lamb" painted by British artist John Partridge in 1844

Arthur looked up and slightly examined the Prime Minister in front of him, this 58-year-old politician about to enter his later years clearly had not fully emerged from last year’s grief of losing his son.

His only child, a son he had with Lady Caroline Ponsonby, George, who suffered from epilepsy and intellectual disabilities, unfortunately passed away due to illness early last year.

And Viscount Melbourne’s rumored biological father, the Earl of Egmont, also passed away due to old age not long ago. It’s said that the Earl summoned Viscount Melbourne to his bedside before he died, but even until his last breath, he insisted that the rumors regarding him being Viscount Melbourne’s father were all lies.

Nevertheless, although the Earl of Egmont never admitted until death that he was blood-related to the Prime Minister, it did not stop people from privately regarding him as Viscount Melbourne’s father, for they looked remarkably alike. Moreover, during Melbourne’s childhood, his mother often took him to visit the Earl’s Petworth House, and even until the Earl’s late years, they maintained a close friendship.

"Portrait of the Third Earl of Egmont, George Windham" painted by British artist Thomas Phillips

However, even if Viscount Melbourne truly had no blood relation with the Earl of Egmont, it didn’t prevent him from losing a pure friend.

Consecutive blows from losing his son and "losing his father" also stripped the high-ranking Viscount Melbourne of life’s pleasures, but the appearance of Victoria gave him new meaning.

Perhaps because of this reason, he was able to admirably take on the dual roles of Prime Minister and Queen’s Private Secretary.

Every morning, he handled state affairs with Victoria. Every afternoon, he accompanied the Queen on horseback. Every evening, he dined at the same table with Victoria.

Although this life may sound quite pleasant, only those who have personally tasted the bitters of court life can truly understand the pressure and responsibility it entails.

Especially when the monarch of this country is a young, often capricious girl who has just come of age; that is truly a challenge.

Even someone like Arthur, who could work 14 to 16 hours a day, could absolutely not endure such a life. Although he could handle pressure and take risks to make many bold decisions, he occasionally needed to gather with friends for meals, chats, and complaints.

And Melbourne?

Since Victoria’s ascension, he had nearly devoted all his leisure time to Victoria and the government.

Every day, the first thing Melbourne did upon waking was to report to Buckingham Palace. If there were no urgent state affairs at Whitehall, he would stay there, and when there was a need at Whitehall, he shuttled between the streets of Westminster and Buckingham Palace, returning there immediately after handling affairs to stay until Victoria’s ball finished.

But it was widely known that the eighteen-year-old Victoria was in the most energetic phase of her life, so her balls often lasted until the early hours of the morning.

After the ball ended, when Viscount Melbourne returned home, it was usually at least two-thirty at night.

When he lay in bed, thinking he could finally rest, ah... don’t be eager, four hours later, a new day began again.

From a certain perspective, Arthur was quite grateful to the Prime Minister for voluntarily shouldering the burden of accompanying Victoria.

After all, if Melbourne didn’t step forward, every time Arthur visited Buckingham Palace, he probably wouldn’t have the freedom to "come and go at will."

Perhaps in Victoria’s view, Arthur’s short stays at Buckingham Palace were doing her wrong.

But according to Arthur, this was purely nonsense.

This Secretary-General of the Police Commissioner Committee, though not exceptionally busy, still had a packed daily schedule.

In the morning, he read papers and worked at No. 4 Whitehall Street, after lunch, as custom, he took a walk on Fleet Street, occasionally visiting police stations along the way, marking out his territory.