Chapter 2407 - 319: Victoria’s Resolve

I can’t make you understand, I can’t make anyone understand what I am, I can only let you feel it, the rest is up to you.

——Franz Kafka, "The Metamorphosis"

Victoria sat in front of the writing desk, with morning light filtering through the curtain’s crevice, casting fine rays on her face.

On the desk lay a report, just a few short lines.

She had looked at it for a long time, long enough for the words to feel engraved in her eyes.

——Sir Arthur Hastings had traveled north to Scotland yesterday.

She reached out, intending to pick up the report and read it again, but her fingers barely touched the edge before she pulled back.

What more is there to see?

She recognized the words, she understood the meaning.

Characters, time, place, all accounted for.

As for the specific details, the report did not elaborate too clearly, but at such a sensitive time, where else could he go but to the Hastings family’s estate?

He hadn’t come to say goodbye, hadn’t written a letter, hadn’t left a word...

Just like that, he was gone.

Victoria’s fingers tightened slightly.

She couldn’t help but look at the desk, where Arthur’s resignation had always been placed in front of her, not even opened, never read its contents, she dared not look.

Victoria even thought, as long as Arthur spoke, she would immediately restore his court position, and could even add more annual salary on top of the thousand pounds...

But he said nothing.

He just left like that.

Victoria stood up and walked to the window.

Outside was Buckingham Palace’s garden, a few gardeners busily working in the distance, meticulously trimmed shrubs glimmering with a faint golden hue in the morning light, but Victoria was in no mood to enjoy it.

The vast Buckingham Palace, yet only two households resided, one centered around Victoria’s court, the other around the Duchess of Kent’s petit court.

The Duchess’s suite was at the very east end of the palace’s north, very far from Victoria’s suite at the very west end.

According to royal protocol, her mother was supposed to live with her. But the suite next to Victoria’s housed Lady Leisen.

The room adjoining the Duchess of Kent’s was occupied by her rotating lady-in-waiting, which meant that for three to four months a year, that room belonged to Miss Flora Hastings.

Flora Hastings.

Victoria’s fingers tapped lightly on the window frame.

She had seen Flora countless times, from when Victoria was very small, Flora had already been a member of Kensington Palace.

But she and Flora could by no means be called friends.

That woman was always quiet, her head bowed doing her own things, passing shawls, wearing bracelets, entertaining those tedious guests, appearing so harmless.

But Victoria never believed anything that appeared harmless, for she knew too well what hid behind those appearances.

For instance, her mother the Duchess of Kent.

Also, the Duchess’s private secretary Sir John Conroy.

John Conroy, the man who had stood by her mother’s side since she could remember, who made all decisions for her mother, to whom her mother heeded wordlessly, whom she hated to the core, yet could only address as "Sir John," that Irishman.

She didn’t know if the rumors about her mother and Conroy were true.

She dared not investigate, dared not ask, not even dared to think.

But she couldn’t fool herself, for indeed she had seen her mother and Conroy make some gestures that chilled her to the bone.

If her mother indeed had done shameful things with Conroy, then, as Chief Lady-in-waiting, how could Flora Hastings not know?

Every day she was by her mother’s side, handling her communications, entertaining guests for her, doing those most private things.

Who her mother met, what her mother said, where her mother went at night, she knew it all.

For Arthur’s sake, Victoria once tried to believe her.

She told herself, maybe there was no transgression between Conroy and her mother, maybe she was overthinking, maybe Flora truly knew nothing.

But, when Dr. Clark came to her last month...

Dr. Clark’s words echoed: "Your Majesty, Miss Hastings came to see me; she said she had some discomfort in her abdomen, some strange pain and soreness. I prescribed some rhubarb pills and lotion for application on the abdomen."

Abdominal discomfort, strange pain, soreness...

These words lingered in her mind like a swarm of buzzing flies.

She was not a naive young girl; she knew what these words implied, even if she knew nothing, Mr. Carter’s serialized court novels in "England" would have taught her.

Victoria suddenly opened her eyes wide, her hand clenched the window frame.

That woman.

That quiet and seemingly harmless woman.

Was pregnant.

Whose child, she did not know; maybe it was Conroy’s or some other man’s, but it certainly wasn’t anyone reputable’s.

Of course, it certainly wasn’t Sir Arthur’s.

Even though the rumors were rampant inside and outside the court, Victoria never once believed that the knight, who was the most chivalrous since William Marshal, would behave so disgracefully.

That fool.

He knew nothing; he was deceived by that woman, by her harmless face, her downcast eyes, her quiet demeanor.