The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1961 - 165: Favored by the Emperor, Part 3

And only after that did she seem to realize something, lowering her head as her hands slowly clasped together.

It was not a posture prescribed by etiquette, nor the resting position for hands in her daily lessons, but an unconscious anchoring of emotion.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "Aunt Adelaide... how is she now?"

The Marquis of Cunningham paused, then answered softly, "Your Majesty, Queen Adelaide has remained by His Majesty William’s side from beginning to end. Not until the very last moment did she leave the bedchamber."

He stopped for a moment, as though weighing his words, then added, "She was indeed very grieved, but she did not cry out, nor did she weep aloud. After wiping the sweat from His Majesty William’s brow, she herself drew the white cloth over him."

Victoria gently closed her eyes and lowered her head; the fingers of her tightly clasped hands tightened further. "I will write to her. If she is willing, I hope she can stay in London during the mourning... stay by my side. I will be with her all the time."

Cunningham’s brows shifted slightly; he was about to reply when he saw the Archbishop of Canterbury slowly bend forward and, in a tone bordering on prayer, say, "Such compassion in Your Majesty’s heart cannot but be heard by God."

Victoria was silent for a moment. She lifted her eyes to look around at them all; her voice was very soft, yet left no room for doubt. "Please rise."

The kneeling figures stood up one after another.

Victoria nodded to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Marquis of Cunningham, and Arthur, then turned and walked toward the inner chamber.

When the door was half-closed, she suddenly turned back, meeting the eyes of those behind her, as if to etch this moment into her memory before the great door shut completely.

Bang.

The great door closed softly; the corridor beyond it was very still.

Leisen had been waiting there long already, just as she did every morning; Victoria walked up to her and, without a word, simply rested her forehead lightly against Leisen’s shoulder.

Victoria first drew in a breath, as if forcing her tears back.

But in the end she could not restrain herself; her shoulders began to tremble in fine shivers.

Leisen asked nothing; she only raised her arms and held her.

She did not cry in an undignified way; she did not even make a sound, only dug her knuckles tightly into the crook of Leisen’s arm.

Her tears were shed both for her uncle—His Majesty King William IV, whom she had not known all that well—having passed away, and for the immense, half-unacknowledged sense of release that now stirred her to the core.

But very soon, her tears ceased.

"Leave me alone for a while."

This was the first order issued by the new sovereign of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

The Duchess of Kent’s footsteps came hurrying from around the corner; the hem of her gown brushed the wall, and a hairpin knocked lightly at the nape of her neck with a crisp sound.

"Delina..." She lowered her voice, striving to make it sound gentler. "Child, I would like to say a few words to you, just a few."

"I have spoken, Mama." Victoria did not turn around; she merely repeated, "Leave me alone for a while."

The Duchess behaved as though she had not heard. "I am only worried for you. There are so many people outside, so many loose tongues; you must be careful. Listen to me..."

Victoria offered no further explanation. She merely tilted her head slightly and said to Leisen beside her, in an even tone, "Move my bed out of Mama’s room."

Leisen clearly had not expected this order; the Hanoverian governess froze for a moment, then hesitantly nodded. "If that is Your order... yes, Your Majesty the Queen..."

Victoria turned to her mother and executed a very restrained curtsey. "I will come to see you later."

Then she turned away and walked off.

Her silk slippers made no sound on the carpet; her figure soon vanished into that strip of gradually brightening morning light at the end of the corridor.

At the very instant Victoria’s back disappeared, the Duchess of Kent felt as though something were being hollowed out of her heart.

She stood there in a daze, her hand still suspended in midair; she held that posture for one second, two... until her arm began to tremble and could no longer bear it, then it dropped at once.

"I’m—finished." she murmured to herself.

The words sounded as though drawn up from a very deep well; the Duchess of Kent seemed like a snapped string, sinking down to sit along the base of the wall. Her deep purple morning gown spread across the carpet; the peridot earrings at her neck trembled twice, glinting with tearful light.

"I’m finished... I’m finished..."

She wailed as she repeated the words, her voice growing lower and lower, until it was scarcely audible and only the heaving of her chest remained.

Arthur, who had witnessed it all, came down the corridor from the other end.

He did not speak; he merely stopped half a step in front of the Duchess, bent down, and produced a handkerchief which he held before her eyes, his movements exceedingly light, like placing a fallen leaf back upon its branch.

He lifted a hand to tap the shoulder of the Attendant beside him, signalling them to move away and leave her sufficient dignity.

"Your Highness." Arthur’s voice was utterly clear. "Please accept my condolences."

The Duchess of Kent lifted her head to look at him; her gaze was full of bewilderment and fear. She realized she had lost her composure before Arthur and tried to wipe her tears away in time, only to smear them more.

Arthur neither pressed nor admonished; he only placed himself at a slant between her and the wall, blocking the passing glances.

He turned slightly, using his body and cloak to shield her from the light at the end of the corridor, lest passing servants glimpse her in this disarray.

"Your Highness." Arthur added, his tone level yet full of force. "I assure you, Her Majesty the Queen will summon you very soon. But before that, you must first stand up. For yourself, and for Her Majesty. You have managed Kensington Palace for so many years, so you certainly know that at times like this many eyes are upon you."

The Duchess of Kent’s shoulders shook twice; her breathing gradually evened out.

She clenched the handkerchief and tried to raise her upper body, standing straight with the support of the wall.

Arthur extended his arm but did not actually take hold of her; he left it suspended, offering a barely perceptible point of support.

But the Duchess did not grasp it; in the end, she still rose to her feet by her own strength.

Arthur gave a slight nod over his shoulder; a maid in the distance understood and brought over a cup of warm water.

He took the cup and held it out to the Duchess.

The Duchess of Kent cupped the rim in both hands; her fingertips were still trembling, and only after quite some time did she manage to take a sip.

"Thank you, Sir Arthur." She spoke with difficulty; her voice was still hoarse.

Arthur dipped his head slightly. "It is my duty."

"Your Highness." Arthur said at last. "The corridor is draughty. Please return to your rooms and change. When the clock strikes, then go in to see Her Majesty."