The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1719 - 68: Different Politicians, Different Hamlets_2

Upon hearing this, Mr. Disraeli’s face turned bright red: "Need help? Of course, I need help! I need to find which oblivious hunter did it, then pull him down from his saddle and drag him into the mud to confess. I won’t hide it from you, that shot was incredibly accurate; it hit the deer’s lung but blew up my car, almost costing me, the political rising star, my life."

Palmerston, unfazed, glanced at the hunting servant behind him, casually asking: "Who fired the shot?"

Viscount Melbourne hearing this, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

The hunting servants looked at each other, and seeing no one step forward, Palmerston intensified his tone and asked again: "I said, who fired the shot?"

Understanding Viscount Palmerston’s meaning, the leading hunter urged his horse forward: "Your Excellency, it was me. I saw the deer appeared quite thin and thought one shot would be enough, so I took the liberty..."

"Took the liberty to shoot," Palmerston said calmly, redirecting his gaze to Mr. Disraeli: "Unfortunately, as you see, our youth are indeed somewhat eager for achievement."

"Achievement?"

Palmerston’s evasive response made Mr. Disraeli tremble with anger: "What achievement did he make? Was it the achievement of me flying out from the car window? Or the achievement of my purebred hunting horse limping?"

At this point, Viscount Melbourne finally spoke: "The matter indeed seems quite unglamorous, but just now I glanced at your horse, and it’s still alive; just a soft leg, not a broken bone." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"My car’s problem is not just a soft leg!" Still angry, Mr. Disraeli didn’t care for such details: "The axle broke! The paint got scratched! The door got dented! It’s practically a traffic Waterloo! Your hunting servant ruined my car, so you must compensate!"

"Traffic Waterloo?" Palmerston raised an eyebrow while adjusting his saddle: "You might have exaggerated the issue. However, you and Sir Arthur have come from afar; it’s indeed not good for guests to return unsatisfied. Since you insist, I shall fulfill my duty as a landlord."

With that, he raised his hand, turning to an elder servant beside him: "Go to the stable, pick out a spare carriage."

The elder servant slightly bowed, softly asking: "Which one do you mean?"

"The one parked at the rose shed, harness it quickly, and have someone bring it here."

"You wouldn’t mean—"

Palmerston interrupted before the servant could finish: "That one, strong and durable, rainproof and collision-proof, not easily frightened by deer."

Finished, Palmerston turned to Mr. Disraeli again: "As for your car, I’ll contact a craftsman for you in Broadlands and bear all the repair costs. Once the carriage is repaired, I’ll send it to your residence in London."

Hearing Palmerston’s well-mannered compensation arrangements, Mr. Disraeli opened his mouth wanting to retort further, yet the former Foreign Secretary managed the situation meticulously. Although his anger wasn’t fully settled, Mr. Disraeli found himself momentarily speechless.

This was understandable; though both were members, there was a great difference in their skill.

After all, Mr. Disraeli was merely the Vice Minister of State of the Foreign Office, while Palmerston had legitimately held the top position at the Foreign Office for three years.

Suppressing his frustration, Mr. Disraeli ultimately let out a cold snort: "Since Your Excellency said so, if I continue to wrangle, it’ll make me appear greedy."

Saying this, he flung his cloak, glanced at the car wreckage, and called to the driver Andrew: "Andrew, you stay here, take care of this car, and explain the situation properly when the repairman arrives. Once repaired, send it directly back to London without waiting for me."

Alleviated like being granted amnesty from the great figures’ conflict, Andrew replied: "I know, sir."

After instructing Andrew, Mr. Disraeli exhaled deeply, seemingly finally venting his pent-up grievances.

Pausing briefly, he turned to Viscount Melbourne: "With the daylight fading, if we delay further, we might not reach the town tonight. Could I borrow two horses, so that Sir Arthur and I could set off first?"

Viscount Melbourne did not speak but glanced at Palmerston.

Understanding, Palmerston called out: "Anthony, Bentley, dismount! Your two horses are gentle-tempered, suitable for Mr. Disraeli and Sir Arthur as transportation."

Perhaps due to disliking Mr. Disraeli, Palmerston didn’t address him directly this time, instead introducing to Sir Arthur: "This mare is called Ansero, my wife often uses her for strolling around the estate. She’s extremely steady, particularly suitable for someone like you who is apprehensive about traffic incidents. As for this stallion, he is Bernard. He pulled a parade float for me in town last year, quite experienced."

Sir Arthur took the reins from the hunting servant: "Thank you, Your Excellency."

"It’s hardly worth thanking me," Palmerston adjusted his horse, tipping his hat with his whip, half-jokingly bidding farewell to Sir Arthur: "If you truly wish to express gratitude, visit Hampshire more, avoid the Caucasus. Come to the estate for tea if you’re free, Broadlands is nearby, I have matters to attend with Viscount Melbourne, so we won’t stay long to accompany you."

Sir Arthur smiled slightly, tightening the reins: "As long as there are no deer rampaging in the woods, I’m quite happy to visit Hampshire often."