Chapter 1854: Chapter 123: Isn’t This Victoria’s Marriage? What Does It Have to Do with Me, Arthur Hastings?

To obtain the intelligence conduit leading to Kensington Palace from Flora, he even swallowed a few strange remarks from Fiona in cold blood, enduring the teasing and mockery from friends like Eld, Great Dumas, and Dickens every now and then.

However, he still hadn’t anticipated Flora’s attitude toward marriage, nor the subsequent developments.

Under the Tower of London, Sir Arthur Hastings, the mastermind behind Scotland Yard, the miracle worker of St Martin’s Church, the spokesman on Fleet Street, the savior of Young Italy, and the Liberator of the Caucasus, was frightened by a small note handed to him by a kind noblewoman.

— If it’s about kinship, then you should express it early on. If it’s considering a marriage proposal, then please respect the other’s reputation.

After all, he was a pig farmer from rural York, and indeed misjudged the interpretations of noble society.

In this circle, when you continue to be consistently courteous to an unmarried noble lady for half a year, and she happens to be past thirty and still unmarried, then you can’t blame others for arranging a "good match" between you two.

The most frightening thing is that this "good match" is logically self-consistent:

Cousins, family unity, emotional closeness? Check.

Arthur’s family background is suspicious? But he’s also a Hastings, so he’s practically a half-relative.

Miss Flora Hastings is a proletarian Lady? Arthur doesn’t mind.

Sir Arthur Hastings has a complex reputation? Then she should marry quickly, someone like him needs a family to restrain him.

And he himself, is still delivering books, visiting, and sending flowers every week.

If he can’t promptly stop these increasingly rampant rumors, quash this trend of listening to the wind and believing it’s rain, then eventually, when the Marquis of Hastings leads a large group of brothers to discuss a formal marriage with him, he would truly have no reason to refuse.

Sir Arthur Hastings can indeed get married.

He doesn’t dislike Flora either.

Or rather, he’s never truly "liked" anyone.

Ultimately, in his bones, he’s not someone who believes in romance.

He’s a politician, or perhaps a political operator.

He’s afraid of marriage. Not afraid of wearing the wrong attire on the wedding day, not afraid of having no quiet place to avoid during future arguments, and certainly not afraid of his wife checking account books and forcing him to cut ties with his Nightingale Mansion buddies.

He’s afraid that once he starts a family, he’ll lose one more bargaining chip.

His life has long been detached from the axis of personal happiness.

He’s spent twenty years climbing from the Poorhouse in Bradford to University of London, Scotland Yard, Foreign Office, and the publishing world, stepping on others’ heads every step of the way, stepping precisely, fiercely, and without mercy. He’s played his cards well, precisely because he’s never let emotions get involved.

To Arthur, marriage seems glamorous, but is actually extremely dangerous.

Whomever you marry, you have to stand on their side.

Whichever side you stand on, you must lose the other side.

If things did come to that, Arthur could indeed give up one side, but merely for the intelligence of Kensington Palace, to make him take a side, no matter how it’s calculated, he feels it’s a losing business.

Moreover, if Flora does marry him, according to court customs, she would definitely leave Kensington Palace and become his "supportive wife."

In this way, even the intelligence value of Kensington Palace would be lost.

Ring-a-ding! Ring-a-ding! 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

In the morning, the copper bell rang at the house on Lancaster Gate, and the maid Becky hurriedly opened the door as usual.

"Hello, are you... someone from Kensington Palace? Miss Flora Hastings sent you? Looking for Sir Arthur Hastings? Sir, he... uh, he’s not here, yes, he just went out not long ago, maybe Fleet Street, maybe University of London, or perhaps he’s gone hunting... Okay, then leave the letter here, I’ll pass it on when he returns..."