Heavy hoofbeats echoed through the alleys as a black lacquered carriage slowly stopped in front of the Duke of Wellington's manor.
The coachman put away his whip, skillfully jumped down from his seat, and opened the door, allowing a young gentleman dressed in a dark coat to step out.
With an upright posture, Arthur, supporting himself on a cane, walked steadily to the iron gate, removed his gloves, and casually rang the copper bell at the door.
The ivory white double doors slowly opened. The old butler, Jonathan, saw the young man he hadn't seen in years, smiled, and gave a slight bow as he greeted him, "Mr. Hastings, oh no, times have changed, now I should address you as Sir Arthur Hastings."
Arthur took off his hat and smoothed his hair, smiling as he replied, "Come now, Mr. Jonathan, don't joke like that. I wouldn't put on airs in front of you; just continue calling me Arthur, the name sounds far smoother than 'Sir'."
