Chapter 3: I'm Going to Australia!
January 9th, 1900, the third day after the burial of Duke Arthur.
It was also the third day since Queen Victoria had issued her orders to the government. Five days had passed since the assassination of Duke Arthur.
At Buckingham Palace, in Queen Victoria's office.
Early in the morning, Queen Victoria sat behind her desk, her face ashen, eyes bloodshot.
The piles of documents that had once covered her desk had all been swept aside in a fit of fury.
The reason the eighty-one-year-old monarch was so enraged was, of course, the recent assassination of her most beloved son, Duke Arthur.
Thanks to the British Empire's world-leading intelligence services, it had taken only a few days for a complete list of everyone involved in the assassination to land on Queen Victoria's desk.
Because the incident involved secrets of the royal family, no one else knew of the list's existence.
"Arthur! My poor Arthur, it was I who failed you."
Queen Victoria's eyes were red as she stared at the document, which clearly stated that Duke Arthur had died at the hands of a fanatical gunman loyal to Crown Prince Edward.
"Albert, it's my fault our child was harmed. Arthur never even wished to compete with Edward, yet in the end he still fell victim to the struggle for the throne," Queen Victoria said tearfully and with regret.
Prince Albert had been Queen Victoria's beloved companion for life. Even now, nearly forty years after his death, she still often thought of him.
And Duke Arthur had been her favorite son.
Because Prince Albert had died on his way to visit Crown Prince Edward, Queen Victoria, devoted as she was to Albert, developed a dislike for Edward and had long forbidden him from involving himself in affairs of state.
Only in recent years, as Queen Victoria's health declined, had Crown Prince Edward gradually been allowed to take part in governmental matters.
Meanwhile, Duke Arthur, the only prince granted a title within the British Isles, held high military office and remained Queen Victoria's favorite.
That stark contrast had fueled the frequent rumors in both political circles and among the public that Queen Victoria planned to replace the heir to the throne.
Perhaps Crown Prince Edward, resentful of Queen Victoria's favoritism, sought to eliminate his greatest rival for succession.
Or perhaps it was someone loyal to Edward who wanted to clear the path for their master.
Either way, Duke Arthur had unquestionably died at the hands of Edward's faction.
Though the assassination had been expertly concealed—split into several separate operations to eliminate any obvious ties to Edward—Britain's intelligence agencies had still uncovered the truth.
"Edward..."
Queen Victoria's gaze fell upon the word "Crown Prince" printed boldly on the report. Her emotions churned, but she could not utter a word.
After a long silence, she finally steadied herself from the depths of her grief and called toward the door, "Beatrice, go fetch young Arthur."
Princess Beatrice was Queen Victoria's youngest child and had been her greatest support in the forty years since the loss of her husband.
Now also a widow, Beatrice stayed constantly by the Queen's side, serving as her unofficial secretary and closest confidante.
"Yes, Mother," Princess Beatrice quickly replied and left.
Not long after, young Arthur was brought to the office by Princess Beatrice. Old Butler Hunter had escorted him all the way to the door and waited outside once assured all was well.
Seeing the boy approach step by step, Queen Victoria finally showed a smile that had not graced her face in some time.
She gently called out to him, "Arthur, come to Grandmother."
Arthur immediately quickened his pace, stepped forward, and helped Queen Victoria back to her seat before saying, "Grandmother, Arthur is here."
"Arthur, how have you been sleeping these past few days?"
Queen Victoria tried hard to keep her composure, but the slight tremble in her voice gave her away.
"Pretty well, Grandmother. But you mustn't grieve too much. Even though Father is gone, the nation still needs you. I and all the royal family need you too, Grandmother."
Arthur understood just how cruel it was for an elderly queen to lose her son so late in life.
"Good child, don't worry about Grandmother, I'm doing well. In a while, we'll hold the official ceremony for you to inherit your title. If you need anything, just tell Grandmother."
Queen Victoria smiled as she reached out and gently stroked Arthur's head.
"Grandmother..."
Arthur hesitated, wanting to speak but unsure how. His request might feel like another blow to the already grieving Queen, and seeing how caring she was toward him, he found it hard to say.
"What is it, child? Don't hold it in, Grandmother is here," Queen Victoria said with a comforting smile, sensing his hesitation.
"Grandmother, I don't want to stay here anymore. I want to go away and clear my head," Arthur said, gritting his teeth and finally voicing his request.
Queen Victoria didn't react as strongly as expected. Instead, she fell silent.
After a long pause, her voice hoarse, she asked, "Then where do you want to go, Arthur?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe Australia or New Zealand. I've heard the ocean views are nice there. It might help me relax," Arthur replied.
Such a flimsy excuse wouldn't fool Queen Victoria. After all, the seaside views in Britain were also beautiful—there was no need to go halfway across the world.
But thinking of the pain Arthur carried, she couldn't bring herself to press him.
"Then, Arthur... will you come back?" Queen Victoria asked.
Would he come back? Arthur asked himself. Unless something especially important happened, probably not.
Though with Queen Victoria's influence, Arthur could go anywhere in the British Empire, how much longer could she hold on?
In actual history, Queen Victoria passed away in January 1901, just one year later.
And now, having suffered the fresh pain of losing her son, whether she could even make it to next January was uncertain.
(End of Chapter)
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