Chapter 2284 - 274: Palace Secrets, or Hastings’ Schemes_2

Fiona was initially stunned, then couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

The laughter came without warning, even a bit indiscreet, and she had to use the back of her hand to cover the corner of her mouth.

"You’re quite something." She said while laughing and shaking her head, "Others would, at least, try to cover it up for the sake of decency when reaching this point. But you, you’d even hand over self-respect as a bargaining chip."

"Then you misunderstand me. My self-respect has never been a bargaining chip for exchange."

"Oh?" Fiona raised an eyebrow, "There was someone who just claimed being Vasiliyichkov wouldn’t be a bad choice."

"That’s because I am now standing on this position devoid of self-respect," Arthur replied earnestly, "If I truly were a person without self-respect, getting from a street patrolman to Greenwich Police Chief, this step was achieved not by bowing down to please, but by the choice of the citizens."

At this point, Arthur paused: "Of course, I won’t rule out that Sir Peel and the Duke of Wellington indeed played a very limited role."

"Do the two Excellencies know you’re arranging them like this behind their backs?"

"Prominent figures have the capacity to tolerate others," Arthur leisurely completed the latter half of the sentence, tone entirely serious, "Ladies like you had better worry less about the empire’s moral projects."

Fiona squinted, clearly not buying it.

"Listen." She lightly tapped the chair back, "Hearing these words coming from you makes it seem like I’m dragging the country’s future down. Arthur Hastings, have you now reached the point where even to scold someone you have to go through the Home Office’s procedure first?"

"Going through procedures is certainly important," Arthur nodded, "Otherwise, it’s easy to leave written evidence."

"Oh, I better be careful then." Fiona held her chest, pretending to be frightened, "Someday, will I be written into some internal memo by you? Saying a certain unnamed lady, crude in speech, malicious in attitude, severely affecting the emotional stability of public officials."

"You know it well, madam, I advise you to be cautious in front of the Deputy Secretary of the Home Office."

Fiona rolled her eyes at these words, but for some unknown reason, she seemed less angry now than at the beginning.

"Hmph..." Fiona looked at the young bureaucrat she had watched grow up all along, couldn’t help but tease, "In my opinion, your desire to become Russia’s Potemkin, in this life, is probably hopeless, given you’ve never commanded an army. However, if I tell you that last year you accidentally missed the chance to become Britain’s Orlov, would you feel regretful?"

"Hmm?"

Arthur immediately sensed something amiss.

As a gold medal graduate from the University of London specializing in Russian history, Arthur was well-versed in Orlov’s life and deeds.

During the coup of 1762 that overthrew Peter III and established Catherine’s rule, Grigory Orlov, as Catherine’s lover, was certainly not an ambiguous or marginal role.

It can even be said, without Orlov’s assistance, Catherine had no chance to seize power.

In June 1762, just as Peter III was preparing to act against Catherine, Orlov had gotten wind of it in advance.

Grigory Orlov immediately started contacting Imperial Guard officers, ensuring the support of the three Guard regiments Izmailovsky, Preobrazhensky, and Semyonovsky for Catherine.

His brother, Aleksey Orlov, rushed overnight to Peterhof, waking Catherine from bed to tell her, "Either leave now, or it’s all over today."

Escorted by Aleksey, Catherine was secretly taken to St. Petersburg and publicly appeared at the military camp, wearing an Imperial Guard uniform to receive the army’s oath of allegiance.

Her husband, Peter III, having lost the support of the Imperial Guard, offered almost no resistance and was sent to Ropsa Palace. Days later, Peter III mysteriously died, with the Russian official cause of death being a sudden "hemorrhoids complication," accompanied by acute colic and stroke symptoms.

Russian court politics and British court politics are obviously not the same world, Arthur simply couldn’t link himself with Orlov, no matter how hard he tried.

If there’s any forced similarity, it’s that Orlov controlled Russia’s three Guard regiments then, and Arthur controlled the Royal Greater London Police Department last year...

Seeing Arthur’s bewildered look, Fiona didn’t want to keep teasing him.

"A few days ago, a guest said on Waterloo Day, the Duke of Cumberland privately went to see the Duke of Wellington, seeking his advice on how to proceed."

"The Duke of Cumberland?" Arthur’s brows instantly tightened, "Are you saying, back then he hadn’t given up on the throne yet?"

"Yes." Fiona intentionally piqued Arthur’s interest, she slowly sipped red wine, "It wasn’t an official visit, no entourage, nor public itinerary. Heard it was in the evening, entered London No. 1 from the backdoor."

"What did he ask?"

"I can’t guarantee this is true, perhaps there’s some fabrication involved. But the guest’s original words that day were, the Duke of Cumberland asked the Duke of Wellington, ’If I were proclaimed King, would you and your men be willing to ride to the streets of London with me?’"

Upon hearing this, Arthur felt his back hair standing, but fortunately, he managed to control his expression fairly well, "He was a bit fanciful."

"Indeed fanciful. I heard from the guest that before the Duke of Wellington even finished speaking, the Duke of Cumberland’s adjutant had already gotten angry, the adjutant said, ’And then? The next day we’re moving into the Tower of London!’ Hearing this, the Duke of Cumberland replied with a sullen face, ’Kid, your words are digging your own grave. As the King of Britain, I can let you become a big figure. What can Victoria do for you and your family?’"