Chapter 155: William in English, Guillaume in French (9) So far, everything had gone extremely smoothly.
Under my carefully laid plan, the unprecedented gossip about "Princess Charlotte's marriage" was now overflowing everywhere in London.
However, any piece of gossip will eventually die out if fresh fuel is not added to keep it burning.
And as the saying goes, to catch a tiger you must enter the mountains, and to capture the enemy commander you must step into the enemy's camp.
Everyone wanted the next chapter of this scandalous yet romantic drama between two young lovers. That meant it was time for me to open the final gate.
"Your Majesty, the tea is excellent. It almost feels as though I've returned home after a long time."
I slowly savored the flavor of green tea—something I had not tasted in decades—and spoke.
"I'm glad you like it. The East India Company recently imported it. It would have been unfortunate if it didn't suit your taste."
Across from me, King George III of Britain smiled warmly while sipping his tea.
The start was promising.
After nearly two months of investigation, I had learned that George III was a monarch trusted by the British people because of his modest lifestyle and personality. He was also deeply devoted to his family.
Even Buckingham Palace itself, where we were now conversing, had been purchased and expanded with his personal funds for the sake of his wife, Queen Charlotte. That alone showed the extent of his affection.
Thus, as we chatted in the reception room of a Buckingham Palace annex, I finally found the chance to casually bring up Princess Charlotte.
Of course, earlier I spoke about tigers and enemy generals, but the risk here was nowhere near that great. It was simply a test—if it worked, good; if not, nothing lost.
"Ah, by the way, Your Majesty. I have heard rumors recently circulating in London concerning Princess Charlotte. Are they true?"
"…Rumors about Charlotte? This is the first I've heard of them."
George III turned toward the Lord Chamberlain standing beside him and spoke.
"Chamberlain."
"Yes, Your Majesty. What do you command?"
"I hear there are rumors spreading throughout London about Charlotte. What are they?"
"Well… Your Majesty, the rumor is rather improper…"
"Improper or not, I would like to hear it. What rumor is it?"
The chamberlain bowed deeply and answered.
"It is said that a young gentleman has fallen ill from lovesickness for Princess Charlotte."
"…Lovesickness? Hahaha!"
There was no parent who disliked seeing their child loved by others. George III laughed brightly.
"Haha! Charlotte is already twenty-five. It may indeed be time to consider marriage. Chamberlain, what family does this young man belong to?"
"The rumors say he comes from a family that has received a knighthood."
"Oh?"
George III looked off into the distance for a moment, then turned back toward me.
"A family with a knighthood doesn't sound entirely unsuitable. What do you think, Controller-General Guillaume?"
"I am merely Your Majesty's guest. How could I presume to judge Your Majesty's family affairs?"
"Haha, don't be so reserved for a Frenchman. Speak freely."
The opportunity had arrived.
The host had opened the stage. I only needed to persuade him without upsetting him.
"As a Frenchman, I believe it could be a very favorable match, Your Majesty."
"Hmm. And why do you think so?"
George III stroked his chin thoughtfully as I spoke.
"We French place great value on love. We say that the best marriage is one where both people love each other, the second-best is one where at least one loves the other, and the worst is one where neither loves the other."
"…Go on."
"As an example of the worst, consider the marriage between Catherine of Russia and Peter III. Their political marriage resulted in a relationship where the couple drove each other into exile. That is hardly normal."
"That is true."
"The second-best marriage is somewhat ambiguous, but it is acceptable for the one who receives love. As for the best marriage… I need not explain it. Your Majesty and Her Majesty the Queen are the perfect example."
"Hm."
I finished the rest of my tea and continued.
"Consider this, Your Majesty. If Princess Charlotte marries the young man suffering from lovesickness, she may achieve either the second-best or the best marriage."
"…Interesting."
"Would she not be happier than if she were married off to some unknown Prince Adolf in distant Denmark or Norway?"
"Hmm."
George III let out a short murmur before speaking again.
"To be honest, I sometimes wish we could simply live here in Buckingham forever—myself, the Queen, and the children."
"Then this is the perfect moment, Your Majesty."
"The perfect moment?"
Leaning back slightly, I replied.
"If Your Majesty chooses a foreign son-in-law, you will inevitably send your daughter away. But if you choose an English son-in-law, you may see your daughter whenever you wish."
"…Hmm. Would there not be criticism?"
"Since we are drinking Eastern tea, let me share a saying from the East: 'A bond arranged by heaven.'"
"A bond arranged by heaven?"
"Who could possibly criticize a parent wishing happiness for their child? Anyone who does would be an extremely wicked person indeed."
The seed had been planted. Now all that remained was to wait for it to sprout.
Early November, 1792.
London.
Temporary office of Ears of the Nation.
The nobleman wearing the red silk garments ordered from Ears of the Nation trembled as he read a letter bearing the royal seal.
"'The Earl of Sandwich, John Montagu, and his son are requested to attend the palace at once.' Am I seeing things?"
"Indeed. Perhaps it's because you're wearing clothing from the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall, but even the way your hands tremble looks dignified."
The head of the Sandwich family—an influential naval household that had produced Admiralty officials—grabbed my hands tightly.
"How can I ever repay this, Controller-General?"
"Repay me?"
I placed the familiar ring case into the earl's hands.
"Didn't I already explain the method of repayment?"
"…You mean this is enough? My son only needs to use this ring? You're a merchant—you wouldn't stop there."
"What do you take me for?"
"During my time in the navy, I saw two kinds of merchants. The first squeezes out double profit through sheer stubbornness. The second smiles kindly while putting you into debt and takes triple profit."
That sounded strangely familiar.
"Anyway, stop dodging the question and tell me. I'd rather not discover later that I owe you three times as much."
"Well, if it truly bothers you, perhaps you could introduce me to someone I need."
"Introduce you? I know countless people in the Admiralty and the Tory Party! Just name them and I'll find them!"
The Earl of Sandwich, overjoyed at the prospect of becoming connected to the royal family, pounded his chest confidently.
"I'd like a connection within the East India Company. Could you arrange that?"
"…I cannot introduce anyone connected to gunpowder or saltpeter matters. That would harm national interests."
"Saltpeter? Nothing like that. I simply need leather and gemstones for my luxury hall."
"In that case, there's no problem. I'll introduce you to a Tory member of the Board of Control for India."
"What is his name?"
"Richard Colley Wellesley, the Earl of Mornington. He's the current head of the Board of Control and responsible for oversight of the East India Company. A promising young man our party intends to push into the House of Lords."
"Richard Wellesley…"
That name sounded familiar.
Let's get along well.
Mid-November, 1792.
While the island's weather grew colder each day, London itself was burning with excitement.
What was fueling it?
Need I say more? The passionate romance of young lovers.
According to a certain London newspaper, the story began like this:
"I, John Montagu, Earl of Sandwich, pay my respects to Her Royal Highness."
"I, John Montagu Jr., also pay my respects."
"You may both rise."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"…What is that you hold in your hand?"
"A gift my son prepared for Your Highness."
"Oh my. Silver with a ruby?"
"Since it marks Your Highness's twenty-fifth year—a Silver Jubilee—we commissioned it specially from the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall."
"How thoughtful."
True to their seafaring blood, the Earl of Sandwich and his son presented the ring to Princess Charlotte the moment they entered the palace.
No sense of romantic atmosphere at all. Sailors are hopeless.
Of course, I say that purely objectively—not because I graduated from the Paris Military Academy.
In any case, the romantic story spread across London newspapers and gossip alike.
[The Romantic Hero: Sandwich Junior!]
[Long Live Princess Charlotte!]
[Silver Jubilee Wins the Princess's Heart! What Is the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall?]
"What a relief."
"Why?"
"I was worried something might be wrong since the princess remained unmarried past twenty."
And the very next day after those headlines spread—
"Please take a number! Take a number!"
"We've already waited two hours! When can we enter?"
"Please wait just thirty more minutes!"
"Do you know who I am? I rode all night from Kensington!"
An enormous line formed outside the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall.
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