Chapter 2372 - 305: First Encounter? Final Farewell?

In one’s life, there are always some moments that seem insignificant at the time, but in fact, they influence the bigger picture.

——William Thackeray, "Vanity Fair"

In the gardens of Kensington, sunlight cut through the branches and leaves, casting mottled shadows.

The flowers in the courtyard were beaded with morning dew, gently swaying, exuding fragrance.

The stone path in front of the palace gates still bore the damp traces of last night’s rain; the sound of carriage wheels splashing through puddles was especially clear in Flora’s ears.

Her gaze fell on the distant road, as if the scene before her held no connection.

Her eyes skimmed over the busy servants, the prepared carriage, and the farewell bouquet from the Duchess, yet her mind was elsewhere.

She did not notice how the flowers boldly flourished and bloomed in the sunlight.

Nor did she notice how the green leaves shimmered in the breeze, as if beckoning her to linger a little longer.

She especially did not notice how the lilies given by the Duchess of Kent at parting refracted the warm morning light, emanating comfort and farewells.

What she saw was the thick fog on the street, with all the beauty and vitality seemingly separated by an unreachable barrier, drifting further from her.

The wind stirred the treetops, as dry leaves gently fell from the branches, spinning softly, tracing an arc in the air, rootless and unsettled.

They came with the wind and went with the wind.

The scenery outside the carriage window grew increasingly blurred, with distant towers and winding streets becoming faint in the morning mist, as if gradually erased from memory.

She did not look back, only lowered her gaze, her hand unconsciously caressing the window curtain as the sound of the wheels rolling over the ground repeatedly echoed in her ears, becoming just as hazy, as if even this sound was about to vanish from her memory.

Flora gently closed her eyes, feeling the faint sunlight slip over her through the carriage window.

The sunlight illuminated the world before her, but could not penetrate her heart.

The carriage slowly moved along the street, the trees lining the road gradually concealed by the fog, as if everything was swallowed by this morning mist, never to awaken.

Pedestrians hurried by on the streets, with sounds of arguing, cursing, laughter, vendors yelling, children crying, and the elegant phonograph music from shops...

In Flora’s ears, all of this distilled into silence.

Some people seemed to be within reach, yet were actually unattainable.

Human joys and sorrows did not communicate; she merely found them noisy.

The crisp and rhythmic sound of hooves seemed to approach from afar,

Flora kept her eyes closed, tilting her head slightly, as if she could feel the vibration brought by the hoofbeats.

It must be a tall black horse, its mane fluttering in the breeze, stepping across the moist cobblestones, splashing fine droplets, creating ripples.

Pants of pure white riding breeches, the tail of a deep black morning coat swaying gently with the horse’s stride, the collar raised high, a white shirt peeking slightly at the collar, with exquisite double-breasted buttons gleaming in the sunlight, a tightly fitted waistbelt accentuating his tall and vigorous figure.

Flora’s heartbeat subtly sped up with the rhythm of the hoofbeats.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves slowed, she heard the sound of a gentleman’s hat being removed close to her ear.

"Miss Hastings."

Flora barely opened her eyes, her vision still blurred, yet as that voice drew nearer, the scene outside the window gradually clarified.

He was a gentleman from the Home Office, but not the one she was most familiar with.

Henry Blackwell was mounted, tipping his hat with a slight bow: "Miss Hastings, I have arranged train tickets for you and your servants. Paddington Station, departing at half-past seven."

Flora seemed a bit weary, but she still managed a polite smile: "Thank you, Mr. Blackwell."

"Not at all, merely my duty." Blackwell replied with a smile as he replaced his hat: "However, due to official business, I will be unable to accompany you after boarding. But rest assured, I have already informed them, and there will be personnel to assist you after you disembark from the train."

Flora forced a smile: "I appreciate your arrangements, please believe that I am extremely grateful."

"If all goes well, we will arrive at the station in half an hour." Blackwell took a glance at his pocket watch, feeling a hesitation before suppressing the impulse to ask Flora to speak kindly of him to Sir Arthur, ultimately squeezing out: "Wishing you a smooth journey."

...

The morning at Paddington Station was a weave of bustling footsteps, noisy conversation, and urgent train whistles.

Perhaps due to the coronation ceremony, Paddington Station was particularly crowded today, with people surging like tides, almost filling the station hall to capacity, while on the street, the lines of cabs and private carriages stretched long.

Arthur rode on horseback, gently tightening the reins, attempting to guide his horse through the chaotic streets, yet the road before the station was nearly blocked solid, with every street clogged by people and stalling carriages, leaving him little room for maneuver.

The black horse stomped restlessly on the moist cobblestones, and Arthur’s brow unwittingly furrowed.

Just when he felt there was no way out, a sharp police whistle pierced through the crowd, as several patrolmen squeezed through the throngs, forcibly opening a path leading towards Arthur.