Chapter 37

February 19, 1862, 8 am.

Within the hallowed halls of Buckingham Palace, a profound and troubled sigh escaped. "Good heavens," the speaker lamented, "Is this course of action justifiable, Albert? Alice, Helena, and Louise – the youngest barely six months from her sixteenth birthday – remain utterly oblivious to the unfolding circumstances. Will this Amsterdam excursion truly yield the desired results? Or must I meticulously prepare to mitigate potential catastrophes?" Silence, heavy with unspoken anxieties, descended.

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Within the opulent Berlin Palace, a familial tension simmered beneath the veneer of a Prussian royal dinner hosted by Kaiser Wilhelm I. His inquiry, a carefully veiled suggestion, hung heavy in the air: "Victoria, which of your sisters do you deem most suitable for William IV of the Netherlands?" Silence, thick and suffocating, descended upon the assembled royals. Frederick, the Crown Prince, his gaze sharp and disapproving, rebuked his son, the young Prince William, for his slovenly posture. Yet, a contrasting tenderness softened his expression as he affectionately stroked his daughter, Princess Charlotte's hair. Princess Victoria, her voice measured, responded, "Alice, renowned for her impeccable virtue at Buckingham Palace, holds my highest hopes." Wilhelm I, his anticipation palpable, turned to his heir. "And your assessment, Frederick?" "Similar, Father," Frederick replied, his tone impeccably polite, yet devoid of genuine enthusiasm. The Kaiser's jovial countenance instantly crumbled.

His voice, now flat and dismissive, revealed the political machinations lurking beneath the surface: "Bismarck informed me just two days ago that Alice is the least likely candidate for William IV." Young Prince William's outburst betrayed his childish indignation. "Grandfather, why? Princess Alice is my aunt! Does William IV possess such deficient judgment that he cannot discern her extraordinary beauty?" Princess Victoria subtly mirrored her nephew's displeasure. The prospect of a close familial bond with the Dutch royal family, through Alice's marriage, had held a particular appeal for her. Wilhelm I, intrigued by his grandson's naive protest, elaborated: "Bismarck believes Alice's gentle nature and conciliatory disposition clash fundamentally with William IV's temperament and decidedly pragmatic worldview. This incompatibility renders her candidacy untenable."Bismarck! The appellation "Princess Victoria" is insufficient; she is the Crown Princess, and her assessment is chilling. She contends that Prussia's most reviled figure, second only to Wilhelm I in influence, is the architect of a clandestine strategy. Crown Princess Victoria perceives Bismarck's malevolent core: a premeditated campaign against Great Britain, mirroring the recent Belgian crisis. To vanquish the British Empire, he's forging insidious alliances with France and the Netherlands. Consequently, she's repeatedly warned her mother, Queen Victoria, of this looming peril. Yet, her urgent pleas remain unanswered, seemingly lost to the indifference of the waves. Does her mother intend to maintain this perilous estrangement with Prussia, despite the undeniable threat?.

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Within the opulent confines of the Brussels Royal Palace, Crown Prince Leopold Victor observed his father, Leopold I, with a keen, unsettling gaze. His father's countenance, usually placid, was etched with deeper lines, his facial muscles twitching with unusual frequency. A profound unease settled upon the young prince. "Father," Leopold Victor began, his voice laced with unspoken accusation, "Your dispatch of Prince Philip to King Valtaire's banquet in Amsterdam, accompanied by Prime Minister Alban, strikes me as…subservient. This blatant obeisance to the Netherlands, given our present circumstances, is deeply troubling." Leopold I sighed, the weight of his decision heavy upon him. "The Netherlands have not encroached upon our territory, my son. We are not at war. And, let us not forget, my niece, the Queen, harbors no ill will." A subtle frown creased his brow, betraying the carefully constructed façade of calm. Truthfully, the King confessed to himself, sending his beloved second son, along with his chief minister, to this lavish gathering gnawed at his conscience. It was a calculated gambit, a desperate bid for appeasement.

But with Britain, a far more significant power, choosing détente, tiny Belgium had little choice but to follow suit. Such was the bitter plight of a small nation caught in the undertow of great power politics. Belgium, Leopold I reflected grimly, faced a formidable coalition of three nations, its internal unity shattered by ethnic tensions. A temporary submission, he reasoned, a strategic retreat, might prove the most effective way to buy time, to gather strength for a future resurgence. "Leopold Victor," Leopold I said, his voice firm despite the internal turmoil, "we must adopt a long-range perspective. While Queen Victoria reigns, few will dare openly defy Belgium. Remember this: isolated, we are vulnerable. The Netherlands, emboldened by Britain's perceived weakness, would exploit our predicament without hesitation." His words hung in the air, a stark assessment of Belgium's precarious position.Act independently. A profound sadness settled over Crown Prince Victor as he gazed upon his father, Leopold I. "What counsel did your father offer?" he inquired, his voice barely a whisper.

"The triple alliance, seemingly unbreakable, hinges on our Belgian presence," Leopold I responded, his voice heavy with the weight of years and impending conflict. "The British Empire, while hesitant to initiate hostilities against a united front, would readily exploit divisions. Severed, the three nations would dissolve, their common purpose lost, their bonds shattered. Furthermore, the Netherlands' blatant courtship of the British Empire is unmistakable. France, ever devious, cannot be oblivious to Amsterdam's machinations. Napoleon III, I suspect, regrets his alliance—a rash decision, perhaps, that now gnaws at his conscience. And let us not underestimate the ambition of William I and Bismarck. These are not men to be trifled with; predators ever watchful, seizing any advantage, gobbling up any opportunity presented." King Leopold I's words resonated deeply within Crown Prince Victor, snapping him from his reverie.

"Remember," the King added, his voice regaining a steely edge, "be prompt. Await me before ten. I intend to grace *The Times* with our presence for their unprecedented interview—a new journalistic venture emulating the *European Times*. We shall be their inaugural subjects. Punctuality is paramount." As his eldest son departed, Leopold I felt the crushing weight of his years. Nearing seventy, the burden of kingship pressed heavily upon him, a weariness settling deep in his bones. The wisdom of ages confirmed the truth: the roles of monarch and statesman are indeed the most arduous of responsibilities.His mind drifted to his neighbor, William IV of the Netherlands. A weary sigh escaped Leopold I's lips. This gathering, he mused, dwarfed all others since the Congress of Vienna in 1815; every European power had dispatched its most significant representatives. He couldn't afford to discount William IV's influence. Dismissing the thought, Leopold resolved to compose himself before his upcoming interview. The prospect of a makeup artist filled him with a strange mixture of necessity and unease; the artifice felt inherently discordant. Yet, a sudden realization struck him: the Dutch had already commenced their own high-level discussions, a preemptive political maneuver preceding this crucial, almost fateful, summit.

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