The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 953 - 40: The Unique Nobility

Mr. DelaSalle had sweaty palms as he revisited the suitors he found agreeable in his mind.

"What about Mr. Mathieu or Mr. Alpharo? I think both these young men are very good, and they have very promising futures."

"Mr. Mathieu dances poorly, he’s not coordinated, and he doesn’t have any money. But he does have his strengths; his voice is very pleasant, and he knows how to charm women. However, to me, he’s just too amorous, slipping around like an eel among everyone.

As for Mr. Alpharo, he’s a Colonel in the Dragoon Regiment, which I quite like. But he’s a bit too old, and I don’t want my husband constantly transferring with the army and leaving Paris now and then. Furthermore, father, none of these men have titles, and I at least want to fulfill Mother’s wish of becoming a Countess."

Hearing this, Mr. DelaSalle raised his eyes to the sky, as if hoping to draw on the strength of patience from God’s blessing. He took his daughter’s hand and held it tightly, speaking to her as gently as possible.

"God is my witness, Emily. For you, I have fulfilled all a father’s responsibilities in good conscience. Do you hear me, Emily? I sincerely love you, so I hope you understand that marital happiness does not rest entirely on prominent status and wealth; it can also be built on mutual respect, just like between your mother and me. The essence of such happiness is humility and simplicity.

Indeed, your mother complains about not becoming a Countess, but she says this while she married me when I was a poor young man. The Great Revolution messed up our family’s business, and if your uncle hadn’t gained Napoleon’s trust and gotten involved in the creation of the Banque de France, we might still be struggling today.

You must understand, the world is in a state of change, especially in this rapidly changing country of France. Today’s perfect husband might face bankruptcy or title stripping in a few years. Those ambitious young men you look down on today might seize an opportunity that allows them to rise grandly. Isn’t Mr. Thiers a typical example of this?"

Emily teased her father: "My dear daddy, I am very grateful for your care and love. You might never have imagined I would be so rebellious and disobedient. But, father, is it truly that difficult to marry a House of Lords member? Didn’t you say they’re produced by the dozens? I know you’re exhausted from throwing perpetual banquets, but at least you’d not refuse to give me advice, right?"

With a sigh, Mr. DelaSalle said, "I won’t refuse, my poor child, how could I say no to my darling? But I must warn you: if you plan to find such an ideal husband by yourself, you must be very careful. The institution of the House of Lords is a very new one in our government, and most of the people lingering there now are newly ennobled; there may be some Old Nobles, but in the turbulent thirty years, their wealth has also largely depleted.

Therefore, the richest guy in the French House of Lords is not half as wealthy as the poorest noble in the House of Lords in Britain. So, the French nobility needs to look for wealthy brides for their sons everywhere. This need for marriages of wealth may last for one or two centuries.

Perhaps in your journey of waiting for encounters, with your keen eyes and charm, the miracle might happen one day. For in this century, many people around us indeed have married for love.

But keep your eyes peeled. Don’t presume someone with a flattering look and an unfamiliar face is rich in conscience, nor assume that a handsome face equates to moral wealth. Of course, I completely agree with you; all sons of the nobility should exude a special aura and have noble manners—it’s their duty.

Although the upper class no longer bears any distinct marks, for you, these noble youths may possess something special to make you identify their status, just like you think obesity is sinful—you always have that knack. My good girl, choose carefully, like a good jockey who doesn’t miss out on her fine steed. Good luck!"

Mr. DelaSalle said much earnestly, but what Emily absorbed was only one sentence.

Emily murmured, "The richest guy in the French House of Lords is not half as wealthy as the poorest noble in Britain’s House of Lords?"

Her gaze drifted back to the young Brit surrounded by Parisian police dignitaries.

To a human being, once you form a first impression of something, you instinctively add a filter to it in your mind, surpassing the thing’s actual beauty or ugliness.

Just as those ladies who admire Napoleon would see his ’butcher’s pig-killing’ horse-riding stance as the ’emperor’s majesty,’ Sir Arthur Hastings’ faint Yorkshire pig smell now appeared to Emily as having a hint of noble charm.

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