Hello World (2)
The wedding was held as grandly and successfully as any of the high nobility in England could have managed. I caught a glimpse of a minor commotion in the middle of the proceedings, but since Leo seemed to have handled it himself, there was no need for me to step in.
Since this would likely improve the Liberal Party's perception of Leo, perhaps I should actually be grateful to the idiot who caused the scene.
Cecilia was happy, my father-in-law was beyond satisfied, and my sister—who was finally mingling with true aristocrats—looked like she was grinning from ear to ear. I felt happy, too.
However, the person enjoying the most happiness at this ceremony was, unfortunately, not me.
"Ah... um, yes. Good to meet you, too. You said you were the Speaker of the Mississippi House of Representatives?"
"Yes! I am Farr! I have dedicated my entire life to horse racing and have always strived for the advancement of American racing culture. I have long admired your reputation, Lord Derby, and have always dreamed of meeting you!"
"Ah... I see. Thank you for your kind words."
If you ever want to know what a person looks like when they achieve their life's greatest wish, just look at that scene. Speaker Farr had fully entered "fangirl mode" upon meeting his idol, following Lord Derby around while showering him with endless professions of love.
Prime Minister Palmerston clicked his tongue and shook his head as he watched.
"I have to give him credit for his acting skills. As a Speaker from Mississippi, he naturally wants to build ties with the leader of the Conservative Party. Horse racing makes for a very convenient excuse..."
"With all due respect, Prime Minister, that isn't an act."
"...Hm?"
"The Speaker's love for horse racing is more sincere than anyone else's."
"Oh, come now, even so..."
Upon investigation, I found that thanks to me, Speaker Farr's reputation was already quite well-known in England. He was an exceptional politician who had suppressed a legislative coup faster than anyone else and protected Southern rights to prevent military rule. And yet, here was such a man clinging to Lord Derby without any ulterior motive, purely out of personal passion? It shouldn't be possible, but shockingly, it was the truth.
"Speaker Farr was the one who stood at the forefront of opposing the South's rebellion. Do you know why?"
"I think I've heard it, but I don't know for certain."
"He appealed against the war, arguing that if the North and South split, the racing circuit would shrink, and it would become impossible for a Triple Crown winner to emerge."
"......?"
Palmerston's eyes widened. You don't understand? Neither do I. I don't know why people of this era are so obsessed with horse racing...
"If that's true, I must meet him separately."
"Pardon?"
"It seems the Americans really are like brothers to us. Every true gentleman has the soul of a horseman burning in his heart."
I learned later that Palmerston was a man who had once shut down Parliament, declaring it only natural to recess during the days of the Derby. Indeed, English gentlemen were something else entirely.
The grueling marathon of weddings, receptions, and balls was far more complex and exhausting than any Southern formality. Cecilia fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion, and I lay on the sofa for a moment, rejoicing that this insane schedule was finally over. Humans are creatures that truly need rest to survive.
But the moment I made up my mind to do absolutely nothing and just enjoy a real vacation for a while—
"Seuret! Seuret! Lord Derby has invited us! He told us to come to Epsom!"
Speaker Farr, who seemed to suffer from a disease where he would die if left alone, burst into my room like a conquering hero, waving a vintage invitation card.
"Epsom... you mean the Derby Stakes?"
"Obviously! And you are coming with me, of course. Bring your bride, too!"
"...Ah, I'm going to lose my mind."
Without even a moment to refuse, I was bundled into a carriage and arrived at Epsom Downs. The 1862 Derby Stakes was packed with a sense of "authenticity" that couldn't be described as merely a horse track. It was a massive crucible of heat and cheers from hundreds of thousands of people, the smell of dust, sweat, and the perfume of aristocrats all mixed together.
Carriages lined the hills surrounding the track endlessly, and while the aristocrats sat in private stands with binoculars, sipping wine elegantly, their eyes burned with the intensity of someone ready to jump onto the track at any moment. Even someone with the prejudice that horse racing is just gambling and the track is just a den of vice would have their perception changed if they came here. It was a magnificent festival that one couldn't take their eyes off of.
"It's a pity Her Majesty the Queen is absent this year. Even the Prince of Wales couldn't come, as he's being cautious."
"But a royal representative is here, so the formalities have been observed."
Originally, the Derby was so beloved by the royal family that at least one member would always attend, but unfortunately, it had been less than a year since Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's consort, had been laid to rest. It was only natural that Victoria, who had cut off all public activities, wouldn't show her face, and that her son, who was firmly under her thumb, was also exercising restraint.
However, the heat of the venue didn't cool in the slightest, as there were plenty of political heavyweights to fill the void left by the royals. In particular, Prime Minister Palmerston and Lord Derby, both famous horse racing fanatics, were engaged in a debate more intense than any partisan struggle. Speaker Farr, caught in the middle, was flopping around like a fish in water. He looked even happier than when he had become the Speaker of the Mississippi House.
"My Lord! Surely this year it's *The Marquis*, isn't it? If it's a horse raised by the Northern wizard John Scott, there's no room for doubt!"
"Ho ho, Speaker Farr has a keen eye. It won the 2000 Guineas Stakes, so naturally, it will win this time as well. *The Marquis* is surely a vessel worthy of a Triple Crown winner."
For reference, the British Triple Crown refers to a horse that has conquered the 2000 Guineas Stakes, the Derby, and the St. Leger. It is a stage of glory that even the most outstanding horse in Europe can only challenge once in its lifetime. Lord Derby pushed for *The Marquis* with a voice full of conviction. In fact, the odds were the lowest, and the majority of the aristocrats had bet their money on it.
However, Prime Minister Palmerston scoffed.
"You all follow the textbook too closely. I'll bet on *Buckstone*. It's a horse with excellent stamina."
"*Buckstone*? It's no match for our *Marquis*."
"Derby, is that why you can't produce a Derby winner? I'm getting so impatient that I feel like I'll be in the grave before you ever produce a winner."
"Ho ho, just you wait. I'll soon present a horse that will shock the world!"
As expected of the top members of the Jockey Club, their debate was tighter than ever, with no room for compromise.
"Speaker Farr, who do you intend to bet on in the end?"
"I consider *Neptunus* to be the dark horse..."
As Speaker Farr cautiously offered his opinion, the eyes of the three men naturally turned to me.
"Now, who will the newlywed protagonist of the day bet on?"
"I'm curious about the choice of the American Cotton King."
Everyone looked at me with expectant eyes. It wouldn't be fun to bet on *The Marquis* or *Buckstone* like everyone else. In a social gathering like this, losing a bit of money and joking, "Oh, it's harder than I thought," is the best way to liven up the atmosphere. It was the perfect opportunity to show off the reactions of a 21st-century corporate executive.
I scanned the entry list and found a horse with odds of 40 to 1. Yes, with a "trash" horse like this, I was bound to lose money, right?
"Hmm... I'll bet on this fellow. *Caractacus*."
"Pfft! *Caractacus*?"
"You may have a good eye for cotton, but your eye for horses is lacking. That horse's jockey is an unverified rookie."
Lord Derby and Palmerston laughed and clicked their tongues. The atmosphere was good. A gathering becomes harmonious when someone is willing to be the punching bag.
"Well, let's just say I'm hoping for beginner's luck. I'll consider it tuition even if I lose."
Having prepared to throw my money away, I waited for the race to begin.
Bang! With the starting gun, the horses bolted forward. In the beginning, as expected, Lord Derby's pick, *The Marquis*, and Palmerston's *Buckstone* fought for the lead.
"That's it! Go! *The Marquis*! That's two crowns!"
"*Buckstone*! Dig in on the inside!"
While the aristocrats forgot their dignity and screamed at the top of their lungs, I sipped my wine, intending to enjoy watching my money turn into scraps of paper. But then.
"Huh? Uh? What is that horse? Why is he doing that?"
"*Caractacus*? Why is that trash horse coming out of there!"
The final straight. *Caractacus*, which had been lagging at the rear, surged forward with a frantic burst of speed and began to chase down the leading group.
"No! *The Marquis*! Block him!"
"Block him! Don't let him pass!"
"*Buckstone*! What are you doing!"
"Uwaaaaaah! Stop him!"
The moment everyone's hope turned into a nightmare. Just before the finish line, *Caractacus*'s nose edged out *The Marquis*'s neck by a hair's breadth.
Wooooooo!
"Son of a biiiiiitch!"
"*Caractacus*, you idiot!"
The betting slips, now just scraps of paper, scattered like a blizzard of rage.
"Victory! The winner is *Caractacus*! A miracle with 40-to-1 odds!"
Silence. And then, screams. Lord Derby stood frozen with his mouth agape, and Prime Minister Palmerston nearly dropped the glass he was holding. Soon, their eyes locked onto me as if by agreement.
"As expected... you were a man born to race horses..."
Speaker Farr teared up, moved. No, Speaker, that's not it. I had intended to lose the money and laugh it off with a cheerful "Oh, well!" So why on earth did I end up winning a "money-copying" jackpot all by myself?
Even the great James Seuret stood there with a bewildered expression, not knowing how to handle the situation, when Prime Minister Palmerston grabbed my arm.
"Come see me for a moment. Did you have an eye for judging not just cotton, but horses as well?"
"Pardon? No, logically, how could that be? I really just picked it at random."
"Don't lie. You picked a 40-to-1 shot at random and won? I hear that in India, they can see one's destiny just by looking at their face. Did you perhaps learn something like that?"
"Ah, I'm telling you, that's not it."
Still not believing me, Palmerston dragged me to a secluded balcony and suddenly changed his expression.
"If you won't tell me the secret, tell me something else."
"......?"
"You met with Disraeli, didn't you? I can roughly guess what you talked about."
The subject change is too fast, old man. I had a rough idea, but it seemed the horse talk was just an excuse, and this was the real agenda.
"The Qing dynasty market has opened. That fellow will try to approach it cautiously, weighing efficiency, but my thoughts are different. Opportunities must be seized when they arrive. If you hesitate too much, you'll miss them."
"Isn't that for the British government to handle? I'm just a merchant..."
"A merchant? Not at all. I can tell just by the way a heavyweight like Speaker Farr treats you."
Palmerston's eyes flashed.
"Speaker Farr must have tremendous influence over the entire South, and he must have ties to President Lincoln as well. Now that the war in America is over, shouldn't they be pouring that overflowing power outward?"
It was true; while fighting the Civil War, America had churned out massive amounts of military supplies, and because the war ended faster than expected, they were in a situation where they couldn't even digest it all.
"A man with the ambition to dominate the cotton industry must also become accustomed to politics. We will drop a hint to the American government from our side, but I want you to act as a guarantor in the middle. Show them how serious we are."
He pressed a letter into my pocket and whispered secretly.
"The Qing dynasty is, so to speak, a rightful privilege that we should naturally take. If we are a little more greedy here, we should also knock on the door of Japan, a country just beginning to act like a civilized nation."
"...Pardon?"
"Our British Empire is a nation of gentlemen, recognized by all. Since it was the United States that opened Japan's doors, we intend to respect the United States' priority as much as possible. So, grow more cotton than you do now so that we can use all of East Asia as a market. We need you to provide the bullets so we can fight the battle. Hahaha!"
A moving and astonishing scene of history where the opposition and the ruling party become one through exploitation. The unexpected snowball effect, where the Civil War ended in just one year, was now trying to move the strongest power of the current era. The place that would be hit head-on by this massive avalanche would, naturally, be the entirety of East Asia.