The spring of May 1837 was a cruel season in Britain, where light and shadow stood in stark contrast.
At Kensington Palace, the warmth of spring filled the gardens, and preparations were in full swing for Victoria's upcoming birthday celebration.
It was not a grand public affair—only close family members and a handful of aristocrats near the royal household were invited—but the guests showed no trace of gloom.
The only exceptions were the Duchess of Kent and John Conroy, whose faces looked as if they had swallowed something bitter.
With less than a month remaining before Victoria reached adulthood, their long-nurtured ambitions were on the verge of collapse.
But their misery had nothing to do with the broader troubles shaking the country.
Across London, investors were leaping into the Thames, and industrialists spoke anxiously of collapsing markets.
Yet to the aristocratic elite, such matters belonged to another world entirely.
Most of them still refused to believe the crisis was serious.
For businessmen—especially those deeply tied to the American market—the reality was very different.
Their voices were beginning to crack with despair.
If the crisis had been limited to America alone, perhaps Britain might have endured it with little damage.
Unfortunately, the British economy had its own weaknesses.
Speculation in railway ventures and aggressive bank lending had already inflated dangerous bubbles.
Now the American collapse was pulling them down as well.
"Just as you predicted," James reported, spreading several documents across the table.
"Companies in the coal and iron industries are taking immediate losses."
"They exported enormous quantities to the United States."
"And that market has almost completely disappeared."
Killian nodded calmly.
"If their export volumes were that high, it means their production capacity was equally large."
"They never imagined that success would become a liability."
"Of course, strong companies will recover eventually—even if they struggle for a few years."
"But this kind of recession is unfamiliar."
"Everyone is confused."
James slid forward a carefully prepared list.
"As instructed, I compiled a list of promising companies in Britain and America."
Killian scanned it.
"In Britain—Dowlais Ironworks in Wales."
"In America—Lehigh Coal and Baldwin Locomotive."
Railways would eventually become the most explosive industry after the recession ended.
But acquiring railway companies directly would require enormous capital.
It would be possible—but costly.
And Killian had another priority.
The resources of the Canadian Great Lakes region.
Compared to railways, the support industries—iron and coal—offered far better leverage.
If railway expansion continued, steel producers and coal miners would prosper automatically.
From a cost-benefit perspective, they were the superior choice.
"Dowlais," James continued, "is a company with deep roots."
"They even participated in supplying materials for the Stockton–Darlington Railway."
"They expanded recently into coal mining as well."
"And then the crisis struck."
Killian chuckled.
"That must feel like lightning from a clear sky."
"Exactly."
"The owner, John Josiah Guest, is a capable businessman who expanded the company he inherited from his father."
"He even served as a Member of Parliament until a few years ago."
"Dowlais supplies iron not only in Britain but also to railway projects in Berlin and Leipzig."
"They exported heavily to the United States as well."
"But now payment from those contracts is uncertain."
Killian considered the situation.
Declining domestic demand.
Falling exports.
Credit tightening.
And the unfortunate timing of new business expansion.
It was a triple blow.
The fact that the company was still functioning at all proved its underlying strength.
"What about the American companies?" Killian asked.
"The situation there is worse."
"Lehigh Coal, in Pennsylvania, is struggling to secure funding."
"Its stock price is collapsing."
"And Baldwin Locomotive faces similar trouble."
"Last year Baldwin produced forty locomotives."
"This year they may not even reach twenty."
"And within a few years, production could drop below ten."
"Matthias Baldwin is desperately searching for partners to save his company."
Killian nodded.
"Good."
"You chose companies where acquiring a significant stake won't be difficult."
"Correct," James said.
"Lehigh is publicly traded."
"We can simply buy the collapsed stock."
"Baldwin is privately owned, so purchasing shares isn't possible."
"But Baldwin's financial desperation gives us strong negotiating leverage."
Then James hesitated slightly.
"The only complication is Dowlais."
"All shares are owned by Guest's family and Wyndham Lewis."
"Still… opportunities to enter a company of this quality rarely appear."
Killian smiled.
"Then we negotiate directly with the Guest family."
"We won't interfere with management."
"But we'll acquire enough shares to ensure influence."
"In exchange, we provide the capital they desperately need."
"That should be acceptable."
"And America?" James asked.
"You'll handle Lehigh and Baldwin personally."
"We'll visit Dowlais together first."
"Arrange the schedule immediately."
Killian had no intention of swallowing the companies entirely.
Buying undervalued shares during a depression was already profitable.
But his true objective lay elsewhere.
He possessed a far greater card—
one that would enrich everyone involved.
"No need to rush," James suggested cautiously.
"Perhaps we could take a little more time?"
"No," Killian replied firmly.
"We must return to London before May 24th."
"May 24th?"
James glanced at the calendar.
Then he smiled knowingly.
"Ah."
"Of course."
May 24th—
Victoria's birthday celebration.
"I heard only close members of the royal family and a few aristocrats were invited," James said.
"So you received an invitation as well."
Killian sighed.
"Apparently."
"And refusing would be extremely dangerous."
If Victoria merely grew angry, that would be manageable.
But if she started crying—
the consequences might be far worse.
Lately her subtle hints had begun turning into outright pressure.
She clearly wanted him to define his position.
Killian groaned internally.
If rumors spread that he had seduced the future queen of Britain—
his political career would end instantly.
Perhaps in several years such risks might become manageable.
But not yet.
And Victoria's personality made things unpredictable.
She had matured compared to her historical counterpart.
But her fundamental temperament had not changed.
James smirked.
"Well, even the future queen is still a young woman."
"Consider it the price of stirring her heart."
Killian snorted.
"That's easy for you to say."
"Still," James added, "she isn't queen yet."
"Take comfort in that."
Killian laughed weakly.
"To become queen…"
To James, the remark was harmless.
But Killian knew the truth.
William IV would die only twenty-six days after Victoria's birthday.
Not much comfort there.
* * *
In earlier centuries, Merthyr Tydfil in Wales had been little more than a small village.
Now it was one of the fastest-growing industrial towns in Britain.
Iron ore, coal, limestone, timber—
all essential resources were abundant.
Even water supplies were plentiful.
It was the perfect location for ironworks.
Merthyr Tydfil had become the largest iron-producing region in the British Empire.
Four of Britain's biggest ironworks were located there:
Dowlais
Plymouth
Cyfarthfa
Penydarren
But even this industrial powerhouse could not escape the approaching recession.
As ironworks reduced production, workers inevitably lost their jobs.
Perhaps the crisis would be brief.
Or perhaps it would last years.
No one knew.
Even those still employed feared dismissal.
The man Killian came to meet today—
John Josiah Guest, owner of Dowlais—
was no exception.
The deep lines carved into his brow revealed the strain.
The negotiations might proceed even more favorably than expected.
When Killian and James entered the office, Guest immediately greeted James, assuming Killian was merely an assistant.
"Welcome. I appreciate you traveling all the way from London."
"It was only a three-day carriage ride," James replied politely.
"Still, a round trip takes a week."
"And I've long heard of the James Detective Agency."
"I didn't expect its director to visit personally."
The agency had gained significant reputation.
Although recently established, Killian's information network had spread beyond London into Wales and Scotland.
The organization had grown so large that Killian divided it into two fronts:
James Detective Agency – publicly known for security and investigation services.
British Detective Agency – handling operations that crossed the line between legal and illegal.
To the outside world, they appeared to compete.
In reality, they were sibling organizations with the same master.
Taking advantage of Britain's still-primitive policing system, Killian had quietly built influence across London.
And through Wellesley, he had established strong ties with the government.
The business was expanding rapidly.
Within three years, even if Killian closed his casinos entirely, these agencies alone could replace their income.
Guest spoke carefully.
"May I ask why a detective agency is interested in ironworks?"
James smiled.
"It's a promising industry."
"Despite the recession, industries like this form the backbone of the nation."
Guest laughed politely.
"I didn't realize your firm invested out of patriotic duty."
"If you review the conditions we proposed," James said calmly, "you'll see we are not greedy capitalists."
"You gain capital to survive the recession."
"We gain shares in a promising company."
"Both sides benefit."
Guest hesitated.
"Your proposal would certainly ease our financial situation."
"But…"
Dowlais had earned roughly £500,000 in revenue the previous year.
Operating profit was close to £100,000.
But this year revenue was expected to fall nearly in half.
The company's valuation had already dropped by a third.
Killian could easily afford the investment.
The profit from selling his Chicago land holdings alone would cover it—with hundreds of thousands left over.
The true obstacle was not money.
It was the owner's pride.
James explained:
"We are not asking for your shares, Mr. Guest."
"Only those owned by your family."
"We are willing to pay 10% above market value."
"And our stake would not threaten your control."
Guest shook his head slowly.
"Even so… if Dowlais survives this crisis, we will eventually list the company publicly."
"At that point your shareholding could influence management."
"Selling all of my family's shares is difficult."
"Perhaps… half?"
James glanced at Killian.
Killian stepped forward.
"Mr. Guest, perhaps we should speak directly."
Guest blinked.
"…And you are?"
"Killian Gore, Earl of Arran."
"I am not yet of age, so James acts as my representative."
"But the detective agencies—and many other enterprises—belong to me."
Guest stared at James in shock.
"You mean… the owner of the agency is this young earl?"
James nodded.
Guest's jaw nearly dropped.
"But… you're so young."
"How could you possibly possess that kind of wealth?"
"The Arran family is hardly that rich," Killian said lightly.
"I earned it through business."
"I currently hold over one million pounds in liquid assets."
"And I intend to invest that money not only in Dowlais—but in several other companies."
Guest nearly lost his breath.
"A… million pounds?"
"Yes."
"And I'm not doing this merely to enrich myself."
"I'm creating an opportunity for all of us."
Guest straightened his jacket slowly.
"What kind of opportunity?"
Killian smiled.
"The companies I intend to invest in are Dowlais in Wales, and coal and locomotive companies in the United States."
Guest nodded slowly.
"I see the pattern."
"Of course you do," Killian said.
"Once this recession ends, these companies will recover quickly."
"But businesses must always seek new markets."
"Wouldn't it be wise to secure another source of immense profit?"
Guest leaned forward.
"Do you have such a market in mind?"
"Yes."
"The Great Lakes region of Canada contains vast iron deposits."
"And both eastern and western Canada hold enormous coal reserves."
"But the industries to exploit them—mining, smelting, transportation—barely exist."
Guest frowned.
"Canada?"
"That doesn't sound particularly attractive."
Killian smiled faintly.
"There are more resources there than Dowlais could process alone."
"My plan is to form a consortium with American companies."
"We will secure exclusive development rights."
"The technology already exists."
"The British government will subsidize part of the initial investment."
"And employing local workers will strengthen public support."
Guest asked cautiously,
"Resource extraction in Canada is heavily regulated by law."
"Have you considered that?"
Killian nodded calmly.
"Of course."
"I've already reached an understanding with Parliament."
"In exchange for hiring a certain number of local workers, there will be no obstacles."
Guest fell silent.
"If we survive the recession…"
"And secure exclusive development rights in Canada…"
Killian nodded.
"And if I hold significant shares, it benefits you as well."
"After all, I'll direct as many contracts as possible to Dowlais."
"And if the company eventually goes public, I will defend your control of the company."
"You can even include that clause in the contract."
Guest's face brightened.
"Truly?"
Killian smiled.
"Yes."
The deal was finished.
With this agreement, Killian had secured one arm of what would become Europe's largest iron empire.
And with a capable industrialist like Guest running it—
Killian could simply provide capital and opportunities while the profits grew.
"I will persuade my family and Mr. Lewis to sell their shares," Guest said.
"I'll send a messenger to London within a few days."
"An excellent decision," Killian replied.
"I look forward to a profitable partnership."
Guest invited them to stay longer.
Killian politely declined.
He climbed back into his carriage immediately.
There was no time to waste.
Someone at Kensington Palace was waiting impatiently.
And fortunately—
the negotiations had concluded quickly enough for Killian to confirm Victoria's birthday gift.
After the incident at Christmas, it would be dangerous if she sulked again.
Perhaps a more extravagant present would help.
Though Killian could not shake the feeling he was digging his own grave.
Still—
there was no turning back now.
If he jumped off the bridge midway—
Victoria might not chase him with a knife.
She might arrive with a gun instead.