Chapter 8

A few days later.

Sir James Clark came to see me, looking far more energetic than before.

“Your Majesty! Thank you once again for approving the establishment of the Royal Pharmaceutical Research Society. Pharmacists and chemists across London who share the same vision are already showing great interest.”

Watching him, I smiled with quiet satisfaction.

To him, the society wasn’t simply an honorary position. It was the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream.

‘Good. Now it’s about time to get to the real point.’

I set down my teacup and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Seeing your enthusiasm puts my mind at ease, Sir James.”

“It is all thanks to Your Majesty.”

“Which is why, Sir James, shouldn’t we decide on the society’s very first task?”

At my words, Sir James Clark immediately straightened his posture as if he had been waiting for the question.

“Of course, Your Majesty. First, we should prepare a report on the dangers of laudanum and Godfrey’s Cordial and present it to the public—”

“No. That’s important as well, but there’s something even more urgent.”

“Something more urgent…?”

Looking puzzled, he waited for my answer.

I made the project’s true objective perfectly clear.

“I want you to develop a new painkiller to replace laudanum.”

“…Pardon?”

A huge question mark seemed to appear on Sir James Clark’s face.

Publishing the dangers of laudanum alone would already be a monumental task, and now I was suddenly asking him to develop an alternative medicine?

“Your Majesty, laudanum has been used for centuries. Finding another medicine capable of matching its effects will not be easy.”

“We’re not looking for one. We’re making one from materials that already exist.”

As I spoke, I carefully drew upon the scraps of knowledge I had picked up long ago, trying to sound as natural as possible.

“Sir James, have you ever heard of willow bark?”

“Willow bark?”

“I’ve heard that, since ancient times, people have boiled willow bark and drunk the decoction to relieve pain. They also say it’s effective at reducing fever.”

“Willow… Ah! If Your Majesty is referring to salicin, then yes, I’m quite familiar with it.”

Salicin?

A fragment of memory surfaced from when I had leafed through Queen Victoria’s diary.

‘I’m sure I read it. It was in one of the entries from around the 1890s… They made a medicine called aspirin based on a compound extracted from willow bark…’

Aspirin.

The very medicine that had become practically synonymous with headache relief, fever reducers, and painkillers in twenty-first century South Korea.

Wasn’t it even used to help prevent cardiovascular disease?

‘That’s it!’

My heart began pounding.

If aspirin existed, then something like laudanum could be banished to the pages of history.

Suppressing my excitement, I asked as calmly as I could,

“Has… a medicine using salicin already been developed?”

“No, Your Majesty. It has never been made into a medicine. Only a few years ago, several chemists succeeded in extracting the compound from willow bark. For now, it remains little more than laboratory research.”

“In that case, would you be able to turn salicin into a medicinal preparation?”

The brilliance on Sir James Clark’s face from moments earlier faded, replaced by hesitation.

“Your Majesty… I regret to say that it would be extremely difficult.”

“Difficult? Why?”

“Salicin itself is effective, but it also causes stomach ulcers and several other undesirable side effects. Furthermore, making it easy for patients to take is an entirely different challenge.”

As expected.

A sixty-year technological gap wasn’t something that could be overcome so easily.

Just as disappointment began creeping in, Sir James Clark cautiously offered an alternative.

“Creating a finished medicine would be difficult…”

“Yes?”

“But if I work together with the society’s chemists, we may be able to produce salicin powder with as many impurities removed as possible.”

“Salicin powder?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. If we follow the method successfully developed by French chemists seven years ago, we should be able to produce it without much difficulty.”

As he spoke, Sir James Clark pointed toward my teacup.

“If we can make it into a powder, it could be dissolved in tea or taken with food. It should serve well enough for relieving pain.”

‘Not a finished medicine, but the raw powder?’

It was a little disappointing, but under the circumstances, that was more than enough.

Otherwise, I’d have to wait another sixty years.

Compared to my urgent need to drive laudanum out of use, that level of inconvenience was nothing.

“That will do perfectly.”

“…Pardon?”

Sir James Clark looked genuinely surprised by my answer.

He had probably expected me to be disappointed or to demand something more refined.

“That will be more than enough to win over some troublesome enemies.”

Every day in the life of Mrs. Ashburton, one of the leading ladies of London’s high society, was like fighting a war.

“Ma’am, we need to reply to the Rothschild family’s invitation.”

“A letter has arrived from the Duchess of Sutherland regarding next week’s charity bazaar attire…”

“The head chef is beside himself because tonight’s dinner menu still hasn’t been decided.”

The butler, ladies’ maids, and housemaids delivered report after report without pause.

Managing an enormous mansion, supervising countless servants, and coordinating an endless stream of social events was every bit as exhausting as commanding an army.

On top of that, her husband would return home from Parliament and talk of nothing but politics.

It was no wonder her migraines never left her.

‘Ah… My head hurts.’

Mrs. Ashburton pressed her fingers against her temple and let out a weary sigh.

Just then, her savior arrived.

“Ma’am, Mrs. Stanley has arrived.”

“Show her into the drawing room. And… don’t forget ‘that.’”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

A short while later, the two ladies sat facing one another on a velvet sofa.

Beside each teacup rested a crystal wine glass filled with deep red wine.

Mrs. Stanley gracefully lifted her glass.

“To our weary souls.”

“To the only comfort in our exhausting lives.”

The crystal glasses clinked with a clear chime.

Mrs. Ashburton took a sip, savoring not only the fragrant aroma of grapes but also the faint bitterness of medicinal herbs lingering beneath it.

It was wine mixed with laudanum.

“Ah… Nothing compares to this.”

“Exactly. Without it, how could we possibly endure all those servants, demanding husbands, and these never-ending parties?”

Mrs. Stanley shook her head in agreement.

For women who fought their daily battles while wearing the armor of noble ladies, this brief moment was the only ceasefire they were ever granted, and each quietly performed her own little ritual.

While the two women were in the middle of sharing their frustrations and comforting one another, the butler approached carrying a letter on a silver tray.

“Ma’am, a letter has arrived from Kensington Palace.”

“From the Palace?”

Mrs. Ashburton looked puzzled as she broke the red wax seal with a letter opener. As she read the letter, her eyes widened.

“My goodness… Her Majesty is hosting an afternoon tea party at the Palace. We’ve been invited.”

“What? You mean… Her Majesty, the Queen who’s so fond of commoners?”

Mrs. Stanley’s voice was filled with caution.

And for good reason.

Queen Victoria’s eccentric behavior had become famous throughout London’s high society.

The rumor that she had established a nursery inside the Palace for the servants’ children had been shocking—no, downright unbelievable.

“Should we go? Honestly… I’m a little reluctant. What if we end up hearing all those noisy children from the nursery?”

“What choice do we have? The Queen is the Queen.”

Mrs. Ashburton pursed her lips.

No matter how displeased she was, refusing an invitation from the sovereign was simply unthinkable.

“I suppose we’ll have to see it with our own eyes. Just what in the world is she thinking, doing something so bizarre?”

The two ladies exchanged knowing glances and nodded to each other like spies preparing to infiltrate enemy territory.

Several days later, the gardens of Kensington Palace were filled with elegant ladies from the highest circles of London’s society, gathered in small groups.

The white tablecloths shimmered softly beneath the sunlight.

Three-tiered silver serving stands displayed delicate cakes and sandwiches, while maids silently moved among the guests, refilling teacups.

Everything was flawless.

Everything was elegant.

‘This is… much more ordinary than I expected.’

Mrs. Ashburton looked around.

Fortunately, there was no sign of the noisy children she had feared.

Still, something felt… off.

“Ahem.”

She cleared her throat as a maid happened to pass by.

The maid immediately approached her.

“Would you happen to have any laudanum? It’s excellent for headaches when mixed into tea.”

The maid looked flustered.

“My deepest apologies, Ma’am, but the Palace no longer keeps laudanum.”

“What?”

Mrs. Ashburton’s voice rose sharply.

In an instant, the surrounding ladies all turned toward her.

“No laudanum? What do you mean by that?”

“It is Her Majesty’s order. Every supply of laudanum within the Palace has been disposed of.”

The maid bowed politely before hurrying away.

The noblewomen left behind stared blankly at one another as though their world had collapsed.

“There’s… no laudanum?”

“How can that be? Then how are we supposed to cope with all this stress and hysteria?”

“More importantly, what about Her Majesty herself? Surely no one in this country is under more stress than the Queen. How is she enduring it without laudanum?”

Whispers spread through the garden in an instant.

To them, a party without laudanum was like going to war without bullets.

Voices filled with anxiety and irritation erupted from every direction.

Then one lady lowered her voice to a whisper, as though speaking of something horrifying.

“What if… Her Majesty actually takes pleasure in watching those commoner children from the nursery?”

“…!”

An eerie silence fell over the garden.

It was absurd.

Yet considering Queen Victoria’s past behavior, it somehow sounded strangely believable.

“You’re right! Maybe she’s perfectly calm while enjoying the sight of us growing more and more agitated!”

“Exactly! She wins the support of the lower classes by pretending to be a benevolent ruler, while leaving nobles like us to suffer!”

One ridiculous theory piled on top of another.

Before long, the Queen of Britain had somehow transformed into a deranged monarch who took sadistic pleasure in tormenting the nobility.

Of course…

I was quietly watching the entire spectacle from behind the drawing room curtains.

‘Wow… Their imaginations are incredible. They could all be drama writers.’

It was unbelievable.

Then again, it was more or less the reaction I had expected.

After all, when Lord Melbourne had come to warn me before, I had already prepared myself for something like this.

What truly surprised me was just how deeply laudanum had spread among the ladies of high society.

It was no longer merely a headache remedy.

It had become their daily support…

…their only refuge.

To take laudanum away from them was like taking water from someone dying of thirst.

‘I’m glad I had Sir James Clark develop the medicine.’

I gave Baroness Lehzen a subtle glance.

She nodded and stepped into the garden.

“Her Majesty the Queen!”

At Baroness Lehzen’s clear, commanding announcement, every sound in the chaotic garden vanished as though it had never existed.

Every noblewoman who had been enthusiastically gossiping about the Queen only moments earlier turned toward the voice at once.

“What… is that?”

In the Queen’s hands was what appeared to be a silver…

“…Teapot? Mrs. Ashburton, isn’t that a teapot?”

It was.

Her Majesty the Queen of Britain appeared with a bright smile, carrying a large teapot in both hands.

“I heard everyone was looking for something good! So I brought it myself. Would you all care for a cup?”

The garden froze.

Dozens of noblewomen stood speechless, staring at the Queen holding a teapot.

The sovereign of the nation…

…carrying a teapot like a maid.

It was a direct violation of court etiquette.

It lacked dignity.

It was behavior completely outside the bounds of common sense.

As they watched, the ladies remembered the story that had once spread through high society as nothing more than a rumor.

It hadn’t been a rumor after all.

It had been the truth.

There was no doubt in their minds anymore.

Her Majesty Queen Victoria had completely lost her mind.