The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 564 - 289 Gladstone’s Family Ethics Drama_3

Gladstone fell silent for a while. Rarely one to blush, he now argued vehemently, "But, Father, Mr. Roseville is no ordinary clockmaker. He is the largest clockmaker in Liverpool!"

Old Gladstone frowned and asked, "So the largest clockmaker is no longer a clockmaker?"

Gladstone retorted, "Then, is Liverpool’s largest merchant no longer a merchant?"

To Gladstone’s surprise, his father not only refrained from anger when he heard this, but his tightly knitted brow suddenly relaxed.

"Yes! Yes! William, you’re thinking correctly now! Do you now understand why I won’t let you get involved in the family business? I’ve been a merchant all my life, and your brothers will be merchants for their lifetimes too. But you are different, you are to become a nobleman! The most genuine British nobleman! And the first step to becoming a nobleman is starting with marrying a noblewoman!"

"I know marrying a noblewoman is incredibly difficult, the likelihood is as slim as royalty only marrying within royalty, as daughters of noble families seldom marry beneath them. But seldom marrying beneath them doesn’t mean never at all. We must at least make the attempt. An old Liverpool pocket watch could produce a clock factory, and I shall be much more concrete—the moment you marry a suitable wife, I’ll give £80,000!"

No sooner had Old Gladstone finished speaking, the Red Devil floated in from outside the window, "Coming in right at the climax? £80,000 is no small sum. Add another £20,000 and it’s enough to buy a place as an MP in York. But then, there’s no helping it; if it’s merely about money, that’s how high the price can be."

Old Gladstone pressed his hands on his son’s shoulders, "William, it’s not just that. If you want to climb even higher, aside from marriage, you must develop other areas. Haven’t you complained to me before about your opponent, Benjamin Disraeli’s methods? You said he got in touch with Earl Lyndhurst by clinging to Mrs. Sykes’ skirts and thus defeated you in the party’s preliminary election. If you can’t come up with a better strategy than that, then why not join him? Being stubborn in business leads to no good outcomes, and the same goes for politics."

Gladstone was so shocked by these words that his jaw almost hit the floor, "But... Father, don’t you realize, Mrs. Sykes could practically be Disraeli’s mother, given their ages."

"Oh... my William," Old Gladstone advised, "Ladies’ charms vary with their age, like flowers from different seasons—which you can appreciate all the same. Your rival does this better than you; he knows how to enjoy the sceneries of different seasons, and thus, he has a more complete life."

The Red Devil, hearing this, laughed so hard his tongue nearly touched the floor, "Old man, you’ve got that wrong. That Jewish lad in his underpants simply has that particular taste. It just so happens that the ladies with influence are older, so he lucked into it."

Gladstone also disagreed with his father’s view, "But just now, you were agreeing with Mr. Roseville’s view. You said that girls over twenty are old maids."

"No, no, no, William, you’ve misunderstood," Old Gladstone smoothly denied, "Girls over twenty who aren’t married are old maids, but those who are married after twenty become resplendent ladies. Do you know how wine is made? Wine must that hasn’t yeasted will spoil over time, but aged wine with yeast only gets better the longer it sits."

Upon hearing this, the Red Devil’s eyebrows shot up, and he burst into laughter, "After all is said and done, it turns out you’re on the same page as that Jewish lad."

Not missing a beat, Old Gladstone added, "Moreover, William, remember my words. For a merchant, whatever anyone says anywhere doesn’t count for anything unless it’s in black and white on paper. For those politicians, even if it’s written down, he can still change his mind. So, don’t take my casual words as immovable doctrines. You’re already an outstanding young man; be a bit more mature in all things."

Gladstone, seeing his father speak so forthrightly, had no choice but to momentarily put aside the matter of Catherine.

However, he wasn’t as immature as his father had suggested, a quick thought turned, and Gladstone came up with a new idea.

He said, "You keep interrupting, making me forget my main business here. I came to the company today to let you know that I have some acquaintance with Mr. Arthur Hastings, the excise inspector from London. If you run into any trouble and it’s awkward for you to speak out, I can pass on the message."

Old Gladstone’s eyes brightened, "You know Inspector Hastings? William! Why didn’t you say so earlier? Oh, my God! The difficulty that the Liverpool Association couldn’t resolve in a whole morning meeting, who could think my son would find the breakthrough with a single sentence."

Gladstone cunningly replied, "Don’t rush to celebrate. Inspector Hastings is not as easy to deal with as you think. I can tell you, he’s a very upright person, just as the newspapers advertise. Aren’t you afraid?"

"Afraid?" Old Gladstone took off his pipe and chuckled softly, "Of course, I’m afraid."

Gladstone, expecting his father to be defiant, was disarmed by such frankness.

Gladstone asked, "What are you afraid of?"

Old Gladstone didn’t speak; instead, he just lifted his hand and placed it on the leather buckle of the servant’s suitcase.

With a gentle twist of Old Gladstone’s wrist, the sound of rustling ensued, and the banknotes spilled from the suitcase, flooding the floor like a deluge.

Standing amidst the resplendent golden glow, Old Gladstone drew on his pipe, with smoke billowing around him.

"I fear he might not like money."