Chapter 411: Queen Marie's Birthday Celebration
Soda ash could be described as the "key ingredient" of industrial production. Historically, the industrial production of soda ash ushered in a new era for the chemical industry, further impacting the entire industrial sector.
In this era, thanks to the latest achievements of the Lavoisier couple, France had already ascended to the pinnacle of Europe's chemical industry!
Marie-Anne suddenly recalled something and turned to her husband:
"My dear, I heard Perna say that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince mentioned bestowing a Baron title upon you after the casein glue factory officially goes into production?"
Such a noble title, granted directly by the Crown, belonged to the ranks of the Nobles of the Sword, completely different from the Nobles of the Robe, who sat at the bottom of the aristocratic pecking order, having bought their titles. It was typically only bestowed upon a select few who had made significant contributions.
Lavoisier smiled and nodded:
"I had originally planned to surprise you, but I didn't expect you to be so well-informed."
Marie-Anne immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, bouncing and leaping like a young girl:
"So, from now on, we'll be among those 'high society folks' everyone talks about, haha."
"I'll hide in the laboratory and pretend I never received an invitation."
Marie-Anne winked slyly, then hugged her husband tightly and whispered shyly into his ear:
"Then, shouldn't we hurry and sort out the matter of a Baron's heir as well?"
"Of course!"
Seeing no one nearby, Lavoisier swept his wife into his arms and bent down to kiss her...
November 2, 1789.
Today was Queen Marie's 34th birthday.
In the original timeline, Marie Antoinette and her family would have been leaving Versailles under escort by citizens of the French Revolution, making a desolate journey to the long-abandoned and dilapidated Tuileries Palace.
However, at this moment, she sat in her dressing room, listening to the orchestra play nearby, surrounded by her makeup artist, hairdresser, and seven maids, happily preparing her gown for the birthday banquet.
After a knock at the door, a lady-in-waiting entered with Brienne.
The Chief Minister bowed respectfully to Queen Marie, who was seated before the mirror, and began with praise:
"Your Majesty, has God concentrated all the world's splendor and beauty upon you alone? You will surely make all the women of Paris gasp with envy.
"Hmm, Your Majesty, please forgive me for having to disturb you for a moment."
As he spoke, he placed a document on the small round table nearby:
"This is the final revised draft of the treaty, which requires your signature as soon as possible. As you know, it's scheduled to be formally signed at the Port of Le Havre five days from now."
Queen Marie smiled, nodded, and replied, "Thank you for your compliments." She then took the quill and signed her name at the end of the document.
As for its contents, she had already thoroughly reviewed them with the Crown Prince a few days prior. The treaty was extremely favorable to France; no, it was more accurate to say that France had garnered ample benefits.
'My son is truly becoming more and more capable.' She mused. 'This time, with only a minimal investment in the Far East, he had secured Britain's cessation of interference in North Africa. He even got Britain to promise to withdraw protection from the man who instigated the Corsican rebellion, along with several other gains she didn't quite understand...'
She handed the document back to Brienne, her gaze sweeping over the bustling dressing room, her smile widening. If Joseph hadn't helped her manage these state affairs, she might still be discussing with ministers how to deal with the troubles in North Africa. How could she otherwise enjoy such ease and comfort?
Queen Marie watched Brienne depart, then gestured in the mirror, pointing to a coconut-sized golden birdcage nearby, and said to her hairdresser:
"May I wear that now?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
The Queen flicked a small switch on the birdcage, and the metal nightingale inside fluttered its wings, poked its head out, and chirped.
"Ah! How perfect!" the hairdresser exclaimed, fanning himself with a silk handkerchief. "His Majesty the King's hands must surely be blessed by God!"
Indeed, this wind-up birdcage hair ornament was King Louis XVI's birthday gift to his wife—a realistic mechanical bird that fully rotated, opened its door, moved its entire body, and could produce over a dozen sounds, its complexity several times greater than the most precise clocks of the era.
Before long, melodious and joyful music drifted from the direction of Versailles.
Queen Marie stood up, admiring her luxurious gown from all angles with satisfaction, then, wearing the slowly rotating birdcage, headed towards the court theater.
While Versailles celebrated the Queen's birthday, the British Royal Navy's third-rate battleship, HMS Ajax, was sailing through the overcast Bay of Biscay. Its destination was the distant Indian Peninsula.
In an unassuming officer's cabin on the battleship's second deck, Marquis Wellesley lit his pipe and took a deep draw.
After resigning as Foreign Secretary, the absence of those who tried to curry favor with him allowed him to experience a rare sense of tranquility.
He pulled out the map of Mysore and its surrounding areas that he carried with him, spreading it on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a letter that had come out of his pocket and fallen to the floor.
It was a letter from Cornwallis, the Governor-General of India, which had arrived in London the day before yesterday, detailing the war situation in India.
Marquis Wellesley couldn't help but frown, a surge of vexation and anxiety filling his mind. He recalled the "simple forts" that Cornwallis had mentioned the Mysoreans were building.
Before boarding the ship, he had been confident that once he arrived in India, the Mysoreans, without French support, would soon be crushed by him.
However, after a full day of serious deliberation, he finally realized there was no good way to deal with those "forts."
It was highly probable he would face another defeat in India...
Britain.
London.
On the avenue northwest of St. James's Palace, a black carriage sped past.
Inside the carriage, a white-haired elder in his sixties looked at the young man opposite him and finally spoke:
"Windham, I still believe that taking on the role of Foreign Secretary at this time is not a wise decision."
The young man with deep-set eyes and a somewhat Scottish look was none other than the new British Foreign Secretary, Lord William Windham Grenville.
Grenville offered a plain smile:
"Uncle, you see, our Prime Minister must currently appease the Whig Party's anger. And I'm afraid I am his only choice."
After consecutively experiencing the "strategic blunders" of two Foreign Secretaries, the Duke of Leeds and Marquis Wellesley, William Pitt Junior faced immense pressure from the Whig Party in the Cabinet. Therefore, he decided to appoint a Whig as the new Foreign Secretary, thereby compromising with the Whig Party.
However, he played a cunning trick, selecting a member of the Grenville family, who had an alliance with his own family, and who was also his closest friend, Lord Grenville.
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