The people in the mansion seemed to have heard the carriage outside.
Soon, a middle-aged man wearing a black Flak coat, with a white brooch on his chest, appeared and nodded slightly at Fleury sitting at the driver's seat outside the mansion. Fleury quickly got off the driver's seat and handed the reins to the middle-aged man, while Percy hurriedly got up, opened the door, and lowered the steps.
Jerome got up, glanced at Percy under the steps slowly getting off the carriage, then turned his gaze to the middle-aged man holding the horse's head, managing to muster a slight smile despite his heavy expression.
"Talan, it's been a long time!" Jerome said in a dry London accent.
The middle-aged man named Talan, with a stubbly face, also smiled in response, saying, "Your Highness, it's been a long while!"
Despite having already heard about his cousin's situation from Percy, Jerome couldn't resist asking about this servant who had loyally followed his cousin for over a decade, working with diligence.
What if this was all just a prank by Percy and his cousin?
With a trace of faint hope, Jerome asked, "How is my cousin doing now?"
Talan remained silent for a few seconds before responding hesitantly, "Your Majesty's condition is not promising... His body is continuously feverish... and he is suffering from persistent vomiting and diarrhea... In short, Your Highness, you will understand once you go inside."
After speaking, Talan led the carriage away, not wanting to transmit his sorrowful emotions to Jerome, who had not yet entered the mansion.
Upon hearing Talan's response, Jerome felt a sharp pain in his heart once again.
This pain, from deep within his soul, seemed to be an "inheritance" left by the previous owner of his body.
Standing beside Jerome, Percy looked at his bloodless face and pointed to the small mansion saying, "Your Highness, His Majesty is waiting for you inside!"
Jerome, coming to his senses, hurried to the mansion's door.
Looking at the door washed with brown paint before him, Jerome found himself lacking the courage to push it open. Seeing this, Percy gently pushed the door open.
The first-floor living room came into Jerome's view, its décor was a blend of the Empire period and Rococo period, accidentally revealing a nouveau riche aura beneath its opulent exterior.
The red curtains hanging by the window were hooked to both sides of the window by bronze hooks. The hazy sunlight, dimmed by the smog of industrialization, shone on the fading red Turkish wool carpet, and the copper-plated stair railing between the first and second floors also glimmered dazzlingly in the light.
This elegant creation of over thirty years was meticulously maintained by its refined owner for decades, with hardly a scratch left by time. However, like the glorious splendor of Napoleon, it remained stationary over thirty years ago; the product of the merging of the Empire period and Rococo period was doomed to be unsuited for today's rapidly developing industrialized society, where more and more "nouveau riche" would decide the era's direction with their vast assets.
The aristocratic love for extravagance no longer prevails, and "simplicity" will trend for a long time.
Jerome observed the mansion's layout while following Percy up the stairs from the first to the second floor.
After passing through the narrow corridor on the second floor, Percy and Jerome arrived at a room at the end of the hall.
"Cough… Cough"
A violent coughing sound emerged from inside the room, worsening Jerome's already bad mood.
Percy gently knocked on the door, and a pleasant London accent came from inside, "Please come in!"
"Let me do it!"
Just as Percy was about to open the door and enter, Jerome stopped him and gripped the door handle.
Some things need to be faced by oneself courageously.
Jerome took a deep breath to calm his mood, placed a hand on the door, and with the other hand grasped the door handle, gently pushing the door open.
As the door creaked open, everything inside came into Jerome's view.
A middle-aged man lay half-reclined on a luxurious, brown-yellow carved four-pillar bed. He turned his head toward his left hand's side, and next to his right was a lady with golden hair and an alluring face, yet tearful eyes. Her hand was tightly clenched with the middle-aged man's, her gaze following his toward the door.
Behind her stood a doctor in a black suit, facing away from the door. Judging by his back-and-forth movements, he seemed to be fiddling with something.
The middle-aged man, appearing close to the end of his life, was the "Leader" of the Bonaparte Clan, the future Emperor of the Empire Napoleon III Louis Bonaparte.
Sitting beside him was Louis Bonaparte's new love in Britain, the London socialite Miss Howard.
Historically, he would return to Paris at the end of April to participate in the election, then ascend to the presidential throne in December, encircled by the farmers of France.
In December 1851, he launched a coup to become France's Life Governor, and in 1852, he was crowned as France's Emperor.
Of course, Miss Howard would also break up with him after he became Emperor.
Yet, it seems everything will become a mere illusion.
Louis Bonaparte's face, gradually wasting away from illness, looked momentarily surprised upon seeing Jerome but then showed relief. Stretching out his gaunt arm, he said in a hoarse voice, "My cousin, you've finally come!"
After speaking, the middle-aged man began another bout of violent coughing, his expression growing more pained.
The golden-haired lady beside him could only gently stroke his back to lessen the middle-aged man's pain.
"Thirsty... I want water...water!" Louis Bonaparte groaned painfully, his hand continually groping toward the wardrobe next to the pillar bed, yet unable to reach the cup.
Seeing this, Jerome quickly stepped forward, preparing to help him get the cup of water.
At this moment, the characteristic London accent of the doctor in a white coat echoed in everyone's ears: "If you don't want to get infected, I suggest you stay away from him!"
The cholera, warned by the doctor, is classified as a Category A infectious disease in later generations, its infection speed and fatality rates extremely high. But Jerome did not halt his steps, regardless of the doctor's "warning." He stood before Louis Bonaparte, grasping his gaunt hand, silently.
Napoleon III, his arm held, ceased his groaning, staring at his cousin, his dry lips seemingly wanting to speak!
"It's alright, cousin! You'll be alright!" Jerome, holding Louis Bonaparte's hand, could only comfort him as much as possible. Judging by the current situation, his cousin most likely had missed the optimal treatment period.
In the advanced stages of cholera, accompanied by systemic organ failure, it's impossible for even later medical systems to reverse it, let alone in the current 19th century.