There was a very high chance that Edward Nightingale's daughter was exactly the person I was thinking of.
The timing matched perfectly, and there probably wasn't another wealthy British gentleman in the Empire carrying the surname Nightingale.
But he donated money to stop his daughter from becoming a nurse?
That would be a problem.
Feigning ignorance, I stroked my chin and tilted my head.
"Ah… so you have a daughter. Is she still a child?"
"No, she isn't. She was born in 1820. From what I understand, Your Highness was born in the same year."
"That's correct. What a curious coincidence. May I ask your daughter's name?"
"I have two daughters. My eldest is Frances Parthenope, and the younger is Florence Nightingale. The one running around insisting she will become a nurse is the younger."
Florence Nightingale.
I had suspected as much, but hearing the name spoken aloud stirred something in me.
There was always something stirring about hearing the name of a figure who had left such a profound mark on history.
Florence Nightingale was known as the founder of modern nursing, but she was also an excellent statistician who demonstrated the importance of visualizing medical data.
I didn't know every detail, but I remembered hearing that her family had strongly opposed her dream of becoming a nurse when she was young.
This was probably that exact period.
"So the second daughter of a wealthy landowning family wants to become a nurse… certainly not something one hears every day."
"Exactly. I simply cannot understand why she insists on such a thing. If she wanted to pursue almost any other path, I would support her with everything I have. But a nurse…."
The sigh that escaped him carried the full weight of a father's anguish, and I found myself smiling wryly in sympathy.
I knew Nightingale would one day become a great nurse remembered throughout history.
But he did not.
William Edward's opposition was simple.
In this era, nurses were nothing like the respected medical professionals they would become in the future.
At best, they were little more than errand runners for physicians.
On top of that, public hospitals—and especially military medical facilities—were in a dreadful state.
Nurses were forced to endure immense hardship.
So if the cherished daughter of a wealthy gentleman's family declared she intended to become a nurse rather than a doctor, how would people react?
It would hardly be surprising if her parents nearly fainted on the spot.
In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the entire household had erupted in chaos the first time Nightingale announced her decision.
"But I must ask—what exactly did you mean when you said you made this donation to dissuade your daughter?"
"Ah, well… please don't misunderstand. My intentions are not improper. I genuinely wish to support Your Highness and Her Majesty's noble cause. But naturally, if I sponsor such an event, my daughter—who is already interested in nursing—will want to attend. If she comes along, she will see for herself how poor the current medical environment within the army truly is. Of course things will improve eventually, but a girl who has been raised so delicately will hardly be able to endure such conditions."
"So in other words, once she sees it for herself, she'll realize she underestimated reality and give up."
"…Yes. I apologize for using Your Highness's noble cause for a personal matter."
"What is there to apologize for? Far from losing anything, we've received a generous donation. Still… from what you've told me, it doesn't sound like childish stubbornness. It sounds more like conviction. I doubt simply showing her the harsh reality will make her give up."
If Nightingale had simply obeyed her father and abandoned her dream, she would never have left such a monumental legacy in history.
She ignored her father's objections and devoted her entire life to nursing despite coming from a wealthy family.
That was precisely why she became such a great figure.
Anyone who carved their name into history needed the kind of determination that pushed forward like a bulldozer once they chose their path.
Frances seemed to know her daughter's stubborn nature well. He sighed and nodded.
"Truthfully, I expected something like this. She's incredibly stubborn… I even found an excellent match for her, thinking that marriage would make her abandon such unrealistic dreams. Yet she has rejected every proposal for years."
"At that point, perhaps it would be better to acknowledge her determination…?"
I couldn't allow any variables to arise here.
After all, I knew how many soldiers Nightingale would save in the wars that might come in the future.
Who knew? The things I was doing in this timeline might cause a butterfly effect and push her down a completely different path.
"Your Highness, but surely you understand a father's heart. Naturally I want my daughter to marry a good man and live a happy life."
"Well, that's certainly understandable. In truth, I would feel the same."
If my own daughter—my precious little girl—declared she wanted to become a nurse, I would probably oppose it with everything I had.
In that sense, perhaps I was being hypocritical.
Then again, Nightingale had the talent to achieve greatness as a nurse.
Still, saying that out loud would make me sound even more hypocritical.
"By the way, after hearing all this, I've become rather curious about your daughter. If you don't mind, would you visit Buckingham with her in the near future? I'd like to speak with her myself."
"…Pardon? Your Highness wishes to meet her personally?"
"If, after speaking with her, I conclude that she isn't suited to the medical profession, I will help persuade her myself. She may not listen to her father, but perhaps the words of the King Consort of this country will carry a little more weight."
"If you would do that, I could ask for nothing more! Thank you! Truly, Your Highness! To grant us such a great favor—and even invite us to Buckingham…!"
I did intend to persuade someone.
But it wouldn't be the daughter.
After speaking with Florence, I would praise her as someone born to walk the path of medicine.
That alone would soften her parents' opposition considerably.
And she herself would become even more determined to devote herself to her studies.
In fact, there was a good chance she would grow into an even more capable figure than she had in the original history.
To be honest, I was curious too.
What had the youth of the woman later called the mother of modern nursing been like?
People often said that promising sprouts revealed their nature early.
Perhaps she carried an aura different from ordinary people.
Since she was about the same age as Victoria and myself, she might even become an enjoyable conversational partner.
With that thought in mind, I promised to invite the Nightingale family to Buckingham as soon as possible and personally wrote them a letter of invitation.
* * *
On the way home after the dreamlike event ended, William Edward Nightingale replayed the events of the evening over and over in his mind.
All the way back to Hampshire, a delighted smile never left his face.
How could he not be pleased?
The problem that had troubled him for so long now seemed as though it would be solved in an instant.
As people often said, when one prayed earnestly enough, God answered.
This felt like nothing less than a divine opportunity.
A nurse?
What nonsense.
He understood perfectly well that his daughter wanted to help the poor and suffering.
As a father, he admired that kindness and would happily support it.
But why must she become a nurse?
If she wanted to help others, she could do so through charity.
His eldest daughter did exactly that.
Frances pursued literature and the arts while also helping the poor and participating in various charitable activities.
Why couldn't Florence simply live like her sister?
Still, now that the King Consort himself had offered to meet her and judge whether she truly possessed the qualities of a medical professional, this worry would end today.
Killian Gore was no ordinary man.
He was the rising star of the British Empire and one of the most admired figures in the royal family.
If such a man personally told her she lacked the qualities to become a medical professional and should pursue another path, even his stubborn daughter would have no choice but to listen.
Of course, there was the possibility that Killian might consider Florence suited to the medical profession.
But William believed that chance was practically nonexistent.
The only variable was whether Florence might behave modestly in front of Killian and hide her true personality.
But surely Killian would see through such an act.
Returning home, William recounted the day's events to his daughters—though with a fair amount of embellishment.
"…And so the King Consort has invited our family to Buckingham Palace. Since we must go as soon as possible, I thought we might visit this very week. That won't be a problem, will it?"
"Good heavens! Buckingham Palace?"
The reactions were immediate and dramatic.
The eldest daughter, Frances, was the first to react.
She nearly screamed as she clapped her hands over her mouth and began bouncing in place.
"Father! Father! I can go too, right? You said the entire family was invited, not just Florence. That means I can go too!"
"Of course. His Highness invited our family. Naturally we will all go together."
"I can't believe I'll finally get to meet the Prince Consort in person! They say he's incredibly handsome. What did you think, Father? Is he really as handsome as the rumors say?"
"Yes. He's tall, manly, and striking. Quite a remarkable figure."
"Ahh! What do we do? Florence, we need to get our hair done tomorrow and buy new dresses. We can't possibly go to Buckingham looking like this!"
The eldest daughter was practically dancing with excitement.
But the guest of honor herself—Florence—reacted rather differently.
"…Why would the Prince Consort invite our family to the palace personally?"
"Well, perhaps it's because your father made a favorable impression on him! Ha ha!"
"Father, I know you're a respected man, but that event must have been filled with generals and titled nobles. Please don't misunderstand—I don't mean any offense. But are you truly influential enough to outshine all those people?"
"I made quite a generous donation. Perhaps the others were rather stingy. His Highness even knew my name from the beginning. You should have seen the way people looked at me—full of envy."
He puffed out his chest proudly.
The eldest daughter applauded enthusiastically.
But Florence still narrowed her eyes.
"Even so, there must be another reason he invited our family to the palace."
"Well, who knows? We'll find out when we go. The important thing is that we may never again receive such an invitation in our lifetime. Perhaps we might even meet Her Majesty the Queen. Though that might be hoping for too much."
"The Queen herself? Father, what if I break some rule of etiquette?"
"Ah, you're right. If we might meet Her Majesty, we must practice our etiquette thoroughly. Florence, you should practice with your sister."
"…Yes. But Father… I still feel like you're hiding something."
Honestly, the girl had far too much intuition.
What kind of reaction was this for a young woman in her twenties who had just been invited to the royal palace by the Prince Consort himself?
She should be jumping up and down like her sister.
Sometimes, whenever he looked at his second daughter, William wondered where on earth that stubborn streak had come from.
She was naturally kind and considerate.
But once she decided on something, she pursued it relentlessly, using any means necessary.
And the truly alarming part was that she displayed that same personality even in front of other nobles.
How could such a girl possibly become a nurse?
Surely Killian would realize the same thing once he spoke with her.
Thinking that this might be the last time he would witness his daughter's eccentric behavior, William simply laughed off everything Florence said.
In fact, even those moments felt strangely precious.