The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1188: Chapter 130: The Tenfold Evil of Hastings (Part 3)

But if you tell him that staying at the Black Bear Tavern now might very likely lead to a violent confrontation, Wheatstone feels that meeting one or two strangers doesn’t seem so unacceptable after all.

He hurriedly scrambled out of his seat like he was avoiding a plague, put his hat back on, and shivered with trepidation as he saw the increasing number of patrons in the tavern.

Wheatstone pulled up his collar, trying to cover half of his face, and then quietly requested Arthur: “I hope you keep your promise if you truly regard me as a friend.”

Arthur slightly nodded and said: “Of course, if you feel it necessary, I could also set up a prayer room for you at the observatory, where you can work alone inside, while Gauss and Weber stay outside, and you three communicate through a small window.”

Imagining the scenario, Wheatstone shuddered involuntarily and cursed: “What do you take me for? I’m not some monkey!”

Having said that, Wheatstone grumbled quietly all the way as he left with the servant.

Arthur watched his good friend leave the tavern, then turned and looked at Fiona: “I say…”

“Hmm?” Fiona eagerly awaited what came next.

Arthur took a sip of tea and said: “If Charles returns to London and goes to see you, you have to find a skilled hand to properly serve him, make sure you handle it well.”

Fiona thought he was going to discuss something important, but hearing he actually planned to take revenge on Wheatstone, she couldn’t help but chuckle: “If you want to ‘hit’ him so much, why not do it yourself?”

Arthur shook his head slightly, saying: “That’s the most unfair part of it all. If I do it myself, it would be seen as a violent crime, a street brawl. If it’s done by the ladies, everyone would say it’s a bit of fun in life. I don’t want to provoke Charles, he’s now a wealthy man. Didn’t you hear him earlier? He can hire the best lawyers in the country against me anytime.”

“So what?” Fiona responded: “Everyone knows, you are the best prosecutor in all Britain; if it came down to a courtroom battle, who’d win is uncertain.”

“That’s ancient history.” Arthur joked: “I’m no longer a policeman; I’m now a university professor. But compared to teaching, I’m better at instructing students on combat, alas under the current conditions, the school doesn’t encourage this.”

“Are you sure?”

Fiona smiled, stirring her tea as the sugar dissolved: “I see quite a few students in the tavern with scarred faces, probably from personal duels. I heard in Germany, dueling is all the rage, and I was considering recruiting a few fighters here.”

“What’s wrong? Haven’t Tom and Tony smoothed things out for you in London?”

“No, they’re still as generous as ever, though I generally don’t burden them with trouble. Things are different now; we’ve got licenses, doing legitimate business, no need to fight in the alleyways. If someone occasionally causes trouble, we can just tie them up and deliver them to the police station; we don’t have to concern ourselves with what happens next.”

“Sounds like business is going quite well?”

As Fiona heard this, she winked playfully at Arthur, flaunting the emerald ring on her right index finger.

“This all thanks to Mr. Schneider. He introduced us to plenty of great clients, not only his colleagues on White Hall Street but also civil servants from government departments, and quite a few people of nobility. They spread the word, bringing more people; among the clients introduced, one or two even have royal lineage. If not for opening this shop, I wouldn’t have known how the dignified figures in Westminster Palace are like in private.”

Arthur glanced at that ring and chuckled: “The index finger is commonly used to wear a family or nobility ring, symbolizing power and status. It seems like you’ve gained more than just money here; you’ve also acquired quite a bit of useful and useless knowledge alike. Fiona, you’re certainly no longer that street girl who couldn’t live without a couple of doses of opium tincture each day.”

“Aren’t you the same?” Fiona pursed her lips and said: “A swineherd, turned into a Royal Police Chief with a police uniform, a university professor donned in academic robes, writing a single letter and rallying support from the scholars in the Royal Society. What’s your next role, then? Do tell me earlier, so I can familiarize myself with the script and make progress sooner.”

“The world is unpredictable; who can say what will be done tomorrow?”

Arthur fastened his hat and said: “But it’s always wise to make more friends; the same goes for you in London. A swineherd in the company of princes becomes a prince. A lowly girl amongst affluent women turns into an affluent woman.”

Fiona stood up and asked: “Are you going home now? Where do you live?”

“Well, I…”

Arthur nodded but then seemed to reconsider, realizing he might be overlooking a minor issue that could occur.

There are several women living in his home now, all of whom he brought from Paris, tied to the Royalists.

“Hmm…” Arthur paused, pondered, and suddenly turned, smiling as he bowed slightly, extending his hand towards Fiona: “It’s my oversight, at times like these, it’s proper for me to first escort the lady back to her place.”

Hearing his words, Fiona’s slight irritation immediately eased as she rested her hand in Arthur’s palm: “You still have some decency.”