The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1626: Chapter 33: Killing Three Birds with One Stone

Since humans began to invent and create, someone has been using these inventions for illegal activities. As is well known, no one is better at utilizing the latest achievements in science than criminals. As long as there is profit to be made, educated criminals can take advantage of every new invention. The telegraph is certainly no exception. It has provided deceit, theft, and fraud with new means, and in order to end such new types of crime, Scotland Yard must use new technology ahead of them.

— Arthur Hastings, interviewed by The Times in 1834.

The first rays of morning sunlight seeped through the gaps of the large curtains at 15 Lancaster Gate, filling the room with fresh air tinged with a slight cool dampness.

The sky outside was only slightly bright, but for the maid Becky, her day’s work had already begun.

For most servants in London, during summer they would start work at 6 AM, and in winter at 6:30 or 7 AM. In general, when one starts working depends on when it gets light. If there’s a need for a full day of spring cleaning, then the work time might even be advanced to 5 AM.

Of course, compared to most employers in London, the tasks in the Hastings household aren’t particularly burdensome.

No need to take care of children, no domineering mistress, and not many clothes in the wardrobe that need washing.

Even on days like Easter and Christmas when Sir stays out all night, she can afford to stay in bed until 8 AM, taking the chance to sleep in.

If you ask Becky, what’s different between Sir’s days in Europe and now?

Actually, not much has changed.

Her workload hasn’t increased or decreased. Every morning she would still light the fireplace, shake out the rugs, polish the dining room furniture, eat breakfast, shine the boots...

Only after Arthur returned, Becky always made sure these tasks were completed before the master woke up.

Additionally, Becky would carefully leave the small velvet blanket Arthur used while lying on the sofa reading to roast gently by the fireplace. After a cold night, nothing warms the heart more than a cup of hot tea and a warm blanket.

After placing down the velvet blanket, Becky tiptoed into the kitchen, carrying a small basket she had just taken from the storeroom.

Inside the kitchen, warm flames were already kindled on the stove, and the pot on the range was emitting a light hissing sound, permeating the air with the fragrance of pastries and baked bread.

She was used to such morning bustle; although Arthur never asked for a luxurious breakfast, Becky would exert her utmost effort, wanting to prove to her employer that she hasn’t been idling for these two years in London.

Becky took fresh eggs and butter out of the basket, then sliced a few pieces of freshly baked bread from the street bakery with a dinner knife.

Recalling every detail taught by the Housekeeping Magazine for English Women, she carefully cracked the eggs into the copper pot and heated them over low flame, swiftly stirring to ensure each egg was cooked to the ideal tender state.

Just as how a typical noble London family breakfast is, the eggs must be semi-cooked, slightly firm on the outside, but still maintaining a soft texture inside.

In the copper pot beside, another dish was taking shape. It was a patty made with butter and a little sugar, crispy on the outside, soft within, exuding an enticing aroma. Becky skillfully flipped the pancakes, waiting for them to color up one by one.

”I remember Sir likes the two thin pastries at the street coffee stall...” Becky muttered to herself: ”So today I made fried eggs, toast and pancakes, plus warm tea, these should be right...”

She walked to the table and took out high-quality tea leaves from the cupboard.

Arthur always favored breakfast tea in the mornings, especially Keemun Tea, with its bright red soup color, soft and smooth entry.

Breakfast tea shouldn’t be too strong. Becky carefully measured the tea leaves, placed them into the teapot and splashed them with boiling water.

Just as the teapot began to bubble, Becky was already busy placing the baked bread on the platter, smearing a thick layer of butter and sprinkling a little powdered sugar on top.

She cleverly arranged the pancakes and eggs beside the table, then carefully wiped the tabletop with a napkin.

After ensuring everything was impeccable, Becky organized the kitchen utensils one by one, then walked to the corner of the living room, where her personal seat was.

It was a simple wooden chair, placed leaning against the window, with sunlight spilling in, warm and bright.

Becky sat down, gently picking up that familiar housekeeping magazine, opening the book to find that page clipped with the yellowing maple leaf.

When Arthur left London, worried she might feel lonely at home, he hired a tutor to teach her literacy and reading.

Although Becky had overcome the plight of illiteracy, reading the magazine was still challenging for her.

The first time Becky read the magazine, she only felt the letters on the paper were like various incomprehensible symbols, hard to grasp. She furrowed her brows, staring at the article about table setting tips, grabbing a few familiar words, and spent the whole morning reasoning the article’s main idea guessing around.

Two years have passed, now Becky can recite that article by heart.

”Table setting, noting that knives and forks are placed on the left, spoons on the right...”