The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 174 - 174 125 The Junior Members of the Royal Navy

174: Chapter 125 The Junior Members of the Royal Navy 174: Chapter 125 The Junior Members of the Royal Navy Marylebone, a famous residential area for the wealthy in London in the 19th century.

In this not particularly large area, the essence of Britain’s art, culture, education, and environment was concentrated.

The Royal Academy of Arts, St.

Marylebone Church, Regent’s Park, as well as the London Zoo and Queen Mary’s Rose Gardens within Regent’s Park, and surrounding them, the British Museum and Arthur’s alma mater, the University of London.

Of course, there is also the future pilgrimage site for detective novel enthusiasts—Baker Street, where in a few decades, the statue and museum of Sherlock Holmes will be established at the very Marylebone crossroads Arthur had just passed.

And just five years later, Madame Tussauds, the French socialite who had moved to London, would establish her first wax museum here, preceding the great detective Holmes.

However, Madame Tussauds’ wax sculpting experience wasn’t as romantic as most people might imagine; she was proficient in the craft because too many people had their heads chopped off during the Great Revolution.

So at that time, Madame Tussauds, serving as a housekeeper following the anatomist Curtis and learning the craft of wax sculpting from him, never lacked for lifelike, fresh materials.

Not far ahead was a restaurant specializing in selling sandwiches, which interestingly, was a property owned by the family of the Earl of Sandwich.

Why is this snack made of two pieces of bread with vegetables, eggs, and meat called a sandwich, you ask?

One might guess, and of course, it’s because the sandwich was invented by the fourth Earl of Sandwich, John Montagu.

This Earl, who served three terms as the Naval Minister, made significant contributions to the reform and exploration of the Royal Navy, but in London, whenever people mentioned him, they relished not his accomplishments, but his compulsive gambling personality.

Many Londoners say that the sandwich, a convenient and fast snack, was invented by the Earl of Sandwich so that he wouldn’t have to leave the gambling table.

Legend has it that whenever he got hungry during gambling, the Earl would shout, “Bring me a sandwich!” And so, the name spread.

While the Montagu family has always claimed this to be a rumor concocted by political enemies to attack the noble Earl, over time the story has become an amusing anecdote, with no one particularly inclined to delve into its veracity.

This is similar to the Duke of Wellington’s nickname “The Iron Duke,” perhaps a century later, people will forget that he earned it because the newspapers mocked him for resisting parliamentary reforms, to the point where he had to replace his house windows with iron after rioters’ attacks.

Speaking of the Montagu name, one cannot help but mention another Montagu—Lady Mary Montagu.

This founder of the Bluestocking Society was known as the most charismatic woman of 17th century England.

She rejected an arranged marriage by her father, the Earl of Kingston, and eloped with a Whig Party Member of Parliament and lawyer, Edward Montagu, but their relationship was troubled, and they quickly grew apart after her husband became the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire.

After that, she fell for the Italian writer, Algarotti Francesco, who visited London, but this affair too soon ended when Francesco was summoned by Frederick the Great, King of Prussia.

Lady Montagu, while residing in France, fell in love with a young Italian Viscount, this time their relationship lasting a considerable ten years.

After many years of living abroad, Lady Montagu eventually embarked on a journey back to England.

To one’s delight, in her lifetime, not only was she inspired by her uncle, Henry Fielding, and engaged in literature, providing many themes and examples for future novelists, but most importantly, she fully utilized her travel experiences to bring back to England the practice of inoculating with cowpox to prevent smallpox, certainly saving many lives.

Arthur’s thoughts were flying, and before he knew it, the open carriage he was riding in slowly stopped in front of a building with a red brick façade for protection, adorned with black wrought iron decorations on the gate.

The coachman doffed his hat, turned back to Arthur, and said, “Mr.

Hastings, I’m going to have dinner at the nearby Ponsonby restaurant and then come back here to wait for you until nine o’clock tonight.

The bill for this trip will be sent to your residence from the London Luxury Coach Rental Company within a week.”

Arthur, looking at the coachman who was as neatly dressed as himself, donned his top hat and joked, “Perhaps I should change my career.

It seems like being a respectable coachman for your company might earn more than working as a policeman at Scotland Yard?”

The coachman smiled at the remark, “You’re too kind, sir; we just earn enough to make ends meet.

You’re merely a Scotland Yard officer, not a real Scotsman.

If you were Scots, I’d have to admit, I might indeed live a bit better than you.”

Arthur, knowing what he was referring to, laughed and replied, “Yes, after all, everyone knows that in England, oats are for feeding horses, but in Scotland, oats are their national delicacy.

It’s precisely for this reason that the horses in England are so outstanding, just as the Scots are robust.”

The coachman, hearing this traditional English joke, couldn’t help but burst into laughter as if he had heard it for the first time.

He lifted his whip and lightly tapped his forehead, then spoke, “Mr.

Hastings, although I haven’t known you for long, our time together has been very enjoyable.

If you need to hire a carriage again, please feel free to come to the company and ask for me by name.

Now, I won’t disturb you further, and I wish you a pleasant evening.”

“I also wish you a pleasant time at Ponsonby’s restaurant, and since you’ll be driving me home later, please try not to drink too much there.

Lastly, this is a little something for your quality service.”

With that, Arthur took out two shillings from his pocket and left them on the seat of the carriage, then stepped down and watched as the coachman drove away.

Only when the driver’s figure was no longer in sight on the street did Arthur let out a somewhat pained sigh, “What is called high society?

High society is where the normal fare for the whole journey can only cover a tip here.”

Agares, who was perched on the iron railing of the red brick wall and looking out, couldn’t help but smile and nod in response, “Arthur, it seems you have grasped some of the essence already.”

Arthur didn’t pay any attention to the Red Devil, but instead approached the inky black door and gently shook the copper bell hanging in front of the door, tied with a red ribbon.

There was a tinkling sound, and soon after, the front hall, supported by ivory-white marble columns, opened its double doors.

Two people came out, one a middle-aged male butler in a neat and efficient tailcoat, wearing white gloves, and with semi-long hair, and the other a young maid wearing a lace-trimmed bonnet, wool stockings up her legs, a black linen dress underneath, and a white pleated apron with a pattern on top.

Arthur glanced at the butler and then at the maid, nodding slightly.

Indeed, there was a resemblance, but it certainly wasn’t as exaggerated as in Japanese manga.

He pulled out a business card from the pocket where his handkerchief was pinned and handed it over with a smile, “Please inform Lord and Lady Cordington, the Inspector of the East London district of the Greater London Police Department, researcher of natural philosophy in the field of electromagnetism, Arthur Hastings, has arrived as invited.”

The butler, with his white-gloved hands, took the business card and examined it with care, then quickly smiled and bowed slightly.

“Mr.

Hastings, I didn’t expect you to arrive so early.

Lord Cordington thought you might be a little late, as scholars like yourself might need some time to prepare experimental equipment and thoughts.”

Arthur smiled and said, “This is my first time attending General Cordington’s banquet, so it’s better to arrive early.

But you remind me, for my demonstration of the progress in electromagnetism today, I have specially borrowed some items from Mr.

Faraday.

A carriage from the Royal Society will soon be delivering the equipment, and if they arrive, please notify me.”

The butler nodded slightly and said, “Rest assured, it’s in my hands.”

After speaking, the butler instructed the maid behind him, “Jenny, please take Mr.

Hastings to the drawing room.

By the way, notify the kitchen to start serving the appetizers prepared earlier.”

The maid called Jenny stepped forward and curtsied slightly, then said, “Mr.

Hastings, please follow me.”

Arthur, following the instructions from “The London Social Guide,” lifted his right hand to touch the brim of his hat as an acknowledgment and then followed the maid, entering the front hall and into the three-story residence of the Admiral of the White of the Royal Navy.

As he entered the front hall, the first thing that caught his eye was a portrait of General Cordington hanging on the wall.

Lord Cordington’s appearance was quite presentable, and his smart naval uniform made him look formidable, while the shiny bald spot at the top of his head spoke volumes about the old soldier’s record, indicating at first glance that he must have served as commander of the Mediterranean Fleet.

Of course, to avoid being impolite, Arthur restrained himself from publicly expressing his artistic critique of the portrait.

He just quietly asked, “Am I the first one to arrive today?”

Jenny held her hands in front of her and smiled modestly as she led the way, answering, “There are already a few guests in the drawing room; they’re chatting and playing cards there.

If you find being alone boring, you could join them, or you could read a book.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur couldn’t resist asking, “Would it be possible for you to reveal who they are?”

“Hmm…

those who arrive early are usually younger people.

From what I remember, they seem to be either current or former subordinates of Lord Cordington, all gentlemen from the Royal Navy.

There’s Colonel John Franklin from the Royal Naval Reserve, Colonel Robert FitzRoy, who commands the ‘Beagle,’ and His Majesty the King’s Naval Aide-de-Camp, Sir George Elliot, who commands the flagship ‘Victory’ of the Portsmouth naval base.”

With this information, Arthur got a good sense of the scale and rank of the event and felt more at ease; he teased, “You remember so clearly, miss, you’re surely on your way to be head housemaid here.”

Jenny blushed and laughed apologetically, “Mr.

Hastings, you jest.”

After saying this, she gently knocked on the mahogany door of the drawing room, then curtsied slightly, “Gentlemen, another guest has arrived.”