The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 260 - 260 173 The Old Ruffian

260: Chapter 173: The Old Ruffian 260: Chapter 173: The Old Ruffian Bayswater district, Lancaster Gate, inside Arthur’s mansion.

Great Dumas and Eld crammed together, side by side behind Arthur, their eyes glued to the letter laid out on the table, freshly retrieved from the Russian Embassy, incessantly urging Arthur, who was holding an English-German dictionary, to hurry up with the translation.

“Arthur, can you even do this, or not?

If not, let me take over.

How can you not realize the urgency in this matter?

This is your job.

Could you please take it a little more seriously?”

Great Dumas also chimed in, “I understand a bit of German myself.

How about I give it a go?

Maybe it will be faster.”

Arthur glanced at the two overly anxious animals and said in a calm and collected manner while working, “Don’t you two have your own jobs to do?

When I am swamped with Scotland Yard’s documents, I don’t see either of you showing such concern for me.”

Eld replied, “Is that the same thing?

Didn’t you say the documents you deal with are highly confidential?

We stay away so as not to make things difficult for you.

How can you not appreciate your brothers’ kindness?”

Great Dumas nodded in agreement, “That’s correct, I normally pay no mind to your Englishmen’s scheming, but this matter involves Russia and Austria, so I think it is necessary for me to take a moment from my busy schedule to learn a thing or two.”

Agares, sitting on the side with his legs tossed on the table, the Red Devil whistled, “Look at this, what vulgar humans care about is nothing more than such trivial matters.

They might not know who the newly appointed Prime Minister is, but at the first chance, they have to inquire if someone in the neighbor’s house is having an affair.”

Just as Agares said, the reason Great Dumas and Eld stuck to Arthur like shadows today was all because of this letter from the Embassy.

Initially, Arthur thought it must be an important piece of intelligence.

But then he found out that Pinkerton, that clever devil, was damn accurate in his thieving; he could have pulled out any important document with his blind groping in the Russian Embassy, but instead, he managed to steal a love letter written by Prime Minister Metternich of Austria to Lady Lyven.

Ordinarily, such a private item would surely have been carefully kept by Lady Lyven.

Perhaps it was because her old flame was meeting her today that Lady Lyven specially took out the letter to relive the sweet memories of days gone by.

However, these wild lovebirds’ trip down memory lane had spelled disaster for Arthur; after all his maneuvering in the Embassy, the only thing he had come away with was this trinket, which aside from proving Prime Minister Metternich and Lady Lyven were indeed having an affair, was utterly useless.

Fortunately, he had a contingency plan.

During Sunday’s concert, he could still send someone to make another trip to the Embassy.

Next time, come hell or high water, Arthur was determined to prove that under his management, the London Police Office was worth more than just investigating extramarital affairs.

Finally, after exerting an enormous effort, Arthur finished translating the love letter in front of him, but before he had a chance to peruse it from start to finish, Eld snatched away the translated copy.

Mr.

Eld Carter, filled with literary cells from head to toe, read aloud emotionally, “On the 22nd of October, we had our first intimate conversation at Mr.

N’s house.

The keen insight you showed that day towards things was unparalleled by any other woman.

For so long, all have praised ladies’ judgments, but in my eyes, compared to you, they’re just ordinary.”

Great Dumas grabbed the letter, his ample chest resonating with the unique baritone of a Frenchman, “On the 26th, we shared the same opinion on an unimportant matter for the first time.

Do you remember when I first asked if you wished to be my travel companion?

You took my place in the carriage.

How can one be so impolite?

I was not pleased.

However, after the pleasant exchange that followed, I grew fond of you for your kindness and simplicity.”

Eld continued, “On the 27th, it made me very happy just to see you.

So I proposed taking your carriage instead, allowing me to accompany you.

Gradually, I came to believe what others said, praising your extreme charm.

My pride does not allow me to agree with other men, but my honesty forces me to admit they are right.”

Great Dumas sang out, “On the 28th, I visited you formally for the first time.

After returning home, I felt like we were old acquaintances.

I can’t complain about the casualness of the two gentlemen in your household.

Perhaps it’s love for the house that extends to the crows on its roof, but I actually find it quite nice.”

Eld, holding Great Dumas’s hand and looking deeply into his eyes, said, “On the 29th, I did not see you.”

Great Dumas looked sorrowfully out the window, “On the 30th, I realized how utterly dull and cold the previous day had been.

My dear Dorothea, from this day forward, I finally knew that the fervent heart beating in my chest belonged to you…”

No sooner than he had finished speaking, Arthur calmly raised his tea cup and inquired, “Eld, as Britain’s foremost literary critic, please summarize the emotional sentiment of this letter briefly.

I’ll need it for my report to Duke Wellington.”

Upon hearing this, Eld, holding the letter and pressing a hand to his forehead, sighed deeply and said word by word, “I…

I really wish I were Lady Lyven’s dog!”

Arthur said dispassionately, “Eld, Christmas hasn’t arrived yet; please wait until next month to make wishes.”

“Arthur, you son of a…” Eld, red-faced and with thickened neck, scolded furiously, “It was you who asked me to summarize, and it was just a summary, not a wish!”

Great Dumas nodded and said, “That’s true, even if you make such a wish, it won’t come true.”

“Alexander!” Eld, unable to contain his anger upon hearing this, lunged fiercely at Great Dumas.

Great Dumas, clearly prepared for his attack, fought off the assault while retreating to the door, then turned heel and fled, with Eld fully embodying the Royal Navy’s fine tradition of doggedly pursuing a French ship, chasing after him all the way outside.

The Red Devil, upon seeing this, couldn’t help but slap the table and burst into laughter, his tongue wagging, “Arthur, you just heard it too; this is Metternich, the man who’s been wielding power over Austria’s fate and cutting deals across Europe for decades.

If a man like him, who can be so easily entranced by a woman’s skirts that he’s willing to kneel and play the dog, can become a great figure in Europe, then what’s to stop you, a rare scoundrel and rogue in this world, from becoming one?”

Arthur took up his teacup and sipped it.

“Agares, you really don’t need to flatter me so much.

Whether or not I become like Metternich is not important, and I won’t look down on him just because of this love letter.

After all, it’s normal for people to have emotions and desires.

What’s that phrase from Lord Byron, to love because one is loved, is human; to love for the sake of loving is Divine.

Hm…

perhaps it’s not exactly appropriate to bring up Lord Byron here, given his own private life is a bit of a mess, but the sentiment is about right.”

The Red Devil leaned back in his chair, flicked a finger, and a gust of wind carried the love letter to his fingertips, “But jokes aside, how do you plan on explaining this to Wellington later?

Are you going to say that with Herculean effort, you finally uncovered Lady Lyven and Metternich’s affair?”

Arthur folded his hands and said, “Perhaps informing the Duke of Wellington about this may not be necessary.

Isn’t there always a rumor that something unseemly is going on between him and Lady Lyven?

Ah…

on that note, I suddenly feel that getting hold of Metternich’s love letter might not be such a bad thing after all.

If it had been a love letter written by the Duke, I really wouldn’t know how to face him.”

The Red Devil laughed heartily, “Why would you be at a loss for words?

Didn’t you handle yourself quite naturally that day at Almack’s Club when facing Lord Melbourne and Lady Norton?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and replied, “How can that be the same?

At least for the moment, Lady Norton and Lord Melbourne are physically innocent.”

The Red Devil rubbed his hands together with a wicked smile, “Oh!

My dear Arthur, does that mean you don’t care about the mental aspect?”

Upon hearing this, Arthur knew his companion was holding back something mischievous and replied, “Of course not, but Agares, as you know, I am a police officer from Scotland Yard, and a policeman must deal with evidence.

We at Scotland Yard aren’t like the Third Section of His Imperial Majesty’s Own Chancellery in Tsarist Russia, where just entertaining the thought of treason can get you sent off to Siberia.”

Agares grinned wickedly, “But…

my dear Arthur, isn’t the issue of infidelity something that an outsider like you can’t possibly determine?

If you’re not involved, you naturally have no say.”

Arthur, who was just about to take a sip of tea, paused momentarily at these words.

His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes fixed intently on the Red Devil, he asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing at all,” Agares said with a grin, “I was just making idle conversation and mentioning a fact by the way.”

Arthur thought about it for a long time but couldn’t grasp what exactly the Red Devil was alluding to.

As far as he knew, there were far more than a few extramarital affairs, and even a single person could be involved in multiple relationships.

Rather than fretting over these unrelated matters, it would be better to find a way to address the more urgent issue of the London Conference.

Even though he now had Lord Brougham’s support, the decision to dissolve or maintain the London Police Office, a provisional establishment, was still in Lord Melbourne’s hands; and even if it wasn’t dissolved, he needed the Home Office to provide operational funds for the Police Office.

Now that he was no longer in charge of a specific police district and his current jurisdiction, the Criminal Investigation Department, was a small branch of just four people, the operational funds at his disposal were naturally stretched thin.

Even for the future development of the Police Office, Arthur had to convince Lord Melbourne and the entire Cabinet of the organization’s value—it was the only way to make it easier to ask for funding.

Arthur held Metternich’s love letter in his hand, reading it over and over again until his peripheral vision settled on the signature and he suddenly caught a barely discernible scent.

——1818.11.28, Written in Brussels.

Brussels, the capital of Belgium?

Arthur stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, but after considering all angles, he still couldn’t avoid the issue of Belgium.

Lady Lyven must have received many love letters from Metternich, but the very act of selecting this letter to reminisce about was not without intention.

Was she trying to use the recollection of the love letter as a means to coax out Austria’s stance on Belgian independence from Metternich’s lips?

Arthur’s gaze suddenly fell on a certain part of the love letter.

——Our correspondence should be frequent, and within a month, anything you haven’t heard, you can learn from my letters.

Your knowledge of me will ultimately surpass that of anyone else at any time.

I hold on tightly, for you are a part of me.

All the world’s brilliance or happiness could never be a substitute for you.

Dorothea, my happiness is you, and you are my happiness.

As Arthur read this part, he couldn’t help but mutter, “If this isn’t the sweet nothings of an old libertine, Lady Lyven might indeed be able to pry out something valuable from him.”

Having spoken, he couldn’t help but rub his temples, “Ah, Your Grace, if only you had a third of Metternich’s skill in writing love letters, there’d be no need for me to gather intelligence on your behalf.”