shadow of britain

Chapter 804 We only know "lecherous thief," we don't know anything about Elfen Stone.

The police officers are all simple-minded, born to serve their duties faithfully. However, if anyone tries to cause trouble and endanger the country, we will not let even a traitor escape.

—Arthur Hastings, *Fifty Years of Life*

As evening falls at Covent Garden Market, the daytime hustle and bustle has not yet faded, and the night lights have already begun to come on. The air is filled with the smells of barbecue, beer, damp cobblestones, and cheap perfume.

The fruit vendors were counting the remaining peaches and plums, while a drunkard was gambling with dice outside the tavern. The flower girl's voice was hoarse, but she still hummed a few tunes and occasionally winked at the gentlemen passing by with a rose.

Several young butchers, just off work at the butcher shop, were tucking their aprons into their belts as they walked in small groups toward the theater. However, they weren't talking about Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, or Bach; instead, they were discussing the lead actress's ankles and the apron buttons of the tavern waitresses.

Right at this chaotic street corner, several carriages with light white curtains hanging from their windows quietly pulled up at the side entrance of the Covent Garden Theatre.

It was much quieter there than in the market. A few well-dressed gentlemen stood guard outside the gate, discussing in French or German how the tenor's vibrato was performed in the play. Meanwhile, several ladies had already taken their seats in the carriages and were busy applying their makeup with the help of the dim gaslight.

On a street corner where the view was obstructed, two men wearing brown-grey wool coats were shivering from the cold London night wind.

With nowhere to shelter from the wind or rain, they could only squat against a gas lamp post that had long since gone out, looking like two rats wrapped in burlap sacks, stamping their feet and shivering as they breathed white steam into their palms to keep warm.

“I swear,” the older one muttered under his breath, “If I stand here in this godforsaken place for another half hour, my kneecaps will crack. Damn it, let those office bastards stand here for two hours and see how many bones grow in their knees!”

As he spoke, he pulled the scarf around his neck up even higher, trying to block the chill that was creeping into his neck.

The young man next to him also wrapped his coat tighter. He didn't dare to chime in, but muttered under his breath, "Maybe... the officers have their own difficulties. After all, tonight's mission is rather... special. We're here to protect Her Highness the Princess's safety."

“Shut the fuck up, Hugh!” the older man retorted without turning his head. “Special? You actually believe their high-sounding rhetoric? You really think the higher-ups are doing this for national security? Ha! Wait until you're sitting in an office yourself, then you'll know what special really means. With a fireplace under your ass and a cigar in your mouth, if you're still willing to stand on a street corner in the cold wind by then, then I'll admit you are indeed special!”

Hughes trembled at the shout, his face instantly turning red. He wanted to retort, but he was afraid that saying more would anger his "good brother" Officer Cowley, so he could only lower his head and pretend to be engrossed in picking at the dirt under his fingernails.

The atmosphere was subdued for a moment, but soon Hught heard Cowley's cursing again.

Cowley rubbed his palms together to warm his ears with the little warmth from his hands: "This is freezing! ...Is this even a job for a human? In my opinion, these days you have to cut off your nose and ears to become a cop. Damn it, before Sir Arthur Hastings led us to merit, we were patrolling on the front lines, and after he led us to merit, we're still patrolling on the front lines. In that case, weren't our merits for nothing?!"

Upon hearing this, Officer Hughes weakly remarked, "How can you call me Bai Li now? Didn't I get promoted? My annual salary increased by ten or twenty pounds."

"Don't fucking bring up the sore spot! No one will think you're mute if you don't talk." Cowley glared at him fiercely: "You brought it up, but I didn't! Hey, I've really noticed, Hugh, ever since you became sheriff, your stock has been rising! You really think that after you got a V-sign, we're on the same level?"

Hugh opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to explain something, but Cowley's glaring eyes were like two frozen pebbles, making him swallow his words: "I was just... lucky..."

"Pah!" Cowley spat out a mouthful of icy saliva that froze on the ground. "Luck? Let me tell you, Hugh, you can't fool me. Tell me honestly, did Sir Arthur write you a letter of recommendation?"

Upon hearing this, Hught panicked for a moment, but quickly remembered his older brother's lesson, so he shamelessly denied it, saying, "No way, who told you that nonsense?"

"You're still playing dumb with me! I've been your mentor ever since you entered Scotland Yard. Do you think you can hide your secrets from me?" Cowley cursed. "You little bastard, it turns out you took a cut from the benefits Sir Arthur gave me!"

Hught stood there speechless, his face flushed red, as if his pants had been ripped off in public: "Brother Cowley, don't be angry, that letter of recommendation was actually from my older brother..."

"You still have the nerve to bring up a recommendation letter? Hugh, tell me, how can you be so shameless!" Cowley seemed to be completely engrossed in his tirade, his insults raining down on them: "Not only do you keep the benefits to yourself, but you also put on a sanctimonious act after getting promoted. Do you really think we old, struggling officers are idiots? Back when I was chasing thieves in Pigeon Alley, you were still shining your instructors' shoes at the police academy!"

Hughes fell completely silent. He tugged at his scarf, turned and stared at the side entrance of the theater across the street, trying to distract himself from Cowley's mouth.

As luck would have it, just as Hughes turned his gaze, the side door of the theater opened.

A figure wearing a cloak and hood boarded the carriage, surrounded by two maids. The curtains were quickly drawn, leaving only the flickering shadow of a candle on the window.

"Stop yelling, Cowley," Hught whispered a reminder. "Her Highness the Princess is in the carriage."

“Nonsense, I’m not blind.” Cowley rolled her eyes, but her voice also lowered: “Why don’t you hurry up and get going… Or are you changing clothes in the car? Honestly, this girl should at least think about the two loyal generals standing outside, shivering with cold.”

Hughes forced a smile, rubbing his hands together, and said, "In this weather, perhaps she's cold too..."

"She's cold?" Cowley glared at him. "You go sit in that carriage and see if you're cold. Wool cushions, a kettle, a fox fur cloak—cold as hell? Anyone who's cold knows it now!"

Hughes could only mutter under his breath, "Of course I didn't say she was colder than us."

"That's what you mean!" Cowley cursed, then pulled a small jug of rum from his pocket, unscrewed the cork, took a swig, and then tossed the jug to Hugh: "Have a sip, and stop shaking after you finish, you're acting like a woman."

Hughes took it as if it were a treasure, took a big gulp, wiped his lips and said, "Thanks, bro."

"Enough with the nonsense, look up, the car's about to move." Cowley squinted at the street corner: "If she goes south, we'll be lucky, and we can leave the rest to Jack and the others. But if she goes towards Lambeth, we'll have to go around through Old Bread Alley. Remember not to lose her, Hugh, or I'll turn around and twist your ear off and hang it at the entrance of Scotland Yard."

"How could I dare..." Hugh said sullenly, and quickly jogged a few steps to catch up.

……

The carriage was warm and inviting, with velvet cushions covering the seats on both sides, and warm milk tea steaming in the teacups on the table.

Victoria sat on the right side of the carriage, half of her face covered by a hood, but her gaze never lingered on Mrs. Lezen's face opposite her.

Her fingertips gently caressed a handkerchief on her knee, the movement extremely subtle, yet accompanied by the rhythm of the second hand of her pocket watch.

tick...

tick...

Time was ticking closer and closer to the time she had agreed upon with Lord Elphinstone a few days earlier.

But Victoria also knew that it was precisely in situations like these that she had to act naturally.

Opposite her, Madame Lezen sat upright like a marble statue in a church, her hands clasped together, her eyes closed in meditation.

Victoria sighed softly and leaned against the car window, feigning exhaustion: "The air is terrible today."

“The air in London is always like this,” Mrs. Leyzen said flatly. “The wind in the back alleys of the theater always smells of the market; it’s not a good place to linger.” “Hmm…”

Victoria nodded, but her gaze never left the gap in the curtains, for she knew that three blocks away, the caravan would turn onto Oxford Street, where a Scottish nobleman would be waiting to meet her…

Such cold weather...

He must be freezing!
Victoria turned her head to look at the blurry figures and lights outside the window, her heart pounding faster than the final trio in the theater.

She knew that Mrs. Lezen was not a fool, but she was not omniscient either.

She wouldn't leave the team for too long, but she also couldn't go too far.

It's just a short time, five minutes, no, even just three minutes would be fine.

"Your Highness, you seem somewhat unsettled." Lady Lezen's voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.

"Huh?" Victoria quickly looked up. "Lezen, don't worry about it. It was the soprano in the play who sang so heartbreakingly. Her last line, 'I will face my fate alone,' made me a little lost in thought."

Madame Lezen glanced at her, a hint of suspicion flashing in her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it with courtesy.

“You’re still young,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t always be thinking about such heavy things as fate.”

Upon hearing this, Victoria simply smiled and did not reply.

The carriage swayed gently as it entered the main road to the north from Covent Garden. Victoria quietly raised her eyes and spotted the blacksmith's shop at the next intersection in the distance, a spot she had specifically looked for two days earlier. It was a narrow, crowded area, located between the theater district and the city center, a busy area prone to traffic jams.

The carriage slowly entered the intersection of Oxford Street, its wheels rolling over a small puddle. A kerosene lamp was lit at the entrance of the blacksmith's shop ahead, and an old man in a leather apron stood on the street, bowing slightly stiffly to the carriage. He held his hat low to his chest, as if afraid that his posture was not respectful enough.

When Victoria saw this, her heart suddenly skipped a beat; this was the signal that Lord Elphinstone and she had agreed upon.

Her handkerchief was still draped over her knees, but her fingertips were already taut.

She deliberately straightened up slowly, then covered her chest with one hand, her expression turning serious, and said softly, "Laichen, I... I'm having trouble breathing."

Mrs. Lezen immediately opened her eyes and asked with concern, "What's wrong? Does your chest hurt?"

“It’s not that it hurts, it’s… it’s a little stuffy.” Victoria’s voice trembled slightly with a hint of weakness. “It’s probably because it was too hot in the theater and too cold outside. I… I want to get out of the car and breathe some fresh air. It should be fine.”

As she spoke, she reached out and lifted the curtain of the car window, and the light from the gas lamp immediately streamed into the car, illuminating her sweaty forehead and tightly pursed lips.

Lady Lezen hesitated, clearly puzzled: "Your Highness, it's not appropriate to get out of the carriage now..."

“I just need to catch my breath and rest for a few minutes,” Victoria pleaded weakly. “You don’t need to get out of the car. I’ll be right next to it and won’t go far.”

As she spoke, she reached out to push open the car door.

Seeing this, Leizen could only sigh softly, roll down the car window and instruct his attendant, "Go and see if there are any open cafes or similar establishments nearby. His Highness is not feeling well and needs to rest for a while."

Taking advantage of the moment when Lezen turned his head, Victoria nimbly stepped onto the side step of the car door and landed.

Instead of heading straight for the blacksmith, she turned around, pretending to stretch, and glanced at the side alley squeezed between two old buildings.

He was indeed there.

Elphinstone stood at the alley entrance, wearing a long dark green coat and holding a felt hat, leaning against the wall, smiling at her.

In an instant, Victoria felt as if her cheeks had been burned by hot iron clamps, her ankles trembled slightly, and she even forgot which foot to step with first.

Seeing this, Elphinstone didn't say anything. He just quickly took a few steps forward and grabbed Victoria's hand. Victoria was stunned for a moment and didn't even dare to look up at him.

"Hurry." Elphinstone lowered his voice, almost whispering in her ear, "If the light flickers a couple more times, they'll spot us."

He spoke very quickly, yet without a trace of panic. With a gentle tug, he led her into the narrow alley.

Victoria felt a sudden lightness in her body as he half-embraced her and pulled her into the darkness.

The lamplight at the alley entrance was blocked by a passing carriage, and the sounds of footsteps, horses' hooves, and the hissing of the gas lamps mingled together, creating a scene in Victoria's ears that resembled a Shakespearean play.

She was Juliet, and Lord Elphinstone was her Romeo.

She was gently shielded by Elphinstone in the corner, her dark green coat partially concealing her cloak. The two were almost pressed together, and could even hear each other's breathing.

"Are you... alright?" Elfenstone asked in a low voice, but he didn't dare to let go of her hand.

Victoria opened her mouth, wanting to say, "You scared me to death," but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to scold the young Scottish nobleman: "John, you..."

clang! ! !
Before Victoria could finish speaking, she suddenly heard a strange noise.

The sound was not loud, but it was surprisingly crisp, like the sound of Sir Arthur Hastings's pointer striking the blackboard.

The next instant, Lord Elphinstone's eyes seemed to lose focus. He swayed, and then, like a clay sculpture in the wind and rain, his eyes rolled back, he collapsed straight down into the alley.

“Yo…” Victoria gasped. She reached out to help him up, but Elphinstone had already fallen heavily to the ground. His felt hat had rolled off to the side, and the hem of his dark green coat was whipped up by the wind, obscuring half of his face.

"Thank God!" an excited voice came from the darkness. "He's done another great job! Damn it, Hugh, I knew this kid was weird!"

Victoria turned around in astonishment and saw two men wearing tweed coats with their hats pulled low standing at the alley entrance. One of them was waving the walking stick that was still dripping rain after the crime, while the other had not yet had time to hide the excitement and triumphant look on his face.

“Your Highness, don’t be afraid. Do you remember us? We are plainclothes police officers from Scotland Yard. This cunning villain who tried to abduct you from the convoy has been subdued on the spot!”

(End of this chapter)