shadow of britain

Chapter 806 This is no ordinary college student.
If you were to ask Whitehall bureaucrats where they like to have lunch during their lunch break, different departments and different social classes would give different answers.

High-ranking departments like the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs have their own small kitchens with chefs and servants who prepare exquisite meals such as cold dishes, hot soups, and lamb chops for senior officials. As a result, senior civil servants in these two departments can usually avoid the fatigue of traveling and enjoy fine food and wine anytime, anywhere.

During the Duke of Wellington's time as Prime Minister, Arthur had the privilege of dining at the Treasury. However, dining with the Duke was hardly a pleasant experience, not because the chefs were incompetent, but because the Duke had a particular fondness for cold cuts. Even the most delicious food loses some of its flavor when it's cold. But Arthur couldn't simply refuse the Duke's invitation. After all, the Duke usually only invited his closest subordinates to dine with him.

Of course, not all departments are as wealthy as the Ministry of Finance, nor do all departments care as much about appearances as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. More importantly, not all officials are entitled to dine in their department's small kitchen.

For most young civil servants and members of parliament who weren't qualified to use the kitchenette, lunchtime was usually minimal—at most a sandwich and a drink. They would save their appetites for five or six in the afternoon to feast at the gentlemen's club.

Of course, if you don't want to eat simple meals and are tired of the taste of small kitchens, there are still a few mainstream places to choose from.

Young Tories like Mr. Benjamin Disraeli often gathered at the Thatched Cottage Tavern, which, despite being located on St. James Street and a bit far from Whitehall, did not stop them from enjoying discussing matters and forming cliques there.

The Travellers' Club on Belmer Street was a regular haunt for diplomats and envoys stationed abroad.

The Athena Club, located on the same street, was a popular spot for intellectuals. Perhaps because it lacked the strong aristocratic atmosphere of other clubs, it gradually became a preferred dining location for high-ranking civil servants. If you arrived there for lunch, you were likely to spot several high-ranking officials who could intimidate even the lower-ranking Whitehall bureaucrats.

However, if Sir Arthur Hastings were to choose his favorite restaurant near Whitehall today, it would be neither the Athena Club, where he was likely to run into "big bosses," nor the Travelers' Club, frequented by filthy diplomats. Although the Thatched Cottage Tavern on St. James Street was quite good, he was unwilling to travel that far. So his only option was the Simpson's Café on Strand Street.

This place was originally a fountain tavern, and in the 18th century it was the main venue for the famous literary group Kit-Cat Club, where well-known British writers such as William Congreve, John Locke and John Vanbrough dined and drank.

However, in 1828, this old pub was converted into a smoking room, and soon after, it was transformed into a coffee shop. During this period, Sir Arthur Hastings was rising to prominence at Scotland Yard, so he naturally discovered this new establishment and became a member.

As a members-only restaurant, members can enjoy the facilities and coffee for free after paying an annual fee of 1 guinea.

If you're a casual visitor looking to try it out, you'll need to pay an entrance fee of sixpence. An extra 1 shilling will get you a gentleman's set meal including coffee and a cigar.

At first glance, charging 6p just to come in and browse seems like too high a price.

Even so, Simpson's Café is always packed, because in addition to serving guests meals, coffee and cigars, it is also the venue for London's top chess tournaments.

I don't know when it started, but whenever people mention coffee shops, they think of chess. In London, all the coffee shops regularly hold chess tournaments, and these coffee shops even compete against each other. If a coffee shop loses an exchange match, it can't hold its head up for weeks.

In this way, each coffee shop naturally has the incentive to sponsor top chess players and pay them to play on their behalf.

Of all the cafes in London, Simpson's Cafe boasts a lineup of chess players that could be described as a galactic battleship.

The London chess duo: William Walker, author of "London Chess Games," and his brother, George Walker, currently London's strongest chess player.

He created the unique "Evans Gambit" opening and defeated British champion Alexander McDonald's "Captain" Evans in just 20 moves.

These people are all "mercenaries" of The Simpsons Cafe.

And now, The Simpson Cafe has attracted another powerful ally.

In the chess room of Simpson's Cafe, the grandfather clock ticked away, but Elder Carter's expression remained unchanged.

He was like a knight trapped in the center of a chessboard, his armor fallen, his horse lost, leaving only the king in his hand who refused to concede defeat.

"Did you miss a step in your calculations?" Elder paused for a moment before suddenly asking the young man sitting opposite him, "Your move was clever, but not brilliant."

The young man opposite did not answer, but simply moved the remaining black pawn to the eighth square: "Checkmate."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like the cigar Arthur had just lit, so strong it made people wince.

The gentlemen watching nearby exchanged glances, some covering their mouths, some coughing, and some even rubbing their temples. It was clear that even these onlookers felt embarrassed for Elder, though they weren't the ones playing the game.

Arthur, finding the scene amusing, couldn't help but lower his voice and ask the old gentleman beside him, "How many rounds have you played?"

"It's already the third inning in less than half an hour." The old gentleman shook his head and said, "Three to zero, Mr. Carter has been completely wiped out."

As Elder rummaged through the chess pieces in the box, he said matter-of-factly, "I didn't eat enough today, so my brain isn't working properly. I'll play with you next time when I'm full."

As he was speaking, he suddenly caught sight of Arthur, who had just arrived, and immediately exclaimed as if he had seen a savior, "Arthur, you're here? Perfect timing, the oxtail soup in the kitchen should be ready soon, this meal is on me."

The main dining area of ​​Simpson Cafe is located behind the chess room, separated by a revolving door made of peach wood and frosted glass.

As soon as the door was opened, a comforting aroma wafted out – the scent of stewed beef and sherry.

The cafe's dining area retains its 18th-century style, with many oil paintings on the walls that don't quite capture the characters' likenesses. These are said to be portraits of famous London chess players or artists who frequented the cafe, though it's also possible that some of them were early Kit-Cat club members who hadn't yet made a name for themselves.

As soon as Arthur and Elder sat down, a waiter came forward and neatly laid out a snow-white tablecloth, handing them the menu. "The usual?" the waiter asked softly. "The oxtail soup is freshly made today, and the grilled cod is also quite good."

Arthur nodded and said, "The usual, and another serving of duck liver pâté with brioche bread, just one serving. Mr. Carter lost pretty badly today, so he might not have much of an appetite."

"Nonsense!" Elder curled his lip. "Give me one too. I was letting him win. It's not easy for young chess players to make a living in London. Once he has the reputation of beating Elder Carter, more people will invite him to participate in competitions in the future."

The waiter smiled slightly, not exposing Elder's boasting. A moment later, another servant brought coffee and a cigar box and placed them on the coffee table.

Arthur didn't rush to light a cigarette. He first tied his napkin, then leaned back in his chair: "Seriously, who is that young man? I saw your face turn green by the third game, and you were saying you were letting him win?"

Upon hearing this, Elder first rolled his eyes, then said unwillingly, "Howard Staunton, a young chess player who appeared out of nowhere. When I first saw him today, I thought he was some trainee civil servant from some department in Whitehall. I thought to myself, surely this kid wouldn't be so clueless as to dare to beat me, a third secretary of the Admiralty, in front of so many people. But look what happened, three to zero, a complete slap on the wrist. He's a complete idiot."

“Staunton…” Arthur murmured the name. “Never heard of him.”

“If you’re interested, I can arrange a meeting with him for you next time.” Elder, while breaking off pieces of bread, suddenly changed the subject: “But speaking of which, why did you suddenly come to Whitehall today? Aren’t you going to take care of things at the University of London?”

“Of course I care!” Arthur took a sip of coffee. “That’s why I’m going to file a report at Scotland Yard!”

"Report a crime?" Elder frowned. "A murder has occurred at the school?"

“No, it’s not that serious.” Arthur put down his coffee cup. “The students from King’s College came to the school gate this morning to cause trouble. Our students couldn’t stand it, so they got into a verbal argument with them. After a while, it was inevitable that they would fight. They fought all the way from Gower Street to Tottenham.”

"Huh?" Elder quickly asked, "Did you win?"

Arthur rolled his eyes at this: "If I beat you, would you still be able to report me to the police?"

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, Elder slammed down his spoon, making the plate tremble.

"What did you say? You lost?!" His eyes widened as if he had heard some humiliating news: "Our students from the University of London actually lost to those good-for-nothing little nobles, half-baked clergymen, and bastards from King's College? Where is Scotland Yard's police academy located on campus? Are these people even of any use?"

Arthur pursed his lips, clearly dissatisfied with today's outcome: "The police academy was doing physical training today. If it weren't for that, even if King's Academy had three times the guts, they wouldn't dare to come to our school gate to start a fight."

"This..." Elder's face turned red with anger: "Back when we were still in school, if anyone from King's Academy dared to utter a single curse from afar, the two of us could immediately tie them to a lamppost and hang them out to dry! And now you're telling me that we've been beaten up right at the school gate?"

Seeing Elder so angry, Arthur could only try to comfort him gently: "It's not that we're completely powerless to fight back. There's a student named Bradshaw who fought quite well. He even managed to snatch a King's Academy club flag today. Actually, we had the upper hand at the beginning, but when we got to Tottenham, the students realized they had fallen into a King's Academy ambush."

“If that’s the case, then it makes more sense!” Elder crossed his arms and said, “However, it’s still too undignified to let someone beat us up at the school gate! Scotland Yard must deal with this seriously. London is not a lawless place. How can we tolerate King’s College thugs committing such a crime in broad daylight?”

Arthur nodded in agreement: "That's what I think too. After this, I suggest that Scotland Yard set up a guard post at each of the entrances and exits on Gower Street. However... Scotland Yard probably doesn't have the manpower to deal with King's College's trivial matters right now."

"Hmm?" Elder said with dissatisfaction, "They're not even going to handle such an important case? Then they might as well not care about anything at all. What case could be more urgent than the crime committed by the King's Academy thugs? Is His Majesty the King personally taking action?"

Elder's question was exactly what Arthur wanted to hear. He glanced around and asked in a low voice, "Can you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course, Arthur, you know me well, I keep my mouth shut."

“I know, that’s why I had to make sure your mouth was as tight as usual. After all, this is almost a royal scandal.”

"Royal scandal?" Upon hearing these words, Elder nearly jumped out of his chair.

“Arthur, you can’t say things like that!” Although Elder lowered his voice, his expression was clearly more excited than before, and his head was almost as close as the candlestick on the dining table: “If Fleet Street finds out, you’ll be held responsible if there are any inaccuracies in the reports.”

Arthur slowly picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and said, "Indeed, since that's the case, I'd better not say anything."

“Arthur!” Elder’s eyes widened in exasperation. “You’re not one to leave things unsaid. If you use the same tactics you use on Whitehall bureaucrats on your friend, don’t blame me for flipping the table. Tell me, has something happened at Kensington Palace? Or…”

His eyes darted around: "Is it related to Princess Victoria?"

Arthur offered no comment, only nodding slightly: "As an aside, Lord Elphinstone is currently lying in St. George's Hospital. That's all I know. If you want more details, you'll probably have to find those guys at Kensington Palace."

"Aren't you someone from the palace?" Elder asked urgently. "If you don't know, how could they possibly know?"

“That’s hard to say.” Arthur shook his head. “I’m just a tutor, after all, and I only go to Kensington Palace during class time. It seems that this happened last night when Her Highness the Princess was out. I’d like to ask the people in the palace, but none of them will say anything.”

"Nobody's telling anyone?" Elder stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Then it seems something really went wrong... By the way, you just said Elfenstone was at St. George's Hospital? What's that all about?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, feigning ignorance. "But I guess it might be related to Her Highness the Princess. After all, if it weren't related, Conroy wouldn't have come to my door in person today, asking me to find Scotland Yard to coordinate things."

(End of this chapter)