Chapter 183: Arthur’s Blowing Wind (K)

Chapter 182 Arthur’s Blowing Wind (4K)

In the drizzling rain of late fall, Arthur, topped with a large brimmed hat, stood in front of a single house in the Kensington district holding two gramophones.

The angular roof, the beautifully decorated triangular ivory-white walls, the five marble steps in front of the door, and the wide porch that stood with spindle-shaped columns, with double-opening red cedar doors with intricately textured carvings.

This luxurious residence would be a standout in any other part of London, but in the Kensington district, which is home to Kensington Palace, Knightsbridge, High Street and other political and business districts, it would be nothing more than an ordinary residence.

And the hostess living here is exactly the object of Arthur’s trip to visit the fifth generation of Mrs. Cowper – Emily Cowper.

According to the information Arthur received from Elder, as well as the observation of Mrs. Cowper during the last banquet, this leading figure of London’s upper class social circle is almost the opposite of her quiet and reserved husband, the fifth Earl of Cowper.

As a woman who enjoys a prominent position in the Whig camp, her warm and gregarious personality naturally brings her a considerable number of supporters.

Even, due to her native English origins, she is almost certainly the most popular of the Ormac Club.

She had to overshadow the veteran Mrs. Castlereagh and Mrs. Sefton, as well as Mrs. Levine, who was a long-sleeved woman but had suffered from Russian nationality.

And in the contest between Mrs. Jersey and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, who were of her own age, Mrs. Cowper could almost be said to have won.

According to the information provided by Elder, Mrs. Jersey is so vivacious that she often appears rude and uncultured, while Mrs. Drummond-Burrell is too obsessed with etiquette and formality.

Only Mrs. Cowper manages to strike a good middle ground between the two, bringing people closer together without making them feel offended.

In short, Shakespeare’s famous line cannot be applied to Mrs. Cowper – woman, your name is weak.

Obviously, in front of Mrs. Cowper, Arthur is more like a weakling.

Holding two gramophones, Arthur couldn’t spare a hand, so he had to cock his head and ring the bell hanging in front of the door with the brim of his hat.

Only a clink was heard as the mahogany door was pulled open from the inside, and behind it appeared an old butler wearing white gloves, a black tuxedo, and a white shirt over a white shirt.

The old butler looked up and down at the young man with water dripping from his hat, “May I ask who you are?”

Before Arthur could reply, a gentle female voice came from behind the old butler, “Cox, that’s Mr. Hastings from Scotland Yard, bring him in. It’s raining heavily today, and if he gets sick from the rain, it’s expected that the whole of Scotland Yard will be paralyzed. The citizens of London can’t stand so much damage.”

Arthur’s eyes crossed to the old butler and fell on the lady who stood on the stairs with both hands on her belly.

Perhaps it was because it was raining heavily today and Mrs. Cowper did not intend to go out, her makeup today was plain and her dress was not as wide as the one she wore on the day of the banquet, but even so, I’m afraid that this pale blue gown that approximated the Lolita style, which was made of silk satin and silk velvet as the main material, was not cheap.

Not much else to say, top Arthur’s salary for a few weeks must be quite easy.

As soon as he thought of this, Arthur began to think again about finding Mr. Moscheles to give a recital.

Although now that he was Superintendent of Scotland Yard, his salary had risen with it.

Even though his salary was already more than £150 per year, as a gentleman living near Hyde Park, Arthur’s income still could not match the expenses he needed.

But although nominally he earns only £150, anyone who really thinks that a Scotland Yard superintendent is worth only that much is somewhat underestimating the energy of the government department.

For in addition to his regular income, he enjoys a number of miscellaneous allowances and hidden benefits.

For example, enjoying free postal services provided by the British Post Office.
receiving gifts and gratuities issued by the Home Office on major holidays.
receiving free copies of the London Gazette, The Times, Manchester Guardian and other major newspapers at a discount of about £25.
Routine gifts from the business associations and companies in the precincts, although this is the part Arthur has not yet received, but according to the old superintendents, the total value of the gifts fluctuates around the range of 10-50 pounds, depending on the type and number of companies operating in the precincts, as well as their size.

Of course, in fact, according to the usual practice, Scotland Yard, as an institution under the Ministry of the Interior, police officers deserve the same priority as the officers of the Ministry of the Interior Services to enjoy the official housing apartments planned by the City Building Committee under the Ministry of the Interior.

However, perhaps because of the nature of the work and the overall income level of the department is low, Scotland Yard since the birth of the Ministry of Internal Affairs is not popular with colleagues.

For most Scotland Yard officers, they can only be addressed as government employees, not government service officers.

If the Eastern concept is used to explain, the senior police officers of Scotland Yard are at best a career staff, and the patrolmen who work hard on the front line can’t even be counted as career staff, they are a group of labor dispatch employees who can be dismissed at any time and any place.

And it’s the Home Office desk jockeys who are proper civil servants, and Arthur can’t even be considered in the same class as them.

Scotland Yard, a second class department full of mudbloods, wants a share of the Home Office’s official apartments?
No way!
As for Arthur’s income level is higher than that of an ordinary officer of the Ministry of the Interior’s police superintendent, it is even more eye-catching object.

After all, as a police superintendent with an annual salary of 150 pounds, his income has exceeded the minimum income of the Ministry of the Interior civilian officials, how do you not know how to be grateful?
Arthur mulled over the question of income as he was led by the old butler to the sofa by the fireplace to roast the fire.

He sat on the couch and looked at the Persian-style brownish-red carpet that he stepped on under his feet, only to lift his mug and take a painful sip of coffee. Mrs. Cowper, smiling out of the corner of her eye, sat at his opposite end of the table, and as she surveyed the two gramophones on the coffee table, she spoke, “Mr. Hastings, I am so sorry for your trouble. When I took the liberty of sending someone to you earlier to order the gramophones, I didn’t dare to hold out much hope. After all, there are simply too many people who want to order gramophones nowadays, and you must have gone through a lot of effort to get two of them so quickly, right?”

Arthur waved his hand, “Ma’am, it can’t be claimed as my credit. It was also a coincidence that Mr. Wheatstone happened to have two of them freshly made at his place, and he had been reluctant to give them to me directly, as the bid was higher elsewhere. But when I told him that you had placed the order, Mr. Wheatstone immediately decided to take your order first. After all, it was all because Mr. Wheatstone admired your reputation, and I was merely passing on a message for you.”

Mrs. Cowper’s eyes narrowed with laughter at these words, “Is that so? I didn’t know that my reputation was even acknowledged by such young and talented scholars as you and Mr. Wheatstone.”

Arthur just smiled, “Madam, you have underestimated the influence of the name Emily Cowper in London, everyone knows that apart from being a proficient dancer and sociable beauty, you have always been keen on all kinds of new things. We natural philosophers have all heard stories of your patronage of scientific research, so we all respect you. I am not ashamed to say that Mr. Faraday even mentioned you to me.”

“Mr. Faraday spoke of me?” Mrs. Cowper was flattered and pressed both hands to her chest, “Oh, God! I’ve heard no such thing.”

The Red Devil sniffed and followed Mrs. Cowper’s example, clamping his throat and shouting, “Oh, Arthur! I haven’t heard of such a thing either! And I’ll bet Faraday hasn’t heard of it either!”

Arthur glanced at the Red Devil while he was sipping his coffee, and while warning him with his eyes not to fool around, he put down his coffee cup with a beaming smile and said, “You don’t know that Mr. Faraday is a shy man, and if you were to go and ask him directly, he’d be too embarrassed to talk about it. Mr. Wheatstone is equally shy, most of us philosophical researchers are of this character, and so am I.”

Mrs. Cowper blinked her dark eyes, and with a flutter of her lashes she teased, “Come now, Mr. Hastings, you must be teasing me. Everyone knows that Mr. Faraday doesn’t go out of his way to compliment other women; he reserves all his sweet talk for his ladies.

As for your shyness? I don’t believe it. How can a Scotland Yard constable be shy? If you were shy, how could you face criminals and solve so many big cases? I’ve heard Colonel Fitzroy say that you alone have taken out seventeen pirates on the high seas.”

Arthur said in a serious manner, “Ma’am, you don’t know that I was able to take out seventeen pirates precisely because I was shy.”

Mrs. Cowper covered her lips with one hand and queried, “How is that?”

Arthur sat upright with a serious face and said, “Because if I let them come back alive, they would definitely tell the truth about how shy I am.”

Mrs. Cowper raised her hand slightly to cover her mouth at these words, but the upturned corners of her mouth were still vaguely visible between her fingers.

“Thank God, Mr. Hastings, it is fortunate that God guided you to Scotland Yard, or else with your headache-inducing shyness you would have stirred up all of Britain if you had become a criminal.”

When Arthur heard this, he simply took off his hat and thanked him, “That’s all right, ma’am, I’ll stay at Scotland Yard just the same.”

As soon as these words came out of his mouth, Mrs. Cowper finally couldn’t hold it in, and she snorted a laugh that brought tears to her eyes.

As she drew out her handkerchief and wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, she spoke, “Mr. Hastings, I’m sorry for being rude. But then again, Mrs. Levine really wasn’t wrong about you, you are indeed a very special lad. A man of your caliber, whether placed on Scotland Yard, the battlefield of Waterloo, or even in love affairs, will sooner or later achieve success. My unenlightened brother would not have had Lord Byron intervene in his marriage if he had been half as good a talker as you are, and my sister-in-law, who has since passed away, was fond of your type.”

“Lord Byron?” Arthur, who knew all about the story of Lord Byron and the Duchess of Ponsonby, only pretended to be dumbfounded as he humbly said, “Madam, you are so overly kind, how could I dare to compare myself to that shining literary star of Britain’s 19th century? But is there some story about your sister-in-law and Lord Byron?”

Hearing this, Mrs. Cowper half-opened her mouth to say something, but when the words reached her mouth, she withdrew them, “It’s just that, it’s all in the past, and it’s normal that you don’t know. After all, you were still young at that time, if I remember correctly, you seem to be only 20 years old this year, right?”

Arthur nodded, “I’ll be 21 on January 15th next year.”

Hearing this, Mrs. Cowper couldn’t help but say again, “You young people, you always hate to be older. Whereas ladies like me, who are really old, always hate to be younger.

However, at your age, you can almost consider marriage. With a stable job with a decent income, and being so articulate and fit, it must be very easy to find a suitable girl.

Have you thought about this aspect? Perhaps it’s a bit presumptuous of me to say so, but don’t mind if you do, because my eldest son is also approaching marriageable age, so more or less I always think about things in this regard.”

Hearing this, Arthur caught a whiff of the possibility of getting a ticket for admission to the Ormac Club.

Arthur organized some of his needs and thought again about the possibility of the Whigs coming to power.

So, he took the opportunity to complain to, “Madam, you should know that I am a Scotland Yard police officer, and Scotland Yard is very busy on weekdays, and there aren’t many opportunities for vacations, so I don’t have much opportunity to socialize on weekdays.”

Mrs. Cowper blinked in surprise, “Ah …… is that so? Scotland Yard rangers do work very hard, that I am aware of. But aren’t you already a Superintendent of Scotland Yard now? Why is it still like this? I remember that senior officers like you should be very idle!”

Hearing this, Arthur somehow suddenly remembered all the upper class people in the Ministry of the Interior, and the bad water in his stomach suddenly flipped again, “Madam, what you said is actually not wrong. Some of the government ministries are indeed laid back, but not all of them are like that.

Some departments, such as the Audit Division of the Ministry of Finance, or the Police Regulatory Commission of the Ministry of the Interior, can of course work late and rest early, lazily working 5-6 hours a day, with double holidays and various festive rest days attached to it. But there are departments, like Scotland Yard, that work 10 hours or more a day, with people working hard and overworked for days on end.

But Scotland Yard is fine with this kind of intense work – after all, we’re really doing something. But some departments are exhausted, but do is to make up books and tables, false should be story, to the top of the perfunctory, to the bottom of the mess and so on work. But really it’s the same with or without it, for the running of the British government.”

The next chapter will be a little later.

(End of chapter)