Chapter 1869: Chapter 129: Hastings’ Scheme (2)

Eld wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air: "Is there... a fire in the cabin? Arthur, what were you burning just now?"

At these words, Arthur nonchalantly deflected with a sonnet: "I tossed her letter into the fire, she called me a dog, I laughed in agreement. If only longing could burn away, then her face wouldn’t haunt my dreams every night."

Upon hearing the poem, a smug look appeared on Eld’s face: "Arthur, I didn’t expect you to know it by heart. How is it? Isn’t this poem quite Byronic?"

Arthur, hearing this, had to pinch his nose and admit: "If I were to say that you’re already a poet on par with Byron, that would probably be an overstatement. But I must say, this piece indeed captures a certain Lord Byron charm."

"Really?" Eld was pleasantly surprised: "Which of Byron’s poems do you think this resembles?"

Racking his brain, Arthur spoke with a sense of firm determination: "That one: ’If we shall meet again, after years have passed. How shall I greet thee? With tears and silence.’"

As soon as Arthur uttered these words, he felt as though he might have blasphemed against the deceased Byron, but despite the deep regret twisting his insides, Eld remained completely pleased by his words.

Eld beamed brightly, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder: "Arthur, I must say, you appreciate true talent."

Before Eld could start publishing a poetry collection, Arthur hastily changed the topic: "You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?"

Eld glanced at Arthur as if weighing whether he should divulge the truth.

After a moment, he shrugged and innocently said: "Did you see the girl on deck wearing the green-trimmed skirt? Smiling so sweetly, clearly one of those newly-of-age girls still cherishing romantic fantasies of sea breezes and novels."

Arthur raised an eyebrow: "And then?"

Eld spread his hands: "I merely complimented that her eyes resemble the sea of Venice and said if she were in Constantinople, the Sultan would surely command an artist to paint her portrait. I genuinely meant it, without the slightest insincerity."

"And what happened?"

"Well, the man next to her, who seemed like her brother, suddenly flared up. He claimed I disrespected his fiancée and demanded an apology. I tried to explain... but he wouldn’t listen. Seeing it wasn’t going well, I slipped to the aft cabin to avoid trouble, and that’s how I bumped into you."

Arthur pondered for a moment, his gaze landing on Eld’s skewed collar and the footprints on his shoes: "Did they get physical?"

"Almost." Eld straightened his collar: "Luckily, I ran fast. You must know, back in South America, during that race with the puma, I ranked third, with the puma only slightly faster."

"You third, puma second, then could the first be Charles?"

"Charles? Oh, come on, he’s not faster than me." Eld lit his pipe: "The first was a bullet."

Eld leaned against the wall, puffing on his pipe: "Alright, I’ve explained myself. Now it’s your turn. What were you discussing with our future Queen in that observation cabin?"

Arthur stood straight, hands behind his back, pretending not to hear.

"Don’t play dumb, Arthur. I caught a glimpse down the corridor earlier." Eld tilted his head, determined to get to the bottom of it: "When she came out, her eyes were red as if she’d been hit by smoke. Were it anyone else, I’d suspect she ran into some miscreant on board."

Arthur brushed ash off his sleeve, calmly replying: "Do you want the truth, or a sufficiently scandalous version?"

"I specifically want the version from your mouth." Eld exhaled a smoke ring, teasingly adding: "Preferably with some melancholic background music, like Schubert."

"Actually, it’s nothing much, we were just talking about Elphinstone." Arthur borrowed a light from Eld: "You know already, don’t you? Viscount Melbourne suggested Lord Elphinstone transfer to Governor of Madras in India."

Hearing this, Eld couldn’t help but sigh: "India... Governor of Madras... Damn, he really scored! If it were anyone else rumored with Princess Victoria, they’d have been booted to Australia by now. But Elphinstone, he turns from bedroom attendant to Governor of Madras, who knows how much he’ll rake in yearly."

Arthur snorted, pipe in mouth: "Jealous? Even if you were, you couldn’t emulate him. Lord Elphinstone represents the Scottish Whig nobility, and Viscount Melbourne can’t handle him harshly without causing party division. Besides, Elphinstone has a good relationship with His Majesty the King; back when His Majesty was still a naval cadet, Elphinstone’s uncle was his captain. Ordinary folk can’t follow his path."

Of course, Eld knew the Carter family couldn’t compare with the Elphinstone family, so he didn’t dwell too much on the matter.

Instead, he asked: "Then this time, has Her Highness the Princess completely given up?"

Arthur, pipe in hand, allowed the warm smoke to curl up his nose: "Giving up... does it matter?"

On this question, Eld surprisingly shared Arthur’s view: "True, giving up isn’t the issue, especially at this age when tears and promises are cheap. She’ll soon forget what he looked like, just like how I can’t remember whether the mole at the corner of that Welsh girl’s eye I met last week was one or two."

Arthur glanced at his pocket watch and casually asked: "By the way, where’s everyone else?"

Eld smacked his lips: "Dickens is chatting with the captain in first class. I suggested he check the dining room for any fancy with the ladies, but he lacks the guts. As for that fat Alexander, he overslept. He lost everything at cards last night, couldn’t find him anywhere, probably missed the ship. No worries though, he can take the afternoon ship with his son."

As Eld was speaking, he walked ahead, discreetly commenting on the looks of the ladies on deck.

However, as they reached the end of the corridor, two men quietly blocked their path.

Their stance stood out among the tourists, feet slightly apart, weight shifted to the right, left arm naturally hanging down, right hand subtly placed on their waist, clearly concealing something.

"Sir Arthur Hastings." One of them spoke softly, tone calm yet polite, his salute hinted at bureaucratic routine.

Arthur noted their tense demeanor and remarked with a slight curl of his lips: "What’s the matter?"

"May we have a word?" The man seemed somewhat uneasy: "We’re here on orders, a guest is waiting for you in the upper cabin."

"Of course." Arthur raised a hand to signal Eld: "You go ahead and order in the dining room, I’ll join shortly."

Though straightforward by nature, Eld could tell at a glance these two were plainclothes police from Scotland Yard.

"Alright, I’ll wait for you in the dining room then."

Arthur was led into a private room located on the upper floor near the ship’s bridge, away from public areas. Though not lavishly decorated, it had the advantage of being clean and quiet.

The cabin door closed lightly behind him, and the two plainclothes officers who guided him stepped outside, standing guard at the entrance.

The room was somewhat dimly lit, Arthur’s gaze swept over the silver pot and two steaming cups of tea on the coffee table before settling on the figure standing by the window, hand resting on the railing.

He removed his gloves and casually tossed them onto the sofa, reaching for the Baker Rifle propped by the door, weighing it in hand: "This position offers a good view, quite adequate as a lookout. You picked a good spot, Thomas."