SGB Chapter 192

TL Note: Please Disable AdBlocker. If you don't want ads, Join Patreon to read 10(for $5) and 20 (for $10) advance Chapters. Please go to Patreon

## Chapter 192: Fishes in Troubled Waters

The heart of the connection between St. James’s Palace and Piccadilly was St. James’s Square, a place of elegance, comfort, pleasant surroundings, and a touch of commercialism. On King Street, in the southwest corner of the square, stood the Almacks Club, a place that made countless London socialites yearn for its embrace.

Not far from the Almacks Club stood the National Library of the United Kingdom and Ireland, its collection vast and rich. Nearby was the Royal Naval and Military Club, a place for British officers to bond and address issues, as well as the Naval Military Club, dedicated to the entertainment of the Royal Navy.

Elder looked up at the black iron plaque on the white wall, which displayed the postal code – SW1Y 6SL.

Those simple letters were enough to convey its location in a prime spot.

Although the weather wasn’t great today, with clouds obscuring the sun and a cold drizzle falling, Elder’s coattails flapped in the cold wind.

“Achoo!”

Elder sneezed. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose, his gaze wandering around, dissatisfaction evident.

“Damn it! Where’s Arthur gone? Did he actually sneak in? He doesn’t even know to wait for me. He’s only been to a banquet once, and now he’s already learned to eat alone.”

Elder grumbled under his breath, but he had already reached the door, and it wouldn’t be easy to turn back now.

Mr. Carter paced back and forth in front of the Almacks Club, his hands behind his back. He decided to wait a little longer. Perhaps Arthur would have a change of heart and come out to meet him?

The guard stationed at the door watched the suspicious young man for a long time. After a while, he exchanged glances with his companion and finally couldn’t help but approach him. “Sir, are you a guest who received an invitation from the club?”

“Ah…” Elder mumbled in response, “Yes… yes, I received an invitation. I’m just waiting for my companion to arrive.”

“Your companion?” The guard pondered for a moment, politely inquiring, “May I know your name? We have records of all those qualified to visit the Almacks Club. If our records are correct, you can go inside to warm up. Waiting outside for a friend is really too difficult. Look at you, you’re sneezing.”

“My name?” Elder hesitated for a while, unsure whether he should tell the truth.

Seeing his hesitation, the guard pursed his lips and asked again, “Or perhaps your friend’s name will do.”

“My friend’s name…” Elder stammered, still unsure how to respond.

The guard saw his demeanor and immediately concluded that this must be another guy trying to sneak into the club for free food and drink. The smile on his face disappeared, replaced by a stern expression.

“Sir, if you can’t provide clear information, then please leave immediately.”

Elder was provoked by his words. The arrogance of youth surged within him. He glared and said, “Just my friend’s name? I didn’t want to offend his noble name, and I was afraid it would scare you. I’m so considerate of you, and you’re so ungrateful!”

The guard impatiently pulled out a short club from his waist, “So, who is your friend? If you can’t tell me, I’ll have to give you something delicious.”

Elder glanced at the club, calculating in his heart. He snorted, raised his head and said, “I’ll tell you, my friend is the famous Arthur…”

The guard raised an eyebrow, “Arthur who?”

“Arthur… uh… Arthur Wellesley!”

“Arthur Wellesley?” The guard was surprised, “The Duke of Wellington is your friend?”

Elder looked away nervously, “At least I think so. Whether he thinks the same is none of my business.”

“Ugh! You damn…” The guard was furious and raised his hand to give Elder a lesson.

But before his arm could fall, a calloused hand grabbed his wrist.

The guard looked up in astonishment at the man who appeared behind Elder, dressed in a neat dinner suit, wearing a monocle, slicked-back hair, and a black top hat. He asked in a daze, “Who are you?”

Arthur pulled out a card from his coat pocket with two fingers and handed it over. “Please inform the club owner that Mr. Moschelles of the London Philharmonic Society has suddenly become unwell and may not be able to attend the performance today. I am Arthur Hastings, the pianist who will be replacing Mr. Moschelles. This is my card, please have a look.”

The guard took the card and glanced at it. It clearly stated:

Name: Arthur Hastings

Position: Pianist, Third Orchestra, London Philharmonic Society

It even had the official red seal of the London Philharmonic Society.

But for some reason, the card felt wet to the touch, as if it had just been printed.

Maybe the weather was too humid?

The guard thought so, and his expression softened. He smiled and replied, “So it’s Mr. Hastings. You must be new to the orchestra, right? I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Moschelles’ illness. But you seem to have the wrong time. We usually invite pianists to perform at night. Besides, why didn’t you bring your accompanist with you today?”

Arthur chuckled, “You’ve misunderstood my intentions. I’m not here to perform today, but to try out the piano. As you guessed, I’m new here and not familiar with the instruments at the Almacks Club. I was afraid I might mess up the performance, so I came here specifically to try out the sound in the afternoon when there aren’t many people.”

“Ah! I see.”

The guard realized his mistake. “You’re really dedicated to your work. Please come in then. I’ll accompany you to try out the piano. Just don’t touch anything else.”

With that, the guard made way for Arthur. Arthur glanced at Elder, who was winking at him, and simply took off his coat and threw it at him.

Arthur tugged on his shirt collar, “Elder, come with me.”

The guard asked curiously, “Mr. Hastings, who’s this?”

Before Arthur could speak, Elder answered, “I’m Mr. Hastings’ piano assistant. You may not know this, but Mr. Hastings will soon be promoted to the orchestra conductor, and I’ll be taking his place as the pianist.”

The guard looked at him, his face full of arrogance. He wanted to say something, but he glanced at Arthur beside him and swallowed the curse that was about to come out of his mouth.

He said, “Sir, this time we’ll let it slide, but if you come here again next time, please dress properly.”

With that, the guard led Arthur into the lobby with a big smile. Elder stared at his back with wide eyes, muttering, “Ugh! You damn doorman, why are you so arrogant?”

Arthur walked into the Almacks Club, scanning the interior.

The hall was much larger than he expected. The first thing that caught his eye was a few bookshelves leaning against the wall. Next to the bookshelves were several coffee tables and sofas. Passing through the corridor paved with mahogany floorboards, you would see several green cloth card tables for entertainment, separate tea rooms, a spacious dining room, and a ballroom.

Not far from the ballroom was a white ivory spiral staircase adorned with various carvings. Judging by the situation, there must be many unknown things on the second floor of the club.

Perhaps because it was too early or perhaps because of the bad weather, the Almacks Club was not very crowded. In the spacious hall, only a few gentlemen, who looked like old gamblers, were playing Cribbage around a green cloth card table with a scoreboard, each holding a handful of cards.

Of course, it wasn’t that they didn’t want to try other games. It was just that it was daytime, and they couldn’t take out an Italian Tarot deck to play Tarocchi or play Piquet with French cards.

Gamblers naturally love to try new games, but due to the influence of the Poker Act, Britain strictly prohibits the import of foreign poker.

Although privately, gamblers would still play secretly, they had to be careful not to attract attention in broad daylight.

After all, taking out a deck of cards with a different size in public could technically be considered smuggling.

In broad daylight, it’s best to play British patriotic poker.

The old gentleman opposite Arthur at the gambling table glanced at the unfamiliar Arthur, threw out a J with a flick of his arm, and mumbled, “I thought my sandwich delivery was here. That’s the bad thing about the club. Even if there are fewer people at noon, they should at least send a chef to guard the place.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. He just smiled and nodded politely at the other man, then followed the guard to the piano in the center of the ballroom.

The guard politely took off his hat and said, “Please wait here for a moment. Lady Cowper happens to be here today. I’ll go and report your situation and Mr. Moschelles’ situation to him.”

With that, the guard hurried upstairs.

Elder, who was here for the first time, looked a little nervous. He nudged Arthur with his arm, “You really joined the London Philharmonic Society?”

Arthur took off his white gloves and breathed into his palm, trying to soften his stiff hands. “I will.”

“Huh?” Elder widened his eyes, “Then what about Mr. Moschelles?”

Arthur turned his head to look at the side, motioning for him to lower his voice. “Of course, I made it up.”

“You do this, aren’t you afraid of being exposed?” Elder looked around, his hands not knowing where to put. “Damn it! I should have gone home and changed my clothes. I’m wearing this, and people will think I’m a runner from a nearby restaurant.”

As soon as he finished speaking, several gamblers at the table not far away called out to him, “Hey, over there! Where’s our sandwich?”

Elder couldn’t help but slap himself in the face, “Arthur, Arthur! See, I told you so. Damn it, they really think I’m a delivery guy.”

Arthur just laughed and said, “Think positive, Elder. Those who can come here are either rich or noble. You go and run errands for them, maybe these old gentlemen will like you, and maybe they’ll even marry their daughters to you. Since you’re not good at dealing with girls, why not try a different approach and start with their old fathers?”

“Hmm?” Elder rubbed the stubble on his chin, “That… that makes sense!”

“Hey! You, the young man over there! Aren’t you the restaurant guy?”

“No, I am.” Elder moved quickly, like a gust of wind. He ran over, quickly took out a pen and paper from his pocket, straightened his back, and said seriously, “I’m sorry to inform you gentlemen, all the sandwiches are sold out. Would you like something else?”

(End of Chapter)

If you want to support, please consider joining Patreon. Go to patreon.com/fantasystories797 20 Advance Chapters are available for Patreons Join Discord

Leave a Comment