Chapter 50 Return to London 12 Hummingbird Tavern
Caroline looked angry and at a loss for words. "No! I can only say that Mary might have been right back in the hills. I have absolutely no judgment of people. Just like that Davis might not really be the general's grandson, the man I met was also a fake rear admiral on leave."
Heather couldn't believe it: "This can be faked? Didn't you know him at a social dance? Wasn't there an introducer and no identity check?"
"Oh, that's what I thought at the time." Caroline really didn't want to recall her foolish experience of desperately trying all sorts of methods. "Until one day I accidentally saw him enter the pub, so I followed him in to see if he had found some... you know. Then I ran into the information dealer, and he casually reminded me that the so-called rear admiral was a complete fraud. He had previously owed a huge debt in Kent, and at that time he had fabricated the identity of being the son of a Prussian nobleman!"
"Oh my god, what kind of serial fraudster is this? Are all the nobles in London stupid?"
Caroline shrugged. "I have to admit, that man is witty and well-informed. And, as you know, the war situation is tense right now. On the one hand, the army is expanding rapidly, and the origins of officers are complex and difficult to verify. On the other hand, heroes who have served their country are always treated specially. They might verify a landlord's wealth, but not an officer's medals. The intelligence dealer told me that there have been no fewer than three such cases in London recently, and he was hired to investigate one of them."
As we were talking, we arrived at our destination.
It was a pub wedged between St. Catherine's Dock and Leadenhall Street. Half of its grey brick walls were covered in soot from the docks, while the other half was stained with the perfume of the commercial district. A brass sign with a flapping hummingbird engraved on it hung on the door, and the sign was polished to a shine.
At four in the afternoon, the pub hadn't officially opened yet. Only a few scattered workers were moving in and out, carrying wooden crates of wine or large plates of sausages. A heavily made-up woman yawned as she passed them. Heather sneezed at her strong, cheap scent, and instinctively knew it wasn't a safe place.
"The person you are talking about is here?" Heather pulled Caroline's arm.
Caroline gave her a reassuring look: "It's okay, the last time I came was around six in the evening, and it was more chaotic at that time. But I'm not sure if he's there so early." She took Heather's hand and walked in, looking around, immediately attracting the attention of the few customers in the store.
Before those eager people could come over to chat, Caroline found her target first. "Look, that's the one at the bar. Hey, Theodore!"
The man turned at the sound, a glass of cheap beer in hand. His eyes were a sickly red, like a gambler who had spent the night at the gambling table. A closer look revealed he was wearing a dark green tuxedo, the material quite good, giving him the air of a playboy from a fallen aristocratic family. He was young, no more than twenty years old.
Theodore responded to Caroline in a lazy but enthusiastic voice: "Hey, why are you here? Jenny."
"Jenny?" Heather secretly pulled Caroline: "Did he remember the wrong person?"
"No. This is a fake name I made up when I last met him." Caroline kept smiling and pulled Hazel over.
Theodore asked, "Who is this?"
"Hazel" and "Katie" they answered at the same time.
Heather looked at Caroline in shock. Who was Katie? Was it a fake name she was given?
Theodore raised an eyebrow and greeted Heather warmly as if nothing had happened: "Hello, Ms. Heather. What can I do for you?"
Heather coughed awkwardly. "I heard... Jenny say that you know a lot of unknown information and have facilitated some underground transactions. I'd like to ask you if there are any blacksmiths willing to try making small distillers. I'll draw the detailed structural diagram when the time comes. Oh, and it's best not to go through the Blacksmith Guild."
Theodore put down his glass with interest. "A small still? The kind used in factories to make wine or medicine?"
Hessel replied, "It serves a similar purpose, but is smaller and more sophisticated, and its purpose is also different. I need a blacksmith with high skills and a willingness to continuously improve according to my requirements. Money is not a problem."
Theodore stood up from his chair. "If money isn't an issue, then there's no problem. I've already thought of a suitable candidate. He was expelled from the guild last year for disobeying orders and being dissatisfied with their excessive commission. However, he has excellent skills and has helped the Academy of Sciences make instruments before."
Heather couldn't help but feel delighted. This resume sounded very reliable. She hurriedly asked, "Who is that? How do I contact him?"
Theodore waved his hand, still smiling. "His money isn't a problem, but what about mine, ma'am? I can't give you information for free. So, for the first transaction, I'll give you a friendship price: 5 pounds and I'll tell you his address. But he has a strange temper, so if you need my help in convincing him, you'll have to add another 3 pounds."
"Five pounds for an address! Why don't you just go and rob it!" Caroline looked over angrily. She knew that five pounds was enough for an ordinary worker's salary for half a year.
Theodore wasn't angry either. "Yeah, that's better than spending 8 pounds. I promise to find you one that suits your taste. If you're not satisfied, you can look for another one until we can reach a cooperation. I have many different channels. If you need something else, we can also cooperate long-term."
Caroline was about to protest, but Heather held her back. "I'll give you 15 pounds, but you have to promise to bring the price of the still down to under 50 pounds and deliver it to me within two weeks. You also have to find a way to keep my drawings secret for at least three months. If you deliberately break this agreement, not only will you lose my future business, but I'll also double the price I'll pay the owner here, ruining your reputation and making you unable to do business. What do you think? Do you accept?" Theodore put away his smile. "As long as the money is in place, nothing will be a problem."
Heather nodded, took out 5 pounds from his pocket as a deposit, and took out a castration version drawing and handed it to Theodore.
Theodore immediately put the money away. "If it's fast, it'll only take a week. I'm here every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. You can have someone come over in a week to ask. But if you want me to deliver it, that's fine too. It'll just add one pound."
Heather didn't want to give him her home address and agreed to send someone to pick it up a week later. Theodore could only agree regretfully.
When they were about to leave, the woman they had just met at the door suddenly came over and kissed Theodore on the chin ambiguously.
She leaned against him in front of Heather and Caroline and said, "The sailor you're waiting for, who's back from America, is here. He's on the second floor. Don't you want to go over?"
Theodore wiped the lipstick marks off his face without changing his expression and told her that he would be there soon.
After the woman left, Caroline looked at the playboy with some disgust and prepared to turn around while pulling Hazel.
"Hey!" Theodore backed away and blinked his left eye at them quickly: "My last name is Westin. See you next time, Ms. Heather, and... Ms. Jenny." He made an extremely exaggerated hat-taking gesture, although he was not wearing a hat at all.
"Westin!" Heather stared at the man's back with wide eyes.
Caroline took her arm and walked out while muttering, "He won't know that my name is not Jenny anymore? Why did I feel that his tone was so strange just now? Isn't it the rule in this industry not to say real names?"
Heather said perfunctorily, suppressing her unrealistic speculation. Westin wasn't a rare surname, and after all, this money-loving playboy couldn't be the promising lawyer from Lincoln College she'd heard of.
"But did he really not charge you for helping you before?" Heather was a little curious.
"Not really. It could be because no one would just give money to a stranger at that moment, or it could be because it was too late." Caroline got into the carriage and whispered, "I was chasing that fake officer and was discovered just as I entered the tavern. He flattered me by saying he was visiting a retired comrade and wanted to see if he could use his connections to get him a government position. While he was leaving to get some wine, Theodore passed by me and whispered a reminder."
"You just trust Theodore?"
"No, I was only thinking about finding a capable man to help my family through this difficult time. I couldn't let anyone interfere. I caught Theodore and told him to wait for the fake officer to come back and confront him face to face. But guess what, when the man saw Theodore standing next to me, he panicked and ran away without even looking back!"
Heather was amused by Caroline's vivid description. She changed to a comfortable position and leaned against the car window, continuing to listen to Caroline complain about the fake officer with excellent acting skills who had deceived the upper class.
As the carriage passed through the narrow alleyway beside the tavern, Heather caught a glimpse of Theodore from the corner of her eye. Opposite him was a teenage girl in plain clothes, and Theodore was taking a few banknotes from a pile of banknotes and handing them to her.
As if noticing a carriage passing by, Theodore looked over alertly.
Heather looked away and said to herself, "I hope this person who came out of nowhere can be reliable."
"You're back! Mrs. Hurst just said that dinner is ready." As soon as they entered the house, Jane and Bingley looked over from the hall, apparently taking a walk in the hall as if it were a park.
"What are you doing here?" Caroline asked cluelessly.
Jane didn't know how to answer, so she had to change the subject: "Mrs. Hurst went to the kitchen to check. Mary is in the study. I'll go call her."
Finally, the maid went to call.
Mr. Bingley and Caroline walked in front.
Jane, standing behind him, forced herself to endure Heather's meaningful gaze. Finally, she leaned in and said, "He said that when this is over, he'll take me back to Longbourn to finish what we did last time." Then, almost obscuring the truth, she added, "It's fitting that I've been away for a while now, so it's time to go back and help Mom. Then it'll be Lizzie's turn to come to London for a while."
Well, it seems that the progress of Mr. Bingley and Jane's plot is still far beyond expectations. I wonder if the gears of fate between Darcy and Elizabeth will also turn as usual.
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