The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1565 - 9: Does Ledley Dream of the Gallows?_2

"Yeah!" Fiona retorted, not too kindly, "He sure spends a lot at our place. Compared to the Confession Room, our private rooms are much more effective for that Hesse guy. But..."

Fiona leaned back on the sofa, leisurely crossing her legs, "If your soul ends up here, I guarantee it won’t be redeemed unless I take a whip to it myself. But I’m curious, just which poor soul has troubled you so much to make you wander through the fog to come babbling here. Don’t tell me the riddle is right in front of me. If you keep playing mind games with me, don’t expect me to help you. After all, as you said, Arthur Hastings, a mere commoner from the York countryside."

"Ledley." Arthur said succinctly, as if simply reading a short message, "I don’t trust that kid. He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t do anything unless there’s something in it for him, always dreaming of how to shirk responsibility. Even if his dream catches fire, he’d pour a glass of wine, light a cigar, and would still hesitate over whether to jump out of a window or become an informant."

"And yet you went to him for help?" Fiona seemed to hold some grudges against Ledley, "You’ve got plenty of trustworthy old subordinates at Scotland Yard. Any one of them would have better character than him."

"Good character and strong ability are two different things." Arthur replied, "And for this particular case, having someone with good character and strong beliefs in charge might actually cause more problems."

Fiona shrugged noncommittally, "Perhaps the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel approached you with a similar thought in mind."

Arthur was about to say more, but Fiona’s words left him speechless, leaving him half-open-mouthed in pause for so long that it actually amused Fiona into peals of laughter.

Seeing the face of her long-absent major client turning dark, Fiona finally wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and began discussing business in earnest, "Alright, alright, I get it. You and Ledley don’t get along. So are you planning to deal with him, or keep him in check?"

Arthur hadn’t held much hope from the start. Annoyed by Fiona, he shot back, "You talk like you’ve got a brilliant plan."

"Of course I do," Fiona said smugly, leaning closer, "Did you know that he’s been coming here often these past two years?"

"Oh?" Arthur replied, "So what? Are you suggesting I take a few recordings back? A lot of big shots come to your place. If I expose Ledley’s affairs, it’ll only make those esteemed guests anxious, revealing Nightingale Mansion’s recording setups. If it stirs up the hornet’s nest, it won’t end well. Ledley’s situation is different from Bernie Harrison’s case back then. He’s not yet at a point where everyone would turn against him."

Fiona lazily corrected him, "Perhaps, but Ledley doesn’t just come here to unwind."

"Hmm?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, slightly frowning.

"He’s using your name to swindle people," she said slowly, "More than once, clients have mentioned your name while enjoying services at Nightingale Mansion, saying Ledley often boasts in private about his long-time friendship with Sir Arthur Hastings, claiming that after you left, he became the sole heir. Some even said he hinted you left Scotland Yard because you lost political favor... and even suggested betrayal."

"Betrayal?" Arthur repeated, his voice deep as if gunfire resounded beneath the Tower of London.

Fiona moved closer, whispering in his ear, "You know how such rumors start. Ledley has gained control of several lines connected to Parliament and has made new connections among the elite. After you left, he seized the opportunity to expand his influence. But that’s not the main point."

Stopping deliberately, Fiona licked her lips, "I know why he’s so eager to solidify his power and cover his past. He’s afraid because he has a weak point, one that could destroy him."

Arthur put down his glass on the coffee table, leaned forward, and asked in a low voice, "Are you saying he’s committed acts that could ruin his reputation?"

Fiona stared at Arthur, slowly smiling as she gently lifted his chin, a hint of playfulness in her eyes, "He doesn’t know how to appreciate a lady’s beauty."

Silence, fleeting yet suffocating silence.

Then the flicker of a flame outlined the slight tension on Arthur’s profile.

"Are you sure?"

"I rarely speak uncertain words."

Fiona pulled out a few letters and a handkerchief embroidered with the initials "L.K.",—Ledley King’s initials—from the drawer.

"These letters, left by ’friends’ of his when booking special services. He doesn’t attend, but he watches. He wants to see another man whipped, humiliated, then ’comforted’. He demands details, descriptions, records."

Arthur gazed at the stack of letters before finally reaching to take one, unfolding it, reading silently. The handwriting was somewhat hurried, and the content explicit yet cryptic, reminiscent of a creature hidden in the shadows, suppressed for a long time.

After silently reading for a moment, Arthur gently sighed, folded the letter, and returned it to its place.

"I didn’t realize Ledley had talents in this area; his writing is almost more literary than Eld’s ’report literature’."

Fiona chuckled, "I knew you’d enjoy this secret."

Arthur leaned back in the chair, sipping his red wine, "Enjoy might be overstating it. But compared to researching Conroy’s genealogy, delving into Ledley’s nightlife is certainly more entertaining. At least Conroy wasn’t using the King’s orders to explain why he had his footmen wear corsets."

Seeing that her unintentional revelation had been of significant help to Arthur, Fiona couldn’t help feeling pleased, "Ledley did try to hide, but he underestimated a woman’s curiosity, especially a woman who makes a living this way. Those old men in Parliament, who claim to uphold Christian virtues, spend their days praying for national moral revival and their nights secretly booking my VIP suites. But if Ledley’s secret gets out, well... we both know what that means. Even if there’s no execution, this affair would ruin his reputation, at least making it impossible for him to stay at Scotland Yard."

"Indeed, in this country, reputation is a quite intriguing thing..." Arthur’s tone was as gentle as the fog outside the window, "Some people’s reputations are built on defeating France twenty years ago on the field of Waterloo. Others’ reputations are from supporting parliamentary reform for thirty years in Parliament. And some... can keep up the pretense as long as they’re not caught."

Fiona shrugged, "And which type are you?"

"I was once someone with a reputation. As for now... I have to use others’ reputations as leverage."

He stood, walked to the fireplace, and picked up a poker to stir the fire, "Is Ledley’s reputation worth burning? It depends on his obedience."

"So you’re planning to blackmail him with this?"

"No," Arthur turned around and said, "I plan to let him know that if he doesn’t cooperate, I don’t even need to blackmail him. I just need him to understand that if my reputation continues to remain ’silenced’ in Britain, others will soon speak on my behalf."

Fiona chuckled, shaking her head, "Not initiating an attack, yet making him dream of the gallows every night."

"He won’t hang. At least someone of his standing won’t hang," Arthur said calmly, "but I guarantee he’ll lose Five Sections, lose those hypocritical Parliamentary backers, and end up so destitute he wouldn’t dare show his face at Nightingale Mansion."

"Dear," Fiona wrapped her arms around Arthur’s waist, "you’re much more decisive than before. It seems your trip to Russia wasn’t in vain."

"I’m just practical," Arthur lowered his head, tidying his cufflinks, "Ledley is clever but never wise. I must admit, I didn’t handle the Caucasus issue beautifully, and had to leave the diplomatic corps because of it. But Ledley’s biggest mistake is thinking I’m out of the game. While I’m not a notable player in Britain’s political arena, at least I still qualify to be held as a card by the Duke of Wellington and Sir Peel."