The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1547: Chapter 2: Royal Family Strife

The night had not fully descended, leaving a streak of orange-red afterglow in the sky, as Covent Garden Square was shrouded in a thin layer of gaslight and mist.

In the square, audiences trickled out of the Royal Opera House, gentlemen cloaked in black capes, holding carved canes, conversing softly with the ladies beside them. The hems of their skirts brushed over the cobblestone pavements, with heels clicking crisply and rhythmically on the stone slabs. At the street corner, several boys in tattered clothes weaved through the crowd, deftly avoiding the patrolling police while seizing the chance to peddle the latest newspapers and shadowy pamphlets.

Near the garden, a few restaurants and taverns had lit their orange gas lamps, with warm light spilling through the window grilles onto the damp streets.

From the tavern came the sound of Irish musicians playing, mingling with the proprietor’s shouts and the laughter of drunkards. Meanwhile, on the other side, at the pastry shop and fruit stands, vendors were counting the day’s remaining stock, the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, along with the sweet aroma of apple jam and cinnamon.

A four-wheeled carriage emerged from the narrow alley, its wheels clattering lightly against the stone-paved road.

The horses’ noses puffed white steam, and the driver lightly flicked the reins, steadily halting the carriage before an understated yet striking restaurant — Rules.

As an establishment operating for over thirty years, it initially was just a small tavern offering oysters, roasted meats, and pies.

But soon, the restaurant’s founder, Thomas Ruler, keenly perceived the advantageous location of the restaurant in Covent Garden.

It was well-known that Covent Garden Market was a mixed place where theater districts and red-light areas intertwined, thus frequently visited secretly by high society and literati. Unfortunately, most of these debauchery-ridden individuals did not want others to know they were regulars at Covent Garden, naturally breeding a need for privacy protection.

Therefore, Mr. Ruler ingeniously designed several private dining rooms within the shop, with excellent soundproofing and confidentiality, and upgraded the menu from common homemade dishes to wild game cuisine like pickled shrimp, roasted venison, and pan-fried grouse, determined to specialize in high-end business from now on.

The fact proved that Ruler indeed placed his bet correctly. After the restaurant’s transformation, Rulle Restaurant soon gained fame in London, with the swarm of literary figures further boosting its popularity.

Beyond the high-quality dishes offered here, whenever Londoners mentioned Rulle Restaurant, it never escaped gossiping about whose those private dining rooms belonged to.

Rumors once had it that the innermost private room belonged to King George IV, and after George IV passed away in 1830, the room was left to his mistress, Mrs. Maria Fitzherbert.

Though the rumor was reminiscent of London’s tabloid style, given George IV’s unreliable personality, there might be a hint of truth to it.

Of course, not every guest can have a private dining room here. For tourists and most London citizens, if you want to savor a fresh experience at Rulle Restaurant, you need to book at least two to three weeks in advance. This isn’t just because business is booming, but also because the wild game served here comes from the restaurant’s free hunting grounds, justifying the expensive prices on the menu with fresh pre-ordering and killing.

Fortunately, Arthur and his companions did not have to worry about reserving a table, since one of his friends held the privilege of owning a private dining room at Rulle Restaurant — Mr. Charles Dickens.

It’s unknown whether Dickens was overly acquainted with Darwin, or had unwittingly ventured into Great Dumas’ path of gluttony. In any case, ever since he rose to fame, Dickens became an old gourmand with a penchant for wild game.

This preference even manifests in his novels, where he depicted many scenes reminiscent of Rulle Restaurant’s layout in The Pickwick Papers.

At first, the restaurant owner hadn’t regarded this frequent solo dining guest pencil-in-hand as a big shot. But ever since this “Little Shakespeare” became popular in literary circles, people seeking to ingratiate themselves with him flooded in, and Rulle Restaurant naturally took advantage of its close quarters, securing the slogan “Charles Dickens’ favorite restaurant” merely by offering a private dining room.

The group had just disembarked when the waiter at the door immediately recognized these unusual guests.

With one hand draped across his chest, he bowed his head ceremoniously and said, “Mr. Dickens, the private room is ready; please follow me.”

Dickens nodded slightly, playfully winking at the old pals behind him, and then watched Arthur and the others, holding ebony canes, stride into the restaurant.

In the central dining hall, customers dressed in gentlemanly attire conversed under the amber candlelight, tables adorned with silver cutlery, ornate porcelain wine glasses, and everywhere was seen expensive Bordeaux wine and creamy soups.

Yet all this was irrelevant to them, for their destination was the private rooms upstairs.

The four followed the waiter up the stairs, carpeted with red velvet, their footsteps resonating against the wooden staircase.

Several oil paintings hung on the stairway walls, one depicting an English countryside deer-hunting scene, where the knight raised his hunting rifle, with hunting dogs leaping animatedly beside him.

Dickens jested, “I bet that deer in the picture will show up on our plates tonight.”