The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 833: Revised - 385 In the Name of the Father_2

He rubbed his hair, having worked for a long time, he looked a bit fatigued: "By the way, are you still drinking opium tincture? That harmful addiction liquor?"

"Of course not."

Fiona hooked Arthur’s arm: "I have always kept your words in my heart. Given how obedient I am, before talking business with me today, don’t you plan to treat me to a meal?"

"Dear lady, your request is quite reasonable, and I should not refuse, but..."

He took out a shriveled wallet from his pocket and glanced at it, then scratched his cheek in distress: "My financial situation is not optimistic. Alexander, Benjamin, and Eld, now there’s also Heinrich Heine, my rotten friends are almost all borrowing money from me. The worst part is, the advance payment for the police toys I ordered from Mr. Colt and Mr. Whiston, I had to cover myself."

Fiona waved her hand disapprovingly: "It’s alright, you treat me, I’ll cover the bill, consider it my commission. Although I’m a woman, that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the rules or the political ecology of Britain."

He looked a bit surprised, or perhaps hesitant, but soon, he placed one hand on his chest and bowed slightly, blinking and smiling: "Then, thank you for your generosity, I am very happy to attend your personally organized charity dinner. By the way, tonight I want to eat veal. If there could be a glass of chilled orange soda, that would be even better."

Fiona rolled her eyes at him and pinched his arm, then she opened her custom-made small white lace umbrella: "No soda. But, as for wine, there’s plenty."

Their figures walked farther and farther, gradually disappearing into the light and fog in front, until they could no longer be seen.

"Miss Fiona."

The calling voice once again sounded in Fiona’s ear, pulling her back from her memories.

Fiona stared blankly to the side, only to see that people in the church had unknowingly left their seats, standing in the aisle looking at her, with an expression of words left unspoken.

Finally, it was Turner, stained with paint, who spoke: "Lady, it’s getting late, our work for today is also complete, why don’t we all go out for a meal? If you find the food here unpalatable, the gentlemen here would be happy to escort you home."

"Ah..." Fiona seemed to recall something, her eyes darting around: "I appreciate your kindness, but I’m not as fragile as you imagine. Officer Bonaparte should know, I’m not like ordinary women, no hoodlums have ever dared to bother me."

Louis couldn’t help but remind: "Miss Fiona, no one dared to bother you before because..."

Before finishing his sentence, Louis stopped, knowing it wasn’t appropriate to mention that name at this moment: "In any case, let us escort you home. Although the parliamentary reform has passed and the riots have ceased, still there are many doing dirty work on London’s streets."

Fiona shook her head repeatedly, showing some resistance: "You are correct, but you also said, no one dared to bother me before because... Now, he is here too. As long as I don’t go far, there won’t be any problem."

"But..."

Louis wanted to persuade further, but was interrupted by Great Dumas: "Louis, it’s fine. There are hotels nearby. If it gets late, the lady can stay at a hotel. Trafalgar Square is adjacent to Whitehall, Parliament, and the Court of Equity, if security issues arise even here, it means the country is already finished."

Nearby, Reverend Newman also chimed in: "If you have nowhere to stay late, I’ll talk to the priests at St Martin’s Church or Westminster Monastery for you. You could stay with the nuns, although the conditions are not great, at least it’s safe. And it wouldn’t delay you from attending Mr. Hastings’ funeral tomorrow."

Fiona breathed a sigh of relief hearing this, she lifted her skirt edges and bowed: "May God bless you, Mr. Newman, not only have you forgiven my sins, but you have also provided me with grace."

Newman forced a smile, glancing at the oak coffin: "Don’t worry about it, lady, rescuing the lost lambs, I also learned from him."

With that, they silently left the prayer hall of St Martin’s Church.

Before leaving, Louis didn’t forget to remind Fiona: "If you want to return, seek help from the officers in front of the church, they are all members of the Police Intelligence Department, so they know who you are."

Fiona only nodded slightly, watching Arthur’s friends go far away, until no sound of their footsteps could be heard.

She turned around, looking at Arthur in the coffin.

The warm wind blew through the empty prayer hall, lifting her dress, Fiona trembled, feeling herself shaking all over.

Perhaps it was the reverence for this holy place, or perhaps feeling the scene deserved no blasphemy.

But she felt she could no longer hide, she could no longer disguise.

Even though she had just confessed her sins to Newman, even though she had just recently wept bitterly saying she would repent.