The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1773: Chapter 89: The Mystery of Origins

”He talked about an old event from more than twenty years ago...”

Eld lowered his voice slightly, as if someone had unexpectedly discovered a dust-covered box in the corner of the room and gently blew on it: ”It was 1810, in the middle of winter. Heavy snow blocked the roads, the river was frozen, and the wind whirled ice shards in the valley. In a poorhouse in the rural area of Bradford, Yorkshire, the lights unusually stayed on all night. Because a woman with lips turned blue from the cold, heavily pregnant and all alone, knocked on the door of the poorhouse that evening.”

Eld lit his pipe, taking a slow puff: ”No one knew who she was, nor did anyone ask where she came from. The midwife said she crawled to the door with a broken stick, kneeling every step of the way. The woman fainted within minutes of entering, and later gave birth in the poorest stone room of the poorhouse. The child was just born when she died, with not a single piece of identification found on her, and not a word left before her death.”

The carriage lightly jolted as the wheel rolled over a loose stone, making a brief sound.

”Since the new ’English Poor Laws’ hadn’t been passed then, the poor funds were relatively ample, plus the deacon of the poorhouse was fairly kind... In short, the child was lucky to survive in the poorhouse until he was six, which was quite a miracle.”

Eld adjusted his seating position and continued speaking to himself: ”When he was six, the owner of Lynn Valley Farm, a local old squire, came to the poorhouse to pick an apprentice. Normally, a six-year-old wouldn’t be considered, but because he was clever, sweet-talking, and articulate, they ended up picking him instead of those older kids. Interestingly, the priest said the old squire had lost his son a few years ago and was in a daze, but upon seeing the six-year-old boy, he instantly brightened up, saying to everyone, ’An angel brought him back.’”

Eld chuckled: ”Doesn’t that sound like a legend? A child sent from the heavens, a dead son, or perhaps a soul swapped by the Devil...”

Arthur still didn’t respond; he didn’t even move a finger.

”What’s interesting is that a few years later, the squire sent someone to the city to inquire, saying he wanted to register a parish residence for his ’nephew,’ filling the last name as—Hastings, the same as the old squire.” Eld said this while glancing sideways at Arthur’s profile: ”I didn’t believe it initially, but Flora said her aunt’s family priest was the one who issued the death certificate for that woman back then. When the old squire died, the priest was also present and said the squire kept mumbling until his last breath, saying, ’The name is fake, the surname is borrowed, but the eyes are real.’

Eld took another puff from his pipe, not speaking for a while, as if waiting for the wind outside to calm down, or deliberating on what should be said, and what should not. After all, what he said today was not just high society gossip but was also about his good friend Arthur Hastings’ origin.

Although they had always been close, Arthur had never talked about his family background. Eld didn’t know the reason before, but ever since he heard this strange story from Miss Flora Hastings, he finally understood why this was.

”Later on... Of course, these are words I heard from Flora, and I don’t know whether to believe them or not.” Eld pondered for a long time before speaking softly: ”After all, Flora’s aunt is notorious for being a chatterbox, but sometimes she’s not entirely making things up.”

He spoke while knocking the ashes from his pipe.

”She said that old squire with the surname Hastings not only lost his son back then, but more precisely... he drove his son to his death.”

”It’s said that the child in the poorhouse shouldn’t have been an orphan, nor was the girl who died in childbirth there some noble’s plaything. She was originally a wandering singer with a countryside troupe, traveling and performing, her voice very sweet, and her rendition of ’Barbara Allen’ could move people to tears.”

Eld chuckled: ”One day, the countryside troupe arrived in Bradford town, and the old squire’s only son often visited the town, listening to her sing several times, and gradually developed feelings. Later, when the troupe was about to leave, the girl stayed in town to avoid suspicion, and the squire’s son even rented a room for her in the neighboring town. They interacted in secret, their feelings growing stronger, and even planned to elope.”

”And then?” Arthur unexpectedly asked.

”And then they were discovered, of course. The squire sent people to capture his son midway, and kept him locked in the estate’s barn, saying he wanted to cut off the illicit relationship.”

Eld paused: ”But the guy didn’t hold on. He hanged himself in the barn, and when discovered the next day, his face was so swollen it was unrecognizable, with the girl’s handkerchief still clutched in his hand.”

”What about the girl?”

Eld fell silent for a moment, then sighed lightly: ”She waited all night but didn’t see him come, and the next morning, the parish constabulary drove her out from the town. Due to her lowly status and lack of family background, plus rumors of her seducing the squire’s son, everyone despised her, and no one took her in, so she braved the wind and snow for ten miles from the neighboring town to Bradford, and after that...”