Chapter 425 The Mysterious Lord Hastings

The sun shines through the mist and gradually fills the single-family villa area near Hyde Park.

One of the Georgian villas with red bricks and white edges is spacious and elegant, with a carefully manicured garden in the front yard. The neighbors living nearby all know that this quiet oasis belongs to Sir Arthur Hastings. Although he has moved here for a long time, he has only recently become familiar with his neighbors.

This is a young gentleman who often has a gentle smile on his face. Although the neighbors occasionally complain that he does not often participate in clubs and salons held by nearby residents, almost everyone admits that Sir Arthur Hastings is really the first philanthropist in Bayswater, London.

This gentleman not only speaks and behaves very elegantly and moderately, but also actively participates in various official and unofficial charity donation activities organized by the local parish. The parish priest did not hesitate to say in his sermon that the largest social donation received by the Bayswater Poorhouse this year came from Sir Arthur Hastings. They received a total of about 300 pounds worth of food, clothing and other relief materials.

Such a young and wealthy upper-class gentleman is naturally easy to become a topic of conversation after dinner. But unfortunately, the residents know very little about the life experience of this gentleman. The young lord is very secretive about his career experience, and only vaguely tells everyone that he works in the publishing industry.

According to several gentlemen working in the City of Finance, they can see Sir Arthur Hastings appear in the City of Finance every now and then. This model of the upper class seems to be a guest of the Rothschild family. Once, they also saw Alexander Baring, the helmsman of Baring Bank, take the initiative to greet the lord.

How did such a young man get in touch with so many big men?

Where did his seemingly inexhaustible wealth come from?

Some people say that this lord should be from a down-and-out noble family, and he himself is not valued in the family, but he eventually inherited the inheritance of a cheap uncle who had no descendants, so he can be so rich.

Such speculation is indeed reasonable. Because everyone knows how picky the nobles are about marriage. They would rather not get married and have children than put down their pride and find a marriage partner who is not suitable for them.

Therefore, even in the most prominent noble families, there are a lot of old bachelors and old girls who are still unmarried in their thirties and forties. When they really find the right person, most of them are too old to have children.

What's worse is that this upper-class atmosphere seems to be quietly affecting the marriage and love views of the common people. At least in the middle class, many such "single nobles" have begun to emerge.

Of course, not getting married does not mean that the nobles are so clean, especially for male nobles, who probably have many lovers and perhaps several illegitimate children. But unfortunately, these illegitimate children do not enjoy legal protection, that is, they have no right to inherit their father's property.

Therefore, in those ancient families, it is often the case that after the death of uncles and uncles, young people of the nephew generation become rich overnight.

And everyone thinks that Sir Arthur Hastings is obviously such a lucky man.

However, not everyone thinks so. Some people hold another view on the source of Hastings' wealth.

Because they found that the lord seems to be single at present. As a gentleman who is attractive to the opposite sex, good conversation, broad knowledge and strong physique are all good for him, and ladies of this era always like this.

Therefore, some people suspect that Sir Arthur Hastings's wealth may come from the widow of a wealthy businessman. Marrying a rich widow and swallowing her massive dowry is also a socially recognized way to get rich overnight.

According to various strange stories circulating in the streets and alleys of London, it seems that there is a special type of people in society who specialize in marrying rich widows, and they also specialize in older ones. After sending one away, they will continue to look for the next target.

This young lord may be in a state of just sending off his last wife and not having time to find the next one.

Whenever the ladies talked about the speculations about the young man at the party, they couldn't help but let out a burst of exclamations. They pressed their chests and prayed to God to protect themselves from being targeted by him.

Occasionally, the gentlemen would come over and joke: "Dear, you don't have to worry about this, because your husband is still alive."

Arthur, who was deeply involved in the rumor of marrying a widow, was not completely unaware of the outrageous speculations of his neighbors, but he was really too lazy to defend himself. Because according to his understanding of the nature of these gentlemen and ladies, defense would only increase their suspicion, and the saying of marrying a widow to get rich was obviously more topical than working hard.

What's more, he found that after the rumor spread, those neighbors who liked to talk to him from morning to noon obviously deliberately kept a certain distance from him. Especially for those ladies who he couldn't refuse according to social etiquette, now he only needed to take off his hat and say "Good morning, ma'am" to make them blush and say goodbye quickly.

Arthur found that on the one hand, these ladies were very happy to be recognized by the 'professional hunter', but on the other hand, they were really afraid of him. One sentence can satisfy the vanity of ladies and give them a day's worth of conversation without straining themselves. Is there any better title in the world than 'Rich Woman Hunter'?

This seems to be more important than his knighthood.

After scaring away several lovely ladies and their servants by saying 'Good morning, madam' three times in a row, Arthur could finally do something he liked leisurely in the private garden.

He was wearing a dark blue pinstriped tuxedo, a light-colored vest, a white hand-embroidered linen scarf around his neck, a straw hat on his head, and a delicate copper watering can in his hand, leisurely Water those precious exotic flowers in the garden.

Every leaf is bathed in crystal water drops under his careful care, and the rose bushes bloom especially delicately under his care, exuding a fragrant fragrance. His movements are gentle and rhythmic, as if each spray is a hymn to natural beauty.

Looking around, every inch of the garden has been carefully designed, not only following the popular garden art layout at the time, but also incorporating the owner's personal artistic taste. Along the winding paths, heather hedges are neatly arranged and plants of various colors are arranged in distinct layers, creating a harmonious and vibrant picture.

Looking at this beautiful landscape painting, Arthur felt extremely happy for a moment. He was very happy that he could find something to do for himself during the period of recuperation after leaving Scotland Yard.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to feel the fragrance in the garden, but in a flash, his brows suddenly frowned. Arthur glanced and instantly found the source of his discomfort.

He took off his gloves and uprooted the few plants in the garden that were left over from the Alexandre Dumas era: "Damn it! I thought I had cleaned them all, but I didn't expect there were a few garlic bulbs left here."

He casually placed the garlic on the small round table in the garden, and as soon as he lay down on the chair, Miss Becky Sharp, the maid who was cleaning in the front room, duly handed over a silver tray with a cup of just a cup of wine on it. Brewed Ceylon black tea and a copy of the day's Times.

Arthur took it with a smile, thanked him, and asked: "Becky, do you think the work here is heavy? If necessary, I can hire a few more people. Since Alexander moved, such a big The house always feels empty every day.”

Becky held the tray and stood aside and shook her head slightly: "Sir, the work here is quite easy. You don't have many clothes. Although this house is not small, it is not dusty like an urban area or a house." There are so many houses facing the streets in the countryside, and you don't need me to cook lunch and dinner, so except for being busy in the morning when making samovars and cleaning, I am pretty relaxed at other times.

I heard other girls in our village say before that they not only have to do the jobs I mentioned, but they also have to help take care of the children. There are as few as three or four, as many as seven or eight. They do laundry, cooking, and shopping on the streets. It can't be less, and they don't get as much as me. How can I have the shame to complain to you about the heavy workload? "

Arthur opened "The Times", sipped his red tea and said: "Well...Becky, what should I say? In fact, I don't just consider the importance of the job. Maybe you don't know, but after a while I will You may have to leave London and go to Hanover, which will probably take at least a year. Although the security in Bayswater is always good, I still feel uneasy about leaving you alone at home.

Or, if you want, I can give you a long vacation while I go to Hannover. I'll give you an advance of one year's salary in advance, and you can take the money to go home and rest, or do something else. Leave your home address with me, and I will notify you to come back to work after I return to China. "

Arthur thought this condition was quite good, but when Becky heard this, her face turned pale with fright, and judging from the trembling look on her lips, the girl seemed a little angry.

"Je...Sir, um...is there something I didn't do well in my job?"

"No." Arthur didn't know that he had offended the other party. He drank tea and read the newspaper: "On the contrary, I think you have done a good job. Although you are only eighteen years old, there should be no one better than you in the whole of London." A more capable eighteen-year-old girl.”

Becky was relieved when she heard this. She was finally sure that this was probably the Lord's weird temper again.

Becky explained: "Sir, if you really recognize my work, then don't let me go home. I know you mean well, but if I just go back to the village, those people will look down on me. Yes. They would say that I must have been fired and that I was a lazy woman. There is nothing more humiliating for a maid."

Arthur made a joke after hearing this: "Becky, don't worry, it's not a big deal to be fired. I was fired by Scotland Yard, or it was a direct order from the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Didn't you notice? I was fired from Scotland Yard. On the day I left, the whole Fleet Street was filled with a joyous atmosphere, and the pens of these reporters and newspaper editors were much more vicious than the tongues of the villagers. "

Becky said helplessly: "Sir, you can't make fun of everything. But I think it might be a good thing for you to leave Scotland Yard. It's so dangerous there. I don't want to lose such a good owner like you."

Arthur laughed and said: "Becky, you have actually lost it, but I don't know why, but you survived inexplicably."

Agares on the side picked up the head of garlic on the table, threw it into his mouth and chewed: "Are you sure it was alive for no reason? Arthur, you little bastard is such an ungrateful, shameless, and heartless guy. But , That’s it, I quite like it, keep it up.”

Becky's lips turned pale when she recalled the scene where Scotland Yard informed her that Arthur had died in the line of duty: "You are always like this, or rather, men are always like this, you like to go to dangerous places to watch the fun. Fortunately God bless you, you survived, you were in a coma for three days and then you opened your eyes again, it was like something out of the Bible, like the resurrection of Jesus.”

Arthur gently waved his hand and said: "Becky, you must not say that, I am not resurrected. You must know that in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, resurrection must pass parliamentary legislation, state church review, and report to the Privy Council. Afterwards, it must be approved by His Majesty the King and all your Excellencies before it can be passed, even if it is resurrected without going through this process, it will be illegal.

Although most of our domestic rules are judged in accordance with common law and require precedents, the judges also unanimously believe that in matters such as resurrection, the principles of Roman law should be followed, and the laws before 1832 That single example cannot be used as a general basis. "

Becky blinked when she heard the words. She understood it carefully for a while, and finally shook her head in frustration: "Sir, I don't understand."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and said: "It seems that in addition to hiring a few more people to guard the house, I have to find a tutor for you to train before leaving. Becky, you have to be more serious, otherwise you will not be able to be a maid." This is the job."

Becky was stunned for a long time after hearing this. Just when she realized that something good had happened to him, she heard the ringing of a bell coming from outside the garden fence.

Two black carriages stopped in front of Arthur's house, and a few familiar faces got off them.

Lionel Rothschild, who held his checkbook between two fingers and smiled and shook it gently at Arthur,

Alexandre Dumas, who has recently been deeply harassed by his illegitimate child and an old lover,

Louis Bonaparte, who had noble blood but had no use for him,

Inspector Ledley King, Director of the Fifth Division of the Police Intelligence Bureau of the Royal Metropolitan Police, is no longer under Arthur, but is still very progressive in front of him.

And for his outstanding performance on the night of the London riots on June 5th, he was personally commended by His Majesty the King and commended by the Ministry of Home Affairs, and was promoted to Superintendent. The head of the covert operations department and sharpshooter of the Police Intelligence Bureau of the Royal Metropolitan Police - Thomas Plunkett.