Chapter I

It is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing travels quite so quickly, or with so much pleasure, than gossip about one's neighbors; and this maxim holds especially true in the more remote and less populated regions, where there is so little of any consequence that occurs and so few people to comment and offer speculation upon, that even the slightest of alteration to the common order of things can become a veritable sensation that excites local society for weeks. And so it was with the greatest commotion and delight that the ladies of Anchorhead, a quiet and often forgotten hamlet in remote Tatooineshire, received the news that Mr. and Mrs. Lars had received a ward in the form of a small male child under quite mysterious and possibly scandalous circumstances.

Mr. Lars was a landed gentleman of no small consequence to the region. His wealth and breeding, while perhaps meager compared to the society of London, were nonetheless great enough to provide him with the respect and good standing of the men and women of Anchorhead, and to place him as one of the foremost gentlemen in the area. His father had come to the region some years ago, and everyone agreed he had been an upstanding and kindly old gentleman who had enriched the town with his residence. His son, upon inheriting, had improved his father's reputation in every respect, even marrying a local Tatooineshire girl of good education and character. Together they resided on a pleasant estate some distance from the town proper and ran the affairs of quite a sizeable portion of land, the constant management of which occupied the bulk of the gentleman's attention and care. It was no surprise that they were the object of interest to almost everybody in the town, and if they were disinclined to be social, and came to the local dinner parties somewhat infrequently, why! -- this could only serve to arouse curiosity about their affairs even further amongst their neighbors and relations.

Therefore it was no small matter when news of the child's arrival reached the town's society, for any such unusual circumstances could not help but be commented and conjectured upon, particularly as it touched the person of a gentleman so widely admired. Not that any wrongdoing or suspicion was placed upon Mr. Lars himself. His character had always seemed beyond reproach and was likely to continue so. And certainly nobody could imagine that Mrs. Lars, one of their own, could possibly share any blame for so shocking a circumstance. No, in the conversations between the ladies while at home, and between the men while at sport, it was agreed that the sudden arrival of an infant boy and the implications of shame and disgrace surrounding such an event could not but be the work of Mr. Lars' absent and long-estranged brother, about whom much was suspected but very little was known. This suspicion shortly proved true, for not a fortnight had passed before Mr. Lars made it known publicly that his new ward was in fact his nephew and that he was only too glad to welcome a relation into his home and to provide for his upbringing.

Naturally, this provoked the greatest of interest about the boy's parents and the circumstances which had resulted in them placing their son into the care of relatives. On this subject, Mr. Lars was not forthcoming; however, Mrs. Lars had once let it slip at a dinner party that the child's father and her husband were brothers by marriage only, not by blood, by virtue of the late Mr. Lars' second marriage to an unknown woman of no importance, low station, and no connexions to speak of. The women of the town were properly scandalized, and imagined amongst themselves that Mr. Skywalker (as the boy's father was called) was a low, roguish character of no breeding and of an ill-mannered disposition. They took great pleasure in attributing to him all the faults and evil acts that men of that station are wont to have, and agreed that the child, who had been christened Luke and for reasons of propriety took his father's family name, was fortunate indeed to be raised instead by the gentle and respectable Mr. and Mrs. Lars.

So intense was the general interest about the child that another unusual event that would normally have occasioned a great amount of conversation went almost completely unnoticed. An unknown gentleman had purchased Jundland Cottage, an old and run-down structure on the farthest reaches of the town's territory. Nobody knew where he had come from or what had brought him to Anchorhead, but as the gentleman showed not the slightest interest in introducing himself or in becoming better acquainted with the men and women of the town, he was quickly and quite completely forgotten -- for which the gentleman himself could not have been more pleased.

And so the boy Luke grew, and as the years passed and his became a familiar face amongst the people of Anchorhead, the events surrounding his mysterious arrival in the town and the scandalous behavior widely attributed to his birth parents became so commonly known as to be unremarkable. By the time the boy had become a man, it was scarcely spoken of by the neighbors, or, if it was, it was with a disinterested air that had long since lost the sharp edge of curiosity.

Young Luke was raised with the greatest of care and affection by his new guardians. He was perhaps doted on more than necessary by Mrs. Lars, as is not uncommon for kindly old aunts, and perhaps pushed too severely by Mr. Lars, as is not unheard of for gruff and serious old uncles -- but in general, every care was provided for his education and welfare. He grew strong, with pleasing manners and a gracious disposition, and showed not a small part of the handsome figure and face that his mysterious father was rumored to have possessed. All the ladies in Anchorhead could not but expect that he would make a most pleasing addition to any local family and an excellent husband to some lucky local young woman, and there was a great expectation for the time in which he would find himself so inclined to settle down with one of them.

However, the desire for a settling of any kind was not soon forthcoming within the bosom of the boy himself. Young Luke, like so many young men his age, hot of blood and restless of feet, found he had grown altogether discontent with a small town like Anchorhead and the provincial life that was led there. Aiding his uncle in the affairs of the farms on their land provided only a small distraction from his unhappiness, and even this profitable employment quickly became tedious. He spoke often of wishing to explore the world, sailing the seven seas on board a ship or perhaps even to take on a military career. Such were his ambitions, and in his imagination he was often captain of his own seafaring vessel on visits to distant ports, an explorer of jungles and wastes yet uncharted, or even a valiant sailor swept up into glorious battles in the defense of his native England. Any of these adventurous occupations would suffice, and each was infinitely more rewarding than the life of a gentleman’s ward in Tatooineshire. However, his uncle was firmly opposed to any such designs as these and made his opinion on the matter clear whenever possible.

"You cannot suppose, my dear," said Mrs. Lars to her husband one day, "that young Luke will be content to stay here with us forever. He will not, I suspect, be at all at peace until he has seen something of the world."

"I do not like it," returned her husband, "but I cannot deny you are correct. Still, you do not mean to suggest that at his tender age he is ready to leave us? Another few seasons at least will find him much more prepared to face the trials of travelling abroad. Besides, you know how much I have come to rely upon him in my work. Indeed, I do not know how I should get along at all without his constant assistance!"

"You press him too much!" the lady protested, "And his discontent is plain for all to see. He will never take to farming as an occupation with any of the enthusiasm which it provides you, my dear. He is too much like his father in that respect."

"It is precisely that likeness that distresses me," Mr. Lars replied shortly.

Mrs. Lars was not to be dissuaded. She was a lady particularly accustomed to her husband's humor and knew through experience the proper methods to bend him towards her mind.

"At the very least," she said after a moment, "It could do no harm to take on a few extra servants to assist you? This would provide young Luke with some relief from his labor and improve the quality of his disposition. I can certainly guarantee that it will! Why, I would not guess but that he will be cheerful within a month, and seeking the hand of one of the local young ladies within another."

"More servants!" roared the old gentleman, "Madam, do you suppose that there is an excess of money that we are required to dispose of? Do you believe that my pockets are lined with innumerable and inexhaustible stocks of credits?"

"Oh, really, Owen," said Mrs. Lars, not impressed by her husband's protests. "A servant or two would not provide so unwieldy an expense! Two servants would be perfectly sufficient. One to assist you in the fields, and one to help here around the house. One adept at languages, such as French, German, and Bocce, would be particularly useful for me. Surely you cannot deny my good sense and reasoning in this matter?"

"As you wish, my dear," Mr. Lars said, with a weary sigh, "I certainly know better than to refuse you and your good sense. Indeed, I have learned from experience that to do so always brings the most profound regrets. I shall acquire two new servants straight away, though I suspect their services will be more useful in impressing your lady-friends than in providing Luke any relief or pleasure."

So gratified was his wife at his agreement to the idea that she let slide the last remark. "You shall not but agree that it was a particularly inspired idea of mine. I promise you that."

Mr. Lars returned to reading a newspaper and said nothing, having found in the past that silence was often a great inducement to ending such conversations with the least amount of discomfort on his part. Mrs. Lars herself returned to her needlework, smiling with pleasure to have the matter so thoroughly resolved and hoping with all her noble and matronly heart that the new servants would indeed provide her nephew with the comfort which she so dearly wished for him.