Chapter 6. The Mistress of Tookland

Pearl awakened hours before anyone else. With a homesick lump in her throat, she thought of Nell and Vinca, undoubtedly milking at that very moment, whilst sleepy Pip leaned his head against the soft flank of the cow he was supposed to be milking and nearly nodded off again. She arose and dressed quietly in the shadowy room lit only by the watch-lamp, not wanting to disturb any of the Brandybucks in the other rooms of the suite.

Creeping out into the sitting room, she found a bowl of fruit on the table and took a handful of grapes. Sweet as honey they were, not sour like the ones that grew on the farm, strongly flavoured and darkly coloured, made into juice and deep red wine and vinegar. Taking another handful, she sought a comfortable chair in the corner and sat down to consider her situation.

She’d been told that Mistress Lalia had received a good report on her, probably from Thain Ferumbras. All he’d seen of her was her efficiently serving the table and directing Nell in her tasks. They had servants a-plenty here in the Great Smials; surely that was not what she’d be called to do. After the Thain had gone to his rest, she’d sat at table with the Thain’s escort, carrying the conversation and keeping Pip and Vinca in line. Had Isumbold reported as much to the Thain on their way back to the Smials? Was Ferumbras hoping Pearl would deal as well with his difficult mother?

Deep in her thoughts, she was not at first aware of the small figure creeping across the room from the doorway. It was a lad, she realised, barely into his teens she thought, perhaps a year or two older than Pip. She wondered if she ought to speak as he stealthily made his way to the hearth, brushed up the ashes and laid a fresh fire. Turning and picking up the bucket, he caught sight of her and started.

 ‘Begging your pardon, miss,’ he whispered. ‘Is there aught you be needing?’

 ‘I am well,’ she returned softly. ‘You may go about your business.’

 ‘Yes’m,’ he said, ducking his head, and then he scurried from the suite. Pearl laughed silently to herself. From the look on his face when he saw her, it must be quite a scandal for one of the gentry to be up and about at this hour of the morning. Her stomach gave a rumble, hardly ladylike! A few grapes did not an early breakfast make. She wished for some of her mother’s hearty wholemeal bread and fresh-churned butter, but settled for an apple from the bowl on the table.

Time seemed to crawl by, but it was probably only a couple of hours later that the door opened again to admit several servants. Pearl’s spirits rose as the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted through the air from the covered basket one carried, though she shrank back into the shadows to avoid upsetting them with her unseemly presence. One of the servants put a laden tray down upon the table and crossed quickly to the hearth to spark the ready-laid fire and hang a teakettle on the hook. In silence the well-practiced team laid the table. All was in readiness for breakfast when the kettle whistled. Soon the teapot was filled and cosied and the leader of the team knocked at each bedroom door in turn, calling cheerily, ‘Good morning! Breakfast is on!’ He lit the lamp on the table and the servants whisked out of the suite — without ever seeing Pearl curled in her chair — to give the Brandybucks early-morning privacy per their request.

 ‘Why good morning, Pearl!’ Esmeralda said, emerging from her room, Saradoc yawning behind her. ‘You’re looking bright and cheery.’ Up at dawn each day during their visit, the Brandybucks had not been wakened by the farm family quietly going about their accustomed tasks long before the Sun arose from her rest.

 ‘Good morning, Auntie!’ Pearl returned, firmly putting homesickness away. ‘Breakfast is on.’

 ‘So I see,’ Esmeralda replied. Raising her voice she called, ‘Merry! Come, you sleepyhead, or you’ll get naught but crumbs and crusts!’ There was a muffled reply from Merry’s room, and soon they were gathered at table, eating and talking and laughing. If only the Brandybucks stayed here at the Smials, Pearl thought, it might not be so bad.

When they had eaten their fill of the five kinds of bread, butter both plain and flavoured, honey and jam, meat and cheese and sliced fresh fruits, a knock came at the door. It was Adelard, Steward of Tookland and probably the hobbit who got the most done of all in the Great Smials, Thain included.

 ‘Mistress Lalia is ready to greet you,’ he announced after manners had been satisfied.

 ‘Pearl?’ Saradoc said, offering his arm. She took it gratefully and he patted her hand. ‘No worse than Smaug, I think,’ he whispered in her ear. She fought down the impulse to giggle and he smiled, adding, ‘That’s better. You looked just now as if you were going to your burial!’

 ‘Hush, Uncle!’ she scolded in a whisper.

 ‘I believe we are ready to greet Mistress Lalia,’ Saradoc said aloud, for Adelard’s benefit. ‘Lead on, O Took!’

Adelard snorted, recognising the old song. ‘Bandobras I am not,’ he said. ‘Come along.’

Heads high, Saradoc and Pearl marched together after the Steward, Esmeralda and Merry bringing up the rear. ‘I would almost prefer the Battle of Greenfields,’ Pearl whispered to her uncle.

 ‘As would I,’ he whispered in return. ‘But we must make do.’

They followed Adelard to the inmost part of the Smials, where the Thain’s private quarters were to be found, and the Thain’s study close at hand. Adelard stopped outside the study, tapped at the door, and entered. A moment later, he swung wide the door and gestured for the Brandybucks to go in.

 ‘Mistress Lalia, my dear, you’re looking grand,’ Saradoc said, moving forward to take the extended much-beringed hand and bow over it.

 ‘I’m passable,’ the old hobbit said with a regal nod. ‘I’ve seen better days.’

As she lifted her chins to fix Pearl with a haughty regard, the heir to Buckland said smoothly, ‘May I present my niece, Pearl Took, eldest child of Paladin of Whittacres.’

 ‘Come forward, girl, I don’t bite,’ Lalia said sharply, lifting a glass that hung from her neck on a ribbon. She put it to her eye and peered intently through it. Pearl had heard of such things, of dwarf-make, but had never seen one before.

Pearl came forward obediently and made a graceful courtesy. ‘At your service, Mistress,’ she said.

Lalia did not bother with the customary response; instead she said, ‘Turn round. Let me get a look at you.’ Pearl rotated slowly in response to the order and the sharp gesture that accompanied it.

 ‘Carries herself well,’ the Mistress remarked to no one. ‘That dress...’ Pearl could not help a blush. She was wearing her finest, the gown of rich green that Merry had so admired. ‘No matter,’ the Mistress decided. ‘We’ll have suitable clothing made up, and quickly too if the head seamstress knows what’s good for her.’ Esmeralda gave a light cough and Pearl could tell her aunt was holding tightly to her temper.

 ‘Very well, you’re decorative enough,’ Lalia said to Pearl when the latter came to a stop facing her once more. ‘I insist on pleasant surroundings at all times,’ she added imperiously. The Thain’s study was certainly heavily decorated: colourful tapestries rioted from the walls, the Thain’s desk was richly and ornately carved, soft carpets faded from age and use covered the stone floor in layer upon layer. Lalia herself was dressed in a bright robe of expensive material, very ornamental perhaps when hanging on a hook, but not at all enhanced by the fat old hobbit it adorned.

The old sow, Pearl thought to herself. She’s not the cow with the crooked horn at all, she’s the old sow, and just as bad-tempered, I warrant. She found the thought bracing. She could handle the old sow back home on the farm just fine.

 ‘Well?’ the Mistress demanded. ‘Have you a tongue?’

 ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Pearl said clearly. She’d heard the old hobbit was a bit hard of hearing.

 ‘Properly respectful, it seems,’ Lalia muttered, ‘but does she know how to work hard? Is she strong?’

 ‘She’s farm-bred and raised, Mistress,’ Esmeralda said, coming forward to courtesy to the Mistress and then to stand close behind Pearl, a bulwark of strength and love. ‘However, if she does not suit, we’re prepared to take her right back again.’

 ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Lalia said, turning a sharp look on Esmeralda. ‘We’ll give her a trial, see what she’s made of.’ Looking back to Pearl, she said, ‘Won’t we, girl?’

 ‘As you wish, Mistress,’ Pearl replied with a courtesy.

 ‘Very well,’ Lalia said decisively. ‘Addy will inform you of your duties. I’ll expect you here in an hour, sharp, mind you! ...to take them up. You’ll have your afternoons free from nooning to teatime and again after I retire for the evening. I expect you here first thing! Dawn, mind you! I do not tolerate slugabeds!’

 ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Pearl said, as it seemed to be expected.

 ‘Addy!’ Lalia snapped.

The Steward bowed respectfully and gestured to Pearl. ‘Come with me, Miss,’ he said. Pearl made a parting courtesy to the Mistress and followed him out the door, catching Merry’s sympathetic eye as she passed him.

 ‘Now Saradoc,’ Lalia said as the door closed behind them. ‘What’s this about a causeway by the River in the Marish? You want to build a dike, and run the road along it? Sounds like a foolish waste of time and gold to me...’