Chapter Nine - Evening of Disaster

“Farewell, dear cousin,” said Merry, wrapping his dearest friend in a fierce hug. “Please don’t become a stranger! I shall expect more visits from you than I have in the past four months. And I promise to visit you at Midsummer, all right?”

Pippin cocked an eye to his favourite cousin. “You, Stella, and the children?” he asked. Merry smiled, nodding his head. “Then it’s a deal!” said Pippin.

“Goodbye, Sapphira,” said Estella, also saying farewell. “I do hope to see you again soon.”

“Pippin was right,” said Sapphira, looking one last time round the parlour and sitting room of Brandy Hall. “This place is wonderful…enchanting.”

Estella laughed, “I’ve never heard the word enchanting to describe Brandy Hall, but I suppose I can agree with you on that. Thank you for coming to my birthday party.” She then turned and kissed Pippin on the cheek, “and you, too, dear cousin. Come back again.”

“Goodbye, Stella,” Pippin kissed her cheek in return, “and thank you for your generous hospitality. We shall return again soon.”

~ ~ ~

It had been another long voyage back to the Westfarthing. They were little less than an hour away from Great Smials as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with a host of stars and the soft glow of the moon. Pippin leaned against the compartment wall while Sapphira leaned against him, legs curled up upon the cushions while quietly playing with a loop of twine in the dark. Every now and then, from rhythm of the ponies’ gait, the light from the driver’s lantern would swing into view, briefly casting a dim yellow light into the carriage. Soft snores came from across the aisle on the other bench; Everard and two of his lasses were asleep upon their bench. Little Thistle lay stretched at Sapphira’s feet, also in slumber.

“What is that?” Pippin whispered into Sapphira’s ear.

Sapphira whispered back, “It’s the Matron’s Broom.” She unravelled the string from her fingers then began weaving yet another pattern with her hands. “Put your finger inside the square,” she instructed.

“I remember this!” said Pippin, placing his forefinger inside woven square. Sapphira quickly released the tension of the square, trapping her escort’s finger within the cord. “When we were children, Pervinca used to pass the time between supper and bedtime with this game.” He quietly snickered, “She, too, would have me put my finger inside the square.”

“Now I have you!” she chuckled under her breath.

“You’ve had me from the first day,” Pippin responded with a sweet smile as their eyes met. Sapphira blushed, looking away from his tender gaze. She quickly re-weaved the same square then slipped the finished cord over Pippin’s finger again.

“Presto!” she said softly as the string fell away from Pippin’s formerly ensnared finger.

Pippin took the opportunity to entwine his fingers with hers. “Other than your wee introduction to Miss Posey Headstrong, how did you like visiting Brandy Hall?”

“I ha--” Sapphira paused to yawn, “had a wonderful time meeting your friends and family. As soon as we get back to the Smials I am going to sit down and write my sisters and brother all about it.”

“Will you be able to stay awake?” Pippin smiled.

“Yes, I shall,” the lass answered resolutely, nestling her weary head upon Pippin’s shoulder. “I mean to take a bit of a nap until we arrive at the Great Door.”

Pippin wrapped his arm about Sapphira so that she could get more comfortable. “It won’t be long now,” he said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Sapphira was breathing deeply as the carriage pulled up to the Great Door of the Smials. Everard wakened Laurel; both sleepily gathered their belongings and children. Both carried the sleeping children while servants took the luggage to their apartment. Pippin hugged Sapphira softly, “Wake up--we’re home.” He fought the urge to kiss her, trying to remember to ‘go slow’. He watched Sapphira sit up, rub her eyes and yawn. Then he heard his name being called out, recognizing the voice as his sister’s.

“Pippin!” Pimpernel shouted, leaning into the open compartment door.

Pippin now yawned, “Pimpernel, it’s late. You are going to wake the stable-lad with your yelling.”

Undaunted, Pimpernel continued, “Pippin I must speak with you, now.” She looked at Sapphira, “and I must ask you to please stay inside here for half a moment, if you please.”

Pippin would have normally baulked at her request, however, the worried expression she wore made him curious. He noticed Sapphira’s growing apprehension. If the urgency indeed had to do with her family, he decided to hear his sister out first, then return to deliver the news. “Very well, but please be quick, Pim. We’ve had a long journey and are extremely exhausted.”

Pimpernel took her brother’s hand, pulling him inside the doorway. “Pip, her family is here.”

Right away Pippin thought the worst. He studied his sister’s face for any sign of a prank; there was none. “Who is sick? Has anyone died?” he asked with deep concern.

“Neither,” said Pim, looking her brother in the eye. “Her mother, sisters, and brother are right now sitting in the parlour. They arrived here earlier in the afternoon and have been waiting for her return. And Pip,” she added solemnly, “another lad is with them, claiming to be trothed to her.”

Pippin nervously ran is hand through his curls, feeling as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. “They are not trothed,” he whispered to her. “She said they both called off the wedding before she came to work here.”

Pimpernel raised her eyebrow, “Seems you already knew much more about all this than I did.”

“Where’s father? Has he had a chance to greet our guests?” The last word rolled distastefully off Pippin’s tongue, knowing that Hildebrand was probably here to claim someone who Pippin felt did not belong to him anymore.

Pimpernel looked down, “Father has not been feeling well since yesterday. Mother and I have been helping out with his appointments and such.”

“Has a healer seen him?” asked Pippin, now troubled over their father. Their parents were both getting up in age, which meant more illnesses and frailties for their children to worry over.

“Yes, Donnabelle came as soon as I sent word to her yesterday morning,” said Pim. “Seems it’s a stomach ailment, but she’s confident he’ll be feeling better by tomorrow.”

Relieved with that bit of news, he forged on. “So have you or mother asked Mrs. North-took why she travelled over eighty miles--with her children--and with Sapphira’s old beau in tow?”

“Of course we did!” said Pimpernel with disbelief. “That is how I learned that they are still pledged to one another.”

Pippin looked up toward the ceiling in the doorway, sighing. “They are not, I tell you.”

Pimpernel also sighed in exasperation. “Fine, have it your way, but something tells me that Mr. Haymaker didn’t travel all these miles just to greet you and Sapphira home from Buckland.” Pim had a nasty feeling of what was to take place in the very near future, yet she felt helpless to stop it. She rued any part she had in those two getting together.

Pippin opened his mouth to speak and then shut it. He stiffly folded his arms across his chest. He turned round in the doorway, calling Sapphira from the carriage. He waited until the lass stood beside Pimpernel before speaking. “Sapphira, dear, do not be alarmed, however, I must tell you that your family has arrived here from Long Cleeve to see you.”

It took Sapphira a few seconds to take it all in, yet Pippin’s caution did little to ease the distress in her heart. “They’re here? No cause for--then why? Why would they travel so far?”

Pippin nervously scratched at his head, “What is more, they arrived with someone else in their company.” He pointed toward a well-lit anteroom just a ways down the main hallway. “They’re in the parlour waiting for you.” Surprise and wonder in her hazel eyes, Sapphira hurriedly led the way as the threesome walked directly to the room. For Pippin, his legs grew heavy with each step, as did his heart; this little walk could well be the march of death for his chance to woo Sapphira permanently into his life.

Upon entering the parlour, time nearly stood still for Pippin. He watched Sapphira, the lass with light-brown curls, smile and laugh as she eagerly embraced each of her siblings and her mother. Pippin tried guessing to himself who it was that she greeted with kisses and hugs. The obvious ones were her mother and brother. Valdigrim being a young tweenaged lad with dark curls, slight of frame, smiled broadly when his sister wrapped him in an embrace. Sapphira’s sisters were a bit harder to figure out; both had chestnut coloured hair, although the taller one wore her hair cropped just at her shoulders while the smaller lass wore her hair long, almost to her waist.

Pippin gazed despondently as with every hug she drew closer and closer to the lad standing off to the side with an aching expression on his face. The lad kept his eyes focused on Sapphira the whole time, as did Pippin, while she welcomed her family. It was her mother who spoke into her daughter’s ear, pointing to the other side of the room. The older lad anxiously gripped the brim of his hat, watching Sapphira draw nigh. Sapphira stood still as stone, her hand flew to her mouth as she gave a small cry of surprise. Pippin watched helplessly as the lad opened his arms, catching the lass in a deep, tearful embrace. “Oh, how I missed you terribly!” “I’m so sorry!” he could hear the couple exchange apologies, pleasantries…and then a loving kiss.

Pippin averted his eyes, staring for a long moment at his feet, at pieces of his heart scattered about them. He swallowed the lump in his throat lest the tears spring to his eyes, betraying his emotions. He took in a deep, calming breath, and then stepped forward. “Good evening, friends, welcome to Great Smials. My name is Peregrin Took, at your service,” he said then bowed. “I hope your stay is enjoyable. Please excuse me while I look in on my father.” As he turned to leave, his eyes caught the poignant gaze of one of Sapphira’s sisters. It was she who was smaller. It was as if the lass could see right through him, seeing his true feelings…his heartache. Feeling exposed, Pippin quickly looked away, exiting the parlour.

“Pippin!”

Pippin heard his name shouted. He shut the door behind him.

* * *

“Pippin, my lad,” Paladin smiled, the back of his hand tenderly brushing his son’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re back home. I missed my fishing companion the other day.”

Pippin sat upon the edge of his father’s bed attempting a genuine smile. In spite of his efforts, Pippin felt his eyes stinging from fatigue and tears, yet he continued to fight them off. “I’m sorry, father,” Pippin grinned through his sorrow. “When you are feeling better, we shall go to our favourite spot near Whitwell. How does that sound?”

Paladin lay in his bed under the covers, a half-read book resting upon his chest. He observed his son’s glistening eyes. He sighed, “It would sound much better after you told me what troubles you so.”

Pippin swept his hands over his brow, feigning to push aside his longish curls while wiping away the wetness in his eyes. “I have no troubles, father,” he answered with an ever so slight sniffle. “Just you concentrate on getting better.”

“I may be old, but I am no fool, lad,” said Paladin. “You forget that I have known you since the day you were born.” With his wrinkled hand, he pushed aside those errant curls of his son’s that he knew so well, revealing red nose and eyes. “Talk to me, Pip.”

Pippin looked up toward the ceiling in a last ditch effort to coax the tears back inside their ducts, though to no avail. Instead, they came in greater number. He breathed in deep to keep from crying like a faunt. “Merry was…right…,” he gasped, voice quivering, “and…I was wrong.” A tear barely touched his cheek as it fell to the bed linen. “I should have…listened to him.”

“Dear, dear, Pippin,” said Paladin, handing a clean handkerchief to his son. “Listen to Merry? What did he tell you?”

“He warned me to…to keep my heart guarded,” Pippin explained while wiping his face. “To not get too far ahead…and end up with a broken heart. But I wouldn’t listen.”

“Come here, laddie,” Paladin wrapped his son in a tender hug. “Miss Sapphira?” He felt Pippin nod his assent against his shoulder. “Pimpernel told me as much when her family arrived today. I feared for this sort of thing, and so soon after your last courtship.” He let go of Pippin, gently wiping away a tear streak. “My poor lad.”

“I’ll be fine in no time,” said Pippin, cleaning his face with the handkerchief.

“Paladin knew his son better than that. “From what I understand, there is more yet to come. Just remember, lad--only one family may keep the calf.”

Pippin sniffed, “I never did give you an answer to your riddle, did I?”

“No, you did not,” said Paladin, “however, I have a feeling you will have an answer ready for me after young Miss Sapphira leaves with her family.”

“You never know,” said Pippin sniffling again, “she may decide to stay here.” Pippin still held out hope that he would be the chosen lad, no matter how bleak things appeared at the moment.

Paladin’s heart went out to his son. “Pippin lad,” he said sadly, “You will only end up with your heart in more pieces.”

“I love her, Papa.”

“Of course you do, son,” Paladin consoled him, “however, should you not want those affections returned? It should be a very lonely road for you if they were not.”

“Right now, what I want,” answered Pippin, rising up from his father’s bed, “is to have things as they were a mere hour ago.”

“Go and rest,” said Paladin, seeing his lad exhausted. “You have had a very long and tiring trip from Buckland. Tomorrow is another day…and you shall sit by my side and tell me all there is to know about my sister, my daughter, and their families. Allow Sapphira the time to visit with her family, and to decide where her heart truly lies.”

Pippin smiled faintly, though a sincere smile, remembering his visit with his sister, Pervinca and their aunt and uncle. “I will go to bed,” he replied to his father, “but I shall not rest.” He bent down to kiss his father goodnight. “I love you, Papa.”

TBC