Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Consequences of a Fall  by Dreamflower

 

 
CHAPTER 16


Hyacinth made her way down the passage to her own tiny room.

After a wash that was quicker than her usual meticulous ablutions, but stretched out only as long as she dared, in the face of Euphorbia’s nervousness over the important guest’s imminent arrival, she opened her wardrobe. It was crammed full with dresses, for she had come away from the Great Smials with as much as she possibly could. She sorted through them, and finally decided on a dark grey one that was fairly plain, though well cut and of expensive fabric. She held it beneath her chin, and glanced in the small mirror that hung behind her door. It made her look wan and pale. Good. Perhaps *he* would feel sorry for her.


“Oh dear!” said Mistress Hollyhock. “I am needed--but who’s to mind the lad? Perhaps we ought to summon a servant?”

Hyacinth drew up a haughtly breath, ready to remonstrate with this healer for her insufferable presumption, but Mistress Hollyhock was paying her no mind at all. The healer's attention was riveted on the young messenger.

Fredegar dithered anxiously in the doorway, eager to collect the healer and return to his mother.

Hyacinth’s mind raced. She certainly did not wish to be left minding the brat. But...on second thought, he was asleep. And if she were here, then she would be among the first to know what happened when the family returned.

She summoned up a sympathetic expression. “Well, of course you are needed for something more important! I shall stay with the child--you *must* go and see to the delivery of the baby.” She hoped that she sounded eager enough.

Mistress Hollyhock looked at Hyacinth, her face bland though her thoughts were busy. She did not feel especially comfortable leaving the youngster to the dubious tender mercies of this one--Reggie’s wife struck her as shallow and superficial, and not very bright. But Pippin was sure to remain asleep. What harm could there be in it?

She turned to the tween, who was impatiently shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Please go ahead and tell your mother that I will be there in a few moments.”

He nodded and raced off.

“Very well,” Mistress Hollyhock said to Hyacinth, and led the way into the room where Pippin lay, sleeping peacefully. Bending down to adjust the coverlet, she said, “He is not likely to wake. But if he should show signs of restlessness, here is a lotion you can apply to his back to soothe the itching. I do not want him scratching in his sleep.”

A sudden thought struck the healer. It really might be prudent to be absolutely clear with Hyacinth, and so she added, “Do not touch the other bottle. That is a sleeping draught, and even if he should waken, he should not have more of the draught before midnight at the earliest. I am sure his family will be back long before that time.”

Hyacinth stiffened, though the healer didn’t see. Mistress Hollyhock had poured out a little of the soothing lotion in her palm and was demonstrating how to apply the lotion without doing further damage. Surely she didn’t expect Hyacinth to stoop to menial healer’s tasks? She forced a pleasant expression, however, as the healer straightened, corked the bottle, and turned around.

“I understand,” she said.

Hollyhock was rather sceptical of this, but really, Pippin was so very deeply asleep, and in her demonstration she’d applied enough lotion to keep him peaceful for quite some time. She collected her medical satchel, and pointed to the bedside chair, before turning to go to Ferdinand Took’s apartment, where the Bolgers were staying.

Hyacinth stood there looking down resentfully at the sleeping lad before, at last, she sighed in impatience and took her seat next to him. That child was the biggest obstacle to all she hoped for, and she was not at all pleased at having to tend him.
_____________________________________________

Ferumbras looked out at the small gathering: all the family heads who had not yet departed after Lalia’s funeral, and all of Pearl’s immediate family save the little brother.

He looked at Paladin’s set face, the determined expression echoed on the faces of Paladin’s brother-in-law Saradoc, his young nephew Meriadoc, and on the face of Frodo Baggins. The Thain had at one time felt relief that he no longer had to deal with the stubborn and eccentric Bilbo, but a look into the clear gaze of the Baggins made him wonder if this hobbit might eventually be more formidable than his adventuring cousin ever had been. Still, if all went well, he’d never know for certain. He hoped to be shed of the Thainship before he could have occasion to clash with either the Baggins or the future Master of Buckland. Two years, three at the most…he suppressed a smile at the thought.

He glanced at Reggie, who nodded. Anyone who had reason to be here, was. He stood up, and cleared his throat.

“My friends,” he said pompously, “we are gathered here for one reason: to lay to rest for once and all the cloud that has gathered over the unfortunate and regrettable circumstances surrounding the demise of my beloved mother, Lalia Clayhanger Took.

“It is a sad and difficult thing that she should have met her end in such an unconventional and irregular manner, a manner which has led to speculation, rumor, gossip, hearsay, innuendo and--dare I say-- scandal."

Merry rolled his eyes, and drew a deep breath in through his nose, probably in preparation for a heartfelt sigh, but Frodo caught his eye, and Merry let the breath out far more softly than he had intended. The Thain was such an old bore, and he ought just to get to the point and put all of them out of their misery. He cast a furtive glance at Pearl, who was white, and biting her lip, and felt contrite. This was far harder on her. Frodo put a hand on his arm, and he willed himself to relax.

In the meanwhile, Ferumbras had continued his speech: "...I have asked my cousin, Reginard Took, to investigate and scrutinize the matter, and he has done so in a thorough and conscientious manner. I find that his conclusions are acceptable and satisfactory. I have gathered you here that you may hear his findings for yourselves, and will thus be able to lay to rest the talk which has been going around.”

Ferumbras huffed and cleared his throat once more, and then indicated to Reggie that it was his turn to speak.

Reggie had been standing behind the Thain’s waiting chair. As Ferumbras sat himself down with ponderous dignity, Reggie now stepped forward. There was little sign of his nervousness except that he wiped his hands upon his breeches, and then clasped his fingers tightly together behind his back. He looked his cousin Paladin straight in the eye.

Clearing his throat, he said, "After much investigation, I have found that there is absolutely no reason to believe that Mistress Lalia’s accident was anything more than a regrettable accident.”

He watched with satisfaction as relief washed over the faces of Pearl and her family, though they did not entirely relax. His next words would accomplish this.

“Furthermore, I have learned that no blame whatsoever should be attached to her young companion, Pearl Took. Miss Pearl is in every way completely blameless.”

He saw the pleasure on all the faces in the front row now, and suppressed a smile, as he saw Frodo Baggins pinch the thigh of young Meriadoc, who had seemingly been on the point of cheering. The lad’s eyes widened, and he spared a reproachful glance for his cousin, who smiled and shook his head. Then the Thain glanced over the other hobbits. Most of them looked relieved as well, but he also saw suspicion lingering on a few faces.

“In order that you may take away with you complete reassurance as to my words, I will now present the evidence that led to my conclusion…”
_______________________________________________________

Hyacinth sat for a few moments, fuming. She wished she had some way of knowing what the Thain was up to at the moment. What if he didn’t disown Paladin? What if things did not work out as she had hoped? Reggie was obviously the best choice to follow Ferumbras as Thain, whether he thought so himself or not, but as long as Paladin remained the heir, that meant that this child was also an heir, and thus in Reggie’s way.

If only this inconvenient child had died in his cradle, as she had so devoutly hoped all those years ago. A child born so early and so sickly--it was a wonder he had survived. And then several times since, he had been seriously ill--yet each time, her hopes had been dashed.

In the dim light that trickled through the crack between door and jamb that the healer had left --the door was ajar, as if to offer assurance that a cry for help would not go unnoticed--, she looked at the young face, relaxed in sleep. Crossly she wondered what right he had to sleep so peacefully...

Of course, he had been dosed.

Dosed. He was very unlikely to waken, whatever she did.

What*ever* she did? Where did that thought come from? She shuddered fearfully, and her eyes lit on the bottle.

If something happened, if the lad did not waken…

But how? And how could she *not* be blamed if she were with him?

She studied the bottle again. How could she know how much would be enough? And how would she get it down him without rousing him?

No. That was unthinkable. The trouble there would be if she were ever found out--

But perhaps the blame would lie elsewhere?
_________________________________________________


“The first thing I would like would be for you to hear the testimony of the eyewitnesses to the accident itself.” Reggie bent a kindly eye on the first row. “Miss Pearl, would you please come up here, and tell the group what it was that happened that day.”

Pearl swallowed and turned a look to her mother, who gave her hand a squeeze, and nodded to the front of the room. Gamely, she stood up, and went the few steps to where Reggie stood.

“Take your time, my child, and just tell us what happened that morning?”

The tween sighed, and took a deep breath, and fixing her eyes on her family in front of her, began to speak. “The morning started much like any other, really. Her chambermaid had wakened her with breakfast. She was unhappy with it, for she said the toast was cold, and not browned enough to her liking, and the eggs were not done to her satisfaction. Still, she cleared her plate. While she was eating, I selected her clothes from the wardrobe, and when she was finished with her breakfast, Begonia and I helped her to dress.”

Pearl made the tiniest of grimaces. This had been one of her least favorite things to do while attending to Lalia. The old hobbitess’ bulk was difficult even for two attendants to handle, and her constant complaining the whole time did not make the task any easier. “We finally finished, and I went to my own breakfast while Begonia dressed the Mistress’ hair. Then when I returned, she said she was ready for her daily outing in her chair.” Pearl’s voice faltered for a moment.

“Begonia mentioned that the chair needed seeing to, that--that the wheelwright had said it was unsafe. Cousin Lalia was very sharp with her.”

She stopped. It seemed very disrespectful to repeat what Lalia said. But Reggie nodded at her and said, “Go on.”

“She--she said, ‘Mind your own place, you stupid cow!’ and then she said she’d no mind to wait a week to put her nose out of the Smials, and that--that the wheelwright probably was just trying to get more money out of the Tooks--and--and she said a good many more unkind things to Begonia…” Pearl’s voice faltered once more, and tears glistened in her eyes; Eglantine and Paladin looked at one another in distress.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl said, and sniffed. Reggie patted her on the shoulder, and drawing from his pocket his own handkerchief, he pressed it into her hand. She gave him a look of gratitude, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

A small shudder, and then Pearl slowly let out her breath, as she looked in her parents' faces. They were concerned, she could tell, but she saw nothing behind their eyes save confidence and pride in her. Her Aunt Esmeralda gave her a nod, and Frodo a very tiny smile, as if to say "I know you can do it." And Merry looked positively fierce on her behalf. She nearly wanted to laugh at his protective scowl. Encouraged, she took up her story once more.

“Then, after she upbraided Begonia, I asked her if she wished to take her shawl--she had taken it the day before. But she--she told me not to be any more dim-witted than I could help, and that she was not some thin-blooded old gammer, to be cold in the middle of summer. So I put the shawl away, and Begonia and I helped her into the chair, and we pushed her to the Great Doors.

“We threw open the doors, and she looked out. It was a bit windy, so she said she had changed her mind after all, and she wished to have her shawl anyway. She told me--she told me to run and fetch it, and be quick about it. Begonia told me to wait just a moment to help her set the brake first, for it was giving her trouble, and it was hard for even two of us together to control the chair, and there at the door, with the steps leading down... well, more than the usual care was wanted. But--but Cousin Lalia became very cross, and tried to turn around in her chair to see us as we stood there behind her. She was shouting. She said ‘Who--who’s in charge here--servant, or Mistress?’ I hesitated, and then suddenly the chair gave--gave a lurch, and I... I couldn’t move. Begonia tried to grab it, but--but” Pearl could say no more and burst into tears.

Eglantine got up from her seat.

“That is enough, Reggie!” she said sharply.

Reggie nodded decisively. “Take her to her seat, Tina. I think that we have heard all that she can tell us.”

Eglantine nodded, and moved to guide her daughter to the seat between herself and Paladin.

There was a brief silence, and then Reggie said, “Begonia Diggle, would you please come up here now.”

There was a stir at the back of the room, and the ungainly form of Lalia’s former chambermaid lumbered to the front of the room, her eyes downcast.
________________________________________________

Hyacinth reached over and picked up the bottle of sleeping draught. The healer had said it was very mild. But sleeping draughts were chancy things. Surely if he did not wake, the healer would be blamed for dosing so young a child--Hyacinth might not know much about healers’ ways, but she knew that not everyone reacted in the way expected of medicines.

But that was also the problem. If she tried to give the lad more, and it did not do its proper work, then not only would she lose her chance, but he might remember.

There had to be some other way, some way that would leave no traces, and yet the sleeping draught could still be blamed.

She looked at the way he lay, his little face nestled against the pillow.

The pillow--





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List