Affairs of Entailment
CHAPTER TWO
IT CAN BE SAID of most dignified young lasses that when presented with the unexpected presence of a dignified young lad, the lasses will be likely to make utter and complete fools of themselves, especially when such things as good looks and multitudes money are in abundance or even seemingly in abundance.
So it was the morning that May Barnett stumbled from the slumber of her humble abode to be greeted only by the backsides of all eleven of her live-in nieces, most of whom were neither dignified nor really deserving of the title of 'young lasses', but the above premises nevertheless applied.
Had the two young men on the front doorstep of Knocturn Abbey been aware of the most indecent congregation of onlookers scrounging for a look at them through the curtains of the foyer window, it would have been a most interesting predicament indeed.
Such was not the case—they were completely unaware. The only young lass whose acquaintance they had had the pleasure of making that morning was that of Lydia Barnett. She was currently standing before them in the doorway with her hand firmly placed on the golden knob in the middle of the round, green door, desperately attempting to keep her cousins out of sight and at bay, but mostly out of jealousy than any sentiments of embarrassment.
Though it is questionable if said situation was any better than previously stated hypothetical one, the point can be clearly deduced as this: it was inevitable, either way, that the Barnetts should make utter and complete fools of themselves by whatever means necessary.
It was this notion that drove May Barnett, despite how undesirable the answer to her question would no doubt be, to figure out what in heaven's name was going on.
"Oh, Aunt May!" Mentha cried. "There are two devilishly dashing young lads right outside our front door!"
"They are the most handsomest things I've ever seen!" Marigold concurred eagerly, and equally as eagerly returned to staring out the window.
"Pray tell what words have passed," May said, wincing before the damage was even accounted for.
"The fairer haired one has come from Hobbiton with the darker haired one, who's come from Stock with his mother to build a summer home right here in Dwaling!" Estelle exclaimed excitedly.
"Were you not already aware of this?"
"But of course we'd heard!" Emerald, Estelle's sister exclaimed.
"But we hadn't heard!" the third sister, Emma, finished just as breathlessly.
"My dear, dear niece, I'm afraid you make no sense at all!" cried May, fearing for the worst.
"How could we?" Peony sighed. "The sight of them is nearly intoxicating!" She leaned more generously on the window and stroked the glass with her finger before her sister slapped it away.
"Really, Aunt May," insisted Pansy, "you must come see for yourself." Then she turned back to the doorway and exclaimed, "Oh, Lidu! Do ask them how long they will be staying!"
"And if they have a place to stay!"
And then only a moment later:
"A year! A year! They'll be in and out of Dwaling for an ENTIRE year!"
"And at The Floating Log! How HORRIBLE!"
"You must invite them here for supper!"
"You must invite them here FOREVER!"
"Oh, gods, Lydia, I beg you, please have the sense not to invite them here, of all the dreadful places!" May cried hopelessly.
And just as unexpectedly as she'd come upon her nieces' affairs, did they end. Quite abruptly, all the noise and the ruckus that had somehow miraculously failed to awaken all of May's hung-over and in some cases still inebriated siblings and in-laws suddenly became no more than a few soft murmurs, and before long, no one was saying anything at all, for breathless Lidu had reentered the foyer and was then leaning against the very door she had so distractedly closed only moments before. Her sisters parted to make way for her.
"Well?" Peony insisted, placing a firmly expectant stare on her half-sister.
"I invited them to Lancaster," Lydia sighed dreamily, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. "And it was wonderful!"
"Lancaster!" May cried amongst her nieces' murmurs of approval. "Lydia Barnett, what have you done?"
IT WAS WELL PAST second breakfast and drawing dangerously near to elevenses when a loud knock was heard on the front door at The Hollow.
Rosemunda Hollow looked up from her embroidery and stared expectantly at her husband's newspaper, for it quite covered his face.
Unfortunately for Starboard, he had been married to his wife for nearly more than half a century, and so was incapable of harboring any adequate excuse for failing to comply with any of his wife's wishes, and that was merely in regards to the unspoken ones.
"Drew, get the door," he delegated to his son from behind his paper. Satisfied, Rosemunda turned her attention back to her pillowcase.
Drew, sitting beside him, was much too busy to even fathom doing such a thing—pretext, doting on his newborn daughter Celandine. He expressed his wishes to his father and snuggled closer to his wife on the loveseat.
Starboard sighed. "Rory, get the door," he delegated once more to his elder son, also reading his copy of the press.
Rory, having learned a little something or other about the execution of delegations from his father, took his pipe out of his mouth and turned to his red-headed daughter sitting by the fireplace. "Ruby, get the door."
Ruby placed her book on the hearth and scoffed. "Father, must you always call on me to get the door when you know it will only be for you? Why do you not tell me in the first place so we don't waste time establishing our powers of delegation!"
"You're just barmy because you've not got any," her father retorted, shuffling his paper.
"No, father, I'm 'barmy' because you know well and good that whoever is at the door shall be wanting to speak to the head of the household, and yet you still insist on my answering the door due to your languor allowing you to be momentarily indisposed until your acting up something is all but absolutely necessary!"
Rory put the paper down and stared dully at his daughter. "Are you insinuating that I'm lazy?"
"I said that you were lazy, father—I'm insinuating that you get the door!"
"Ruby, do not use that tone with your father!" Nessa Hollow scolded.
By this time the knocking had become quite loud.
"JUST A MINUTE!" the entire household chorused irritably. Needless to say, the knocking quickly ceased.
"Sorry, mother," Ruby murmured, more bitterly than sincerely.
"Oh, stop all this fussing at once!" Rosemunda insisted. "I shall get the door!" She huffed crossly and stomped across the cozy living room to the foyer. Impatiently, she flung the door open and put her hands on her hips. "Now pray tell what it is you want?" she said to the two lads standing on her doorstep. One of the lads smiled, but the other one's expression was difficult to read.
"Wilcomb Jackley and Finn Underhill, at your service, ma'am." The lad was reasonably handsome, Rosemunda thought, with his light-brown hair and green eyes, broad smile and fine figure. She immediately sent a suspicious glance to her now fuming granddaughter watching her curiously by the fireplace.
"Just arrived in Dwaling this morning," he continued pleasantly, "and thought we might acquaint ourselves with the locals. My friend here," and he pointed to his companion, "happens to be building a summer smial for his mother."
His companion was the quiet type, Rosemunda assumed, or rather a little on the snobbish side. He'd forced a small, tight smile when Mr. Jackley had mentioned him.
He was slightly taller than his friend, and had a darker disposition: black hair and brown eyes—no doubt the nicer looking of the two, though he seemed quite antisocial and didn't come off quite as quite the overly friendly type. But his eyes, however dark, seemed intelligent and honest. And he did have a rather cute nose.
"Have you boys eaten elevenses yet?" Rosemunda inquired cordially, though left them no room to answer whether they had or not. "You look famished. Do come in and complement me on my cooking."
Suddenly, a quite feminine scream caused her to look to the lane, where noticed a carriage there. "And the rest of your party is welcomed to dine with us, of course."
Mr. Underhill looked as if he were about to object, but kind, dear Mr. Jackley slapped him on the back and told Mrs. Hollow that they would be delighted to join them.
THE REST of Mr. Jackley's party consisted of three other lads (his cousins, who would be assisting all the muck and muddle of transporting furniture and silverware and things like that), two lasses (the sisters of previously stated three lads), and Hobbs, a small little hobbit lad no older than seven or eight (Mr. Jackley's younger brother), who dragged behind him a small yellow puppy named Calvin.
Little Celandine was quite taken with Calvin, and was quite unwilling to part with him once it was time for elevenses.
The only one not among them was the elderly Mrs. Underhill, who was unable to make such rounds and perfectly willing to stay at the inn with her maid, though Mr. Jackley flatteringly assured Mrs. Hollow that she was indeed missing out on a most delicious meal.
The Hollows, however, being a kind of perceptive hobbits, were able to judge a lot about their guest through their introductions and rounds of small talk:
Mr. Jackley was a very nice, sincere lad, and a rather good conversationalist. He was ready to laugh heartily at any joke Starboard and Rory threw his way, and was very polite and pleasant to the ladies as well, especially young Miss Ruby Hollow, to whom Rosemunda expected he'd taken a small fancy.
Mr. Underhill, quite the opposite, was very quiet throughout the meal. He was not one to start conversation, though he answered all questions directed his way with courtesy and respect, and sometimes a little bit of sarcasm when either the question or the questioner proved to be exceptionally stupid. This he mostly did for his own entertainment. But he didn't seem shy at all, and though he frowned, it was more out of boredom than discontentment.
Bored he may well have been with companions like the Misses Jackleys, who talked at great lengths about absolutely every which they knew nothing about. (Any intelligent conversation was more likely to be had with Calvin.) The other three young lads proved to be equally as social but likewise as uneducated, though conversation with them was at least a bit more tolerable.
Hobbs, like his older brother, was quite the young gentlemen and most definitely on his way to becoming a lady's man. He was charming, polite, and absolutely adorable, and was quickly adored by the females of the group, as most small children are.
The meal, otherwise, was uneventful.
They departed on good terms with hopes of dining together again—well, at least Jackley, Hobbs, Rosemunda, and Ruby did, at any rate, especially the former and latter.
Rosemunda once again saw them to the door, and Misters Jackley and Underhill remained behind while the rest of their party piled into the carriage. And it was then that Mister Jackley asked a very curious question indeed.
"I hope you wouldn't mind lending us some directions," he said before they were off. "We've been trying to find the Lancaster estate for some hours now, and have had absolutely no luck at all. Might you know where it is?"
Mr. Underhill watched curiously as the warm expression on Mrs. Hollows face slowly iced over. "Lancaster?" she murmured, frowning. "Why it's just a little ways down the lane and over that hill… Very hard to miss it, lads…"
And though Jackley was very pleased with the answer, Mrs. Hollow was most definitely not.
"Well thank you very much for all your hospitality, Mrs. Hollow. Finn here will be sure to invite you over for dinner once the smial is built to return the favor, and he thanks you very much for the directions, I'm sure," Jackley assured, tipping his hat. "Good day."
"Yes," Rosemunda murmured. "Good day."
Mr. Underhill likewise tipped his hat before turning to follow his companion down the walkway. Rosemunda watched him curiously, an awkward feeling growing in her heart. Why hadn't Eleanor told her she would be receiving visitors? And why hadn't she given them any directions?
"What do you want with my granddaughter, Mr. Underhill?" she murmured as his carriage disappeared around a bend in the lane.