Clover still hadn't calmed down enough to talk to Dalgo by the time she returned to the Grubbs' smial after visiting her family. She decided to shut herself in her room to cool off, and instinctively went to her bedside drawer. Shifting a pile of paper out of the way, she found a shallow layer of coins beneath. They were savings carefully squirreled away over the weeks and months. Clover knew it was irrational to keep checking it, but she had never had money before and if she realised one day it had never been there at all, it wouldn't be a surprise. These savings were her back up plan if everything went wrong with Dalgo, which there was quite a high likelihood of.

She became gradually aware of something happening outside, with the sound of footfall going up and down the corridor frantically. Clover didn't interfere. If the Grubbs needed her they would ask.

Sure enough, there was a knock on the door and Clover hurriedly put everything back in the draw before Young Mrs Grubb entered. Her employer's face was that of someone deliberately trying to remain calm in the face of disaster.

"Clover, I'm terribly sorry to disturb, but I heard you come in."

"How can I help, mistress?"

"I hate to ask on your afternoon off but we've had an unexpected guest and I was wondering if you would be able to serve them tea. I'll pay time and a half."

"Who's the guest?" Clover said, reaching to get her apron that was hung on the back of the door.

"Lotho Sackville-Baggins."

Clover froze. "Oh."

She and Young Mrs Grubb shared a panicked look. Lotho had become an ever-present ghost. Someone who they knew was there, but was never seen, and had taken control of every aspect of their lives. Clover had almost forgotten that he was a real person, the same as her.

"Me and the lads are entertaining him," Young Mrs Grubb said. "But I don't want to leave them alone for long and I'd prefer to keep Abbie and Victoria out of the way."

"Of course, mistress," Clover said. "I'll be in the parlour with you shortly."

Young Mrs Grubb sighed her thanks and scurried back to the parlour as quickly as composure allowed. Tackling an increasing sense of dread, upon entering the kitchen Clover was surprised to find Old Mrs Grubb playing cards with Abelia inside.

"You didn't want to meet the guest?" Clover said, knowing the answer but asking anyway to alleviate the awkward silence.

"Campanula doesn't trust me to be in the same room as him," said Old Mrs Grubb.

"I'm not surprised, I don't think he would be able to stand your tongue."

Abelia was avoiding looking at Clover, keeping her face turned resolutely away.

"You didn't fancy it either, miss?" Clover said as she started to heat the stove and fill the kettle.

Abelia turned away further. She was trying to look like she hadn't heard, but the angry twist of her mouth told the truth. Clover didn't comment on it, but left two cups of tea for Abelia and her grandmother before taking the rest to the others.

She tried to keep her breathing level as she walked to the parlour. She needed to know what he wanted with the Grubbs, but the thought of being in the same room as him set her nerves ringing. The tea was weak – they were rationing it. Would he complain? If he did how would they explain it? 'It's your fault' was not an acceptable answer.

In the parlour, someone had lit the good candles that Young Mrs Grubb had been saving. Candles, like everything else, had become rarer and pricier over the last months. Dalgo, Monno and their mother were sat in uncomfortable silence across from Mr Sackville-Baggins; gold on his head and buttons, stately as a human king. Dalgo's eyes periodically flickered in Clover's direction as she served the tea out. Lotho didn't seem to notice her, as there was no perceptible change in his speech or manner. That was the thing about being a servant: you weren't seen.

"Terribly sorry to have missed your mother-in-law," said Lotho.

"She needs her naps these days," said Young Mrs Grubb, thin-lipped.

None of the members of the family had good things to say about Lotho. He had made their lives measurably worse. Still they said nothing against him, sat in front of him now. Clover sickened as she realised she wouldn't either. She finished preparing the tea and moved as silently as she could to the back of the room, in the shadows, in case she was called on again. She specifically decided to stand in a part of the room where Lotho wouldn't be able to see her.

"She's very fortunate," he continued. "I can't think of a more pleasant dotage, to be so surrounded by one's children and grandchildren. I hope to afford my own mother such a comfort."

"We do our best for her," said Young Mrs Grubb, not too icily.

"Perhaps you should attend to her now," Lotho said. "To make sure she's comfortable."

"Abelia is capable of tending to her," said Young Mrs Grubb.

"Perhaps she needs help."

The stare they exchanged could have boiled water, daring each to bend to the other.

It was Young Mrs Grubb who capitulated, turning her eyes down and silently leaving the room. It was always going to be her. She was too practical not to understand that.

Mr Sackville-Baggins waited until the door closed behind her before speaking again.

"Apologies. I wished to speak on business matters and didn't think it would be of interest to your mother, much as I enjoy her company."

"We're always open with her about our dealings," said Dalgo. "She has a good head for accounts."

"I'm sure she does very well," said Lotho. "But the real work is done by you lads, of course. It's you that keep the records of our births, deaths and marriages. You protect our heritage. Without you we wouldn't be able to build our family trees and understand where we came from. I have such admiration for your work."

"You flatter us," Dalgo said dryly.

Monno said nothing. He looked like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide to the point of bulging and too frightened to move, never mind speak.

"Have you thought how your work might be turned to the benefit of law and order?" Lotho said.

"I don't follow," Dalgo said.

"I'm having a little trouble, you see," Lotho said, leaning forward and pressing his fingertips together. "And it would be a great help if I could have access to the records here."

"To what end?"

"Oh, nothing you need trouble yourself with. To understand who exactly these difficult individuals are, where they came from, who their people are, that sort of thing. So I can reason with them better, you know."

Clover dug her nails into the back of her hand as her stomach churned. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to hear this. But the worst part was that there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. Watching the tree fall and not having the power to lift it up…

"I can't oblige, I'm afraid," Dalgo said, taking a sip from his cup.

"Your co-operation would be noted," Lotho said, "and I always believe in people getting their due."

"I'm sure you do. But I say again that I cannot accommodate you."

"I see," Lotho said, leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingertips together. "That's very disappointing, I must say. May I ask why?"

"Because it's not in your duty to know these things."

Monno started, and stared at Dalgo like he was mad. Lotho, however, was unaffected.

"Do you think me an upstart too?" he said. "I had thought you would be more sympathetic towards my intentions, cousin, given that there are some who would similarly look down on you; being in trade."

"I don't have much love for the Thane, if that's what you're alluding to. Nor do I think of my work as a trade."

"Of course. I certainly understand this is more than a mere matter of business. However, that opinion isn't shared by everyone, and as such I thought you might understand my higher purposes above mere exchange of coin. I want to make this a better place for people to live. People like us. People who deserve."

"While I appreciate your good intentions, I cannot consent to you or anyone else accessing our records. You are, of course, free to look at your own family's records, should you be curious."

"I'm quite familiar with my own family history, thank you," Lotho said flatly.

"I didn't mean to cast aspersions," Dalgo said, unfolding himself and walking to the door. "I'm afraid I have another social engagement."

"I see." Lotho rose. "Times are hard, Mr Grubb. I would hate for your family to suffer, after all that happened to your poor father."

Dalgo's shoulders tensed. Lotho noticed, paused, and cleared his throat. "If you were to ask me for assistance, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."

"I'm sure."

Lotho held out his hand, and Dalgo reluctantly took it to shake. By now Monno had risen from his own chair to join them at the door.

"Not as talkative as your brother?" said Lotho.

"Not in front of my betters, sir."

"Good lad."

Lotho shook Monno's hand. As he did so, he tugged Monno towards him, momentarily pulling him off balance. Lotho said something to Monno, too quietly for Clover to hear. Monno stepped back, pallid.

"I'll relieve you of my company," Lotho said, bowing to the brothers.

"Will you fetch our guest's hat, Clover?" Dalgo said, massaging his eyelids.

Lotho started and spun around to face Clover, stood in her dark little corner. He'd forgotten she was there. Clover didn't stay to hear anything he had to say, but could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she scuttled into the hallway. She handed over Lotho's hat and cloak with her head turned down in an appropriate show of humility

Just make sure he doesn't remember you.

Lotho took them from her without a glance and left the smial without saying anything more.

"You shouldn't have disrespected him," Monno said, staring at the front door.

"I was perfectly polite," Dalgo said.

"You offended him."

"It was impossible not to offend him," said Dalgo, turning to go back to the parlour.

Monno followed him, twitchy and agitated. "That's not true. Dalgo I don't think you understand the danger—"

"We're an old family, we own our own smial, he can't just put us out onto the street. And he is not your better. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing that wasn't obvious from the way he was talking just now. 'You can see your own family records if you wish'. Really, Dalgo! Like he wouldn't know about his own family, he has two names for goodness' sake!"

"You're making a fuss over nothing!"

"What's going on?" Young Mrs Grubb said, entering from the kitchen. "What did Mr Sackville-Baggins want?"

"Nothing we're giving him," Dalgo said, turning and marching away towards his chamber. The door shut with a slam.

Young Mrs Grubb stared at Monno. "What's going on?"

Monno shook his head. His mother sighed and went into the parlour, leaving him alone. Monno stared ahead of him, still as stone. Then he noticed Clover watching him.

"Don't you gawp at me," he said spittingly, and went off to his room.

Clover flinched as he slammed the door behind him. She paused a moment, and then went to Dalgo's room to do damage control. Dalgo was sat at his desk, furiously scribbling out a letter.

"I'm worried," Clover said.

"There's no need," Dalgo said, not looking at her.

"I saw my parents today."

"Mm."

"They won't consent to us getting wed."

"I can't think about that at the moment."

"Why not, if there's nothing the matter?"

"Because I'm not in the mood!" he said, throwing his pen down.

Clover folded her arms. "Well, I'm not in the mood for any of this but this is the position we're in and now you need to make a decision. And if Pimple's going to bring hell down on us 'cus of your lip, you need to make it soon."

"Fine! I'll give you a decision tomorrow. Leave me be, please."

Clover hesitated in the doorway. He was too volatile to leave like this. She went to stand behind him to put her hands on his shoulders. "I don't like to see you upset."

Dalgo's muscles relaxed under her hands as he sighed. "I did the right thing. Blast Monno. I feel dreadful."

"You did what a good person would do," Clover said carefully.

"You disapprove."

"Pimple's the most powerful person in the Shire and you defied him. Monno's right to be wary."

"Lotho wouldn't dare retaliate."

"If I asked you a year ago if he'd dare do any of the other things he's done, what would you have said?"

"This is different. He wouldn't directly attack an old family."

"He attacked the Tooks."

"The Tooks have always refused to behave properly. If they don't want to be singled out they should try harder to integrate."

Clover silently wondered how many other exceptions there were, and what justifications respectable Hobbits would make if the Grubbs were turned out.

"I'll give you my answer soon," he said softly. "I just need a little more time."

"I know you'll do the right thing," she said, and kissed his cheek before leaving, running her hand over his shoulders as she did.

She twisted her fingers together as she left, and glanced back, expecting Dalgo's eyes to be on her. They were turned down, his chin rested in his hand, but he spared her a passing glance as she left the room.

When was soon? How could he say 'soon' when the threat was over them now? Lazy, as always.

When Clover returned to her room, the first thing she did was check her savings were still in place.

Soon.

Sango was in his bedchamber when Tiger Lily arrived at The Rookery, and a maid went to him to announce her arrival.

Tiger Lily wasn't sure how bad things would be. The endings of Sango's previous courtships had been marked by long depressive periods. Unpleasant, but he had always been able to bear it in the past. The first thing that made this one different was that they were older and Sango was starting to take courtship more seriously, so the ending of this one was more of a disappointment. The increasingly repressive times would also set his background emotion lower than usual. The final difference was that now he was living in Overhill it was more difficult for Tiger Lily to support him. She wasn't sure what mood all of this would result in, so she had come prepared with a bunch of snowdrops and a meagre pie made from a hare she had caught the previous evening. She wouldn't tell him that last detail.

Crumpled pieces of paper were scattered throughout Sango's chamber. When she entered he was hurriedly trying to tidy his hair in the mirror. The buttons of his waistcoat were done up in the wrong holes.

"I wasn't expecting you today, Tills," he said, smiling breathlessly.

"We agreed that I'd come today."

"Did we?"

His heart broke on his face and Tiger Lily instinctively looked for the words that would make it better. "It's probably my fault, I must have misremembered. I brought you these," she said, handing him her offerings.

"Oh…" He looked at them like they were great treasures. "You are good."

He sat on his bed as he started to nibble at the pie, continually drumming his heel against the floor.

"How are you managing?" Tiger Lily said, sitting beside him.

"Not too badly, not too badly," he said. "I've been quite well, actually."

But his hair wasn't washed.

"I was worried you'd be terribly bored, what with all the inns being closed," Tiger Lily said. Really she was hoping that the lack of any inns would help to curb Sango's drinking.

"Not bored at all, not at all," he said in the same odd frantic voice.

This was a new form of grief for Sango. Usually when he suffered broken courtships he'd wept openly in the immediate aftermath and comforting him was a simple matter of putting her arm around his shoulders and telling him everything would be all right one day. Tiger Lily wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with this.

"And there's always father's wine cellar," Sango said, "Until he locked it."

"Sorry," she lied.

"It doesn't matter," he said, staring unblinkingly at his desk. "I just need to finish my poems. Once I've finish them everything will be fine."

"You don't have to pretend to be happy. I know it's rotten."

He blinked at her like he'd only just remembered her presence. "Yes, you do don't you?" He winced and covered his eyes with his hand. "I'm so sorry, I'd forgotten about all that."

He broke the pie in half and gave it one of the pieces to her.

It was guilt that made Tiger Lily push it away. This was the first time she had seen Sango since Lavender left him. Sango had been much more attentive to her during her and Rob's hiatus. "I left Master Delver weeks ago, I'm fine. I'm here to look after you."

Tiger Lily hadn't told Sango about the reconciliation between herself and Rob, and wasn't planning to. Sango had been angry when she told him about the initial courtship – she pressed her nails into her arm at the memory. If he learned about the reconciliation, he would be livid. She wasn't clever, but she was wise enough to recognise such a blatant mistake.

Sango wasn't a naturally angry person, he never exhibited much beyond a passing grumpiness, but his reaction to this could well be friendship-ending. Regardless of their difference in opinions, she didn't want to lose him. She had just about managed without Rob for the weeks they were apart, and she had managed without him for twenty-seven years before they had met. But she couldn't remember a time before she loved Sango. She needed him like she needed herself. Without him she wouldn't know who she was. Their characters were too tangled up with each other to be easily distinguishable now.

"You don't need to worry about me," she said.

Sango looked down at the pie as he chewed, and nodded. "I know you're better, but that doesn't mean you don't need looking after," he said.

Tiger Lily stared at him. She felt better, but she hadn't realised there was a noticeable change in her behaviour. "Am I better?"

"You've been better since Opal announced her betrothal. Just a bit. Don't you feel it?

Tiger Lily twitched where she sat. She hadn't actually considered if she was all right. She was happy she had Rob back. But was she all right in a broader sense? "I think I am. I'm not sad like I was before."

"Good. I wasn't sure how you'd take the news. Of Opal and Buffo's betrothal, I mean."

"I've learned to live with it. And I've even agreed to chaperone them. Are you proud of me?"

"Extremely. Do you want me to go with you?"

She hadn't been expecting this suggestion. "Do you want to?"

"Of course. I know you hate Buffo's company, maybe I could provide some relief."

"But would you be all right… being around a betrothed couple?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't be silly, you know why." She took a deep breath. "Of course I like having you with me. But only if you want to." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't like being alone at the moment," he said.

"Haven't your other friends come to see you?"

"Some of the lads have visited. But Jesco says I'm too dull to be around at the moment."

Tiger Lily absentmindedly brushed his hair away from his forehead. "I don't like them."

"I can't expect them to enjoy time with me while I'm like this."

"But I'm here."

"Well, that's you."

"What about your family?"

She wanted to ask about his cousin Balbus specifically. Last time she'd seen Sango she'd overheard a conversation they were having. Something to do with Folco (the heir to the head of the Boffins). Something to do with Lotho Sackville-Baggins. She wasn't sure. She needed to know what was going on, but it would be cruel to ask about it now.

"They're just happy Lavender's gone," Sango said. "Mother's been kind but I know she's pleased, even if she's not saying it. I miss her."

"I know. But you're easy to love, someone else will fall in love with you soon. We'll look after you until then, it doesn't matter what Jesco Brownlock says."

Sango flopped onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow.

"Have Balbus and his parents been to see you?"

"Oh, don't," he said, rolling onto his side.

"Why? Is Balbus still bothering you about Folco's scheme?"

"You're not supposed to know about that."

"I don't really know what that is."

"He's stopped talking about it," Sango said. He tucked a hand under his head and, almost imperceptibly, curled up tighter.

"What?" Tiger Lily said.

"Nothing."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"You haven't. I just want to go home."

"You… are at home," Tiger Lily said, glancing around them just to be sure.

"I mean Bywater and the old house and the old farm." He sighed. "The old Shire. I want us to sit under the oak tree in the lower field and not have to worry about anything."

Tiger Lily put her hand in his and he squeezed it like one of them would vanish if he didn't hold on to her.

"I passed some elms on the way up. What about that?" she said.

"When I go outside all I see are the houses that didn't used to be there and the trees that did."

"You can't stay in your room forever."

"I know."

"You always tell me that wallowing isn't good for me."

"I know that too."

Tiger Lily disentangled her hand from his. "I'll get my cloak from the hall. Why don't you put on a fresh waistcoat and we'll go out. You can get more inspiration for your poems."

She took a deep breath as she left the room. She wasn't sure what to do. There wasn't any obvious way to make Sango better this time. She could tell him he would find love again and all of that, but what to do about the rest of it? How did she make up for the parts of him that were missing at the moment?

She thought all this over while putting her riding coat back on, staring blankly into space.

She loved him. His pain ached in her.

Tiger Lily flinched at the sound of the parlour door opening and closing, slicing through the silence.

"Sango didn't say you were coming today," Sango's mother said, smiling politely, a book held in her folded hands.

"I wanted to surprise him," Tiger Lily said, not wanting his forgetfulness exposed. "To try and cheer him up. He's, um, he's very upset about Lavender."

"Oh, yes, isn't it dreadful?" The corner of Mrs Boffin's mouth was curved in a way that looked almost—but not quite—like a smile. "Still, at least now he can find someone he's better suited to."

"They wanted different things," Tiger Lily said. She didn't want to investigate what 'better suited to' meant. She thought she knew already, but hoped she didn't.

"I imagine so. The matter with Folco hasn't helped either."

Tiger Lily had thought the matter with Folco and Balbus was some great secret. She hadn't considered that Sango's mother would know anything about it. "Sango's told you about that?" she said.

"Well, everyone knows Folco's disappeared."

Tiger Lily realised her mouth was hanging open, and closed it. "Oh… yes. That's awful."

"I thought Sango had told you about it."

"He… mentioned something was wrong with Folco, but he didn't say what. Do you know what happened?"

"We only had word from Vigo yesterday. Nothing to do with the Men as far as we know."

Tiger Lily swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry and she hoped she wasn't visibly swaying. "Will Mr Boffin and Sango be going to the Yale to search?" she said.

Mrs Boffin raised an eyebrow at her as she moved across the hallway. "In these times?"

She disappeared through a door, leaving Tiger Lily alone in the silence, turned unnerving by the ghost of the conversation. She could feel her pulse in her temples as her mind absorbed this news. There was a sharp impulse to rush back to Sango's room to check he was still there, but the part of her brain ruled by reason made her stay where she was. Still she wasn't quite satisfied until he was in her sight again, looking slightly less dishevelled than before.

"Shall we go then?" he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the house.

"Why didn't you tell me Folco had disappeared?" she said once the door had closed behind them, withdrawing her hand from his.

Sango stared at her. His lips opened to respond but she beat him to it.

"Your mother told me. Did you think I wouldn't learn it eventually? Look, you don't have to tell me what Folco's done or what you and Balbus have to do with it, but you need to tell me if you're going to disappear too. You can't abandon us without warning like a thief."

"I'm not going to disappear."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes!"

Sango was staring at her; wide-eyed and worried. He seemed sincere enough. He was her Sango, he wasn't going to vanish into nothing. She looped her arm through his to gently lead him along the garden path and out to the road.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to put all that on you when you're upset."

"It's all right."

"I'm frightened for you," she said, not meaning to keep talking but unable to stop herself. "I wish you would tell me what was happening."

Sango hissed out a breath through his teeth and rubbed his eyelids. "I'd be betraying his trust if I told you. And it might make you a target for Lotho."

What exactly had Folco done if Lotho had become a danger to him?

"I understand that," she said, even though she didn't really. "But if you told me about it I could help you."

"I don't think that would help with your anxieties."

"Being stuck in ignorance doesn't help either. Are you a target for Lotho?"

"I hope not. I don't know really."

He looked so washed out, even with his cheeks pinked from the cold and the air stirring his dark hair. With her arm in his, she had never felt further away from him. They had each created their own little lives separate from each other. They'd never had secrets before. How long since they had been children sat beneath the oak tree?

She wasn't sure what she preferred. She hadn't been happy before, but at least there hadn't been anything in between them; no doubt that they were each other's.

When the elms came into view she said, "Race you!" because she knew that he was faster than her. He would race ahead until he was almost to the trees and then slow down so she wouldn't be left behind. She would catch him, hug him, take his hands and lead him beneath the leaves. For a while they would pretend everything was normal. Some things were always certain.

Monno bounced his heel as he studied the wall opposite him. The tunnels in Bag End were panelled with a fine, dark wood that swirled into odd, unnerving shapes.

Monno hadn't made any excuses when he left home that evening, instead slipping out quietly through the back door. No one would question it. His courtship with Primrose had caused him to make a habit of disappearing without explanation and there was no reason for them to think this occasion was any different.

To his right were a pair of double doors that blocked off the rest of the smial. He wasn't sure how deeply into the hill the passages delved. Deeper than the grave. It had only taken six words to drive him so far underground.

There weren't any clocks in view, and he had no idea how long he had been there. It could have been anywhere between five minutes and an hour, he was in such a state of agitation it would be easy to mistake one for the other.

His heart was pounding so hard that he was scared he might faint. He got up from the chair he'd been deposited in, and paced up and down, pressing his hand to his forehead as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

Why was Lotho taking so long? He knew Monno was there and he couldn't possibly be so busy this late in the evening. Couldn't they just get it over with?

"I wasn't expecting a call from you, Mr Grubb," a voice said behind him.

Monno turned around to find Lotho had opened the double doors. He was stood with hands in pockets, like any other gentlehobbit welcoming a distant cousin. "Are the rest of your family not with you?" he said.

Lotho knew that the other Grubbs wouldn't be with him. He knew that. This was all playacting for Monno's detriment.

"I wanted to apologise to you, sir," Monno said. His words were slow and laboured; each had to be forced out and added to the weight in his chest. "I fear my brother may have offended you. Unintentionally. His manner is… harsh at times. He forgets that not everyone can tell when he intends to be cutting and when he's trying to be facetious."

"I wasn't offended. He's young and I understand he has a particular sense of humour."

"Still, I couldn't stand the thought that you might form a bad opinion of us and I wanted to make amends." He inhaled deeply. "And to offer you my services."

Lotho smiled impassively. "Indeed?

"With anything you might require of me or Grubb & Sons," said Monno, feeling like he was about to be sick.

"I'm most grateful. Instructions will be sent," Lotho said, brushing past him towards the front door.

"You won't hurt Rose? That is to say, you'll ensure the Hobbles remain untroubled?" Monno said, trembling now that the deed was done.

"The wheelwrights? They're decent people. Why should I have a quarrel with them?"

Lotho opened the door for Monno to leave and watched him with innocent expectation. Monno skirted around him like he was avoiding an angry dog.

"Thank you for seeing me so late in the day, sir."

"Not at all. You'll hear from me soon."

The door was closed, leaving Monno alone on the lawn surrounded by heavy smoke from the chimneys that now filled the garden of Bag End. It was over.

Lotho knew. He knew what Monno meant.

It had only taken six words, whispered into Monno's ear in the family parlour, to end his life.

Send my regards to Miss Hobble.

And now he'd done what exactly? Once he'd offered to help Lotho, he'd expected to receive some assurance that Primrose would be safe. This coy denial was like reading a story without an ending.

What happens next?

The smial was dark when Monno returned home. He hoped to retire without having to make eye contact with his family. Before going to bed he ducked into the parlour to retrieve a bottle of brandy to help him sleep. He would need it tonight.

"Night walking again?" said a voice behind him.

"Nothing!" Monno said, freezing where he was.

"What?"

Monno relaxed as the initial panic drained from his heart and he realised the voice was Dalgo's. He turned and found his brother sat in an armchair and watching him. He was expecting disapproval, but instead Dalgo just looked tired.

"I couldn't sleep," Monno said.

"Me neither." Dalgo's spectacles had been cast aside and he rubbed his eyelids.

Monno hesitated at the liqueur cabinet and took out two glasses. He found a half-empty bottle of whisky and sat opposite Dalgo. "You look like you need it."

"No. I need a clear head."

Monno looked carefully at Dalgo as he drank. This raised further questions. Monno didn't want to be alone with his own thoughts, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with Dalgo's either. Hopefully he wouldn't hear any more about it.

"You would look after them wouldn't you?" Dalgo said.

Damn.

Monno glanced at his brother, pinned to his chair by the dread of whatever was about to follow. Why had he decided to talk now? Why couldn't he just stay quiet and brood and manage his own mind in his own disjointed way?

"What?" Monno said.

"If– if anything happened to me—if I wasn't here anymore—you'd look after Mother and Grandmother and Abelia, wouldn't you?"

This set Monno further on edge. This wasn't how Dalgo usually talked. This wasn't how Dalgo was supposed to talk.

"If there's anything you need to tell me about—"

"There isn't," Dalgo said. "I was speaking in hypotheticals."

Dalgo was clearly troubled. Even if Monno didn't want to have this conversation, if Dalgo was talking about leaving the family then there was something very, very wrong.

"Are you ill?" Monno said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs. "Are you worried that Father's sickness runs in families?"

"Of course I'm not ill!" Dalgo snapped.

"I don't know what else I'm expected to take from the way you're talking. I know you wouldn't leave of your own volition."

Dalgo's thick brows drew together momentarily, as if he was in some passing pain.

"Tell me what's wrong," Monno said. "If you're going to disappear off into the Blue like… like an errant Took, I deserve an explanation. Are you joining Fredegar Bolger's… association?"

"Goodness no," Dalgo half-sighed.

"Then what?"

The silence continued. Monno assumed Dalgo had lost heart and wasn't going to brave the truth. When he did speak it was so soft it might have just been an exhale.

"I'm getting married."

Monno's mouth hung open. In spite of how quietly Dalgo has spoken, the words themselves felt like a stone slate across the forehead.

"You're what?"

"Married. Or will be. Perhaps."

Monno had never imagined Dalgo would marry and it had come so out of nowhere that he didn't know how to take it.

Badly.

But he wasn't sure why yet.

"To who?"

Dalgo took a sip of brandy and cleared his throat before responding. "Clover."

"Clover?" Monno said, not believing the words as he said them. "Clover Delver? Our maidservant?"

"I know it must be a shock."

But it wasn't as much of a shock as it should have been. Who else would Dalgo betroth himself to? Monno groaned and put his head in his hands. "So you've been beguiled by a conniving lass who's tricked you into thinking she cares for you. You're a buffoon, you know that, don't you?"

Dalgo scowled at him. "It's good to know you think so highly of me. I'm sure it's unthinkable that someone would be willing to marry me."

"Not 'someone': her. I've seen her burrowing her way into this family; ingratiating herself. No one else can see it, I don't know why no one else can see it."

Dalgo was watching him wide-eyed, surprised at Monno's agitation in spite of his own anger.

Monno's heart was pumping and he found that he had leaned forward in his seat in his anger. Swallowing, he leaned back slowly, as though this would make it so he had never become so wound up. "Does, um… does Mother know?"

"No. No one knows but you and I trust it will remain that way."

"So you know she would never approve. Grandmother would die of shame."

"They like Clover," Dalgo said uncertainly.

"As a servant. Daughters-in-law have different criteria," Monno hissed. "One of which is that they shouldn't be a servant."

"I'm a grown adult, I don't need their approval," Dalgo said loftily. "Nor do I need yours."

"But our family's been in pieces for so long. Things are only just starting to get better and now you're going to ruin everything with this absurd attachment. She's not worth it. Even a lass who really loved you wouldn't be worth it, but she especially isn't." Monno sighed, exhausted from the last few minutes alone. "There are so many other lasses, Dalgo. Choose one of them."

"I can't be happy with anyone else," Dalgo said firmly. "Only her."

Monno hesitated. This was something he knew. More than that, it was something he felt. "I don't believe that's true," he said, lying through his teeth. "Love doesn't work like that. You've known her, what, six months?"

Dalgo scowled into the ashes in the grate.

"I've never taken you to be a romantic," Monno said, his voice wavering through the affected cheer. "Father would have—"

"Don't," Dalgo said, wincing and covering his eyes.

Monno didn't want to press this point, it was too low. But something was occurring to him, slowly. Why had they started on this conversation in the first place?

"Why would you getting married mean you'd have to leave us?"

"We're eloping to Bree-land," Dalgo said.

Monno groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Clover feels our union wouldn't be understood by society and that, compounded by the turbulent times, makes it untenable—"

"Of course it was her idea." Monno sat back in his chair, chewing his nails. Was he going mad? Why could no one else see it? "You don't think there's anything odd about any of this? No one ever elopes as the first resort without even considering other options."

"And what would you know about such things?"

"It's… it's common sense. You don't throw both of your lives over unless you have to, and you certainly don't do it based on conjecture. What will you do when you get to Bree-land? Where will you go?"

"I'm going to take as much of my savings as I can. That should be enough for lodgings until I'm able to find something."

"'Something'? What 'something' exactly? You've never had a job outside of the business."

"I'll find… something!" Dalgo said, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his fingers to the point between his eyes.

"And what if you can't? What if the inns in Bree-land have been closed as well? What if she steals your money in the night and you're left in the wilderness with nothing?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. Y-you're not perceptive, you don't engage. Father knew that but you never did anything to rectify it, no matter how many times he tried to help you."

This wasn't Dalgo's usual anger, this was pain. A wild animal lashing out in a trap. Monno took a deep breath as he tried to remain calm. At least this was ground he'd trodden before.

"We're not talking about Father," he said steadily.

"You see, you're doing it again, you never connect. That's why you can't understand the bond Clover and I have. You never think, you never reach out to others beyond simple pleasantries."

"Don't do this," Monno said. "Dalgo, she's a snake."

"I'm not listening to any more of this," Dalgo said, heading for the door. "Nor will I allow your baseless slander to endanger my only chance at happiness."

The parlour door closed with a slam and Monno sunk back into the chair. If Dalgo married Clover it would cause such a scandal that he wouldn't be able to marry Primrose. So that was everything gone in an evening: integrity, brother, and sweetheart.

The first of those was lost forever. But the other two could be salvaged.

He could still do something to avert this particular disaster.