Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was not murdered, as many of her Hobbiton neighbors predicted she might one day be, but passed away quietly in her home at the end of March after suffering from a congestion of the lungs throughout the winter. Her funeral was attended by these same neighbors and her Baggins relations out of courtesy rather than personal respect, for none of them could abide her. Since Lobelia's own family lived very far away, up in Hardbottle, and those who knew her best were too aged themselves to undertake so long a journey, few came; the Bagginses felt that it wouldn't do to have a small number of mourners at any relative's burial.
"Not that she doesn't deserve it," said Frodo's Aunt Dora to Peony Burrows, "but it would look mean of us to stay away. People would talk. And I must say I'm glad to give Lobelia her last farewell, and even more glad I've outlived her to do so! Besides, we must think of poor Thimula."
Frodo himself had not attended Lobelia's funeral, for it occurred on his "worst day," the anniversary of the Ring's destruction. The spells he always endured on that day weren't so bad as they'd been in his first years after the quest--he had the gemstone Queen Arwen had given him to ease the pain; he had athelas brewed on his bedroom fire to soothe him; and Sam was there to nurse him through the day, as always--but he lay abed in the dark in a restless and gloom-stricken state.
Sam normally liked to keep Frodo in bed for at least a week after one of his spells, but this year, Sam wasn't as diligent as usual, for Rosie was expecting a baby any day and required frequent attention. As soon as he felt well enough, Frodo had gotten up to show that he didn't need further nursing himself.
He was sitting in his dressing gown and reading before the parlor fire, when there was a knock at the front door. A minute later, Sam brought a visitor in to see him: Miss Thimula Bracegridle, Lobelia's niece. Thimula was a rather plain and reserved young woman, not far past forty, who had come with Lobelia from Hardbottle last autumn. Frodo didn't know her very well, but he'd met her several times at his Aunt Dora's house and had heard his family speak often of her. Since she had come to Hobbiton, she had gained the sympathy of all her neighbors; everyone agreed that putting up with Lobelia even when she was in good health was a trial to the most patient of temperaments, but Thimula had borne the burden of her ill and elderly aunt's querulousness without complaint. She was also reputed to be Lobelia's intended heir since her son Lotho's death. Aunt Dora had often remarked that that would only be justice, and the young woman deserved every penny she could get.
"I was so sorry to hear about your illness, Mr. Baggins," Thimula said once Frodo had expressed his condolences and invited her to sit down. "I'd hoped to find you better today."
"I am feeling better," Frodo assured her. "What can I do for you?" This couldn't be a simple social call; it was customary for the family of the recently deceased to be at home to receive callers, and not to go out themselves. "Have you come on a consultation?"
She nodded. "I know we haven't been as good neighbors as we ought to be, because of Aunt Lobelia, but I assure you I regard your talents as a detective more highly than she did."
Frodo smiled. "That's kind of you to say, Miss Bracegirdle." But nearly everyone in the Shire who knew his name thought more highly of him than Lobelia had.
"It's Auntie's will," Thimula explained. "She made one shortly before we came here to Hobbiton last year. Seven of our nearest Bracegirdle relatives were present to witness and sign it. I don't know all the contents, but Auntie always told me that she'd leave everything to me. Only..."
"What's wrong?"
"Well, I can't find it. She's hidden it away somewhere, and I'm certain she meant for you to help me find it."
"Me?" echoed Frodo.
Thimula nodded again. "She made a very odd remark just before she died, one night while I was sitting up by her bedside to nurse her. She said, 'You'll have all that's due to you, but I've left a few things to other people too--and something particular to that Frodo Baggins if he's clever as he claims to be.' I didn't understand her at the time. Auntie spoke a great deal of nonsense in those last days when her fever was high. After the funeral, I looked for the will to have it read officially and to give out whatever bequests she'd specified, but it wasn't in her strongbox, nor her jewelry-box, nor any other place where she might keep important papers. Our maid, Mimsy, said she was up and about just before this last bout of her illness, so she must have hidden it then. Can you help me to find it? Are you well enough to come with me and look?"
Frodo agreed to go over to Lobelia's house, just as soon as he had dressed. Before he left Bag End, he informed Sam.
"You're going out?" Sam responded. "But you're only just out of bed."
"Sam, I'm fine. I don't expect to be gone more than a few hours. I'll be home in time for tea."
Sam huffed and looked distressed. "Then I'm coming with you."
"You can't, Sam. You ought to be here to look after Rosie."
"Oh, I'll be all right," said Rosie, who was sitting in the front room, listening to this conversation. "Marigold said she was coming up today. You go off with Miss Thimula, and if I find I need you, Sam, I'll send for you. You might stop at Number 3 on your way down the Hill and ask her to come up right away, if you're bound to worry for me."
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Where There's a Will... by Kathryn Ramage
Story notes: This story takes place at the end of March 1425 (S.R.).
The Frodo Investigates! series
