"You must be wondering why my cousin Darco stormed out of here in such a fury," Amarilla said to her guests as she poured them each a cup of tea in the tiny parlor of her smial.
The entire smial was tiny and cozy, with climbing yellow roses just beginning to bud on the brick façade and lace curtains in the front windows. It reminded Frodo of the equally small smial in Budgeford where his Aunt Asphodel lived--a home arranged for the convenience and comfort of one lady with some taste but not much money at her disposal.
A painting hung over the parlor mantelpiece: a portrait of Amarilla with her hair down and tumbling in highlighted red waves over her shoulders. Behind her was a bank of roses in bloom, but whether it was the front of this smial or the garden at Ivysmial, Frodo couldn't tell. Even if Celie hadn't told him about this painting, he would have known that the artist was his late cousin Mentha.
"I can guess what the trouble was," said Melly. She appeared to know something about Amarilla's argument with her cousin already; Frodo knew nothing.
"I daresay you've guessed right, my dear." Amarilla turned to Frodo and explained, "Darco wanted to marry me when we were younger. Perhaps he still does. Our family seemed to think it the natural thing for us to do, but I didn't wish it. I don't mean to marry, not Darco or anyone. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Baggins. Not everyone is suited for marriage, isn't that so?"
Frodo nodded. "Celie told me Merimas didn't approve of you because you didn't want a husband."
Amarilla laughed. "Oh, Merimas had plenty of reasons to disapprove of me! My solitude is the least of it. But I happen to like living alone. I've got a little money--enough to do as I like. I've found a pleasant house to live in that belongs to me and no one else, and I have my friends about me when I wish for company. What's wrong with that?"
"Not a thing," said Frodo. "I'm much the same myself."
"Yes, I thought so, since you have that cottage at the end of the lane and keep so much to yourself. Only, a gentleman can get away with living alone if he likes. No one seems to think it improper. Ladies can only manage it when they're very old and don't have to worry about their reputations. But I say there's no shame in being a spinster if it's one's own choice, and it's better than making a bad match. Not everyone has a happy marriage." She glanced at Melly with a quick look of concern and when their eyes met, Melly looked down into her teacup.
"No," Melly agreed, "not everyone."
"But Mr. Underhaye doesn't think so," Frodo said, even though he was intrigued by this odd exchange.
"Darco can't understand my desire to be by myself," said Amarilla. "He thinks that, even if I refuse to have a husband to look after me properly, I ought to return to my family at Top Hay so they can care for me. He's very much alarmed by these attacks on your relatives. I've told him it's unlikely that anyone would want to strike at me."
"He's not staying here, is he?" asked Melly.
"Oh, no! There's no room for him, and there'd be scandalous talk even if he bedded down on the sofa. He's staying at the Buckle's Notch. I suppose he's gone back there."
While Pippin continued chatting with the other hobbit-lads, Merry went to the bar, ostensibly to refill his mug, but primarily to strike up a conversation with Darco Underhaye. He knew that Frodo was suspicious of this outsider, and wasn't entirely sure why, but it seemed like a good opportunity to talk to him.
Darco had ordered his lunch and settled down at a small table near the bar with a large piece of game pie and a half-pint. As Merry stood at the bar, waiting while the maid refilled his mug from one of the enormous kegs stacked on the other side and watching the young hobbits laugh at something Pippin had said, the older hobbit smiled and said, "I sometimes find it hard to believe I was ever such a witless young fool myself, but it's true and not so long ago."
"I'm beginning to think the same thing myself," Merry agreed.
"Join me, Master Meriadoc?" Darco invited him to sit down. "I can't promise the conversation will be more intelligent, but it won't be so loud. I've heard a great deal about you over the years, although we haven't had much chance to become acquainted before."
"From my cousin Berry, I suppose," Merry said as he took a seat across the small table from Darco. "You used to be his friend, didn't you?"
"Yes, poor lad. He did talk quite a lot about you. You're right, of course, he had little good to say, but that was mostly jealousy on his part. Not for the usual reasons people would say he had to be jealous of you, however. I believe it was because you got away with so much. Berilac wanted desperately to be considered a respectable lad by his elders and still get up to fun with the girls without it spoiling his reputation. He was terribly afraid of what people would think."
"I'd say most hobbits are like that," Merry answered. "They want to look respectable, even if they aren't."
Darco grinned at this. "But not you, Master Meriadoc, from what I've heard. I suspect you're not afraid of anything."
"One or two things," Merry admitted, also smiling, "but they aren't to be found in the Shire. After you've been out in the Big world and seen some sights to truly terrify, it's hard to be frightened of what folk have to say. It doesn't seem to matter much."
"Ah, that explains it! I must say, I've admired your boldness in the face of all the scandalous talk one hears about you. You've weathered it marvelously well, where a more timid hobbit would've been ruined, and you've managed to knock down some of our stuffiest Shire conventions. Things that respectable hobbits wouldn't admit to in whispers get spoken of openly these days as if they were nothing remarkable."
"I didn't set out to change the Shire," Merry said. "I only wanted to mind my own business and live my life in peace and privacy like anybody else."
"But change it you did. I don't know if your way isn't better," Darco confided. "You don't get tangled up with women, and that's where the worst trouble lies. Poor Berilac couldn't keep away from them, and look how he ended up! And my friend, Val Stillwaters, went mad with jealousy over his wife. It's a wonder that there aren't more murders committed over them! I've no doubt that when Mr. Baggins learns who killed your kinsman, it'll turn out that it was all for the sake of that charming little wife of his."
Merry didn't tell Darco that Frodo's suspicions were indeed running along the same lines. Even though he didn't "like" girls himself, he generally got on well with women and he was surprised to hear this diatribe against the whole sex. He wondered which woman in particular had brought it on.
"Boys aren't any easier to deal with," he answered. He was still keeping an eye on Pippin at the other table; since he'd left them, he'd observed that Pippin was no longer going out of his way to flirt with Hyacinth. "There's one I'd especially love to throttle."
Darco laughed. "They couldn't be as bad. My cousin Amarilla, do you know her?"
"Slightly."
"She's the worst of the lot. Hates all things male, and takes it out on me." He leaned on the table toward Merry and lowered his voice. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if she were the one who got rid of your cousin Merimas to free his little wife... if you see what I mean."
Merry nodded. "I think I do. But she never had a chance to hit Ilberic last night, did she?"
Darco's eyebrows went up. "You think it's the same person, do you? Well, you're right--Amarilla couldn't have done anything while she was with me. We walked back into Bucklebury together when we left your reception, but I didn't go as far as her house up on the hill. I offered to see her home, but she wouldn't have it. Who knows if she went straight there when we parted? She might've gone anywhere, or done anything."
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