The Marishe sisters declared that there were wild-eyed, frothing-mouthed lunatics behind every bush they'd passed on their way home last night. There were Marishes on both sides of the Brandywine River, in the southern portion of Buckland and around that marshy part of the East Farthing from which the family took its name; these Marishes made their home on a dry patch of land between the marshes and the river's western bank, a mile or so south of the Bucklebury Ferry crossing.
The three girls, with their eldest sister, Lilaca Pebblebrook, who had come over from Bucklebury that morning to bring them the news before Flora and Isalda had arrived, were all fluttering with fear and excitement as they told the visitors of their dangerous journey the evening before.
"We would have been too terrified to go at all, if it weren't for Oleander!" exclaimed Dioica. "He was most kind, and saw us safely across the river and right to our door."
"Who knows what might've happened if it weren't for him?" squeaked Lavendula in horror. "We might all have been murdered!"
"But you didn't actually see anyone when you were walking down the lane toward the river after you left our cottage, did you?" Isalda asked. She was generally a sensible girl not given to exaggeration or hysterics, and tended to be impatient with people who were. She tried to be patient with the Marishe girls now. For all their silliness, they might have something important to tell that would help find who had attacked Ilbie before Dodi was injured, or worse.
There was a hasty conference among the sisters. "No," Violetta admitted, and sounded disappointed. "Only old Mr. Dinodas Brandybuck, coming up the lane the other way, coming home from the Hall."
"Oh, I say! You can't think he would do such a thing!" cried Lavendula. "Not Ilbie's own granduncle!"
"No, of course not," said Lilaca. "Whoever it was must be a stranger, some mad creature who's come into Buckland."
"Did you notice anything odd at the empty cottage across from Uncle Dino's?" Flora asked them.
The girls hadn't noticed the empty cottage at all. "But I'm certain that someone was about," insisted Violetta. "Someone must have been."
"I thought so last night," Dioica said. "Even before poor Ilbie was hurt, when we were all at Ivysmial, I was sure that something awful was about to happen. I felt as if there were some danger nearby, lurking in those tall hedges beyond the lovely rose-garden, watching us and waiting..." A little shudder trembled through her. "Oh, it gives me a chill to imagine it!"
Isalda and Flora met each others' eyes and silently agreed that "imagine" was the perfect word.
Dodi and Fatty, meanwhile, had gone to talk to Oleander Woodbury. Oleander had grown up in Bucklebury, but had lately been living with relatives on the western side of the Brandywine River, north of the Ferry outside Stock.
"Frodo gave us the longest journey," Fatty grumbled as they walked up the road along the river.
"Not to mention the least likely suspects," added Dodi. "Even if Oleander wants to marry Celie, I don't see him bashing her husband and brother over the head to manage it. It'd hardly put him in good favor with her! And I can't imagine the Marishe chits doing anybody harm."
"Yes, but I expect that's why Frodo wanted us to talk to them rather than go into Bucklebury," said Fatty. "It's less dangerous."
"For me, you mean?"
Fatty nodded. "Isalda won't have to worry so much about you running into a murderer out here, nor will Celie or your mother. Nobody can sneak up on us." On this side of the river, the road to Stock ran atop an earthwork causeway above the wetlands; there were tall rushes, but no bushes, hedgerows, or clumps of trees for anyone to hide behind. A view of Brandy Hall was visible beyond the row of old willow trees across the broad, brown sweep of the Brandywine. "Besides, I'll help you fight if a murderer shows up."
"If I do meet the person who hurt Ilbie, Fatty, I won't need much help," Dodi promised grimly. "It'll end up worse for him than us."
The Woodburys hadn't heard the news yet, and Oleander was shocked when Dodi and Fatty told him. Ilbie was one of his best friends. "This is all so like a nightmare," the boy said. "I can only imagine how horrible it must be for your family, for poor Estella and for Celie." He wanted to go back into Buckland with them, to see Ilbie and express his sympathies. The three hobbits were on the causeway again, heading back toward the Ferry, within a few minutes.
Along the way, Oleander told them that he'd walked with the Downends and Marishes on the road past Brandy Hall last night, parted with the Downends at the Ferry and, once they'd crossed the river, seen the girls to their home before walking the rest of the way by himself. He'd noticed nothing remarkable that would help them find who had hurt Ilbie.
When they reached Bucklebury Ferry, they found Flora and Isalda sitting on the bench by the landing platform, waiting for them so they could cross the river and go back to the Hall together.
"Did the Marishes have anything to say?" asked Dodi.
"Too much to say," his wife answered dryly, "and none of it useful."
"Murderers everywhere," Flora added. "I don't suppose you saw anybody when you were with them in the lane, Oleander?"
"I've already told Dodi and Fredegar, I didn't see anything, nor did the Marishe girls while I was with them," Oleander answered, "but I wasn't with them in the lane by Ivysmial. I went the other way around, on that footpath that cuts across the fields, and met them and the Downends on the main road to the Ferry."
Dodi stared after the younger hobbit as Oleander stepped with the ladies onto the Ferry. "That path goes right behind the empty cottage," he whispered to Fatty. "He must've seen something. Or else..." His eyes narrowed in growing suspicion, and he took a step forward.
Fatty put a hand on his arm to restrain him. "Keep your head, Dodi, old lad. You don't know he's the one. You're not thinking clearly. Wait 'til we sort it all out."
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