Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Bilbo Baggins had never understood the old phrase. He may not have been in possession of a large fortune, but he lived well on the estate he had inherited from his father, Bungo. His parents had passed some years before, and the thought of them now caused only fond memories instead of sorrow. The Baggins name was well respected in the Shire, and Bilbo’s name even more so. At the edge of the estate lay the manor, Bag End, built as a gift from Bungo to Bilbo’s mother, Belladonna. Belladonna had always been a queer woman, who never seemed the type to stay still, always getting in to mischief in her youth, and truthfully no one anticipated she would settle down with the stiff and respectable Bungo. She passed some of her mischief on to her son, but as he grew older, only his mother’s keen wit remained with him.
As suited Belladonna, and her son, Bag End was neither a vast and cavernous mansion, but nor was it a cramped cottage, made just large enough to fill with the comforts of home. The manor housed only a small staff, and Bilbo’s two cousins, Primula and Lobelia. Bilbo had insisted the two come stay with him for the time, as he was loath for them to feel the pressure to marry that faced so many young women of their position. He and Primula has always been close, and Lobelia, while younger and often a ridiculous flirt, was family, and he would not have them settle for want of a home.
It was a comfortable sort of life, and between his books and his garden Bilbo was content to live out his days without a wife or husband by his side.
His cousins on the other hand, were convinced he was alone in this respect.
“My dear Bilbo” said his cousin to him one day. “Have you heard that Ered Luin is let at last?”
Bilbo replied that he had not.
“But it is,” returned Primula, “for Mrs. Gamgee has just visited and she spoke to me all about it.”
Amused at her dramatics, Bilbo did not answer.
“And Bilbo, you’ll never guess who has taken it!” she cried with evident glee. “Go on and try to guess.”
“You want to tell me, and I have no desire to delay your enjoyment by guessing wrong.”
Prim laughed and sat herself beside him, grabbing Bilbo’s hands.
“Why, my dear cousin, you must know, Mrs. Gamgee says that Ered Luin is taken by a rich man from the north of England; she said when he visited last week, he was so taken with the property and its lands that he signed for it on the spot. He’s set to have his servants moved in by the end of the week!”
“And what is the name of this man that has everyone all aflutter?”
“Fundinson, the name was.”
“And I assume your interest comes from his being single, and how is it said, ‘in want of a wife?’”
"Oh no, Bilbo, not Mr. Fundinson, but his younger brother is. A Captain in the King’s service and heir to his brother’s estate. Five thousand a year, he is said to bring in. And a great gentleman like that is sure to have the grandest parties where, of course, all of his affluent friends will be in attendance.'' She paused with an innocent smile. “And if I should make the acquaintance of one of these friends, then who is to frown on such a happy meeting?
“Is that so? And how does this involve me, my dear?” Bilbo teased.
“Oh, Bilbo, Lobelia and I cannot just happen upon rich and handsome men just sitting in this house week after week.”
“You know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you please, Prim.” Bilbo insisted. Lobelia on the other hand, he might not miss so much—“Besides, I have accompanied you and your sister to a party of some kind or another every week this season. It is not as though you lack a social presence.”
“Of course I know that. But none of the men here are to my liking and nor am I to theirs. If these men are the only choices I am to have, farmhands and bookkeepers, I would have better luck living off my dowry. You would resign me to a life as an old maid, dear cousin,” she said, falling across the back of the couch with a long-suffering sigh. “You simply must go and speak with him. Invite him to the assembly at next week’s end. Let him know that he, and all of his gentlemen friends, of course, are welcome in the Shire.”
“I can see no occasion to do so. If you wish to make hiss acquaintance, you and Lobelia may visit him. Maybe this Fundinson’s younger brother will take a shine to you and you needn’t worry about other gentlemen or, heaven forbid, more parties. After all, you are handsomer and lovelier still than any in the county. No man can resist your charms once you’ve set your sights on him.”
“Cousin, you flatter me. Though beautiful I may be, I do not pretend that I could snag a gentleman of his stature with looks alone. And though mother and father left Lobelia and I a modest dowry, it is not enough tempt a man so great.” Prim sat up suddenly, the mischief back in her eyes. “Although, dear Bilbo, your looks would tempt any man, fortune or no. Perhaps you should make his acquaintance for your own sake,” she added with a wink.
“And now you flatter me, Cousin,” he returned. “But I still see no purpose in my visiting Mr. Fundinson when we have already met.” He looked back to his book then, relishing the look of surprise on Prim’s face. It was so rare to see her speechless, and Bilbo took pride in his success.
“Oh Bilbo, how dare you! Letting me prattle on like you knew nothing! Well? Did you invite him to the dance? Will he attend?”
“He said he’d be delighted. Now if you’re quite done, I’d appreciate a bit of peace before your next round of questioning,” he quipped. Bilbo was an odd mixture of quick humour, sarcastic wit, and reserved politeness that never failed to bring a smile to Primula’s face, even when he chose to torment her.
She contented herself with the knowledge that she and her sister would soon have their choice of husbands able to support them, and could end the burden they had placed on Bilbo after the death of their parents. And then, perhaps, she could repay the favour in finding a match for him. If not, she was sure Bilbo would be content to stay in his library, never to have any adventures at all.