Ivy curled into a chair near a shaded parlor window. She’d spent the afternoon being admonished by aunts for not doing a formal Tea properly. She sniffled, overwhelmed by her new status. She was not only a housewife now, but the housewife, the Mistress of Tuckborough.
She wondered if it had been a mistake, marrying Pippin. He needed someone to run his household properly. Someone who knew the formalities of the Smials, not some Buckland tomboy.
But then the door opened and Pippin was there. He smiled at her with a look of pure love and all her uncertainty disappeared.