The Tribulations of Tobias

by L. E. Thomas

  Tobias dimly remembered Lucy’s intended as being a military man and felt a pang of sympathy for the lost hopes of the young couple that his mama clearly did not share.

  They approached the two ladies, and as he made his bow to the voluble Mrs. Holbourne, he was privately shocked by the younger woman’s changed appearance. Lucy was always a quiet sort of girl, but now her expression was shuttered and blank.

  She was polite, responded when spoken to, but was inwardly a changed person. Both Mrs. Whitmore and Lucy’s mother seemed oblivious to this and left the young couple together, with a spurious excuse and a satisfied air of successful plotting.

  After a little stilted conversation, Tobias suggested some exercise. So, he took Lucy’s arm and they walked around the gardens together, skirting the crowd until they found a quiet bench and sat down to chat.

  “It is so good to see you again, Tobias,” Lucy said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “And how are you finding life in the church?”

  Tobias replied with his usual stock of light and entertaining anecdotes, all the while aware that Lucy was drawing him out to avoid talking about herself. When she had even managed a laugh at a few of his sillier stories and seemed to be relaxing in his company, he said, “I was genuinely very sorry to hear of your loss.”

  Lucy’s posture stiffened immediately, her hands tightening on the fabric of her muslin day dress. “Well, it was some time ago now,” she said dismissively, her cool words at odds with her anguished expression.

  Tobias remembered the vibrant young woman he had seen on the arm of her dashing young officer and how very much in love they had both seemed. He didn’t want to impose on her private feelings, but he was concerned about Lucy’s state of mind, as someone he had known off and on for a good part of his life.

  “There is no time limit for grief,” he said quietly.

  Lucy glanced at him in surprise, then looked away abruptly as he saw her shoulders start to shake. He patted her arm encouragingly and said nothing, waiting for her to speak. She turned to face him again and he saw her wide gray eyes were swimming with tears.

  “Mama said,” she uttered, her voice almost breaking. “That it is the right time for me to make a life for myself again. That I am not getting any younger…”

  She tailed off and fumbled in her skirt pocket for her handkerchief.

  “Perhaps your mama does not quite understand your sentiments?” Tobias ventured, remembering Mrs. Holbourne to be a volatile creature in contrast with her more reserved daughter.

  “Yes, I think that is so,” Lucy said, wiping her eyes. “I did not respond when I first heard, as I simply could not believe it. I kept expecting Frederick to return along with his regiment and that we would be married as we had planned.”

  As she spoke, the tears of release ran unimpeded down her pale cheeks.

  “Perhaps your mama did not realize how much you cared for him?”

  Lucy nodded in agreement. “By the time the news had sunk in, and I was truly distressed, she expected me to be cheerful again and it was so hard to explain to her…”

  Lucy was shivering with long pent-up emotion despite the mildness of the day, and so it seemed natural for Tobias to put a brotherly arm around her. She continued, “It was easier to go along with her plans and, oh, I don’t know. I just couldn’t find the strength to stand up to her. You must think me very weak,” She smiled shakily up at him.

  “Not at all,” he answered truthfully, thinking of how a barked command from Mrs. Whitmore could reduce him to putty.

  “When I did not weep or speak about Frederick at first, mama assumed that was because I was indifferent and not truly attached to him. So, she assured me that I would recover quickly to choose another, but the opposite is true.” Her voice broke and Tobias gave her an encouraging squeeze.

  She took a sobbing breath and carried on with her sad tale.

  “I simply could not believe it was over, that all our wishes and dreams had come to nothing. We felt married already, properly,” she said glancing up at Tobias with a slight blush, “and when I first heard the news, I had hopes there might be a child on the way. When it was clear I was mistaken, it was like losing Frederick all over again.”

  She trembled into his shirt front, tears falling freely all over the front of his best coat. Tobias just held her in a comforting embrace as she sobbed out all those months of held back crying and lonely, hidden grieving. He felt so sorry that poor Lucy had suffered so much alone.

  After a while, the storm of mourning abated and she detached herself from his damp shoulder to wipe her face.

  “I think,” Tobias said carefully, “That you need to talk to your mama and tell her everything. Perhaps not about the child,” he added hastily, “but about your feelings. Perhaps you can explain to her that you did not show your sorrow at first because you were in a state of disbelief. But now, you need some more time to recover before you can even contemplate another suitor.”

  “Yes,” Lucy said slowly, nodding her head in agreement, “I think I’ll be able to find the words to explain things to her, now that I have spoken to you so frankly. Thank you for listening. You must be an awfully good vicar,” she said with a ghost of her old sweet smile.

  “I think I’m pretty useless, really,” Tobias replied honestly, “But I’m happy to have helped a companion in need.”

  “I’m glad too,” Lucy said, a little of her natural color seeping back into her wan complexion. “My distress has just built and built over the months, and now like a river, it has burst its banks, letting it go. I am so relieved to have had someone I could discuss this with.” She paused and glanced up at him again, almost shyly. “You don’t think too badly of me?” She asked timidly.

  Tobias knew she was referring to her intimacy with the man she had regarded to be her husband. He shook his head with a comforting smile. This was not from an unworldly generosity of moral understanding or mere Christian forgiveness, but cold (or rather, hot) hard life experience. He might be plenty of things, he thought to himself, but not a hypocrite.

  Inwardly, he considered all the recent children of middle-aged squires in the district of Lesser Witteringly that might potentially bear the distinct stamp of the Whitmore features. He cleared his throat.

  “Of course I don’t,” he said. “You and Frederick were pledged to each other and if there had been a baby, he would have been delighted, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, we did talk of it often. We so wanted a family,” Lucy agreed sadly.

  “So,” Tobias said a little more briskly. “There is no need to trouble yourself further on that matter. Nor is there any reason to think that anyone else will know of this. It’s your private business,” Tobias finished reassuringly.

  Lucy tucked the now-damp handkerchief into her pocket and brushed away the stray moisture from Tobias’ coat lapels. Although it was a similar action, it did not feel like remotely like the patronizing gesture from his mama earlier.

  “You are a good friend to me, Tobias,” Lucy said tremulously.

  Tobias stood and offered her his arm to help her rise and kissed her hand with a gallantry that surprised them both.

  “Let’s go and re-join your mother, before she sends out a search party,” he said with a smile that was genuinely returned.

  He escorted Lucy safely back to her mama and tactfully left them to talk together. Mrs. Holbourne looked a little startled to have a brighter, but tear-stained daughter returned to her care. Tobias hoped Lucy would find the courage to speak up for herself at this opportune moment.

  Then he went in search of more sweetmeats, hoping the remainder of the dampness remaining on his clothing would dry before the eagle eye of Mrs. Whitmore spotted it and scolded him loudly in public. It was several slices of cake later and almost time for him to leave for home before she came across his path.

  “Well?” she said impatiently.

  “Well what, mama?” Tobias answered pleasantly.

  Mrs. Whitmore tutt
ed with annoyance, “Don’t be obtuse, Tobias. Did you make any progress with Lucy Holbourne? How did you get on with her?”

  “Very well, as always,” Tobias replied vaguely.

  Mrs. Whitmore ignored that vacillation. “Well, you had better press your case and quickly,” She retorted. “Otherwise, a fine matrimonial prize like Lucy will be snapped up by a better and less laggardly man.”

  But before his mother could continue in that vein, Tobias interrupted her calmly. “I don’t think so, mama. I conversed with Lucy at considerable length and it is clear to me that she is not remotely ready for the attentions of any potential admirer.”

  “That’s plain silly, Tobias,” His mother said, squashingly. “Her fiancé died over a year ago, if not longer. Plenty of other girls in similar circumstances have been well-married and gladly, within the same length of time or even sooner.”

  For once, Tobias’ endless patience with his mother was fraying. He looked down at her, the height difference for once giving him an advantage as he countered her assertions surprisingly firmly.

  “Everyone feels these things differently, and just because other young ladies have recovered quickly from such a blow, does not mean that Lucy has, too.” Mrs. Whitmore gaped at him as he continued, “There is no fixed time allotted for such a loss and Lucy is still grieving deeply. We cannot expect everyone to conform, as far as depth of sentiment is concerned.”

  With that, he quickly took his leave before he said something she would never forgive and more importantly, keep reminding him about for the next thirty years.

  Looking at the swiftly departing back of her usually compliant offspring, Mrs. Whitmore was temporarily speechless. Really, it was one thing to choose a living in the church for her third son and have him appointed a vicar. But it was quite another for him to behave like one, and especially to her.

  * * * *

  After a few days, Tobias was back in the busy routine at St. Margaret’s as if his brief few hours of respite had never happened. His mother, having returned to the Whitmore residence, was magnificently ignoring his moment of disagreement with her. There was no expected missive of reprimand as yet, for which he was profoundly grateful.

  However, one morning, he had a double bonus of two much more cheering letters. The first was from Lucy, writing in the warmest possible terms, repeating her gratitude for his kindness to her. She had spoken to her mama about Frederick straight away, telling her truthfully about her the depth of shock she had experienced at the announcement of his death in battle so far away.

  “Once I explained,” she wrote, “Mama could not have been more understanding and she even shed a tear!”

  Tobias thought about the over-emotional Mrs. Holbourne’s reaction and rather cynically wondered what on earth she had to cry about, when it was her daughter who had done all the suffering in silence.

  Lucy had continued, “So, following our discussion, she has fully agreed that I can take my time and she will not mention the notion of marriage until I say I am truly ready. And even then, I may not need rush to be settled. It is such a relief to me to know this and I feel so much more comfortable in myself. Thank you again, my dear friend, for your help in a delicate matter that is so close to my heart and restores my peace of mind.”

  After that, Lucy then went on to chat about family and neighborhood news in the most natural way possible. Tobias felt gladness in his heart that such a sweet girl was starting to recover from her grievous loss. One day, she will make a lucky man a very fine wife, he thought to himself, smiling, as he folded up the letter.

  The second missive was even more of a revelation, written in a looping scrawl that contrasted with Lucy’s neat and even handwriting. It was addressed from Bath and the sender was Meg, which excited regions situated rather lower than Tobias’ heart.

  It was penned in haste, mentioning that she was going to be traveling through Stratton the following week and requesting if she could call at the vicarage. Beneath her signature was hastily scribbled, “And I might have a nice surprise for you!”

  Tobias privately hoped that this would not be a sample of the famed but disgusting spa waters.

  Before his parish duties could distract him, Tobias immediately wrote back to confirm the arrangement. After all, he reasoned, he had callers of all kinds at his home, at all times, requiring his professional services, so no one would raise an eyebrow at a female visitor who might be wearing a slightly over-dashing hat.

  As it was, Tobias was barely prepared for the call when the appointed afternoon arrived. The continued fine spring weather meant that he was able to go to the further reaches of his parish to call on the chronically sick or elderly that he couldn’t visit when the side roads, little better than tracks, had been frozen over or so muddy as to make them impassable by foot or even horseback.

  He had been delayed by the endless reminiscences of Mrs. Norton, an ancient lady who was delighted to have some fresh company. Her family swiftly left the room shortly after Tobias’ arrival, rather than listen to her stories for the thousandth time.

  There wasn’t much more Tobias could do than attend with a fixed smile and nod occasionally while the grandfather clock in the best front parlor inevitably ticked away more than the allotted time. He only managed to escape when her daughter-in law-interrupted the ever-flowing anecdotes spanning the past half century, to offer him tea.

  Tobias seized this opportunity gladly, politely declining refreshment and stood with ill-concealed relief. He offered a blessing to the elderly lady, which he later realized was a nonsensical jumble of at least three prayers garbled together. Having done his duty and said his goodbyes, he almost ran from the cottage.

  He arrived at the vicarage, over-warm, panting and slightly dishevelled and very late, despite having sprinted virtually all the way there. To his regret, no comely lady was waiting for him in the porch. He felt dizzy with disappointment.

  He steadied himself, bent over, hands on his thighs to draw a breath, when he heard the familiar rasp of the lych gate, linking the churchyard to the vicarage. Realizing that his present posture was not the most dignified for his clerical position, Tobias stood up properly to face whichever parishioner was looking for him.

  To his delight, he immediately recognized the figure coming toward him, not only by her shapely proportions but her rather extravagant headgear. As Meg approached him smilingly, removing her over-decorated bonnet, he sputtered out, “I thought I’d missed you!”

  “Oh, my sweet,” she purred with a naughty grin. “You’re well worth waiting for. And especially as you are looking so…hot,” She said with a lascivious wink, making Tobias even more pink and flustered.

  Before Tobias had the chance to invite her into the vicarage for some ease before the next stage of her journey, the garden gate creaked again. Knowing his luck, it would be one of the most garrulous members of his flock, demanding his instant and exclusive attention.

  Accordingly, Tobias’ mood sank momentarily. But when he looked over, the person walking down the path was a stranger to him. Yet, not to Meg, since she turned to give a greeting, waving her over to join them.

  “This is my surprise,” she said to Tobias with a glint that promised much. “I’ve told Betty all about you.”

  As Betty approached, Tobias was keenly aware of two pairs of female eyes running over his body as if he were a racehorse and they his trainers, assessing his form for a crucial race. By their complicit smiles, after some judicious consideration, they didn’t find him wanting.

  “May I offer you some tea, ladies?” Tobias asked, relieved his voice didn’t come out in a high-pitched squeak, betraying his sudden nerves. “My housekeeper is not here this afternoon but I’m sure I can manage to give you some refreshment.”

  “I’m sure you can,” agreed Betty demurely.

  With that, Tobias led the way indoors.

  He opened the door to his rather shabby drawing-room, the afternoon sunshine not helping by making the myriad dust motes
gleam. As he gallantly ushered the ladies into the room, he noted that the furniture, inherited from his predecessor (or possibly the one before that) looked even more decrepit in bright daylight.

  He turned to his guests, ready to apologize for the paucity of his hospitality and to offer them the least uncomfortable chairs before he ventured to the kitchen. However, it was clear that both ladies had no interest in the trappings or accommodations of the room whatsoever.

  A chuckling Betty stood, with the taller Meg behind her, undoing the strings of her heavy cloak before whisking it from her body with a gesture reminiscent of a traveling magician at a country fair. For a moment, Tobias admired Betty’s plump body, trussed up as it was in her tightly front-laced dress.

  Then he watched in disbelief, as Meg slid both hands over the shorter woman’s shoulders and delved into the low neckline of the gown, whispering something in Betty’s ear that made her giggle and jiggle more.

  Like a pair of plump pigeons, Betty’s bare breasts emerged from the depth of her bodice and were held firmly in Meg’s overflowing hands. Tobias stood dumbstruck as Meg flourished one, then the other at him in what could be interpreted as a ‘come hither’ gesture.

  He needed no second asking and approached Betty eagerly. Her neat nipples topping such generous curves were tight already from Meg’s touch and he obediently bent his head to suck on such ready offerings.

  Having given one beauty sufficient attention, he turned to the other to give equal pleasure. As he did so, he glanced up. To his delighted shock, Betty and Meg were engaged in a passionate kiss. He returned to worshiping the yet-to-be loved breast with even more enthusiasm.

  As he sucked and fondled, part of his brain mused on the copies of Ovid he had sneaked into his university rooms at night, due to their notorious instructions on illicit sex. But this was beyond the realms of his classical education, and he wondered how he could get hold of a copy of the poems of Lesbia locally, without causing a public scandal.

  In a lustful daze, the blood draining from his head rapidly, he managed to hear his name being spoken. He manfully desisted his delectation of Betty’s enticing mouthfuls to acknowledge that Meg was uttering a few words, which consisted of, “Upstairs. Now.”