The Tribulations of Tobias

by L. E. Thomas

  “None of your paltry excuses, sir,” she declaimed. “I am in need of my funds forthwith.”

  Tobias looked about him momentarily, as if the world had turned upside down and he was suddenly inhabiting another person’s life entirely. He reassured himself that, yes, indeed, he was not in some strange nightmare but in the familiar territory of his drawing-room which was as comfortingly shabby as ever.

  This gave him a little confidence to reply, gesturing to his sparse, unfashionable, and be-cobwebbed furniture, “Madam, I beg your pardon. But what money?”

  At this, the lady sat down heavily on the groaning settle, muttering, “Oh well, it was worth a try,” as she started to rummage for a handkerchief in an over-large cloth bag placed on the floor by her side.

  Tobias, glad of the slight interruption in her bewildering discourse, glanced around and saw his housekeeper in the doorway, gawking open-mouthed at the scene. He quickly decided that a cup of tea might help pacify his unexpected guest.

  She was a fine looking woman, he mused when she wasn’t demanding money with menaces. Majestically tall, with handsome features and built on statuesque lines that would always garner eager male attention.

  Having blown her nose noisily, Tobias ventured further into the room, sat opposite her, and asked cautiously, “May I inquire who you might be, madam?”

  “Eliza Gutteridge,” she replied promptly. Tobias looked blank at this unfamiliar name, which rang no bells in his admittedly not entirely reliable memory. In response to his obvious lack of recognition, the lady sat up straight, pushed out her well-upholstered bosom and pronounced in reverberating and suddenly alarmingly gentile tones, “but my nom professionnel is Fifi Fontayne.”

  “Ah,” replied Tobias, as enlightenment dawned. He wouldn’t have forgotten that name in a hurry as it had caused such heated consternation recently for the Whitmore matriarch and thus, the rest of the family. His middle brother Tom, a soldier, had become infatuated with this Fifi while serving abroad and spent all his pay and more on her. He had recently returned home on leave, both to pacify his mother’s injured morals and no doubt to beg some funds from his father to pay off the most pressing of his debts.

  Mrs. Slack arrived with the tea tray, warily putting it down on the small table near Tobias, looking askance at their volatile guest. Dismissing her kindly, Tobias poured the tea and passing the less chipped cup to the slightly becalmed lady, he asked pleasantly, “So, Miss Fontayne,” Thinking but not saying, Apart from blackmail, he continued, “what brings you to my door?”

  There followed a garbled, evidently highly expurgated explanation from which Tobias sifted some salient facts. The bottom line was that Mistress ‘Fifi’ Fontayne-Gutteridge, or that opera dancer as his mother had denounced her, had found herself stranded in the middle of the countryside without the means to go any further and had somehow remembered Tom mentioning he had a sibling in this area.

  That reference gave her fresh ammunition. She impaled Tobias with a fierce look, proclaiming, “If you know his current direction, you will provide me with the coach fare to call upon Mr. Thomas!”

  Tobias demurred politely, saying something vague about complexities of army maneuvers while knowing full well where the wretched Tom was. Frankly, if he’d had the spare cash in the house, it would have been extremely tempting to pack off Fifi on the first available transport to the Whitmores’ and dump the problem in female form on his feckless brother.

  He also reckoned, given her impressive command, that it would be odds on in a showdown between her and his mother. Talking of coin, if he were a gambling man, he reckoned he could make a pretty penny laying bets on that confrontation, from a very safe distance, of course.

  Attractive though that notion might be, his conscience informed him that it would be advisable and less catastrophic all round if he tried to solve the problem from the comparative neutrality of his vicarage and hopefully before his mother found out. Given his usually oblivious housekeeper was agog at Madame Fontayne’s dramatic arrival, that might be hours rather than days, Tobias thought gloomily.

  Resignedly, he offered the lady the hospitality (such as it was) of his modest abode until her next move could be arranged.

  “If I have to,” She said, with an audible sniff that could have been heard in the back row of the stalls, looking about her in evident contempt. Tobias repressed a sigh and silently wished his brother to perdition.

  Before Fifi could continue to complain about the facilities, the housekeeper returned with a jug of hot water to refresh the teapot and Tobias asked her to prepare a spare bed-chamber, hastily (if not convincingly) inventing some mishap while traveling to explain her tempestuous arrival. Mrs. Slack looked dubiously at Tobias, then rather fearfully at their guest and shuffled off as quickly as she could manage.

  Having resigned herself to remain at the vicarage, over another cup of tea, Fifi then asked some searching questions about the amenities of Stratton. Tobias answered her queries as equably as he could. However, having concluded that there were no fashionable shops to speak of in the town, no regular assembly room, no coffee houses, and no clubs for organized card games, she glared at Tobias furiously as if he was entirely to blame for this omission.

  Fortunately, before she could yell at him for his lack of foresight at providing her with these basic necessities before she descended on St. Margaret’s, his housekeeper entered to announce the lady’s room was ready and Miss Fontayne exited grandly, stage left, to inspect her new quarters. Tobias gladly escaped to the sanctuary of his study to pen an urgent note to his brother.

  When in the privacy of his domain, he hesitated. Despite his plight, he knew the tone in his letter must be calm, as knowing Tom, he would merely breezily dismiss any panicked request for immediate assistance. He also prayed earnestly that his mother, on recognizing his handwriting, would not ignore his brother’s name on the letter and open it herself. The consequences of that did not bear dwelling on.

  As Tom’s general approach to life was enthusiastic rather than astute, Tobias kept the contents as clear and simple as he could, merely explaining the dilemma of Fifi’s dramatic advent and her lack of means to go elsewhere.

  Even as he sealed the missive, he doubted his kinsman could be of much assistance, even if he tried. In a way, while at their parental home, Tom was almost equally stranded and penniless as his former mistress, and also had the insurmountable obstacle of their mother to contend with.

  Suddenly inspired, or perhaps merely desperate, Tobias wrote another quick explanatory note, explaining the urgency of the issue and the depth of his dilemma, this one to a local address. He had no idea if there might be a sorority of mutual acquaintance between ladies who were not exactly ladies, or a vain chance Meg might be acquainted with any theatricals, but anything was worth a try, he thought as he heard Miss Fontayne’s imperious tones echoing down from the upper floor.

  The next few days felt like a month as Tobias tried and mainly failed to keep Fifi entertained. The weather seemed to reflect Tobias’ gray mood as it rained solidly. At least this kept Fifi from public view as the notion of her voyaging at full sail down Stratton High Street would provide local gossip fodder for several months and his name would be as muddy as the deluged street, Tobias mused, trying to count his blessings. On the other hand, the damp conditions marooned her in the vicarage and constantly under Tobias’ feet, which was trying to say the least.

  Her outrage once she realized he had no Gothic novels on his bookshelves (offering her a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women might result in it getting thrown at him, he decided) spurred Tobias to dare to borrow a few books from near neighbors. However, Fifi huffed at these peace offerings as either hopelessly old-fashioned or declared she had read them at least three times before. She also criticized the simple diet and frankly not very well-cooked meals at the vicarage, which resulted in the already terrified housekeeper to remain hiding in the kitchen for the duration.

  Once he had finished h
is parish duties for the day, there was not a moment’s relaxation as Fifi declared she was at her wits’ end with boredom and demanded his constant company and some distraction. Having rapidly run out of suggestions, he had the bright idea of rummaging in his old university trunk for a rather creased pack of playing cards.

  As neither of them had the cash to spare, Tobias managed to find a box of odd gilt buttons which they used to wager on each round. It was then that he fully understood why Tom’s modest stock of remuneration had drained away so quickly. Clearly, Fifi’s enthusiasm for card games was only matched by her total lack of skill. It took all his concentration to manage to lose against her, which at least kept her in reasonable humor.

  Given the constant complaints of daylight hours, the later evenings were not so bad, although they did make dramatic inroads into Tobias’ modest stock of wine. However, as Fifi became entertainingly indiscreet and quite the raconteur after the third glass, he reckoned it was well worth the sacrifice.

  During those rather one-sided conversations, he learned that his mother was misinformed in thinking Fifi was an opera dancer (as she was not exactly dainty, Tobias had wondered at her suitability for this activity) but was, in fact, an actress of some considerable experience and reputation. Tobias gathered that any interruptions to her promising career were punctuated by her temporary infatuations and dubious taste in suitors.

  Alongside some very amusing theatrical anecdotes, Tobias found out the exact circumstances of how she had come to be marooned in Stratton, of all places.

  She had reluctantly departed from Tom’s side, whom she seemed to have some genuine fondness for since she remained with him even after it was evident he had no recourse to further funds or friends credulous enough to lend him further sums. “Not a feather to fly with,” Fifi had declared sadly, with an accompanying consolatory gulp of claret.

  So, she had resourcefully latched onto a senior officer in another brigade who was returning to England. They spent a very jolly (and as far as Tobias could gather, ruinously extravagant) fortnight in a well-appointed property just south of Leamington Priors, a picturesque village that was fast gaining a reputation as a fashionable spa. In fact, so much fun was being had, that her host had entirely forgotten the impending arrival of his lady wife.

  As Fifi told it, the resulting action stations were very reminiscent of a fashionable French farce, with the Lieutenant amicably greeting his spouse at the front entrance of the house while Fifi and her possessions were hastily bundled out of the back door. This abrupt parting meant she only had enough in her purse to get halfway to a largish town where she might find a theatrical troupe in need of an extra a leading lady, or lacking that, a congenial fellow who would pay for her lodgings. This was when her capacious recall came in handy and deposited her precipitously on Tobias’ good nature.

  * * * *

  The following late morning, Tobias entered the vicarage after paying his pastoral calls and looked automatically at the hall table as he had every day for some much-anticipated post. To his bottomless relief, he could see his brother’s handwriting on the top missive. Although it was far too early for Fifi to emerge from her room, he was taking no chances and sped to his study, shut the door, and ripped open the letter.

  Dear Toby, it read. Tobias winced at the much-despised nickname from boyhood that only Tom used nowadays since he knew how much he hated it. However, Tom continued in more conciliatory tones,

  My dear fellow, I’m aghast to hear Fifi has landed on you all of a sudden with nowhere to go (she’s a splendid girl but gets a bit restless without instant diversion.)

  Tobias thought that was typical of Tom’s breezy understatement.

  I honestly didn’t realize I had mentioned your direction, let alone that she would turn up on your doorstep for the duration. I’m so sorry if you are in a fix on my account.

  Tobias briefly marveled at the first (and possibly last) apology to be received from his scapegrace brother.

  Tom continued; I couldn’t ask Pa for an advance for this purpose as he’d feel obliged to tell Mama.

  There was no need for further explanation on that point.

  But Ned has come up trumps and I hope this will be enough to help Fifi on her way. I’ve faithfully promised to pay him back as soon as I get my next wage.

  Yrs, etc.

  Your affectionate brother, Tom.

  Tobias blinked at the enclosed banknote that their older brother Edward had surrendered. As Ned was saving every penny for a future marriage which depended on his financing the rebuilding of a farmhouse for the happy couple, this showed how much of a crisis all three Whitmore boys saw Fifi’s presence as being.

  Despite Tom’s fine words, Tobias knew from experience it would be up to him to repay Ned, but that worry was for the future. At least for now, there was sufficient money to get Fifi out of Stratton and more importantly, his vicarage. As Tobias unseeingly opened the next letter in the pile, he mentally steeled himself for a conversation with Madame Fifi on choosing a distant and sensible destination.

  With a sense of solace, he recognized Meg’s scrawl immediately. Refreshingly, her note was brief and entirely to the point.

  I don’t really know any theater folk, so I haven’t heard of this Fifi. But Betty was an opera dancer, she wrote, and it’s a small world, so I’ll ask her.

  As though aware that this was a trifle vague, she added below in even larger letters, Don’t worry, followed by several exclamation marks, which cheered Tobias a little and made him smile.

  He sat at his desk for the ten minutes until the midday meal, the rest of his correspondence temporarily ignored. His time was agreeably spent pondering on the enjoyable distraction of the luscious Betty’s former occupation. The idea of her prancing around on the public stage, her considerable charms bouncing out of a skimpy, low-cut opera dancer’s costume did a great deal to soothe his troubled mind.

  As he had surmised, he could not get a great deal of sense out of Fifi that evening as he casually steered the conversation to the prospect of her next possible sojourn. She had ideas aplenty, but the expense of them was well beyond Ned’s note (the knowledge of which Tobias kept to himself for the time being).

  His main concern was that she would get stranded again and either bounce back to the vicarage semi-permanently or, even more worrying, give the Whitmore name to account for a trail of bills at a series of expensive coaching inns. He quailed at the thought of the effect of either of these options on his mama’s disposition.

  So, the very next afternoon, when he opened his front door to see the lovely Meg and her bubbly friend Betty standing there, he greeted them with more than usual eagerness, not amorously, but more in the manner of a man on a sinking ship regarding a passing life raft.

  “Where is she?” Betty asked with no more ado, and Tobias nodded wordlessly toward the drawing-room. She quickly entered the chamber and through the open door, he could hear the thud of a book hitting the floor, a sudden creak of the settle, followed by a piercing cry of, “Betty, dahling!” and some theatrical air kissing.

  Meg, still standing beside him, grinned sympathetically, and said with a roll of her eyes, “You have been having a right old time of it, haven’t you?”

  Tobias smiled weakly as the stage whispered conversation got straight to the point. Betty informed Fifi that she knew for a fact that the troupe residing at Bath’s Theater Royal urgently required a secondary female lead for the weeks leading up to the Little Season. This role was Fifi’s for the asking, the only proviso being that she must arrive in Bath immediately.

  This news was rapturously received. Fifi declared she must pack right now and so the pair of them emerged into the hallway. As if already performing for an audience, Fifi heedlessly described her ordeal by Stratton. “I’ve been stuck in this cultural desert,” she boomed, her forearm raised to her brow in a gesture to denote despair, “with nothing for company but this vicar!” she declaimed, pointing toward a mortified Tobias. As she turned t
o ascend the stairs, he thought his humiliation was complete until she huffed, “At least his brother was fun!”

  At this, Betty leered toward him with a theatrical wink and saucily tittered, “Ooh, he has his moments!”

  Leaving Tobias wishing he could sink through the floorboards, both disappeared noisily upstairs to gather together Fifi’s scattered possessions. Once Meg had stopped laughing, Tobias led her into the study and revealed the carefully hidden banknote, plus a few coins he had gathered from his own meager stipend, quickly explaining the Whitmore boys’ rapid financial collusion.

  “Will this be enough to get her all the way to Bath?” he asked anxiously.

  “It should be plenty for the both of them,” Meg said reassuringly, tucking the articles into her reticule. As if discerning his unspoken fears, she added, “I’ll pay the fares myself and go with them for the first leg to Titterington to see them on their way. Then Betty will continue with her for the rest of the journey to make sure our diva doesn’t get distracted and waylaid. She has a habit of doing that,” She said, her eyes full of mischief. “Betty says all it takes is a big talker with a bit of charm and more confidence than cash and she’s off!”

  Tobias thought this summed up his middle brother’s character with unerring accuracy.

  “How can I ever thank you both?” Tobias uttered in heartfelt relief.

  “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Meg said with a promising glint. However, any further conversation on this agreeable topic was precluded by Betty and Fifi thundering down the staircase at pace. As they met the duo in the hallway, Tobias could see a wisp of frills sticking out of the hastily packed and overstuffed bag.

  Unsurprisingly, Fifi’s final exit was haughtily regal as she grandly offered Tobias her hand. However, he got an affectionate kiss on the cheek from the two others, with Meg brushing her lips against his ear murmuring, “Poor Tobias, we’ll make it up to you soon,” Which gave him an agreeable shiver.