The Tribulations of Tobias

by L. E. Thomas

  This signature headgear could only belong to one lady (who was not quite a lady) of his acquaintance. For a moment, he felt huge relief at Meg’s presence and blessed her for having come to him as soon as was possible. Then as he approached his drawing-room door, he felt a qualm as he heard the drawl of his brother’s voice pitched at its most seductive register. Tobias hesitated, worried at what he might find behind the door.

  Tom always boasted of his success with the ladies. If, even in his comparatively penniless state, he had attracted such a high flyer as Mistress Fontayne, how could Meg possibly resist him? Would Tobias enter the drawing-room to find Meg already enraptured by his engaging older brother, or even in his arms, gazing adoringly into his eyes?

  With a gulp, Tobias opened the door, prepared for the worst. Fortunately, the scene before him was far from what his fevered imagination had led him to believe. Tom was on the settle, yet another glass of Tobias’ best claret in hand, holding forth at length, while Meg, although sharing the seat, was as far away from him as possible, apparently engrossed in an old copy of The Theological Miscellany.

  “Of course, as one of the inner circle, my opinion was asked forthwith and I spoke my mind to my commanding officer,” opined Tom. “As always, he immediately took my advice.”

  “That’s nice,” Meg said, in a tone of utter boredom. She looked up and saw Tobias, the fascinating article on the state of the plumbing at Lambeth Palace immediately flung aside. “There you are,” she said, not even trying to hide her relief. “Shall we go for a walk?”

  “But I haven’t finished my story!” Tom protested in amazement.

  Facing Tobias, her back toward Tom, Meg crossed her eyes, saying cheerfully, “I’m sure we’ll hear it all again later!” Tobias had to repress a snort of laughter.

  They went back into the hall, not bothering to don coats or hats on such a mellow autumn afternoon. As they stepped over the threshold and into the garden, Meg exclaimed in tones of astonishment, “I don’t know how someone like you could have such a fool for a brother!” Tobias knew he ought to defend Tom out of some vague feeling of family loyalty, but instead felt the first flush of good cheer he had enjoyed for some weeks.

  By mutual assent, they made their way to an ancient part of the graveyard, which was not only scenic but a private place to talk. Meg sat on a low boundary wall, spreading her skirts, looking every inch a vision of pastoral loveliness. Tobias perched on a small oblong tomb opposite as she started to speak.

  “I came as soon as I could, but I couldn’t exactly say I was coming to meet another man, even if you are a vicar. Or my gentleman would get the wrong idea, or is that the right idea?” She added with a naughty wink. “Anyway,” she continued briskly, “your note sounded as though something was troubling you. Now we’re finally away from your rattlepate of a brother, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  At that sympathetic entree, it all came spilling out. Starting with the romantic evening at the Glossops’ and how, ever since, his hopes had been dashed by Lucy’s baffling attitude. “She said I hadn’t offended her,” Tobias finished miserably, gazing at the patchily mown grass, “but she won’t talk to me and I just don’t know how to go on from here.”

  His outpouring was met with silence. For a horrible moment, Tobias thought he had given grave offense at admitting his amorous feelings about one lady to another. When he looked up, he was relieved to see that Meg, rather than being remotely affronted, was gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance, tapping her finger on her chin as if making some internal calculation.

  “Lucy was engaged before, wasn’t she?” She asked.

  Utterly baffled by this non-sequitur, Tobias confirmed this fact obligingly. “Yes, to Frederick. Sadly, he died of his wounds in the American wars.”

  “Ah,” Meg said, as though this fact was mysteriously significant. There was a short pause. “Very well,” she said decisively. “Leave it to me,” she added with a beaming smile.

  “Er, thank you,” Tobias said automatically, more bemused than ever. “Leave what to you?” He added cautiously.

  “Everything,” Meg said expansively, with an accompanying wave of her arms.

  Tobias had the unnerving feeling that he had jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire. Not wanting to seem ungrateful at his good friend’s offer of assistance, he politely kept his reservations to himself.

  Meg rose from her rustic seat with her usual grace. “Now that’s settled, we ought to go back and have some of that wine before that brother of yours finishes the next magnum all by himself,” she said with a grin.

  Tobias lent her his arm and they returned to the vicarage. After last night’s imbibing, he wasn’t sure if he could face any more liquor. However, he reasoned that Meg’s reassuring presence meant he didn’t have to spend a consecutive evening in his brother’s undiluted company. Also, the fact she found Tom ridiculous rather than irresistible boosted his sense of fortitude.

  * * * *

  The evening was, in fact, highly entertaining, with Meg deliberately drawing out Tom with false flattery so that his boastfulness became increasingly ludicrous. She then turned to Tobias behind Tom’s back and made outrageous faces. His cheek muscles were hurting with the effort of trying not to laugh out loud.

  The more Tom was encouraged to expound with an accompanying bumper of wine, the sillier his stories became. Finally, he passed out on the settle in mid-sentence and Meg and Tobias helped each other up the stairs, still laughing. “The way he goes on, you’d think he ran the army single-handed. I’m surprised he can manage to find his boots!” Meg giggled.

  They entered his room, Meg swaying slightly as he sat her on the bed. Tobias blearily removed his shoes, stockings and breeches and gathered up his nightshirt. Despite being glad of her presence, Tobias felt bone-deep weary and emotionally drained. He didn’t think he had the energy to thank her in the physically robust way she usually enjoyed and expected.

  He need not have worried. Meg looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you have a spare one of those?” She asked, nodding her head at his nightshirt while she attempted to undo her bodice. He fetched the clean item from a drawer as she stepped out of her gown, petticoats and shift, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. “Easier for a quick getaway in the morning,” she grinned.

  Once attired in their nightclothes, they got into bed together and cuddled up for warmth. Breathing in her scent, Tobias felt Meg’s hands wander over his back and he felt inordinately comforted by her caresses. He softly kissed the fine line of her jaw and his lips met hers, not in the usual tussle of tongues but gently, with almost careful tenderness.

  The kiss deepened and the over-large nightshirt slipped from Meg’s shoulder, so Tobias saluted the warm, exposed flesh there, questing down the open shirtfront, to feast on those wonderfully prominent nipples. Meg murmured in response and pulled Tobias’ nightshirt up over his hips, fondling his bare bum cheeks.

  There was nothing urgent or impatient about their exploration as her borrowed garment slid up Meg’s slender thighs and they rubbed together, unencumbered by clothing. When they did finally join in the act of pleasure it felt unhurried and effortless. Meg’s moans of ecstasy were a continual hum of delight in Tobias’ ear as he buried his face in her neck and let his grateful release flood his senses.

  Afterwards, rather than turning aside, Tobias stayed where he was, sleepy and safe in Meg’s arms. As slumber took him, he felt a soft kiss on his temple with the whispered reassurance, “Don’t you worry, dear Tobias. It will all turn out right in the end.”

  The next morning as he opened his eyes, the lady had gone and so had his nagging heartache. He felt bright, alert, and cheerful as though he had awoken from a bad dream. When he went downstairs, he was even more encouraged to find Tom was still fast asleep, snoring on the settle, lying at such an awkward angle that would ensure a crashing headache when he awoke.

  Tobias smiled to himself as he quietly shut the drawing-room door an
d went to the kitchen to break his fast, for once, ready and eager for the day ahead.

  Chapter 9

  Tobias’ calmly determined mindset got him through the days that followed. He tried not to expend any more time or worry about the Lucy situation. He scolded himself that he had wasted more than enough energy over the past weeks moping and agonizing over whether or not she had rejected his suit.

  The refreshing night with his good friend Meg had soothed his nerves (as well as other bodily parts). Also, given that she had promised to try to talk to Lucy in order to get to the bottom of things on his behalf, he decided to leave events in the lap of the gods (or rather Meg). He decided he would plod through his daily life, parish visits, and sermon preparation rather in the manner of a blinkered horse.

  It was also a relief to Tobias and what remained of his wine cellar to see the back of his rackety soldier brother Tom, who had descended on him for a brief but draining visit, for ulterior motives best kept to himself. He had initially mentioned a stay of two days but rapidly extended this a further four-and-twenty hours, to Tobias’ ill-concealed dismay.

  At least having Meg there for the middle night had lightened the load. Tobias grinned at the memory of Meg repeatedly and deliberately drawing out Tom to his most exaggerated spates of bragging then rolling her eyes at his ridiculous boasts.

  So, the third and final night alone with Tom was more of a chore. From experience, Tobias made sure to hide what remained of his best vintages and brought out a few inferior bottles. The way Tom swilled it down, he doubted he would notice as long as there was plenty of it, he thought.

  They had retired to Tobias’ dusty drawing-room after what passed for an evening repast provided by the vicarage’s inept housekeeper. Tobias was evidently not the only one who was getting tired of Tom’s ability to avail himself generously of his host’s hospitality.

  Mrs. Slack had mumbled audibly, “That one is eating me out of house and home,” as she served Tom a third helping of over-boiled vegetables to go with another hunk of ham.

  Tom held up his wine glass to the fading light as if he were a true connoisseur before gulping down half of it with a satisfied sigh and no adverse comment. Given his enthusiastic response, Tobias was particularly glad he had stashed the good stuff for someone who might appreciate it, namely himself.

  “So where is that lovely lady from last evening?” Tom asked with a suggestive wink. “I thought she was rather falling for my charms last night and I’d get lucky tonight.”

  Tobias almost choked on his vinous mouthful. Tom’s interpretation of events seemed rather different from Meg’s. He clearly remembered her particular title for Tom was, that fool of a brother of yours. Also, it seemed Tom was utterly oblivious to the fact that Meg had spent last night gladly in Tobias’ bed.

  He tucked Tom’s phrasing away in his mind to make Meg fall about laughing when he next saw her. He imagined her response would be along the lines of, when hell freezes over.

  “My parishioner,” Tobias said repressively once he could breathe again, “is busy with household duties this evening.” Which, unbeknown to Tom, was code for entertaining the gentleman who was currently paying for her favors and her temporary residence.

  “Shame, that,” Tom said, draining his goblet and pouring himself another bumper. He looked speculatively at Tobias. “I rather thought that next time I visit,” Tobias tried not to look dismayed at the dreaded words next time, “I might bring Fifi along since she’s been here before.” Tobias nearly dropped his glass in horror.

  Miss Fifi Fontayne was an actress of considerable renown, Tom’s sometime mistress and their mother’s nemesis. On the solitary occasion when Fifi had landed at the vicarage for an unscheduled stay, Mrs. Whitmore’s reaction was swift, scary, and apoplectic. Tobias shuddered to think of the consequences of a repeat encounter.

  “Absolutely not!” Tobias snapped so firmly that Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Mama would be livid, and with me, rather than you, since this is my home.” He said this pointedly as it was probably Tom’s cunning plan to avert any blame onto his long-suffering younger sibling. “She nearly had me married off to one of the Lowe sisters on the last occasion and I’d be frogmarched up the aisle quick-time if it happened again.”

  Tom looked vaguely interested. “Wealthy, are they?”

  “Extremely,” Tobias replied, “And almost equally ill-favored.” Feeling that this was a little unkind, if completely accurate, he added a cursory, “Poor dears,” before continuing, “They also have a mother makes ours look like the font of liberality.”

  “Ah,” said Tom, evidently abandoning that idea and taking a gulp of wine. Another thought struck him. “What about Lucy Holbourne?” he asked lazily. “Mama said she’d become a fine looking girl.”

  Tobias bristled even more at that and manfully restrained himself from punching the goblet out of his brother’s hand. “She’s taken,” he said shortly.

  Tom shrugged good-naturedly, “Oh well,” he said. “Plenty of time to get m’self leg-shackled. Might as well have some fun in the meantime. I must look up Fifi on my next furlough. Do you know where she might be?”

  Pouring them both another generous brimful, Tobias happily informed his brother of Fifi’s exact direction. Not only was he appeased that Tom seemed to have abandoned the idea of bringing Fifi to the vicarage but he also hoped they would resume their affaire in Bath where she was currently in a theatrical troupe.

  The fashionable spa was at a sufficient distance from Stratton to avoid Mrs. Whitmore’s wrath and so the entire ensuing debacle would not be Tobias’ problem. Tom could look out for himself from now on, Tobias thought cheerfully, toasting himself with a sip of wine which really wasn’t all that bad after the first glass or so.

  The next day, Tom breakfasted amply, typically devouring Tobias’s meager provisions for the day, to set him up for the journey. Tobias mused that by the amount of food he’d gobbled, the trip should be cross-continental, rather than merely cross-country. However, since Tom was about to take his leave, Tobias’ demeanor remained equable. That was until Tom had the nerve to ask him for a loan.

  “Just a few guineas would do,” he said easily in the manner of a practiced scrounger.

  Tobias, at the limits of his patience, sharply informed him that firstly, he had no spare coin at his disposal, and secondly, Tom already owed him for his half of the payment sent by their elder brother Edward to get rid of Fifi in the first place. Not that Tobias expected to recover that investment, but asking for further funds was beyond the pale.

  Briskly seeing his brother safely off the premises, he stayed on the road outside the coaching inn to make certain that Tom was on the outbound vehicle when it departed. On the short walk there, he had firmly refused to listen to any more suggestions of various favors he could bestow. Having thankfully waved Tom off, Tobias ruminated that his fussy churchwarden’s endless lectures would be positively welcome after Tom’s particular brand of sponging.

  * * * *

  Yet again, when cloistered in the church with that gentleman for much of the afternoon, Tobias realized he was entirely mistaken in this assumption. For much of the conversation cum lecture, Tobias could nod his head and smile while his thoughts were entirely elsewhere, mainly wondering if Tom had left any provisions in the larder for his dinner.

  However, when Mr. Eels pasted on his most unctuous smile and enquired about Tobias’ marital prospects, he had his full attention and outright alarm.

  “Perhaps if your preference hasn’t been fixed yet, we could arrange for the young ladies of the parish to come to Sunday service another time?” he suggested encouragingly.

  Tobias had to stifle an impulse to run after the coach, drag Tom out of the moving conveyance and beg his brother to return to face this ordeal with him. He was well aware of the rumblings in the Church of England about falling church attendances but temporarily boosting these within the parish as an aid to forced matrimony was too much of a sacrifice to m
ake.

  He thought rapidly in order to deflect or at least postpone the grim prospect of a repeat performance. Last time was traumatic enough. The memory of having a church packed full of fluttering females desperate to engage his attention while he was attempting to conduct a service had him waking up in a cold sweat at nights.

  “I can assure you the matter is under serious consideration. Of course, I am discussing my particular choices with my mother, who will have the final word,” he lied plausibly.

  The mention of the redoubtable Mrs. Whitmore, with whom the churchwarden was closely allied in the crusade to find Tobias a suitable life partner, was enough to placate him temporarily. Tobias swiftly and tactfully moved the subject onto parish matters that had a less drastic impact on his personal consequences.

  When rather wearily returning to the vicarage, Tobias wondered for how long he’d be able to fend off this two-pronged attack to rush him into the bonds of matrimony. The stray thought came into his mind that, having made the choice of his heart, he could not bear to be married to anyone else but Lucy.

  He felt a lump rise in his throat at that and tried to banish the wave of misery that swept over him. Enough of that, he told himself resolutely as he made his way into the recesses of the kitchen to discover whether his brother had left him anything whatsoever to eat.

  * * * *

  The next few days passed without any excitement, as Tobias’ constitution recovered from the unusually sustained bout of heavy drinking. He had reasoned at the time, that it was not only mannerly to join in with Tom’s imbibing but also a necessary means of coping with the strain of his constant companionship.

  Toward the end of the week, when he was feeling more refreshed, he returned to the vicarage mid-afternoon, rather hoping this was the end of his duties of the day, although Mr. Eels had muttered something about yet another consultation about something or other. His housekeeper met him in the hall with a jerk of the head toward the drawing-room which was her way of indicating he had someone waiting for him, before shuffling off to the back of the house, feeling she had fulfilled her duties.