Obadiah's Angel
Chapter 1
Decisions Are Made
By
Becky
The coach from Barchester was scheduled to leave at two p.m. Obadiah Slope had made arrangements to leave his present position and be reassigned. He had contacted the synod and had been informed of a position as the pastor of a small congregation in Acton.
He readily accepted the post and had informed Bishop Proudie that he was moving on. When he turned in his resignation to the bishop, Mrs. Proudie accused him of being ungrateful for all the help they'd given him. His response to her tirade was, "I have done everything the bishop required of me. I have applied for a transfer and am moving on." To say she was mad was an understatement. As her face reddened, her features seemed to harden, and she looked as if she'd been eating sour persimmons.
Obadiah looked forward to the change. The Barchester post had been a keen disappointment. The bishop had been kind and helpful to him, but it was quite noticeable that Mrs. Proudie actually was the force behind the collar. Obadiah also noticed that Bishop Proudie answered to his wife and was actually afraid of her in some ways.
Shaking his head, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought about how glad he was to be leaving the place behind and begin again.
His new assignment intrigued him, and the archbishop had assured him that he would have no worries in Acton where the parish was a young and growing community and needed a pastor that was insightful and one who would bring in new converts. He felt confident that with Obadiah being so young, he would be just the man for such a job.
Delight filled Obadiah at the prospect of his own parish where he would be in charge of the goings on, instead of being an underling who answered to someone else. Boarding the coach, he took his seat quickly. Sitting next to the window and gazing out at the township as the coach pulled away, he bid farewell to the town of Barchester. The landscape changed as suddenly as the weather the farther they drove, going from dingy brown buildings and carts everywhere along the road to lush rolling hills, dotted here and there with cattle herds and the occasional flock of sheep. The day was bright and sunny, and he was happy to be heading north to his new assignment.
He knew the ride would be rather long, with a change of coaches midway into the journey. The clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap of the horses' hooves against the road had soon soothed his nerves, and a peaceful lethargy took hold as he began to relax. He soon found himself growing sleepy and decided a short nap would do him good.
He knew that the trip from Barchester to Acton would take several days, and he was glad the synod had given him an extra stipend for the move. That, plus his wages from the Barchester position, let him ride inside the coach, instead of on the top next to the driver. Bishop Proudie had given him a little extra, to make up for Mrs. Proudie's inexcusable behavior and her insufferable attitude toward him when he told them he was moving on to another parish.
Some little time later, he was jostled awake by the man seated next to him. "Oi, we're in Pewsey, sir. Are you getting out to stretch your legs?" the man inquired.
Obadiah sat up and looked around, "Yes, thank you. Do you know how long we'll be here?" he asked the man as they climbed out and stepped to the ground.
"Long enough to change horses, I'd wager," the man said, and then turned toward the inn.
Obadiah made haste to find the facilities. Emerging from the loo, he spotted a wash basin and towel and made to wash the grime of the journey off before venturing inside. From the inn's pastry cart filled with cakes and sweet rolls, he chose one of the small, sweet chocolate confections and paid the woman in charge.
Exiting the building, he re-boarded the coach to eat in silence. Looking up as the sound of voices reached his ears, he turned in the direction of the inn. Two other passengers were coming aboard, and the coachman was carrying their bags to add to the top of the coach. The door opened, and the burley man that had awakened him stepped in. He smelled of beer and stale tobacco smoke Obadiah noted as the man sat down. The next passenger, a small, thin man, entered the coach and sat opposite Obadiah. He was red-faced from exertion and was breathing heavily. Obadiah noted a slight blue tinge to his lips and fingernails and wondered about him. The final man to enter the coach was well-dressed and looked wealthy. Obadiah noticed the diamond stickpin in the man's tie and his silk waistcoat. Shaking his head, he turned and looked out at the sky. It was beginning to cloud over and looked as if it might rain.
The driver stuck his head in the window then and said they would be staying overnight at the next stop, which would be Newbury. True to form, the rain began falling midway into the journey from Pewsey. As they reached the inn at Newbury, the storm seemed to worsen, and the occupants of the coach were glad they had an overnight stay. The day had been a rather long one for Obadiah; the jostling roughness of the muddy road made his every muscle ache, and he looked forward to a good night's rest.
Rising early the next morning, as was his custom, Obadiah dressed, then ventured downstairs to the dining room. A selection of breakfast items was spread out along the oak sideboard. He chose eggs, bacon, fruit, and toast with jam, and took a seat at the table.
Several of the other passengers were straggling in, one by one, and soon they were all seated and talking amongst themselves, each learning something about the others. The small, frail man Obadiah had deemed very sickly, was indeed quite sick with farmers lung. He introduced himself as Orley Culloden and told the men he was headed for Australia because his doctor had suggested he leave this province for another area that was warmer and drier and would help to quiet his episodes of coughing. He said he was on his way to London and, from there, to South-End-on-Sea to board a frigate to the Outback. Obadiah listened intently, nodding in sympathy to the man, as he told of having to sell his home and farm and relocate. Obadiah then turned toward the burley man when he was asked what brought him to be on the coach. Obadiah told them that he was being transferred to his own parish near London and that his previous assignment had been in Barchester. The burley man said, "Oi, Barchester is it? I knows some folks there. Does ye know the Fletchers or the Bradfords of Barchester?" he asked with polite inquisitiveness.
Obadiah shook his head no and said, "I'm afraid not, sir. If they didn't go to the parish church where I was posted, I don't know them."
"Aye, that's aright," he said, "just was wonderin'. My name's Elias Wolcott, by the way. Sorry I didn't introduce meself earlier."
"What brings you to be traveling, Mr. Wolcott?" Obadiah inquired.
"Well sir, I'm on my way to London to a job at the wool factory there. They says it's a big place in need of help, and I can surely lift them bundles of wool," he said with a laugh, as he slapped his muscular chest.
Obadiah shook his hand and said, "That you can, sir, that you can."
The last man of the four sat in silence, listening to the banter around the table, all the while never making an effort to join in on what was being said. Obadiah addressed him directly and politely asked his name. The wealthy man seemed incensed at the thought of speaking to these men and hesitated to answer right away. Looking down his nose at them, he finally said, "My name is Sir Donald Heathcoat. I am a barrister in London."
When he offered no more information to the rest, Obadiah ventured to ask, "Were you trying a case in Barchester?"
Heathcoat started to ignore the question, but instead answered, saying, "No, I was doing a favor for a friend. My godson passed away, and I was helping his widow get things in order."
Obadiah nodded and continued with his meal, not asking any more questions but listening closely to the questions Mr. Culloden began asking Sir Donald, while he pretended to ignore the conversation all together.
"Sir Donald, do you take on new clients? I might need your assistance when we get to London."Mr. Culloden asked and waited for the snooty man to answer. It seemed as if no answer would be forthcoming, and Obadiah shook his head at the rudeness this man displayed. He was buttering another piece of toast when the man finally answered the question.
"No, I do not. As I said earlier, I was doing this for my godson's family," he replied arrogantly.
Elias Wolcott joined in on the questioning and asked point blank, "Aye, and jus' who was yer godson?"
Sir Donald seemed taken aback by this, but answered nevertheless. "Mr. John Bold was his name. His widow Eleanor needed help to settle the estate."
Obadiah nearly dropped his fork as the name Eleanor Bold tumbled from Sir Donald's lips. Clearly shaken at hearing this, Obadiah suddenly lost his appetite, yet continued to sit at the table and listen to the men there. Hoping no more questions would be directed his way, he thought back to the day Eleanor Bold had slapped his face and humiliated him in front of others. 'Surely this man had not witnessed her answer to his question of marriage?' he thought suddenly as he looked the man's way. Sir Donald continued to eat his meal, ignoring the questions and small talk going on around him.
Rising from his seat,Obadiah bid farewell to the others. " I will bid you all good day. I must finish packing before the carriage gets here," he shook their hands then turned and made his way back to his room. Distressed, Obadiah repacked, and, gathering his bags, checked the room one last time for anything he might have forgotten, and returned back downstairs to the desk where he wasted no time in getting a carriage to the train station, hoping to finally be rid of the humiliation he'd suffered in Barchester.†
