Obadiah's Angel

Chapter 22B

The Courtship Progresses

By Becky

Monday morning, Obadiah hitched the buggy and set off for Brook Green. The weather was clearing, and the grey clouds began to skitter away as Obadiah took the road that led to Brook Green.

He wanted to talk with his mother, and ask her advice about a few things. With this being the second day of December, Obadiah wanted to at least have an idea as to what he should get for Angelique for Christmas. He wanted some ideas, as he might have to make a trip to London if he couldn't find just the right thing in Hammersmith.

Pulling the buggy under the awning at Northbrook, Obadiah tethered Charlie, then walked in the front door. Nancy Preston looked up as he came in. Smiling at him, she pointed toward the dayroom. "She is in there. I believe she's sitting near the hearth."

Obadiah nodded as he walked down the polished marble hallway, and into the dayroom. It was a large room, with brown and grey throw rugs scattered across a polished wooden floor. The settee was covered in a tapestry cloth, and there were several overstuffed leather chairs, placed close to the fireplace. Lanterns were placed all around the room on chair-side tables, and along the wall in sconces.

Esther Slope sat near the fire, a light red, knitted shawl around her shoulders. She was reading her bible, and glanced up when she saw a slight movement near the doorway. "Obadiah," she cried, as she looked at him with a huge smile on her face.

"Mother, what are you reading?" he asked as he stepped closer to her side.

She held up her bible. "I'm reading my bible, dear." She handed it to him.

Carefully opening the cover, he looked at the words on the page: iTo My wife, Esther, Proverbs 31: 10-11, With Love and Devotion Always, James. /i

Obadiah smiled as he read the inscription, then turned the page. There was a place where their marriage had been recorded, and across the page, his own name was written in small, spiky letters: iObadiah Patrick Slope/i, and his birth date: iFebruary 21, 1811./i Obadiah continued to read, and was brought up short by a name written under his:i Elizabeth Ann Slope, born: June 3rd, 1815, died: June 4th, 1815. /i

Obadiah looked up into his mother's eyes, and she nodded. "Yes, you had a sister."

Sitting down on the hearth in front of her, he searched for words, but his mind went blank.

Esther took his chin in her hand. "She was too little, and her color wasn't right. The doctor said her heart was malformed."

He reached forward and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'm so sorry," he whispered, anguish tinting his voice.

Esther pushed back. "It's fine now, son, really it is. I accepted it long ago. Now, then, enough sadness. What brings you here today, my son?"

Obadiah pushed a lock of hair back from her forehead, and smiled. "Well, I need to ask your opinion about something."

"Really? And just what can I help you with, my son?"

"I need to get something for Angelique for Christmas. I thought I'd best start thinking about it now, in case I have to make a trip to London."

Esther smiled in his direction, excitement tingeing her voice. "Well now, let's put our heads together, and see what we can come up with."

They spent the better part of the morning in discussion about a gift for Angelique. "Well, you don't want to appear too bold," she told him. "But, on the other hand you don't want to appear to be not interested." Her thoughts turned to what he could purchase to make an impression, and not appear to break propriety. Suddenly, Esther looked up and smiled, her eyes bright. "I have just the thing, dear."

Obadiah looked at her. "Yes?"

"How about a comb for her hair? They have really pretty, decorative ones now, I'm told."

Obadiah seemed to sigh in relief. At last a practical gift that would convey just the right sentiments. "Mother, you are a genius! How ever can I thank you?" he exclaimed, kissing her cheek.

Esther shook her head. "It was my pleasure, son. Anytime I can help you, just ask." She smiled, and hugged him close.

After the noon meal, Obadiah headed back to Hammersmith. He wanted to check at least two shops before he went home, in hopes of finding just the right comb.

The first shop he stopped at was called Habershams. It was a quaint little shop that had all sorts of things for both ladies and gentlemen, watch fobs, cufflinks, and ladies' jewelry.

Obadiah liked the look of the place right away. As he gazed through the window at the displays there, he decided to go in, and see what the cases held. The proprietor of the store was arranging ties near the back when Obadiah walked in. "Yes, Reverend, may I help you?" he asked, as he stepped away from the rack.

"Yes, I'm looking for a gift for a young lady."

"Ah, I see, a very special lady I take it?"

"Yes, this will be the first gift I have given, so I want it to be proper, you see."

The older man nodded. "Yes, sir, I quite understand. What did you have in mind, sir?" The man began to walk back toward the front of the store. Obadiah followed closely.

"Do you have combs, those kind they wear in their hair?"

The man shook his head. "We have a few, but not as many as R&A Mercantile."

"Well, might I have a look at yours, please?"

The older gentleman shuffled behind a counter and pulled out a tray, placing it on top of the counter. It was partially filled with combs; they looked to be made of bone, and some were of a thin wood. They were pretty, but not quite what he was looking for at the moment.

"I'm afraid I don't see anything that I need among these; I'm sorry," Obadiah replied as he looked in the case through the glass top. Spying one item in a tray in the counter, he asked to look at it. It was a filigree necklace with a pearl surrounded by delicate gold strands. He smiled, and asked, "How much is this necklace?"

"Two quid, sir."

Obadiah thought about it, and produced the money. "I will take it."

The older man smiled, and took out a black velvet box, carefully placing the necklace inside. "Here you go, sir. I hope the lady will like it."

Obadiah smiled. "She will."

The man handed the box to Obadiah. "Thank you for your business, sir, do come again." Obadiah nodded, and walked back to the buggy.

R&A Mercantile was over two blocks away, and Obadiah noted that the clouds looked heavy with more than just rain. Pulling in front of the mercantile, he got out and tethered Charlie. "Last stop, old boy, then we head home."

Entering the mercantile, Obadiah walked over to the glass counter that held an assortment of gifts suitable for a lady. He looked around and saw scarves and shawls in a variety of bright colors, hanging from wooden racks, and placed across shelves.

Looking back at the counter, he bent over to peer into the case. There were two good sized trays sporting several combs and other hair adornments suitable for a young lady. Smiling, he looked up as a woman approached.

"Hello, Reverend, may I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to look at these two trays, please." He pointed out the large trays. As the woman opened the glass and pulled out the first one, he stepped back as she set it on top of the counter. Obadiah looked over the combs that were laying there, but didn't see anything that caught his eye. "No, ma'am, I don't see anything here I like."

"Well, let's look at this next tray, then," she replied as she placed the first tray back and pulled out the second tray.

Looking down at the second tray, he saw a delicate-looking comb in the shape of a butterfly. The wings were made from green enamel and pearl. It was decorated with tiny, tiny pearls along the outer edge of each wing, and the body held a small emerald. He smiled then as he thought how it reminded him of her green eyes. He knew this was the one he wanted.

Looking at the woman, he inquired, "How much is this one, please?"

The woman looked down at the comb, then back at Obadiah. "That one is twenty shillings, sir."

Obadiah picked it up and examined it. "I will take it, thank you." He fished out twenty shillings from his pocket.

The woman produced a box, and carefully placed the comb within its gauzy interior. Obadiah smiled, took the box from her, and gave her the twenty shillings. Nodding good day, he went out the door, and climbed into the buggy.

Fat snowflakes were beginning to fall as he pulled away, heading toward the parsonage. "Going to be a cold night," he told the horse. "Extra hay for you and Chances, eh, old boy?"

Charlie shook his head and picked up his pace, as Obadiah pulled his over cloak tighter around his shoulders to ward off the cold.

************

By Thursday, the land was covered in snow. It had been steadily falling since Monday afternoon, and hadn't let up. The street cleaners had begun to shovel snow from the roadways, clearing the way for the buggies and carriages.

Obadiah's morning had gone well. Church business and the influx of establishing a school there had kept him busy for most of the day. At five he walked out of his office, and bid Stephen farewell.

"Well, I'm going now. You need to leave, too, Stephen, before it gets much later."

"Yes, sir, I will, just let me finish this letter," he replied. Obadiah waited, and the pair walked out together.

Obadiah changed his clothes, then saddled Chances and set off for the Rhyses' home. Angelique had invited him for the evening meal on his last visit, which he had readily accepted.

After dinner, Dorthea and Maggie settled in to do a bit of sewing on a quilt they had started in October. Angelique helped them for a bit, but decided to join her father and Obadiah in the study to watch the chess match. She'd been invited on many occasions, and had only gone to watch twice.

She decided tonight she would once more attend.

The chess game was well under way, and it was clear both men were deep in thought as to what move or series of moves would best serve the winning of the game.

Angelique had played the game several times, and was quite good at strategy, but she had started observing the games between her father and her intended shortly after they had begun seeing one another.

It was a regular Thursday night ritual; after supper the two men would retire to the study and begin their game. Angelique would eventually wander in, sometimes an hour later, to observe the match.

They had just taken a break, and Edward had moved to the sideboard to get a drink of sherry for them, when Angelique rose from her seat and walked to the window behind Obadiah's chair. She gazed out at the inky night. The moon was just rising, and shedding its orange light dully across the grounds.

Edward was still at the sideboard, chatting away about some problem he'd had at the hospital, while Obadiah sat listening patiently.

When she turned around and casually reached out and touched Obadiah's neck in a light caress, he jumped slightly. He closed his eyes at the contact, his mouth falling open slightly. Suppressing a groan, he tensed as her hand continued its delicate strokes. He thought about how she was making him feel. 'Does she realize what she is doing to me?' he wondered, and shifted slightly as he felt himself growing hard.

His eyes suddenly flew open as his thoughts turned to the fact that it would not be wise for her father to see the effect she was having on him.

She ran her fingers up into his hair at the base of his skull, and he drew a quick breath, gasping in surprise. She removed her hand and stroked his hair back into place by running her fingers through the ends of his hair, just as her father turned around, holding two glasses of sherry.

Angelique sat back down in the chair between Obadiah and her father to watch the game. She glanced at him and smiled as they resumed play. Obadiah shifted uncomfortably, once again, as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Edward won the game after two hours of play. Obadiah relinquished when Edward captured his king. "Checkmate."

Obadiah smiled in defeat. "You have won this game, sir."

"Yes, you did seem a bit distracted," the older man acknowledged as he bid the young man farewell. "Sunny, walk your young man to the door, will you? I will put the game away."

Obadiah extended his arm to Angelique, and the pair walked out of the study and up the hallway.

Dorthea and Maggie were busy sewing when the pair walked to the door. Obadiah donned his cloak and drew the collar tighter about his neck. Glancing over Angelique's shoulder to see if they were being observed, he leaned closer to her, and whispered teasingly, "I will get you for that." Standing tall, he smiled, and bowed his head as he opened the door and exited the house.

His ride home was filled with thoughts of her hand on his head, caressing his neck. He shivered as he remembered her fingers combing through his hair. As he reached the barn, he shook his head to scatter the thoughts of her away.

Settling the two horses for the night, with extra hay for bedding, and some oats for their evening meal, he closed up the barn and walked quickly to the parsonage. The back door was unlocked, and a lantern was sitting on the kitchen table, shedding muted light over the floor and walls.

Locking up the house and checking the coal bin, he added a few more coals to the furnace and headed to the foyer. Hanging his cloak on the hall tree, he went upstairs to his room.

The fire was burning low, and the room was slightly chilled, he noticed. Adding more coal to the fire, he stood close, warming his hands. The room grew warmer, as he moved about getting ready for bed.

He noticed Betsy had placed the bed warmer at the bottom of the bed. The coals were still hot as he turned back the covers and removed the brass container.

Pulling the covers back up so the heat wouldn't escape, he removed his clothes and donned his nightshirt. Sliding into bed, he sighed as the heat from the bed warmer enveloped him. Turning on his side, he lowered the wick on the lamp, casting the room in semidarkness.

The orange glow from the fire was soothing, and he watched the flames dance between the chunks of coal. Sleep came easily as he settled down into the warm cocoon of blankets.

iThe room was dark, with only the light from the fire throwing its glow to cast flickering shadows on the wall.

He sat up in bed and looked around the expanse of the room. He knew this was his room, yet something was different. A movement in the shadowed corner caught his eye suddenly. "Who's there?" he called out as he stood to his feet, moving closer.

She stepped out from the inky shadows, her presence illuminating the room. His eyes grew accustomed to the brightness as he stood there, close to the bed. One word escaped his lips. "Angel," he whispered, and reached out his hand.

She slipped into his arms and her lips met his in their first kiss of passion. He groaned as she pressed against him, twining her arms around his neck, as she caressed the back of his head.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and moved them up her back, pressing her closer as their kiss deepened and intensified. His right hand found its way to the back of her head. Her hair was soft against his hand, and his mouth traced a path from her lips to her jaw, and back again, peppering her face with feather-light kisses until he reached her lips again.

Each kiss brought a gasp from her, quickening his heartbeat. He found himself moving backward, gradually, until he felt the solid form of the wooden bed frame against his calves.

Turning slowly, he lowered her onto the bed, never breaking the kiss as they sank down into the soft feather mattress, rolling her over until she lay across his body. She smiled down at him, her hair a golden curtain around their faces.

Her silk nightdress was cool beneath his palms. He ran his hands from her shoulders to her plump bottom, pressing her closer to his tightening loins. He rolled once more, until she was beside him on the bed. His hand caressed her face, traced her cheek, her nose, and her lips with his finger. His Angel was here, here with him.

She reached up and slowly untied the scrap of ribbon at her throat. The silky folds of the gown fell open, revealing the creamy pink skin of her throat, and he gasped. She reached for him, and he went willingly into her arms. His body, pressing close to hers, hardened with passion.

Her small hand reached out and slowly began to unbutton his nightshirt, and as each button was released, her soft hand found its way inside his shirt to stroke along his skin.

"Kiss me," she whispered, as she brought his head down to her neck and unbuttoned the top button on her nightdress.

He felt himself grow harder when her hand once again trailed down his chest, then back, to caress his shoulders. She looked at him through passion-filled eyes. "Love me, Obadiah," she whispered as she sat up and drew her nightdress off. Dropping it onto the floor, she lay back against the pillows, and smiled at him.

He gazed upon her, his senses reeling, as she reached out for him, pulling at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers. He pulled it off and threw it to the floor as he settled down beside her on the bed, running his hand down to her waist, and back to her shoulder in sensual patterns.

His lips traced along her mouth, as his tongue moved slowly in a sensual dance against hers. Moving his lips across her cheek, then down to her jaw, he peppered her with kisses once more.

Kissing along her neck, he felt her hands caressing his back and shoulders as he moved lower. She gasped when he slowly began to plant kisses along her collarbone, and moaned as his lips closed over her left breast.

Calling his name, over and over, her legs spread out as he settled himself between them. His manhood was twitching as it pressed against her inner thigh.

She was ready for him, and she sighed, calling out his name as he continued to plant kisses on her breasts. Suckling one, then the other, he felt her body began to writhe beneath him.

He rolled them over, and settled her body on top of his. She was flushed from his attention, and she gazed down at him with bright green eyes, and smiled.

Leaning forward, she kissed him deeply, their tongues dancing against one another as her hands caressed his face and neck. She reached down between them, and gently touched his straining member, eliciting a groan from his parted lips.

As she stroked him gently, he gasped, and he gazed at her through passion-glazed eyes. "Angel," he whispered as she sank slowly down upon his manhood.

He was surrounded by her heat, warm and slick, and he groaned louder as she began to move. Their movements became as one, and he rolled her beneath him as he continued to move within her. Soon her sighs became gasps, and his movements quickened, until finally.../i

He awoke abruptly, the sound of his own anguished cry of 'Angel!' still ringing in his ears. He was tangled in his bed covers, his nightshirt bunched around his waist. The evidence of his vivid dream sticky against his stomach and on the bed.

Growling in frustration, he sat up and stripped off his nightclothes, wiping the stickiness from his skin, and casting aside the cloth on the bed as he padded to his dresser, withdrawing another shirt. Donning it, he stripped the bed, and threw the soiled sheets on the floor.

A shiver ran through his body as he vaguely remembered the last of his dream. "Angel," he whispered, and he felt once again the stirring in his loins.

Making his way to the closet, he pulled out fresh linens and remade the bed. Placing another brick of coal on the embers of the fire, he climbed back into bed and closed his eyes. Sleep evaded him for quite some time, until just hours before dawn.

************

Angelique walked into the parlour and over to the quilting frame that was set up in a corner.

Dorthea stifled a yawn as she turned to her daughter. "So, your young man has left?"

Angelique nodded as she looked over the quilt pattern they were working on. "Yes, ma'am, he is gone."

Maggie smiled at her. "Did you enjoy watching the chess match, dear?" she inquired, turning back to her needle and thread.

"Yes, Mar, I did." She sat down in the chair opposite her grandmother. Picking up her needle, she resumed her stitching.

As Edward walked into the room, she continued with her sewing. Small, even stitches were laid out across the squares, binding front to back, making a pattern within a pattern, just like her mother had shown her. As Angelique stitched her small section, she thought back on her daring move in the study. She could tell by his sudden intake of breath that he was shocked, and yet, excited, at the same time. His shifting motions in his chair told Angelique that there was definitely something going on. She smiled as she remembered his parting words, and wondered just what he would do.

As the hour grew late, she told her mother she was going to bed.

"Fine, dear, sleep well," Dorthea said as Angelique kissed her mother, father, and grandmother goodnight, and went upstairs.

As she readied for bed, she looked out her window. From her room, she could just barely see the church steeple through the falling snow. She smiled, and sank down onto her bed to remove her shoes and stockings.

Reaching up to pull the ribbon from her hair, she laid it aside, and began to unbutton her dress. Closing her eyes, she thought about Obadiah, and what she wanted. They were in the first tentative stages of their relationship, where they explored their likes and dislikes, their thoughts on the future, and what they wanted from a marriage.

He'd asked her about her goals; she'd told him about wanting to help at a hospital. He hadn't seemed upset when she'd mentioned working. As she knew most men would, that proved to her he was open in his thoughts and attitudes, and she liked that.

They had yet to discuss marriage, this early in their relationship, but her dearest wish was to be the mother of his children. She sighed as she thought about his children, and that made her blush as she thought on other things.

Her heartbeat quickened when she remembered the look on his face when she'd touched his neck, and stroked her fingers through the ends of his hair. His hands had tightened on the arms of the chair, his eyes closing as his lips parted. Those lips, his lips, that she longed to kiss.

Shaking her head to scatter the lustful thoughts, she walked to her dresser and brought out her nightdress. Removing her dress, she hung it in the closet and turned back to the bed. Removing her underclothes, she donned her gown, then crawled beneath the covers.

Turning out the lamp, she sighed as she thought about Obadiah, and how much she loved him. She was asleep in no time, dreaming of Obadiah, and their future together.

************

He slept late, until almost ten. Rolling over in his bed, he groaned as he remembered what had happened during the night. Lying there, he thought about how it made him feel, and he suddenly smiled. His mind played back over the scrap of dream he remembered. He felt a stirring, and sat up.

Standing up, he gasped as his feet hit the ice cold floor, and all thoughts of the dream dissipated, as his brain registered what his feet were feeling. Sitting back down, he pulled his feet up onto the bed. Lying across the bed, he hung his head over the side to peer underneath, in search of his slippers. They had been kicked to the other side in the night when he'd changed his clothes.

Sighing to himself, he switched sides, and hung over the other side to grab his slippers. As he reached for them, his nightshirt hitched upwards, exposing his backside to the coldness of the room.

"Whoa!" he yelled as he tried to cover himself, only to tumble off the bed, and onto the freezing floor. He stood then, chuckling as he rubbed his suddenly cold bottom. "December, bah," he grumbled. "Well, old man, you asked for that one," he whispered as he donned his slippers and robe, and made his way to the loo.

Looking around, he filled the two kettles and set them on the flame to heat. He felt a bath was in top order before venturing any further.

Entering his room, he walked to the dresser, took out fresh underclothes, socks, and a shirt. Placing them on the bed, he went to the closet and pulled out his black slacks, vest, and frock coat. Satisfied that all was in order, he made his way to the loo once again, and began to pour the heated water into the tub.

After his bath, he padded back to his room and dressed. By the time he got downstairs, Betsy had his noon meal ready.

"Oh, sir, I heard you up, and made you some tea and a sandwich."

Obadiah nodded gratefully, and smiled. "Thank you, Betsy." He seated himself, and began to eat.

As he sat there, he suddenly remembered the soiled sheets on his bedroom floor. Setting his teacup back down, he rose and walked to the hall.

Betsy came out of the kitchen right behind him. "Sir, is something wrong with the meal?" she asked, her worry clearly evident in her voice.

"No, Betsy, everything is alright. I left something in my room."

Betsy seemed satisfied, and turned back toward the kitchen.

Obadiah retrieved the sheets and his nightshirt, and brought them to the wash basket. He took the basket to the back porch, filled the wash basin, and placed the sheets and nightshirt into the hot water.

Rolling up his sleeves, he took the bar of lye soap and plunged it into the water, working up a rich lather, and cleaning the clothes. His face reddened as he thought of Betsy finding out about this.

When he finished cleaning the sheets, he set them aside and began on his night shirt. Finally getting it clean, he set it aside, then discarded the water. He refilled the basin to rinse the soap out. He was not new to washing clothes. He remembered when his mother had been so sick, before she'd been placed in the home, he used to wash all their clothes. He shook his head as he finished, wringing out the sheets and nightshirt. He took them to the line stretched across the back porch and hung them up. Betsy walked onto the porch, just as he turned to discard the water.

"Oh, sir, I would have done that for you." Her voice took on a tone of disbelief that he would even do the laundry.

"It's quite fine, Betsy. I took care of it." His voice took on a sternness that meant drop the subject. She nodded in his direction and returned to the kitchen.

Obadiah finished cleaning the area. He chastised himself for his brusqueness toward Betsy, and would offer an apology when he returned to his meal.

Sitting once again at the table, he cleared his throat. "Betsy, I apologize for my temper. I was distracted, and it was quite uncalled for."

Betsy brought a fresh cup of tea and sat it in front of his plate. "That's quite alright, sir. I understand, and I accept your apology," she replied, as she started back toward the sink.

Obadiah sighed, finished his meal, then took his plate to the sink.

Betsy turned toward him. "Sir, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

Obadiah gave her shoulder a pat. "Everything is fine. Let's put it behind us, shall we?"

"Yes, sir, that sounds good." She watched the good Reverend walk out of the room, smiling to herself. She knew full well why a man would do something so unprecedented as washing his own laundry. She hummed under her breath as she cleared away the dishes. It was always so nice, seeing someone so in love.

Taking his tea cup with him, Obadiah went to the study to begin his work. Looking over a second list of people who had been ill, and unable to attend services, he wrote down several names. His mission tomorrow would be a visit to each home. Checking his calendar, he noticed another committee meeting scheduled for four p.m., and sighed.

He knew Stephen would be at the church now, preparing the room, and so he relaxed somewhat, as he turned toward the bookshelf and pulled out a folder. It was the new budget, and he wanted to go over the notes once more before the meeting.

Striding into the church office at three, Obadiah saw Stephen sitting in his chair, head bent low over a piece of parchment. "Stephen, good afternoon," he greeted as he walked toward his office.

"Good afternoon," Stephen replied. "I have the parchments you need for the committee members ready." Fishing around in the lower desk drawer, he pulled out seven identical papers.

"Thank you; I'm sure we will get all we need. Did you raise the amounts on the renovation figures, and the figures for the school?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I must say, I approve of your methods. It is rather ingenious, if I do say so." Stephen chuckled, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Yes, well, I have employed this technique before, in London to be exact." He chuckled as he remembered the day.

Stephen nodded in approval, and resumed his writing.

The meeting was underway when a messenger delivered a note for Obadiah. The messenger stated it was urgent, and that he needed a reply right away.

Stephen knocked on the door, and stepped inside.

Obadiah looked up and frowned as Stephen handed him the message. "This just came for you, sir." Obadiah looked at the front of the note, and then broke the wax seal. His chair toppled over as he stood up. Dropping the note to the table, he turned and ran from the room.

The committee members looked at one another, and then at Stephen. "Well, I must say," said one member, "that sort of behavior isn't conducive to doing business!" The others nodded in agreement, then as one, they all stood to leave.

Stephen had retrieved the letter, and began to read it. When he gasped suddenly and looked up, Virginia Marshall stopped and looked at the man. "Stephen, what's wrong?"

Stephen looked up, his face was strained with worry. "This note." He held it out for the others to see.

"Yes, do go on," one woman replied testily.

"It says that Reverend Slope's mother has taken a fall."