Tobias sat back on his rather uncomfortable wooden settle in his dusty drawing-room, a glass of his father’s best brandy in his hand, and gave a contented sigh. A couple of bottles of the fine liqueur had been surreptitiously slipped to him by his papa as a parting gift. He mused that it was very pleasant to be back in his vicarage, having assisted with the harvest at his parental home for a couple of weeks.
A change certainly had been as good as a rest. After a season of constant preparation for services and sermons or spending long hours sitting with parishioners and trying to find words of comfort or advice (often helplessly), being told which field to work in and wielding a scythe at it all day was so much simpler. His body and mind felt refreshed from the exercise, fresh air, and the
