When he had left his farm for Whitby in the morning, Tobias had had no idea of what the day would bring, or how Ben and Alice would take his proposal. But he had certainly not been prepared for all the drama that had ensued. He had only met Elijah briefly of course, but he had liked and respected the man and had hoped he could become a friend over time. He understood that the proposal was not ideal and had felt nervous about bringing it up to Ben, but he had certainly not expected such an outburst from the constable. Nor such a display of disrespect towards Ben - in front of the children too. He couldn't fathom what was going on, but figured that these were deeper waters than they had seemed initially.

It had all left him rather shaken and he had departed soon after, to give the family space to calm down and make up their mind when they were in a better position to do so. He drove the carriage through the cobbled streets, with a deep frown on his forehead, not really paying attention to what he was doing. That would cost him dearly.

When he turned to go over the bridge - the only connection between the two sides of town - he drove one of the rear wheels over the pavement. When it met the road again, it did so at a section where it was uneven. He felt the cart slam down on the road, and then heard a crack, and then the wagon leaned down to the right, rear corner. Tobias quickly jumped off the cart to see what was wrong. The wheel was broken. He put his hands on his head. He was stranded on the busiest section of Whitby. Although there was enough space for carriages from the other side to pass, he was holding up the traffic behind him, and there were many people watching.

Zechariah's barouche drew to a halt, which was not an uncommon thing in these parts ... but it was certainly an annoying one. He idly ran his fingers down his chin, scouting for follicles that had dared rise up through his slumber.

After thirty-nine (thirty-nine!) God-forsaken seconds of waiting in the street, Zechariah's head popped out the side with a menacing glare.

Anita rode past them all, glibly but swerving on a bike of questionable origin.

Tobias panicked. He wasn't even worried now about how to get the cart to someone who could fix it for him, or the fact that he would probably have to spend the night. But the traffic jam behind him grew fast and he didn't want to get in trouble with anyone.

When he saw the head pop out of the barouche, he gave the man an awkward smile. "So sorry for holding ye up, ser."

"Need help?" A young working class man had stopped beside him and looked and the farmer's cart that had by now stopped half of Whitby's traffic. Two others joined them. And soon all four men were tossing their jackets on the cart and rolling up their sleeves to show the strong arms of working men - look, it was a warm winter, okay? -, and they started trying to lift the cart towards the pavement.

"As you should be!" Zechariah howled back.

And then something magical happened. One strong, burly man took his jacket off - then the next, and the next, and the next. Zechariah went from glowering to primly watching with a mixture of haughtiness and open intrigue.

Binoculars. He needed binoculars in the barouche from now on.

What an unpleasant man. Tobias was reminded of why he disliked cities... if the cart accident and immediate traffic jam hadn't reminded him of that yet.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on perspective - the cart was quite heavy, and though the men were flexing those muscles, moving it out of the way was difficult.

He pulled out a small mirror, checked his hair, then went back to watching as though the sexy circus had come into town.

Oh! Was that man's pants sliding down?

It was. Like many of the working classes, one of the young men wore second hand clothes, and it didn't exactly fit him.

Another man joined them and finally the men managed to carry the cart on to the pavement. Sexy circus was over. The men put their jackets back on and Tobias shook their hands and asked them for instructions about where to get his cart fixed and a place for the night.

Oh! His ass!

Ew. It was hairy. Zechariah leaned back into his cart.

"Well?" he snapped at the driver.

"I wasn't certain you were finished, sir," the driver answered dryly - and then they were off.