Tim Cratchit's Christmas Carol

by Jim Piecuch

  Ginny’s eyes were wide as she gave Mrs. Cratchit’s tale her full attention. “What happened to Scrooge to make him do that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Cratchit. “We never found out. Mr. Scrooge soon became like one of the family—he paid for Tim to go to school to be a doctor, you know—but as close as we became, he never breathed a word of explanation. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how it happened, it was a real miracle.”

  Mrs. Cratchit told the story with such conviction that Ginny believed every word. A glimmer of hope shone in her red-rimmed eyes.

  “Now you get that little fellow something to eat,” Mrs. Cratchit told Ginny. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Resuming command of the party preparations, Mrs. Cratchit decided how they would tackle the remaining tasks. Bridget returned to the kitchen to check on the food, while William and Henry went off to gather up every spare chair, side table, and end table, placing them in the foyer while Belinda washed the dining room floor. Lizzie followed and mopped the floor dry, and the men then positioned the extra furniture according to Mrs. Cratchit’s directions. Mrs. Cratchit herself filled serving trays with fruit, nuts, and candies. Ginny returned from feeding Jonathan, and Mrs. Cratchit asked Lizzie to look after the child, since the girl was clearly tiring. Ginny and Belinda then cleaned the foyer before heading to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cratchit had gone to assist Bridget. Enticing smells of roasting turkey and beef had already begun to waft into the dining room.

  Once satisfied that all was proceeding properly, Mrs. Cratchit announced her intention to adjourn to one of the guest rooms and take a nap. “Everything’s fine,” she declared. “And a good thing, too. I need a little time to rest or I’m sure to fall asleep in the middle of the party! Probably drop face-first into the gravy boat, and then how silly would I look?”

  “That nap sounds like a good idea,” William remarked, winking at Ginny.

  Ginny smiled and excused herself to check on Jonathan. The boy was sleeping peacefully. Might as well get a little rest myself, she thought. It was going to be a long evening. Lizzie agreed and sprawled on her bed. Ginny lay down next to Jonathan, reached out, hugged her sleeping son close to her, and dozed.

  Jonathan woke about a half hour later, and Ginny took him to the kitchen where he could watch the food being prepared. Having gone to the servants’ pantry to fold napkins, Lizzie heard a clatter at the front of the house that announced the arrival of a carriage. She tore through the dining room to see who had arrived, nearly slipping on the polished hardwood floor.

  Throwing open the door, Lizzie saw a brown-haired woman of about forty. The woman looked at Lizzie, then glanced toward Ginny, who had come up from the kitchen as Lizzie raced out of the servants’ pantry, and had just entered the foyer with Jonathan in her arms. Not recognizing anyone, the woman appeared bewildered.

  “I’m Tim’s sister Martha,” she said by way of introduction. “I’m sorry if I seem startled. I was expecting to see Bridget.”

  “Bridget is still in the kitchen,” Ginny said, and introduced herself, Lizzie, and Jonathan. “We’re staying here while Dr. Cratchit figures out if he can help my son.”

  “Martha, my dear!” Mrs. Cratchit called, coming down the stairs into the foyer. “I see you’ve brought the baked goods.” When she was in her early teens, Martha had been apprenticed to a milliner, but had never liked the work. In the wake of Mr. Scrooge’s transformation, the Cratchit family’s situation had improved, allowing Martha to pursue her real interest: baking. She had become quite skilled and later married a bakery owner, the pair working so well together that the business prospered beyond their expectations. Martha’s husband came around the coach, carrying a large, beautifully decorated cake. Mrs. Cratchit led him into the dining room and showed him where to put it, while Martha and Ginny began unloading fresh pies and bread, Lizzie having taken charge of Jonathan.

  Martha and Ginny heard a second carriage roll up to the door. “I’ll take those,” a woman’s voice said, and hands reached out to relieve Martha of her burden of pies.

  “My brother needs to keep me better informed of what’s going on in his life,” Martha remarked wryly. “It seems I don’t know anyone.” She looked at the slender blond woman, who wore an elegant green satin gown accented with red trim that matched the band of ribbon in her hair. The woman was lovely, but, Martha noted, hers was not the delicate, porcelain beauty typical of upper-class women. Her features were nearly perfect: oval face, nicely rounded chin, a straight nose that was neither too wide nor too narrow. Her beauty, however, seemed to radiate from within her, leading Martha to suspect that this woman would somehow be attractive even if she had the face of a crone. Jane gave Martha a warm smile and introduced herself.

  Having lingered in the foyer to see what delights Martha had brought, Lizzie supplemented Jane’s introduction by blurting, “I think that lady’s going to marry Dr. Cratchit.”

  Jane blushed, and Ginny, emerging from the carriage with a basket of loaves, hurriedly interjected herself into the conversation, explaining to Martha that Jane was Tim’s hostess for the evening. Martha chatted with Jane as they carried in the baked goods, tactfully avoiding any reference to Lizzie’s comment.

  Chapter 17

  Taking his seat in the coach, Tim quickly put aside all thoughts of his confrontation with Nathan Penrose. He refused to let the clerk’s nastiness dampen his spirits, and thought instead of the party and how glad he would be to see his family and Jane again. Fortunately, Henry’s driving skills and choice of a more circuitous but less heavily traveled route brought them home in less than half an hour. Tim leaped from the carriage before it had come to a complete stop and dashed into the house. The foyer was empty, but he could hear conversation in the dining room. Unable to spare the time for a greeting, he bounded up the stairs, where he found William holding an empty bucket in each hand.

  “Just brought up the last of the hot water, Doctor,” the gardener explained. “Bridget figured you’d be in need of a bath after last night, and we got everything ready for you.”

  “Thank you, William,” Tim said appreciatively. He soon plunged into the tub, bathed, and luxuriated a few extra minutes in the soothing water to soak away the ache in his muscles. Tim then dressed hurriedly in his evening clothes. He made it downstairs a few minutes after seven, thankful for the English custom of arriving fashionably late at parties.

  Tim found that William had stationed himself in the foyer near the front door. The gardener, who was acting as butler for the evening, looked uncomfortable in his seldom-worn dress jacket and cravat.

  “You can make me wear gentlemen’s clothing, Doctor,” he told Tim, “but you’ll never make me a gentleman. It’s too uncomfortable.” William ran a finger between his neck and starched collar, trying to loosen it a bit.

  “You’re absolutely right, William,” Tim replied with a smile. “Much of the time, being a gentleman is not worth the effort it takes. Perhaps I should have you teach me how to be a good gardener.”

  “I’ll not let you off the hook by sharing my secrets,” William replied. “First you’ll want to know my secret to being England’s best gardener, and next you’ll be trying to learn my secret for attracting the ladies.”

  “Are you two going to stand there bantering all night, or are you going to get ready to welcome your guests?”

  Tim and William turned to see Mrs. Cratchit looking at them, trying with little success to maintain a stern expression. Tim greeted his mother with a hug.

  “It’s none of my business, but I’m going to say it anyway,” Mrs. Cratchit whispered while they embraced. “That Jane is a very nice young lady.”

  Tim was pleased to hear his mother’s opinion. Mrs. Cratchit had long ago earned a reputation among family and friends as a shrewd judge of character. His mother’s approval validated Tim’s esteem for Jane, although he was still uneasy over the previ
ous day’s incident. He was surprised that Jane had arrived early enough to get acquainted with his mother. He had expected Mrs. Crompton to contrive some sort of delay, or that Jane might have changed her mind about coming.

  “Now take your place,” Mrs. Cratchit instructed, releasing her son from her arms. “Your guests will start arriving any time.”

  Tim walked into the dining room, where he encountered his sisters Martha and Belinda. He hugged them warmly, shook hands with Martha’s husband, and then looked around for Jane. She was helping Bridget and Ginny squeeze some late additions onto the buffet tables. Seeing Tim, she smiled and walked toward him.

  Tim was amazed at her appearance. The pretty but sallow, melancholy girl he had seen only a few short days before at his office and then at the Cromptons’ party had been replaced by an energetic, radiant, beautiful woman. Tim reached out and took her hand briefly in a polite greeting.

  “Jane,” was all he could manage to say.

  “Good evening, Tim,” Jane said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “My pleasure as well,” Tim answered, regaining his voice. In his own ears his words sounded half choked and too formal. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “Were you worried that I wouldn’t?” Jane asked. “I’m sorry I was rude to you yesterday. I hadn’t expected you to call, and I’d already been surprised earlier when Mother brought Mr. Howard home.”

  “A friend of the family?” Tim inquired.

  Jane thought that Tim’s tone sounded a trifle odd. Had she detected the faintest hint of jealousy? She decided that a straightforward answer was best.

  “A cousin of a friend, in search of a wife. Mother wanted to introduce him to a likely prospect.”

  “You?” Tim could not conceal his astonishment at finding his worst suspicion confirmed.

  “Yes,” said Jane with a wry smile.

  “And will you be getting engaged?” Tim asked, regaining some of his composure.

  “Mr. Howard hasn’t asked yet,” Jane replied, watching Tim carefully. Her father had been right; Tim’s interest in her relationship with Howard could in no way be disguised as the professional concern of a medical man. “Of course,” she continued, “I have some objections to him. He’s much older than I am, and I think it would be difficult to step in and assume the role of mother to his three children.”

  Tim nodded as if to validate her statement.

  “Then again,” Jane added, “it’s not like I have any other suitors,” a hint of mischief in her voice.

  “But you wouldn’t turn away another suitor,” Tim said. The memory of what had resulted from his delayed courting in Edinburgh caused him to reply more quickly than he had intended.

  “Not if he was the right one,” Jane said, gazing directly into Tim’s eyes. I think she means me, he thought.

  They looked at each other for what seemed a long time before a knock at the front door announced the arrival of the first guests. Tim and Jane took their positions just inside the dining room while William, after stroking his mustache, went to open the door.

  Tim’s eldest brother, Peter, entered with his wife and three children. Tim welcomed them and introduced Jane, causing a momentary expression of amazement to sweep across Peter’s face. They conversed briefly. Peter, a stockbroker in the City, managed some of the money Tim had saved since joining Dr. Eustace’s practice, and reported that the investments he had made for his younger brother were doing well. Tim inquired about Peter’s children, and was pleased to learn that they were all healthy and excited about Christmas.

  Next to arrive were Tim’s other siblings, sister Catherine and brother Robert Cratchit Jr. Like Tim and Peter, Bobby took after his father, thin and a bit short. Bobby worked as a clerk in Peter’s company, was training to become a stockbroker himself, and had confided to Tim that he hoped one day he and Peter could go into business on their own as partners. Bobby was accompanied by his wife and daughter; Catherine, like her brother Tim and sister Belinda, remained unmarried. It occurred to Tim that it was remarkable, given the premium that the Cratchits had always placed on family, that three of the six siblings had yet to marry. Stealing a glance at Jane, he thought hopefully that those circumstances might soon change so far as he was concerned. Catherine resembled her mother in both appearance and personality: plump and efficient, the latter attribute suiting her perfectly for her job as a schoolteacher.

  The guests continued to arrive: some of Tim’s medical colleagues, old friends from his university days, former neighbors from Camden Town, most accompanied by their families and all in boisterous good spirits. Tim and Jane welcomed each in turn and urged them to help themselves to the abundant food and drink. The rotund fiddler, who compensated for his expanding bald spot with a thick gray neatly trimmed beard, came early, declaring that he needed time to “stoke my boilers” with food before providing the evening’s entertainment. Last to arrive were Archie Crompton and his wife, at nearly quarter to eight.

  “I’m very glad you could come,” Tim said, shaking Archie’s hand.

  “It took a miracle greater than the raising of Lazarus,” Archie said, rolling his eyes with a sideways nod toward his wife, who was fussing with William about the proper care for her fur coat. “For a woman with so many clothes, it was still near impossible for her to find the right gown.”

  Tim and Jane followed her parents into the dining room and went to the buffet table. They studied the seemingly endless array of dishes. Even though most of the guests had already helped themselves to generous portions, the silver bowls and trays still contained an abundance of sliced roasted turkey and pork loin, beef and mutton, braised beef and cold prawns. Candlelight glittered off the trays and utensils, while the holly sprigs with their bright red berries interspersed among the food added to the festive atmosphere. The aroma of the meats and spices filled the room. In the background, the fiddler played Christmas carols. As Tim filled his plate, he heard the soft notes of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”

  Tim led Jane to a table where they could sit at a little distance from the guests. He wanted an opportunity to speak to her privately while they ate.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Tim asked.

  “Very much.”

  “So am I. I’m glad you’re here,” Tim said, adding, “and not just for the sake of your health. If I may say so, I enjoy your company.”

  “And I yours. Your family is very nice, too.”

  “Thank you. They’ve always been very kind to me.” Tim decided not to withhold anything about his past from her. If he was going to make an effort to win Jane’s affection, which he believed he needed to do before James Howard beat him to it, then he wanted her to know enough about him for her to make her choice. He summarized the major events in his life from his childhood to the time when he joined Dr. Eustace’s practice. Jane listened attentively.

  “So you see,” Tim concluded, “I’ve always felt an obligation to others, and to Mr. Scrooge in particular. I owe him not just for my education, but for saving my life. That’s why I’ve often put my responsibilities ahead of my own wishes, maybe too often.”

  “Just as I’ve done with Mother,” Jane said, “so I understand completely, and it would be wrong to forget about your obligations. But as a wise doctor told me a little while ago, you need to think about what you want, too.”

  Tim smiled. “You’re right. I need to take a little of my own advice. And speaking of obligations”—Tim checked his pocket watch and saw that it was nearly nine—“we mustn’t forget about our guests.”

  Tim and Jane circulated together among the guests, chatting and making sure that everyone had enough to eat and drink. He was impressed by Jane’s ability to interact easily with everyone, whether they were from Camden Town or the West End. Outside of her mother’s shadow, Jane seemed a different person, more extroverted and confident. After they had spoken to ever
yone, Tim took Jane’s arm and escorted her to one end of the room, where two crystal punch bowls had been set out. When Tim had been a child, his father had always concocted the punch. After Bob Cratchit’s death, Mrs. Cratchit had taken over the task. Tim saw that tonight she had made up a veritable ocean of it.

  Ringing a small bell, Tim managed to get his guests’ attention. He asked them all to come to the punch bowl and fill their glasses for a toast. They came forward in a fairly orderly manner for such a large group; Tim had invited more than sixty people, including the children. Belinda, Bridget, Ginny, and Lizzie ladled the beverage into an assortment of cups, glasses, and goblets. When everyone had been served, Tim filled Jane’s goblet and his own.

  The guests stood in silence, awaiting the toast. With Jane at his side, Tim stood at the end of the room near the door to the servants’ pantry and began to speak.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said in a firm voice that was just loud enough to be clearly heard throughout the room. “I hope you’re all as happy to be here as we are to have you. I’d now like to offer the traditional Cratchit family Christmas toast. First, let us take a moment to think about the many blessings we enjoy, and to remember all of our loved ones. I especially want to remember two very special people who are no longer with us: my beloved father, Bob Cratchit, as kind a man as ever lived, and our family’s dear friend and benefactor, Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge. A merry Christmas to all of us, and may God bless us, every one.”

  Tim raised his goblet and surveyed the room. Everyone else raised their glasses, smiling and nodding their agreement. Several people called out, “Hear, hear!” and “Merry Christmas!” Their reaction suffused Tim with warmth and happiness. This was one of his favorite Christmas rituals, and he was pleased to see that his guests appeared to enjoy it as much as he did.

  Tim’s gaze roved from his mother to his brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and friends. As his eyes scanned the back of the dining room, he inhaled sharply. In the dimly lit corner, behind a cluster of guests, stood his father and old Scrooge.