Tim Cratchit's Christmas Carol

by Jim Piecuch

  You will be sorry, the message read.

  Maybe I will be, Tim thought, but I am not sorry now.

  Henry, Bridget, and William left in the carriage to fetch the shepherd’s pie, Lizzie accompanying them. “I’m going to ride on top and help drive the coach!” she announced happily.

  “Good,” William declared. “Then I’ll ride inside and stretch out.”

  “I’m going to take a walk and get some air,” Tim said. “Maybe it will help relieve this headache.”

  “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind,” Jane offered. Once they were outside, Tim took her hand. She squeezed his fingers.

  “I hope that doesn’t hurt,” she said. “Your hands must be sore.”

  “That feels just fine.”

  “I’m very proud of you,” Jane said.

  Chapter 22

  By the time the cleanup was completed, Tim’s servants returned with three steaming shepherd’s pies, which the barman had boxed for them. William had found that he had just enough strength remaining to carry two pints of ale back to the carriage. Richard Beckham wanted to get home to his wife and daughter as soon as possible, so he took one of the pies, wished everyone a merry Christmas, and set out in search of a cab. He refused Tim’s offer of money for the fare.

  Everyone ate heartily except for Tim, who was too fatigued to eat, and Jane, who only nibbled at the food. William quaffed his ale between hefty bites of the meaty pie, and to Tim’s surprise, Ginny ate a large portion as she sat next to Jonathan. When they were finished, Tim swaddled Jonathan in a blanket, carried him to the coach, and handed him to Ginny, who carefully held her son, facedown, on her lap. Henry drove them home.

  Bridget went to the kitchen to fix some beef broth so that it would be ready when Jonathan awoke. The others soon excused themselves, too. Henry went to tend to the horses, Lizzie to sit with Ginny and Jonathan, and William to take a nap. Tim and Jane stayed at the table, discussing the day’s events.

  “I can’t imagine a more skillful surgeon than you,” Jane said with conviction. “I doubt that anyone else could have done what you did for Jonathan.”

  “You sound like my friend Dr. von Bergsdorf,” Tim noted. “He said there are only two surgeons in Europe capable of performing that operation successfully. Me and, of course, him.”

  “I’m sure he’s right,” Jane declared.

  “At least I still have some friends in the medical profession,” Tim observed. “Do you think I was wrong to end my partnership with Dr. Eustace?”

  “Absolutely not,” Jane asserted without hesitation. “I couldn’t believe the rudeness of that clerk, and his cruel attitude.”

  “He gets it from Dr. Eustace,” Tim noted.

  “At first I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” Jane admitted. “I hoped you wouldn’t let him bully you.”

  Her words made Tim feel much better. Before he could reply, Henry returned from the carriage house.

  “I’m ready to take you to your mother’s house,” he said. Henry, Tim, and Jane loaded the coach with the presents that the shopkeepers had delivered on Christmas Eve. Once they were finished, Tim held the coach door open for Jane.

  “It’s near four o’clock,” Tim noted. “If you’re too tired to come with me to my family’s Christmas dinner, I can have Henry drop you at home first.”

  “Home?” Jane asked, eyebrows arched. “After all I heard about your family’s Christmas celebration? I wouldn’t think of missing it.”

  Tim smiled. “All right, Henry, let’s head to Camden Town!” The snow had stopped and dusk was falling, the sky beginning to clear.

  “We’re going to be a little late,” Tim told Jane as the coach got under way. “But I’m sure they’ll forgive us, under the circumstances.”

  Tim and Jane could hear the raucous joy of the Cratchit family as they stepped out of the carriage in front of his mother’s house. Peter answered Tim’s knock.

  “Late as usual, I see,” he chided. “At least if the delay involved fetching this lovely young lady, it was worth it.” Jane blushed at the words as they entered the house.

  “I do apologize,” Tim said. “It was an emergency. The little boy, Jonathan, took a turn for the worse, and I had to perform surgery immediately.”

  “Successful, of course,” Peter said, knowing his younger brother’s abilities.

  “Yes,” Tim said. “He’ll recover. It was worth missing dinner.”

  “Actually,” Peter said quietly, pulling his brother aside, “you haven’t missed it. I asked Mother and Belinda to hold off cooking for a few hours in case you were late.”

  “Why on earth did you do that?” Tim asked.

  “You’ll think I’m losing my mind,” Peter said, “but I had a bizarre dream last night. I dreamt I had just got here with my family, and who but old Scrooge was waiting outside. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said. ‘Your brother Tim wanted me to tell you that he has been delayed by an urgent medical matter.’ It seemed so real at the time, and the memory was so strong after I awoke, that I asked Mother to delay dinner. And then you were delayed after all, and for that very reason. Isn’t that the strangest thing?”

  “No,” Tim replied, meeting his brother’s gaze. “It’s no stranger than the change that came over Mr. Scrooge at Christmas when we were children.”

  Mrs. Cratchit, disengaging herself from a throng of grandchildren, came forward and hugged Tim and then Jane. The rest of Tim’s family followed suit, and then the children, catching sight of Henry bringing in the last box, began clamoring for presents. Tim distributed the gifts, enjoying the delight with which each was received. He opened his own presents, thanking each person, and afterward listened to his nieces and nephews tell him about the other wonderful gifts they had received that day. These tales were interrupted by Belinda, who managed to announce over the din that dinner was ready.

  Everyone gathered at the table to share the traditional Cratchit Christmas meal of roasted turkey, with their favorite sage-and-onion stuffing. The conversation was joyful, everyone happy in one another’s company. Tim observed with satisfaction that Jane fit right in, and was engaged in animated discussion with Martha and her husband. When all had eaten their fill and the plates were cleared, Mrs. Cratchit rose to fetch the Christmas pudding, and, as she did every year, expressed her fear that it had not turned out right. And, as it had every year, the pudding turned out to be perfect. Tim, as usual, gave the traditional Cratchit Christmas toast. Unlike the toasts of his early years, when Bob Cratchit’s annual mention of Mr. Scrooge had brought forth hisses from Tim and his siblings, no one objected when Tim mentioned Scrooge. No Cratchit had hissed at hearing the old man’s name since that fateful Christmas long ago, when Scrooge had been transformed.

  Henry returned a few minutes after they had finished the toast; Tim, tired from the day’s labors, had requested that he bring the coach back in three hours. The Cratchits bade Tim and Jane good night and merry Christmas, and soon Henry was steering the carriage toward Jane’s house.

  Tim, barely able to remain awake, said little during the journey, and Jane, aware of how exhausted he was, did not disturb him. They simply sat together in comfortable silence, pleased to be together. At Jane’s door, Tim wished her a merry Christmas and asked if she would like to come to his house the next morning for Boxing Day. Jane said that she would come, and would have her father’s coachman drive her, in order to let Henry have some rest. Henry was nodding at the reins, and he and William still needed to go with Tim to the office to collect the doctor’s belongings.

  As the coach made its way home, Tim looked out the window. The last of the clouds had fled and the moon had risen, casting a silver sheen across the snow, and stars twinkled in the sky. He recounted the events of the day in his mind, and concluded that, after all, it had indeed been a wonderful Christmas.

  Chapter 23

  The twenty-sixt
h of December was Boxing Day in England, the traditional day when gifts were exchanged. That custom had faded over the years, as the demands of factory and office had greatly shortened the once long holiday season—the twelve days of Christmas. Given that he had not had the opportunity to celebrate Christmas in his own household the previous day, and that he had no office to go to, Tim decided to revive the custom, at least for this year. Now everyone except Ginny and Jonathan was gathered in the dining room, and Ginny would be there momentarily, as soon as she finished feeding broth to her son and he had fallen asleep. She had informed Tim upon his return the night before that Jonathan had awakened and said, “Mama.” She considered it a promising sign.

  When Ginny joined them, everyone brought out their packages. Bridget, Henry, and William had combined their funds to buy Tim a new coat, a wise choice since on the night of the building collapse he had cast aside his coat and, when he recovered it, found that it had fallen into a puddle and been trampled on for good measure. Jane gave Lizzie a present—a doll, and the girl clutched it tightly to her body. It was the first doll, or any other toy, that Lizzie had ever owned. Jane unwrapped the stack of novels that Tim had purchased for her, and expressed her thanks, saying that they were the very ones she wanted most to read. Tim in turn unwrapped her present for him, the latest edition of the Royal College of Physicians’ anatomical guide. Tim thanked her, remarking that his own guide was nearly a decade old and that he had intended to buy the volume.

  Tim pointed to two large boxes sitting on the floor by the fireplace. “Bridget, Henry, those are for you.”

  “You mean for both of us, Doctor?” Bridget asked.

  “Yes,” said Tim. Bridget unwrapped the smaller box to reveal a set of silverware.

  “Real sterling?” she asked, surprised. Henry held up a porcelain plate, edged in cobalt blue with a gilt rim. “What a beautiful set of china!” Bridget exclaimed.

  “I thought those would serve as an appropriate Christmas present, as well as a wedding gift,” Tim said.

  “Why, Doctor, how did you know?” Bridget inquired.

  “I admit I’ve been distracted often of late,” Tim said, “but I’m not so oblivious as to notice the way the two of you look at each other, and stick close together. My only question is, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We knew you had enough on your mind,” Henry explained, “and didn’t want to trouble you further. I intend to stay on as your coachman, if you’ll allow it, but we want our own home, and Bridget would be leaving your service.”

  “That’s as it should be,” Tim declared. “Of course you can continue to work for me, Henry. I’d be at a loss without you, just as I will be without Bridget.”

  “What will you do about that?” asked Bridget.

  “I think the solution is right here,” Tim said, turning toward Ginny. “You’re free to make your own choice, Ginny, but if you need work, you’re welcome to stay on and help Bridget until she leaves, and then take over her duties.”

  “Oh, thank you, Doctor,” Ginny said. “Last night while I was watching Jonathan, I started wondering what we would do after he recovered. I was afraid we’d have to go back out on our own, and I don’t know what would happen to us.”

  “I would never turn you out like that,” Tim assured her. “I’m glad you’ll stay. Besides, it will make it easier for me to keep an eye on Jonathan’s recovery.”

  “What about me?” Lizzie asked. “Can I stay, too?”

  “Certainly,” Tim replied. “But you’re going to have to earn your keep. You’ll have to help Ginny, after you get home from school.”

  “School!” Lizzie said with derision. “What do I want with school, sitting all day listening to an old lady say A, B, something or other?”

  “You want to be a seamstress, don’t you, and have your own shop someday?” Jane asked her.

  “Yes, so why do I need school? They don’t teach you to sew.”

  “That’s true,” Jane conceded. “But you’ll need to order cloth, and thread, and other things from suppliers, and customers will send you orders. How will you correspond with them if you can’t read or write?”

  Lizzie frowned, her brows knit in deep thought.

  Jane pressed her point. “And how will you know how much your merchandise costs, how much to charge for it, and how much money you’ve made if you can’t do arithmetic?”

  Lizzie pondered these points for a few minutes, and eventually her face brightened. “If I need to do it to run a shop, then I guess I’ll go to school.”

  “An excellent idea,” Tim said. “As I’m sure you remember, my sister Belinda is an accomplished seamstress, too. On the afternoons when Ginny doesn’t need your help, maybe you could go and work with Belinda.”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Lizzie declared, clutching her doll tightly.

  A knock sounded at the front door, and Bridget rose to answer it, returning with Richard Beckham. “Sorry to bother you,” the clerk said. “Molly and I want to ask you something, and we thought it was better to do it in person. Would you do us the honor of being Violet’s godfather?”

  “Of course, Richard,” Tim replied.

  “Thank you,” Beckham said. “Another thing I wanted to ask, but didn’t mention to Molly. I didn’t tell her that you left your partnership with Dr. Eustace, so as not to worry her about our situation. Do you know any other doctors who might need a clerk? I would appreciate any help you could give me in finding a new position.”

  Tim considered this for a minute, suddenly feeling badly about his clerk’s dilemma. It was one thing for him to end the partnership with Eustace, another to have left his clerk without a position at Christmastime, and Richard with a wife and new baby.

  Another knock on the door came before Tim could think of anything to say. Bridget left, collected the post, and handed it to Tim. He sifted through the envelopes while he pondered what he might do for his clerk. One of the letters caught his attention. It was from Dr. Jones, his former partner when he had first joined Eustace’s practice. Tim opened the envelope, unfolded the single sheet of paper, and scanned the contents.

  “Well, here’s a wonderful coincidence for us,” he announced. “It’s from my colleague and former partner, Dr. Humphrey Jones. Let me read this to you. ‘An elderly gentleman who said he was a friend of yours called on me on Christmas Eve, saying he’d heard I planned to retire and suggesting I sell my practice to you if I did. I raised the matter with my wife that afternoon, and she urged me to do so. If you are indeed interested, I should be glad to sell for a reasonable amount. It is a small practice, and will take at most half your time, so I understand if you decide it is unsuitable for you.’

  “It looks like you have a position after all,” Tim told his clerk.

  “But only half-time,” Beckham pointed out. “It will be hard to get by on half my usual salary.”

  “Who said that?” Tim asked. “You’ll receive your regular salary. It would be better if you stayed in the office all day, so that you can summon me in case of an emergency.”

  “I’m sure I know what you will be doing with the extra time, Tim,” Jane said with a smile. “Research.”

  “Yes,” Tim said. “But not every day. I’d like to return to treating the poor occasionally. When I was out searching for Ginny and Jonathan, more than one person told me that my services were missed.”

  “That’s perfect for you,” Richard said. “I know you’ll be much happier. Tell me one thing, though. Who is this elderly gentleman Dr. Jones mentions? Is he by any chance the man I met at the medical supply shop?”

  “One and the same, Richard,” Tim told his clerk. “His story relates to Christmas, in fact. He had always been a rather stingy individual, until one Christmas he was changed, perhaps through the influence of the season, into a kind and generous man. He helped many a needy soul, yet he preferred to do it anonymously. Only hi
s closest friends knew the true extent of his generosity. One Christmas, for example, he sent a poor family an enormous turkey, without informing them who it had come from. I feel bound, given his preference to work in secret, not to reveal his name.”

  Ginny nodded with understanding. “The old gentleman in the alley,” she said.

  “You’re right, Ginny,” Tim stated. “Now let’s eat, and William, and Henry, if you aren’t busy this afternoon, I’d appreciate your help in setting up my laboratory.”

  In the coach driving Jane home after their meal, Tim, seated across from her, leaned forward and took her hands in his.

  “I have to confess, from the first time I saw you, I wanted to know you better,” Tim said. “I’m glad I’ve had the chance to do that these last few days.”

  “They’ve been a pleasure,” Jane replied. “I’ve never met a kinder man than you.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not very good at romance, Jane. I’ve been caught up in my work for so long that I make a better surgeon than a suitor.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “You’re not suggesting that you’re giving up, are you? Am I to go back home and wait until Mother dredges up another James Howard?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Tim stammered. “That’s the last thing I want.”

  “Then tell me what’s on your mind, Tim,” Jane said with an encouraging smile. “It can’t be any more difficult than the surgery you performed on Jonathan.”

  Yes, it can, Tim thought. He mustered up his courage.

  “I love you, Jane. I know we haven’t really gotten well acquainted until this last week, but I . . . the way I feel . . . sometimes you just know. And I know.”

  “True,” Jane agreed. “Sometimes you just know. And I know I love you, too.”

  Upon hearing her words, Tim felt the tension in his body dissolve. This time he did not hesitate before speaking.

  “Jane, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Her eyes sparkled. She moved smoothly to the opposite side of the coach and sat next to Tim. They embraced.