A Christmas Carol 2: The Wedding of Ebenezer Scrooge Read online

  'Can't say I'm looking forward to this, Billy. My face may not fit, you see. I was unforgivably rude to my nephew yesterday.'

  Billy had got past the stage of being shy about offering an opinion. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘what's the worst he can do? Tell you to piss off, right?'

  'Mmm, something along those lines,’ Scrooge agreed glumly.

  'Well then, sticks and stones. You go in and see him, Mr Scrooge. You say you're sorry, if you think you have to, and see what he says to that.'

  Billy was right, of course, and Scrooge decided that he would have to take the plunge. ‘Sound thinking, Billy. But if you don't mind, I'd like you to wait outside. Just for a minute.'

  Billy shrugged, and Scrooge could tell that he hadn't really believed that his luck would last all day. Now, evidently, it had run out. Billy fully expected to be left outside until eventually, tired of waiting, he went elsewhere.

  Scrooge mounted the steps of Fred's house and rang the bell. The street was a terrace, constructed about forty years earlier. The houses were not enormous, but they were pleasantly spacious, with a strong Georgian flavor to them.

  After a moment the front door was opened by a young maid whom Scrooge had not seen before. She was about sixteen, by the look of her, dressed in an apron and cap to identify her status, and with an anxious air about her. Perhaps today would be her first serious experience of receiving guests.

  'Is your master at home?'

  'Yes, sir, he's in the dining-room with the mistress, checking the arrangements. I'll show you upstairs if you please.'

  'Thank you, but your master knows me. I'll just have a quick word with him first.'

  Scrooge stepped inside and turned towards the dining-room. The maid did not like this at all. She was supposed to show guests into the drawing-room, upstairs, and here was one popping into somewhere quite different without even taking his coat off.

  Scrooge noticed the girl's almost tearful distress and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘It's all right. I'm his uncle.'

  He turned the handle of the dining-room and stepped inside.

  As he entered the room, Fred and his wife Deborah turned to face him. And at once, to Scrooge's relief, Fred's features revealed genuine pleasure.

  'Why, Uncle,’ he said, coming forward with his hand outstretched. ‘How marvelous to see you.'

  Scrooge shook his nephew's hand, noticing as he did so that Deborah, for her part, was not quite so pleased to see him.

  'Fred.... My dear chap.’ Then he shook Deborah's hand equally warmly, and she managed a smile.

  Scrooge knew perfectly well that Deborah was not one of his admirers. She thought him a hard, bad-tempered and selfish old man. And why should she not? That was the side of him that she had always seen.

  Scrooge twisted his hat in his hands like some nervous schoolboy. ‘I do have to say,’ he said, ‘before I utter another word, that I owe you both a most humble apology. When you called upon me yesterday afternoon, Fred, with the most civil and kind invitation to join you here today, I regret to say that I treated you quite abominably.'

  'Nonsense!’ Fred looked to his wife to join in the denial, but she simply smiled politely and waited for Scrooge to continue.

  'No, it is true. I was in poor spirits and I snapped at you and was ungracious. Deeply so. As soon as you had gone I regretted it, and I can only add, as a small measure of my regret, that I immediately went out and ordered a crate of champagne to be delivered to you, as a gift from me.'

  'It's arrived already!’ Fred assured him. ‘And most impressed we were too.'

  'Indeed we were,’ Deborah confirmed. ‘It is a generous gift, and we thank you most warmly.'

  'Well.... In the circumstances it was the least I could do.'

  'And you will stay to lunch I hope?’ This from Fred.

  Scrooge hesitated. ‘But in view of my churlishness you will no doubt have made other arrangements.'

  Deborah moved to the table. ‘Not at all. We did hope you would come, for it is Christmas when all is said and done. And to prove it—look.'

  She pointed to the table, where Scrooge saw that a card had been put out to show each guest where to sit. And there was one with his own name on it. He was quite touched.

  Deborah came forward and took his hand. ‘And since you have evidently recovered your normal spirits, and have offered an apology which of course we accept, then I hope—we both hope—that you will join us and our guests for the rest of the day.'

  Scrooge shuffled his feet. He had not felt so ill at ease for some time. His eyes roamed over the table, which shone with reflected light from the silver and glass, from the bright white of the snow outside and the yellow flickering flame of the fire piled up into the hearth. The table was a big one, but it seemed to have been laid for some twenty guests or so, and they would all have to sit with their elbows well tucked in. And yet despite that, Fred and his wife had still left a place for him.

  'Thank you,’ he muttered. ‘Thank you very much. Oh—and I'm afraid there is one other thing.'

  Fred raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

  'Er.... This may not be quite so easy for you to accommodate.’ Scrooge moved towards the window and motioned the others to join him. ‘But earlier this morning I persuaded a young lad to run an errand for me. There he is, out there.'

  They looked out and saw Billy waiting patiently at the foot of the steps. He was watching a cab roll by, the snow flicking out backwards from under its wheels.

  'To tell you the truth I didn't have the heart to just tip him and send him away. He is homeless and friendless of course, has no family like so many of them, and I'm afraid I went so far as to offer him a free lunch. I did wonder, perhaps, if he might be made useful in the kitchen and so earn a bite to eat? If not,’ he added hurriedly, ‘I will simply give him a shilling and send him on his way.'

  At that moment, Billy turned towards the house, saw the three of them peering out of the dining-room window, and gave them a grubby-faced grin. Then, somewhat shocked by his own impertinence, he hastily turned away again. But he had already earned his lunch.

  'Why, Uncle Scrooge,’ said Deborah. ‘If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it. That you of all people...’ She stopped, before she said too much, and Fred chuckled nervously at what she had said so far. But Scrooge wasn't offended.

  'Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I surprise myself sometimes.'

  Deborah declared that since Fred had invited every bachelor and widower in the office to join them for lunch, one more lame duck would make no difference. Billy was therefore brought in, introduced to Mrs Weatherby, a motherly woman who was the household's cook, and deposited out of sight in the kitchens. He would, Mrs Weatherby declared, be able to make himself useful by washing up knives and forks, for he could hardly break those and there were scarcely enough to go round as it was.

  Cassie, the maid, was mightily relieved to find that she was not at fault for allowing Mr Scrooge to march straight into the dining-room.

  And Scrooge himself was impressed to note the style in which young Fred was living these days. A cook and a maid indeed. That meant he must be earning at least five hundred a year. Probably more, since Fred had always tended to be on the cautious side where expenditure was concerned (a family trait, Scrooge liked to think). It was Scrooge who had obtained for his nephew that important first position on the Stock Exchange, some years earlier. The boy had a wonderful head for figures, of course, but it was one thing to have the mathematical talent and quite another to put it to effective use. So Scrooge was delighted to find that his protégé was doing well.

  Not all the guests had yet arrived, but Scrooge was taken upstairs and introduced to those who were there.

  As Deborah had told him, there were several young bachelors and two older men, all colleagues of Fred's who might otherwise have spent Christmas Day in some dreary lodging-house. To assist the balance of the sexes, both Deborah's sisters were on hand, serving coffee and chattering h
appily to put the nervous young fellows at their ease.

  Caroline, aged about twenty, was the plump sister with the lace tucker—Scrooge always needed some identifying characteristic to help him remember names—and she also had particularly long and dazzling eyelashes. It was clear even to an old bachelor like Scrooge that much thought had gone into her choice of dress. Care had been needed to select something which showed off her figure to advantage while not emphasizing that there was quite a lot of it. And the young lady had succeeded admirably. Melanie, Deborah's other sister, was a couple of years younger, and definitely slimmer than either of her kin.

  A little later two familiar faces were admitted: the Reverend Mr Bannister and his wife. It turned out that Mrs Bannister was aunt to Deborah (and the two other sisters). They had also brought with them another aunt of Deborah's, Mrs Bannister's widowed sister, a Mrs Kincaid. She was visiting London from the country, Scrooge understood; she normally lived somewhere in the Vale of Pewsey, in the county of Wiltshire.

  'So you see I was right,’ Mrs Bannister told Scrooge triumphantly. ‘I said we would meet again.'

  'Most impressive,’ said Scrooge. ‘But if you had told me we were related by marriage I might have predicted it myself.'

  The party was completed by the arrival of an old school friend of Fred's, Topper by name, and by a scattering of neighbors.

  If you had asked him a week earlier, Scrooge would have said that he despised such gatherings. Wearisome, tedious, noisy, hot, stuffy, and boring, were the words which might have tripped off his lips. And yet somehow he had not wished to be alone this Christmas. In the past, yes. But this year, no.

  Left to his own devices, however, Scrooge might have chosen a smaller group for company. It was therefore something of a surprise, as the day wore on, for him to realize that not only was he enjoying himself, but he was experiencing no great desire for the proceedings to end. Not once did he draw out his watch, grope around in the recesses of his memory until he came up with a halfway convincing reason for early departure, and then announce that he really must be going before long.

  (Scrooge's watch, incidentally, was a perfectly good old hunter which he had had for thirty years and which still kept perfect time. Always provided, of course, that you remembered to advance it by five minutes first thing in the morning, when the church clock struck seven. Scrooge was convinced that there was a lot of life in that watch yet.)

  Coffee, on guests’ arrival, gave way to sherry for those who wished it, and lunch began at a civilized hour for Christmas Day, which was to say two p.m. Whether this was planned or the result of some last-minute hitch in the kitchen no one inquired and no one cared, for it was an excellent meal when it started.

  At the table, Scrooge found himself squeezed between the plump sister with the lace tucker on the one side, and, on his other side, the widow of Pewsey, who was also quite well upholstered. This situation caused Scrooge no pain at all, for he had always preferred ladies who were generously proportioned.

  Vegetable soup, with fresh hot rolls and butter, gave way to a huge turkey which had been many hours a-cooking, Scrooge had no doubt. There were seven kinds of vegetables that Scrooge could see (possibly more, out of his range of vision), gravy, bread sauce, and cranberry sauce. There were rolls of bacon, sausages, and a garnish of watercress. Beer sufficed as an accompaniment for some, but others were pleased to partake of a few bottles of first-class claret.

  Despite this formidable main course, those assembled then had a choice of dessert: either a bowl of fruit salad, with a jug of cream beside it, or a traditional, vast plum pudding, bathed in enough rum to threaten the security of all present when it was lit. The pudding was accompanied by brandy butter and custard.

  With this third course disposed of, Scrooge and his immediate neighbors had had more than enough to eat, but a large cheeseboard was brought in for those still able to contemplate more. Syllabubs were also available. To conclude the meal, port and brandy were on offer, with coffee as an alternative. A large box of chocolates, provided by Topper, was passed from hand to hand.

  Fred presided genially over all this feast, with his wife at the other end of the table, nearest the door. Fred was in good form. He was wearing a new suit, or at any rate one which Scrooge had not seen before, and Scrooge was pleased to note that, although the lapels were cut in the latest style, they were not so extravagantly cut that the owner would be obliged to abandon the suit before it was properly worn out. This was an instruction which Scrooge had always given to his own tailor, and he was pleased to see that Fred was following his example.

  Deborah was less able to relax than Fred, of course, for as hostess she was continually on edge lest something dreadful should go wrong. Perhaps the roast potatoes might turn out to be tooth-breakers, or the cream be past its best. But nothing did prove amiss, and, towards the end, something of the tension was removed from her pleasing features.

  After lunch, the younger members of the group were ordered out for a brief walk. It was by then almost dark, but perhaps half an hour's light remained, and the expedition was led by Fred. His wife, visibly relieved that all the culinary arrangements had gone so well, disappeared down the stairs both to congratulate the troops on their performance so far and to check on plans for the rest of the day.

  Scrooge excused himself from the walk and, by mutual agreement with another gentleman of about his own age, snoozed happily in front of the drawing-room fire.

  When the party was reunited, Scrooge found himself chatting to Mrs Bannister, the Vicar's wife. He asked how she was finding the parish, now that she and her husband had completed their first year.

  'Oh, we like it well enough,’ said Mrs Bannister. ‘But there is much to be done, of course. And I shall be looking to you for help, Mr Scrooge.'

  It was, Scrooge reflected, one of the hazards of such occasions that, in a careless moment, one might find oneself inveigled into agreeing to something which one might later regret.

  'Oh,’ he said casually, ‘I'm afraid I am not a regular churchgoer.'

  'That's no guarantee of anything,’ said Mrs Bannister briskly. ‘Some of the biggest sinners are regular communicants, and the reverse is also true. No, I have high hopes of you, Mr Scrooge, and I shall be calling upon you soon, never fear.'

  Well, forewarned is forearmed, thought Scrooge, and changed the subject.

  Soon, tea and mince pies were served, while those who had ventured out told of a snowball fight (in which they had allegedly been victorious) against a similar party from number ninety-three. And then, as the evening drew on, various members of the company were induced, invited, or just plain bullied into providing some entertainment.

  Deborah, the hostess, broke the ice by playing the harp, which she did exceedingly well and to much applause. It was, so the widow of Pewsey assured Scrooge, a most difficult instrument to play.

  Afterwards, Deborah looked well pleased with herself, as she had every right to be, and she glowed not only with satisfaction but with that inner beauty which made Scrooge positively envy his nephew. When he saw a special smile pass between Fred and his wife, Scrooge felt a pang of memory.

  Once, years ago, he had exchanged a similar smile with an equally beautiful young lady—and she too had had a very kissable mouth. But the years had passed, they had never married, and now, of course, it was far too late. As for the young woman—she had long since married someone else, and been all the happier for it, Scrooge had no doubt.

  Topper, the handsome bachelor with a mass of curly brown hair which would keep falling down over his eyes, was next on stage. He sang a series of familiar (but rather serious) songs in a strong bass voice, accompanied on the piano by the plump sister with the lace tucker. Scrooge really did hope that they had been properly chaperoned during the lengthy rehearsals which had no doubt been necessary for this performance, because otherwise—well, who could say what improprieties they might not otherwise have been tempted to?

  The widow of Pewsey al
so sang, rather to Scrooge's astonishment. She had a good clear voice, with no pretensions whatever to formal polish, and she sang a series of traditional songs such as ‘I saw three ships', ‘Deck the halls', and ‘The twelve days of Christmas'.

  To Scrooge, the widow was at least as interesting to look at as to hear. She was, he guessed, not far off forty, but she was a good-looking woman to whom the years had been kind, and the soft lighting flattered her skin. Like her sister, Mrs Bannister, she had fair hair and blue eyes, and although she was smartly dressed she was clearly not over-fussed about her appearance. She wore a brooch, and a modest necklace, since this was a festive occasion, but unlike one or two of the other ladies she was no advertisement for the local jeweler. To Scrooge, however, her most remarkable feature was that she had an air of authority and confidence about her, as if she were one of nature's aristocrats. He remarked as such to her sister.

  'Ah yes,’ said the Vicar's wife. ‘She has the mark upon her all right.'

  Whatever that meant.

  Later Scrooge spoke to the Vicar about his sister-in-law. He learnt that she had been a widow for five years, and was regularly pursued by suitors, in whom she was showing no interest whatever. She was also a skilled herbalist, and spent all her time treating the ailments of the villagers for miles around her home.

  'She has healing hands, Mr Scrooge,’ said the Vicar, which Scrooge thought was a most odd thing for him to say. ‘She has worked wonders for my headaches, so if you yourself have any infirmities, you should give her a try.'

  'Thank you,’ said Scrooge, feeling somewhat bemused. ‘I'll bear it in mind.'

  The musical interlude was followed by parlor games, mostly of a sober and restrained variety, as befitted an adult gathering, but at Fred's insistence there were several rounds of blind man's buff. Topper was elected as the first blind man, and after being blindfolded he caused a good deal of squealing among the younger ladies as he groped his way around the room.