by Sarah Gray
Offering his arm to Belle again, he turned the doorknob gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great array), for these young housekeepers were always nervous on such points, and like to see that everything is right.
“Fred,” said Scrooge, surprised by the nervous gurgle he felt in his stomach. What if his nephew turned him away? What if, after all these years, the young man, his brave sister’s son, had had enough abuse? What would Scrooge do then? He did not even want to consider the matter.
He stepped into the dining room.
Dear heart alive, how his niece, Penny, started! Scrooge had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn’t have done it, on any account.
“Why bless my soul,” cried Fred, in obvious and genuine shock. He rose from his chair at the head of the table. “Who’s that?” he cried, though he most certainly knew who it was.
“It’s I. Your Uncle Scrooge. I have come to spend the afternoon with you. Will you let me in, Fred? I have brought my betrothed, with whom I believe you are well acquainted. Better acquainted right now, I might say, than I. I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of bringing her with me, but the truth is, I could not stand to leave her . . . and I thought perhaps you would show an old fool a little kindness if I hid behind a pretty woman.”
“Your betrothed?” squealed Penny in a most delightfully feminine manner. “You are betrothed, Belle? To Uncle Ebenezer?” Her tone of voice suggested “why ever would you agree to such a thing?” but the smile on Belle’s face seemed to sway her.
“Then congratulations! Come, tell us all about it.” The two women, hand in hand, walked away to join the other female guests and giggle.
It was a mercy Fred didn’t shake his arm off. Scrooge was feeling at home and feeling like a true member of the family in five minutes. Nothing could have been heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper. So did the plump sister. So did everyone.
“Uncle Ebenezer, I cannot believe it’s you.” Fred finally let go of Scrooge’s hand, then reached out and gave it another four or five shakes. “And what is this talk of your betrothal?” He glanced at Belle, surrounded by the other women.
Though Belle was older than the female guests present by nearly an entire generation, Scrooge thought she was the prettiest one there. Even prettier than his pretty niece, but of course he kept that to himself.
“I know you must wonder what has brought me here with this smile upon my lips and this woman at my side,” Scrooge told his nephew, drawing him to a corner to have some measure of privacy before they joined the merry-making.
“I wonder,” said Fred, grasping his uncle’s shoulders. “But it’s not necessary that you tell me. I’m happy that you’ve come and that you’re a changed man.” He looked into his eyes. “And you are a changed man, aren’t you, Uncle? I can see it on your face.”
“That I am. I apologize for my behavior all these years. It is no excuse, but it appears I have been under others’ influence for many years. Many years,” he repeated.
“Others’ influence?” The party around the dining table was beginning to break up and the guests were moving to the parlor, but Fred’s attention remained on his uncle. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Vampires, dear Fred.” Scrooge feared his nephew might scoff, or think him making excuses, but it was important to him that he be entirely honest. “I fear . . . no, I am certain that vampires have been swaying me since a very early age. It is a long story, which I promise to share with you in entirety, but it’s Christmas Day.” He grinned. “And we should join your guests. There will be time for talk tomorrow and the day after, and the day after that, I do hope.”
“Well said. I just still cannot believe you’re here.” Fred shook Scrooge’s hand, stepped back, stepped forward and embraced him, and stepped back yet again. “We’re going to play games. Would you like to join us?”
“I hoped we would not miss the games!” Scrooge said with enthusiasm.
“Excellent.” Fred clasped his hands. “But be forewarned; Belle is very good.”
“I would like to play, particularly that game Yes and No.”
“You know it, do you?” Fred asked. “Excellent. But I can promise you Belle shall beat us all at that one.” He hesitated. “You say you’re engaged to be married? Just like that? Might I ask?”
Scrooge snapped his fingers. Enjoying the sound it made so greatly, he did it again. “Just like that.”
“And when will you wed?”
“As soon as she will have me,” Scrooge declared, unable to wipe the foolish grin from his face. He still could not believe that Belle loved him. That she had waited all these years for him. That she had kept faith in him long after he had lost faith in himself. “Do not look so surprised. It has been a rather long engagement.” He chuckled, and Fred chuckled with him.
“Well, congratulations. I am glad you have come to your senses. A wife is a wonderful gift that every man should experience. If you hurry, there’s even still time for children, Uncle.” Fred winked.
“Children?” Scrooge felt his cheeks grow warm as he remembered, for the first time, the prophecy Queen Griselda had spoken of. Surely it was not possible . . . not at their age . . . was it? He looked to Fred, but his nephew only grinned.
“After you.” Fred held open the door.
“Delighted.” Scrooge started through the doorway, intent upon the sound of the merry-making in the next room, but then halted. “On thing, before it slips from my mind in the midst of the fun. I’d like you to do me one favor. Tomorrow morning, early. It’s imperative that we move quickly.”
“Anything,” said Fred.
Scrooge lowered his voice so that Belle and the other women could not hear, because he did not want to worry them or, worse, frighten them. Fred listened to his uncle, offered comment, and the two men after five minutes of talk shook on their agreement.
“Fred? Uncle Ebenezer? Are you coming?” sang Penny.
“Come along, Ebenezer,” called Belle. “You and Fred will have time to talk vampire business later. It’s Christmas Day, and I do not want to even think of them!”
Scrooge entered the parlor and went to stand behind his Belle, who was seated on the same settee he had seen the previous night when escorted by the Ghost of Christmas Present. The Christmas tree, heavily laden with gifts for the children in the city whose parents were uprooted slayers, stood just where it had before, in a place of honor in the big window. “What a beautiful tree. What a magnificent tree! Might I go with you later, nephew, when you deliver the playthings?”
Fred looked at him oddly. “Of . . . of course you may.” He glanced at Belle as if to ask how his uncle knew where the toys were bound, then back at Scrooge. “Anyone is welcome, so long as you understand we cannot divulge to anyone where the safe houses lie.”
“I would never divulge such information.” Scrooge drew his finger across his sealed lips. “Never.”
“So, what shall we play first?” asked Penny. “Blindman’s bluff or Yes or No? You choose, Uncle Ebenezer, for you are our guest of honor.”
And so he did choose. First they played blindman’s bluff, then Yes or No, then a host of other games and Yes or No again at Scrooge’s request. It was every bit as much fun as he thought it would be. It was a wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, wonderful happiness.
45
Scrooge was early upon the street the next morning, tipping his hat and calling greetings to any other early risers. He spoke to coachmen and bankers alike, a fishmonger and a charwoman on her way to work. At the appointed time, he met his nephew on a street corner in front of a dressmaker’s shop (still closed at this early hour) only a few blocks from the building that read “Scrooge and Marley.”
“Uncle Ebenezer!” Fred was precisely on time, and once again pumped Scrooge’s hand again and again.
“Nephew.”
Fred
flipped up the collar of his wool greatcoat to cut the wind, for it whipped fiercely around the corner, blowing snow from what had fallen during the night. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“You said yesterday that the VSU has been trying to trap him for some time.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Fred agreed. “He’s a sly one. Travels mostly in a group with vampires protecting him. Six months ago, one of our men thought he had him cornered in a root cellar three blocks north. Turned out to be a trap.”
“Disgut killed him?” Scrooge asked, horrified that he had been paying this creature wages all these years. Spotting a man leading a pig on a rope on the opposite side of the street, he tipped his hat. “Good morning, sir.”
The shabbily dressed man with the pig looked behind him to see if, perhaps, Scrooge called to another man. Realizing he hadn’t, he broke into a wide, toothy grin. “Mr. Scrooge. A good morning to you!” His broad forehead crinkled. “Are you well, sir?”
“Quite well! Quite well, thank you. Have a good day!”
Fred waited until the man had passed to continue the conversation with his uncle. “We’re unsure what happened to our friend. He never reported in again. Disgut probably offered him as a sacrifice to the streets below.”
“You know about the streets below?” Scrooge asked, eyes wide.
“You do?” asked Fred. “How?”
“As I said yesterday, it is a long story.” Scrooge grasped his nephew’s arm. “This must be done. Today. And then we enter my cellar. I want the entrance bricked up. If we’re lucky, perhaps we will even catch the king and queen in their coffins. I could make good use of the pike there, don’t you think?”
Fred looked up one side of the street and down the other. It was already becoming busier. Shutters were swinging open. Carts and carriages were passing on the street. “I’m not saying we don’t want Disgut badly, but this is dangerous business. There was a great deal of activity last night. Some of the vampires were seen fleeing the city.” He hesitated. “Our spies tell us it has something to do with you.”
“With me?” Scrooge pretended to be surprised. Actually, he wasn’t, but he and Bella had a long discussion last night in her parlor before he had bid her farewell, and they had agreed that to protect those they cared about, he would not reveal the full explanation of his change of heart. “Well, I have no idea how I would affect them, but I’m offering this opportunity to see London spared from Disgut’s treachery any longer. I do not want another man woman or child to die at his hand.”
“That is good-hearted and brave of you, Uncle Ebenezer. I just want to be certain you understand the risks. Even if you do not actively fight, they could go after you. They very likely will when they learn that you will be funding the unions.”
“I understand risks.” He opened his arms wide and smiled. “I’m a businessman. Now lead the way. I must be at the office before Cratchit arrives.” Unable to control himself, he chuckled. “I’ve plans for Bob Cratchit!”
“This way, then.” Fred led Scrooge to the door of a ham and beef shop that had not yet opened for the day. He approached the shop, walked right up to the door and entered, ignoring the Closed signage. Scrooge followed. They went through several rooms, past a family having breakfast at their table, and out the back door and through a tiny, barren yard. They climbed through a hole in a fence, and went down another alley.
At a painted green door that barely hung on its hinges it was so old, Fred knocked twice, paused, then knocked three times, paused, and knocked once.
Scrooge gazed around the muddy plot while they waited quite close to a refuse pile. Here there were shattered chairs, rotted crates, and the rusty rings of an old barrel. A spotted mutt dug in the wet earth near a broken earthen pot. Scrooge looked back at the door questioningly. “Have we the right place?”
“We’ve the right place, all right.” His nephew smiled.
A moment later, a shutter banged open overhead and a young woman with a head of fiery red hair and the most beguiling green eyes popped her head out. She was pulling on a little white cap. “Hold a minute! One of the children will let you in. Good morning to you,” she called, making eye contact with Scrooge.
“Good morning to you,” he returned, tipping his hat.
The shutter banged shut, and a few moments later there was the grating sound of a key turning a lock. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, and a lad of six or seven with hair the same color as the woman’s greeted them cheerfully.
“Morning, sirs! They’re in the cellar. All assembled. Quite a turnout for early.” His eyes were the same color as the woman’s. “Could I get ye some tea?”
“Thank you, Charles, but no. I know the way.” Fred led Scrooge past the child.
“What a bright boy, a bright boy, indeed,” Scrooge said as he heard the door barred and locked behind them.
Fred led his uncle down a narrow hall, past a small parlor that while shabby with age was lit brightly by a fire. At a narrow door at the end of the hall, he issued the same series of knocks. “Precautions are always necessary,” he explained as they waited. “We have spies, but they have more of them. Last month, we caught one of the minions pretending to be a fishmonger whose wife had been killed by a vampire. Had he made it inside these walls or any of the other meeting places of the VSU, it could have been devastating to our cause.”
The tiny door opened and another red-haired lad, a few years older than the front door keep, led them down a rickety staircase. The open cellar, occupied by a least a dozen men, smelled of damp earth, rich tobacco, and hot mulled cider, of all things.
“Hot drink to warm your insides before ye go back out?” asked the lad.
Fred smiled and mussed up his mop of red hair with his hand. “No thank you, William.”
“Off with you, Wills. Stand your post upstairs at the door.” A man of perhaps twenty, with the same red hair, gave the order.
“Beatty,” Fred introduced, pointing to the eldest of the redheads. He then introduced his uncle to all the men: a baker, lamplighter, a businessman like himself, even a member of Parliament. The members of the VSU who had come that morning were from all walks of English life; some were rich, some were poor, some old, some young. Perhaps they had more difference than similarities, but the common body that drew them together was their determination to fight the vampires unto death. To save humanity.
The meeting did not last long, for all understood the importance of surprise if they were to catch Disgut. Fred feared that once he entered Scrooge and Marley, it would not take him long to see the change in Ebenezer Scrooge and become suspicious.
In less than half an hour’s time, Scrooge was back on the street, alone this time. Fred had wanted to accompany him, for fear for his uncle’s safety, but the members of the union, and Scrooge, agreed that nothing should appear different that morning than any other morning.
46
So, Scrooge arrived early to his place of business, hoping to catch Bob Cratchit coming late. Praying Disgut would be later. (For he always seemed to arrive after Bob, no matter the time. Had he been following him all these years?) That was the thing he had set his heart upon.
And he did it; yes, he did. The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was a full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the tank.
His hat was off, before he opened the door; his ragged, dirty comforter that served as his greatcoat, too. He was on his stool in a jiffy, driving away with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o’clock.
“Hallo,” growled Scrooge from behind his desk, in his accustomed voice, or as near as he could feign it. “What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?”
“I am very sorry, sir,” said Bob. “I am behind my time. My . . . my sister-in-law, who has cared for my children since my wife passed on, left last night in the middle of the night in a great hurry. She said she had had enough of badly behav
ed children, but they are not badly behaved.”
Scrooge thought about what Fred had said about vampires and minions fleeing the city. He wondered if Maena had somehow gotten word that she was in danger of being discovered. What if Disgut had been warned as well? He returned his attention to his employee, clearing his voice. “You are quite behind your time,” repeated Scrooge. “Yes. I think you are. Step this way, sir, if you please.”
“It’s only once a year, sir,” pleaded Bob, walking into the rear office. “It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir. And then my sister-in-law—”
“Now, I’ll tell you what, my friend,” said Scrooge. He waved him in, for he did not want Bob to be a part of what would soon happen. “I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,” he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered backward, nearly falling, “and therefore I am about to raise your salary!”
Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to his employer. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat. “Sir?”
“A merry Christmas, Bob,” said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. “A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. I’ll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop punch, Bob.”
“Raise my salary?” Again Bob staggered. “You mean to share a bowl of punch with me?”
“That I do.” Scrooge lowered his voice. “I want to discuss my membership in the VSU, and then there’s the matter of my wedding.” He threw up his hands. “We’ve so much to speak of.” Scrooge heard a sound at the front door, and laid his hand on Cratchit’s shoulder, pushing him toward the rear entrance. You see, he did not want Bob there for Disgut’s undoing, just in case it did not turn out well. “But first you must make up the fires, which means you must buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!”