Mr. Babbington, physician, turned to Mr. Cratchit, physician. "Doctor," he said, "this recalls our duty to our mentor, Dr. Sir Humphrey Nevins."
Mr. Cratchit, physician, turned to Mr. Bartlett, physician, and replied, "Right, as usual, Doctor, how kind of you to bring this oversight to my attention."
The young men mutually turned and raced each to his own room.
"I'll be ready before you are," Babbington yelled, pulling off his coat.
"Not a chance," shouted Cratchit, yanking off his boots.
As silence descended upon the rooms, and only the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the little clock marred its substance. The snow outside began to pile itself into graceful drifts, and the air was deeply cold. The afternoon light softened to a gray haze as draperies were being drawn. Small beams of light began to shine from doorways and behind curtains not securely closed against the deepening dusk of a magical Christmas Day.
At half past 4 o'clock, the doors to the young men's bedchambers swung silently open, and from each essayed a well-turned-out young gentleman. As each stepped through his doorway, certain in the knowledge that he had finished first, each saw the other. A minute of stunned silence ensued, and then both burst into good-natured laughter.
"Well, Doctor Cratchit, you've finished your rounds in record time," pronounced Jonathan.
Timothy, shrugging on his overcoat, laughed and replied graciously, "It's good to see you finishing your rounds with time left to attend to more important things this Christmas Day!" He held Jonathan's coat out in the manner of a well-trained valet and eased it over his friend's shoulders.
"I think I've got everything," Tim said, picking up Julianne's beautiful gift with gentle hands. He slipped keys into his vest pocket, wrapped a lovely bottle of white wine in green tissue and started for the door.
"John Coachman is probably waiting for us at this very moment."
Jonathan moved toward the door but first stopped to place the fireguard carefully in front of the fire.
"Wait, Tim, what is this? It's wrapped for Christmas, but there is no name written upon it." Jonathan held up the knobby wrapped parcel on the mantelpiece, studying it curiously.
"Why that's Uncle Ebenezer's last gift to me. He intended it for a Christmas present, so I felt I should wait until Christmas Day to open it.
Bring it along to the Nevins, and I shall open it there." Jonathan placed the small, oddly-shaped parcel in his pocket and stepped to the doorway.
"Do the Nevins expect us for this evening's festive dinner? I thought perhaps…" Jonathan began carefully as they descended the stairs and walked out to the curb, where John Coachman awaited their coming.
"Well," replied his friend, "no one has un-invited me, and as I have a good deal of explaining to do, I won't be put off. I believe the entire Nevins family to be of a very forgiving nature." He looked over at Jonathan, crossed his fingers and smiled a little crookedly. "At least, I hope they will be on this magical Christmas Day."
"Chin up, old fellow, I'll see you through it. If it is worse than you feared, I could be induced to go down on one knee to beg their forgiveness for you. I'll just tell them that you've taken a severe blow to the head. Dr. Nevins might even believe that I can diagnose such a minor difficulty as that. I'll stand by you, never fear." He laughed lightly and added, "It will all go well; she really cares for you, Tim." He looked both happy for his friend and somewhat envious. "It IS Christmas Day, after all!"
Tim nodded, smiled and leaned back against the seat, lost in his own thoughts. At pains not to disturb him, Jonathan looked out the window and turned HIS thoughts to the dinner that awaited them.
Despite the chill of the afternoon, the cab ride to the Nevins home took a only a very short time. As the two men stepped to the curb, John Coachman asked, "Will you be needing a cab back to your lodgings, Mr. Cratchit? I'd consider it a privilege to come back for you, anytime you may say."
Tim considered his question and looked to Jonathan, who nodded.
"Would you be kind enough to come for us as Big Ben strikes eight? We should surely be on our way then." Jonathan reached his hand up to John Coachman.
"Take this and find some good Christmas cheer to keep you warm." The coachman shook his head. "Thank you, no, sir. I've had quite enough Christmas cheer from you both this fine Christmas Day. I'll be waiting as the bells ring out. Happy Christmas once again." He tipped his hat and drove slowly away.
"Here we go, old fellow," said Jonathan as the two young doctors stood at the bottom of the steps to the Nevins home. "Take heart," he said. They ascended swiftly.
Matilda, the Nevins parlor maid, opened the door with a cheerful "Happy Christmas" and led them to the front parlor, where a charming evergreen stood in glittering splendor upon a lovely crimson rug. Four faces looked up from the drinks cart, two puzzled though welcoming, one surprised, and one wide-eyed and breathless. Dr. and Mrs. Nevins moved toward the young men, hands outstretched, smiling. Adam Fezziwig stood still, his open face surprised but pleased, and Julianne moved as if to escape the room.
Tim put out his hand to stop her flight, wished her parents the fond greetings of the season, vigorously shook the hand of young Adam Fezziwig, then turned and taking Julianne by the elbow, guided her out of the room and down the hall to the library. She went quietly without protestation.
Ushering her gently into the warmly lit room, Tim closed the door softly but firmly behind them. Julianne, pale but resolute, stood stiffly in front of the fire, her hands clasping each other.
Tim moved to face her and quickly went down on one knee before her. When she moved to lift him to his feet, he shook his head and took her hands in his.
"Julianne," he said, "I can offer no logical reason for my inexcusable behavior of the past months. I can only plead with you for understanding. I was lost within myself, lost to myself and to all others. I have come to understand my ambitions, my selfishness and my inability to accept myself for who I am and what use I can be to those around me, both to my patients and to those I love and who love me. Drifting on waves of self-doubt and in the blackest depths of my soul, I now know that love, real love, undemanding and forgiving, is the only manner by which I might contribute to my profession and to my personal life. You, Julianne, YOU are my life. I beg you to forgive me, to continue our engagement and to marry me very early in the new year. I need you to love me, to love us, and to help me carry on the good works that Uncle Ebenezer entrusted to me. Julianne, I love you, with all my heart and with the deepest pledge of my soul. Do you think you can ever forgive such a one as I have been?" His head now bowed, he gathered her hands to his cheek, still kneeling before her.
Julianne stood frozen, staring down at his bent head. After several very long minutes, she felt a great weight leave her heart and a up rushing of warmth envelop her whole body. A radiant smile crossed her face as she knelt next to our humbled Dr. Tim. Tugging her hands from his grasp, she placed them on either side of his face and lifted it to her. "Timothy, my dearest Timothy. I am so very glad that you have conquered whatever it was that brought your spirit so low. I am glad because I never could determine how to help you. Now you have come back to me, heart whole and willing to let me love you. Oh Timothy!" She flung herself into his arms and held him close to her heart.
Our Doctor Tim, for his part, embraced her as if he would never again be parted from her and covered her face with small, light kisses. "Timothy, Timothy, oh my love, the library door is not locked. We must go back and tell my parents our news." Both parties broke into laughter and then a few tears of happiness, well-spent in honor of love and Christmas Day. Smiling and joyous, Tim took her ring from the pocket of his coat and replaced it on her finger. "I have another gift for you, but this one is just between us, now and forever. Dear Julianne, my dearest love!" He kissed her gently one last time, then lifted her to her feet.
Back down the hallway they went. When they reentered the parlor door, no words were needed to tell the four people
standing quietly before the fire their good news. Mrs. Nevins rushed to her daughter; Dr. Nevins moved to shake Tim's hand. Jonathan and Adam, fast becoming good friends, saluted each other with their glasses of Christmas punch.
"Ah now, this is the way things should be," chuckled Dr. Nevins heartily. He smiled, patted Tim's shoulder, kissed his daughter's flushed cheek, took his wife's arm and suggested bluffly, "Shall we go and do justice to Mrs. Powers delicious Christmas dinner?" He led the way out into the hall and down to the dining room.
Its walls covered in cream silk, the lovely room was decorated with fresh Christmas greenery, red holly berries and gilt ribbons. A huge centerpiece of red hothouse roses graced the elegantly appointed table. A white Irish linen tablecloth hosted delicate white, gold-rimmed china.
Heavy crimson glassware complemented each setting, with lovely silver flanking each place. White linen napkins, held upright on each plate, were encircled by rosettes of red, green and gilt ribbons. Beside each place card was a small favor, silver penknives for the men and tiny nosegays of greenery and white lilac for the two women. Around the room stood small bowls of Christmas potpourri of cinnamon and clove-scented pine needles. Long crimson tapers in small silver candelabra nestled next to the lovely centerpiece.
Dr. Nevins led his wife to her seat while Tim seated Julianne. When all the guests were finally comfortably settled, Dr. Nevins rang a small silver bell set at his place. The guests congratulated him on the beauty of the room and its appointments. He waved them away, pointed to the door to the kitchen and responded, "No credit comes to me. It is the genius of our Mrs. Powers that has created this exquisite beauty." He stood and bowed humbly to the tall, handsome woman who had entered the room followed by Cook, the parlor maid, one footman and the kitchen maid. Mrs. Powers smiled, nodded her head in acceptance of his courtly bow, and said quietly, "It is little enough for us to do for so kind and generous a master, Sir Humphrey. May I take this opportunity to wish you and your family and your guests a very Happy Christmas? And now, Cook has prepared a remarkable Christmas feast for your table, and with all our good wishes we hope you will enjoy it." She motioned for the staff to place the various dishes on the table, with the beautifully roasted Christmas goose tendered for Sir Humphrey to carve. A platter was laid next to his plate, and after serving each guest, the entire staff either curtsied or bowed, wished them all a "Happy Christmas" and retired noiselessly from the room.
Along with the roasted and stuffed goose, Cook had provided lobster pate, roast beef, haricots vert, new potatoes with mint, braised asparagus, salmon in aspic, wild rice with truffles and a great salad of fresh greens.
It was a feast indeed, and while all fell to with a great will, Tim was thinking of Albert, his brothers and his mother. Jonathan saw his smile, realized what he was thinking and raised his wine glass in salute. Tim raised his own and asked to make a toast.
He stood alongside Julianne, lifted his glass again and announced quietly, "To all good friends, present or absent. Their magic lives on in our lives and in the very name of Christmas. A very Happy Christmas to us all." He lifted the glass to his lips and drank. All the other members of the dinner party did the same, wishing each other a happy day and a joyous new year.
Timothy sat down again, and dinner commenced with laughter and ended in festive gift-giving. Each member of the party had gifts for the others. Tim's flowers and brandy for the Nevins had been happily accepted earlier in the day, while Julianne's rose-carrying flower girl was joyously and tearfully received there at table. Mrs. Nevins was enchanted, and Sir Humphrey himself became excessively misty behind his spectacles. Tim's wine had been served with dinner. There were small volumes of poetry for his flat mate and Adam Fezziwig. Jonathan had brought tiny jeweled butterfly pins for the ladies, green and gold for Julianne, crimson and silver for Mrs. Nevins, and pearl stickpins for the men. The ladies were thrilled, the gentlemen surprised but pleased.
Adam Fezziwig had chosen tiny silver-wrapped baskets of sweets for the ladies and beautifully written copies of his last speech in the House of Commons for the gentlemen. The ladies were delighted with their gifts, and Tim, Jonathan and Sir Humphrey were interested enough to begin reading on the spot. Adam laughed, suggesting that Boxing Day might be a more appropriate time to look them over, for the ladies were getting fidgety to have the plum pudding served. He laughed again when he heard both Julianne and her mother say quietly to Sir Humphrey that they intended to make sure that the speech came their way tomorrow as well. The evening passed swiftly amidst laughter, good fellowship and the kindness of friends and a loving family. Just as the clock struck the eight o'clock hour, Tim and Jonathan were putting on their overcoats, mufflers and gloves. Jonathan turned to bid the Nevins and Adam Fezziwig goodnight while Tim and Julianne held hands, their eyes shining.
Jonathan, who had forgotten to put on his gloves, reached into his pocket and found not only his gloves but Scrooge's knobby Christmas present to Tim.
"Tim," he said, interrupting Julianne's good-night, "here's Old Ebenezer's Christmas gift. Why don't you open it now, here among friends?"
Tim took the funny little parcel and unwrapped it slowly, thinking of his beloved Uncle Ebenezer and feeling the loss all over again. As the final wrapping came off, Ebenezer's doorknocker, all bright and shining, lay coolly in Tim's hand.
All at once Tim pictured his father, the lady and Uncle Ebenezer knocking for entrance into his tightly closed heart. All the faces staring at him softened as he thought of Old Scrooge, never dreaming that the magic of Christmas had touched so much more than just this very day.
Julianne knew, however, that this meant more to Tim than just a remembrance of his beloved Uncle Scrooge. She clasped his arm and whispered softly, "Won't you tell me about it tomorrow? I should like to know what Uncle Scrooge's last message was; he loved you very much. After all, love is the fruit of the Spirit." She smiled into his eyes; he kissed her cheek, made his good-byes and, with Jonathan in tow, made for the door and John Coachman's waiting cab.
The young men waved until they could no longer view the house and then settled down for the cab ride home. The streets were nearly deserted this calm Christmas night, and so the ride took only a few quiet minutes.
When they reached their lodgings and stepped from the cab, John Coachman tied the horse and jumped to the street. He reached out and shook first Tim's hand and then Jonathan's.
"God bless you, young gentlemen, God bless you both. The Old City will see you well. A very Happy Christmas to you both." So saying, he leaped to his seat and drove off into the quiet of the night.
Jonathan sighed, watching the softly falling snow. "What a marvelous Christmas Day. What a lovely Christmas dinner and what a great friend you are, Timothy Cratchit. As John Coachman said, `A very Happy Christmas to you, a very Happy Christmas'." He linked his arm in Tim's, and together they made their way slowly up the stairs.
As they stepped to the door, the face on the mat winked and vanished. Jonathan saw nothing but preceded Tim into their rooms.
As Tim crossed the threshold, he stepped back, extracted Scrooge's doorknocker from his pocket and attached it to the door on the nail that held their flat number. He then rubbed it with his coat sleeve, smiled contentedly as Uncle Ebenezer's smiling face appeared before him. He touched the knocker gently, went inside and quietly shut the door.
Outside, the snow fell softly upon the closed and shuttered streets of old London Town like a blessing from the heavens, and the spirits of Christmases, old and new, continued to work their magic upon the human hearts in the Old City and beyond.
About the Author
MARTIELE M. SIDLES got her bachelor's degree in English literature and world history in the turbulent sixties and her master's in communications when her daughters were growing up in the eighties. A devoted fan of Charles Dickens, she wakened very early one morning determined to discover what had happened to Tiny Tim. She lives in Southern California with her husband and her roses. This
is her first book.
The Very Name of Christmas Page 11