by Anne Moore
He sighed. ‘Yes, it is true that my father and I fell out. Father was not a bad man, and to be fair to him we must remember that he suffered a great blow when my mother died. He became withdrawn and depressed at first, and then almost perpetually angry. But a bereavement should not be allowed to spoil one's life for ever, and in my view he allowed his loss to dominate his feelings for too long.'
'And what was the specific cause of your disagreement?
Scrooge chuckled. ‘Oh! A choice of career. My father was a land agent—that is to say, he managed the estates of various landowners, some great, some small—and he wanted me to follow him into that profession.'
'And you didn't wish to?'
'No! I didn't want to be for ever at the beck and call of some aristocratic landowner—I wanted to be my own master in some way. And so, partly because I was already alienated from my father, and partly because I genuinely did not wish to spend my life in that way, I wrote him a rather rude letter. I told him that I would not accept his plan for me.'
'And how did he take it?'
'Badly. I was being educated, if that is the right term, at a boarding school at the time, and when he received my letter, my father decreed that I must be banished from home. I must stay there during the holidays as well as during the term, until I had learnt my place.'
'Oh dear.'
'Oh dear indeed. It was an unhappy state of affairs. It had one perhaps fortunate consequence, because it meant that when I was left alone during the holidays I had nothing to do but read, and so I contrived to educate myself. But in the end, after a year or two, my father's heart was softened by my sister, and I was allowed to come home at last.'
'You had only the one sister, I believe. Fred's mother.'
'That's right. And a fine woman she grew up to be. When she died, I understood for the first time something of what my father must have felt at the loss of his wife. And I have never since failed to feel pain at the fundamental injustice of life. So many good folk leave us before their time.'
They both fell silent for a while. The widow, no doubt, was thinking of her husband, and Scrooge in turn was much affected by his recollections of his sister. It upset him to think about her, even now.
After a time, the widow said, ‘Though I would not wish to pry, Mr Scrooge—’ (Not much, he thought)—'I cannot help wondering why it was that you yourself never married.'
Well, he had to be careful now. A few months ago he would have spoken very sharply in response to such an approach. Mind your own business would have been the least of his retorts. But he recognized that he was faced with a friendly soul, one who was genuinely interested in his welfare and not just consumed with idle curiosity. He reined in his instinctive response and took a deep breath before replying.
'Well,’ he said, ‘after I left school I went to work for a Mr Fezziwig. And a fine fellow he was too, though I didn't always appreciate him at the time. I was an apprentice, as were a number of other young lads, and every once in a while, and particularly at Christmas, he would throw a party, or a dance of some sort, and try to see to it that we met suitable young ladies of our own age. He was a family man himself, you see, and conscious of the blessings that such an arrangement can bring.'
'And he introduced you to someone suitable?'
Ah, thought Scrooge, so she knows the story already. She just wants to hear my version of it. Well, that seemed fair enough.
'He did. Or it was through his good offices, anyway. I met a young lady—Belle by name. I found her most attractive, and in the course of time I became engaged to her. But—’ And at this juncture Scrooge again sighed heavily. ‘I had by that time left Mr Fezziwig's warehouse. He was in the cloth trade, was Fezziwig, and I handled all his finances for him. It was in that way that I came to know Marley, who provided the finance for the company. Towards the end of my apprenticeship I proposed to Marley that we should start a business together—a bold proposal, as I think now, but it seemed natural enough then. For better or for worse, Marley agreed, and so from then on I was very much taken up with the task of putting the new business on a sound footing, and securing my future. Or so I told myself.'
'You were ambitious, Mr Scrooge.'
'I was. I had the ambition to become a successful man of business, and I was less and less interested in establishing a family. Then, when my father died, I decided to use the capital which I inherited to invest further in this new enterprise. I could have used it to set up a family home, of course. But no, I decided against that.... In the course of time my fiancée came to recognize my obsession with financial affairs—an obsession which I had caught from Marley like some foul disease—and she graciously released me from my commitment. That was how she was kind enough to put it, though in reality she was weary of the shameful way I had treated her. Delaying our marriage for month after month, year after year. She had realized that, however fond I might be of her—and I have reason to suppose that she also cared for me—she would always take second place to my primary interest. And so, very wisely, she cut her losses and ran.'
'And what became of her?'
'Why, she very sensibly found another fellow. Someone far kinder and better balanced than myself, and she made a happy and successful marriage.... A good many years later, when I had come to understand what a mistake I had made, I took the trouble to make sure that she was well and in good circumstances—just in case she needed help, you understand—and I found that she was coping very well, thank you, with a good man for a husband and fine children who were a credit to her.'
The widow rose and poured out the last of their coffee.
'Another week or two, I think, Mr Scrooge, before you can resume your nightly glass of brandy. And I trust a second cup of this will not keep you awake?'
'Not me,’ laughed Scrooge. ‘If the last few nights are any guide, I shall sleep ten hours with no dreams.'
The widow resumed her seat and picked up her sewing.
'So,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘As my brother-in-law might say, Mr Scrooge, you are not in a state of grace. You are dissatisfied with your life, and conscious of the need to change it. But the question is, what exactly are you going to do?'
Scrooge drank his coffee made a small gesture with the saucer. ‘That is what I have been asking myself for some time. I have accumulated a vast fortune, and I would like to think that it could be put to use by doing good in the world. But I am damned if I know how best proceed. Do you have any ideas?'
'Even if I had,’ said the widow, ‘I would not suggest them to you. This is a matter which you must decide for yourself, for only in that way will you be able to live comfortably with the decision afterwards.... Why don't you take advantage of your enforced rest, here in this house, which is away from the hustle and bustle of London, and think things through at your leisure?'
'That sounds a wise proposal,’ said Scrooge.
'It will be some time before you are fully recovered. And even when you are, you need feel in no hurry to leave.'
'Thank you,’ said Scrooge. ‘I am grateful for your hospitality.'
'There is just one small point,’ said the widow pensively.
'Yes?'
'It's fairly obvious really, and I'm sure it has occurred to you already.'
'Probably not.'
'But you did say that you were weary of looking in the mirror and seeing your father's face, for that reminded you of what an embittered and disappointed man he became.'
'Yes, indeed. And in appearance I am much like him.'
'Well then,’ said the widow, ‘that being the case, why do you not continue what you had already half begun, while you were ill, and grow a beard?'
CHAPTER 22
Within a week, Scrooge's beard had begun to look quite promising. His stubble had flecks of gray in it, and it still had a long way to go, of course, before it could be said to be a proper beard; but now, as he glanced in the mirror, Scrooge thought that before long he might even appear quite distinguished. Progress, a
s Mrs Bannister might say.
Scrooge was also making progress—and quite rapid progress at that—in terms of his decisions about how best to use his money. He sent for Cratchit, who came down by train at the end of the week. After an excellent lunch (roast beef, potatoes, parsnips, and gravy, followed by a jam tart with custard), Scrooge and his long-serving employee settled down in the now deserted dining-room and began to sort out his affairs.
'I have been having a long think,’ said Scrooge, by way of opening the conversation. ‘I've had a lot of time to think recently, as you well know, Cratchit, and it's done me nothing but good, I'm sure. And this is what I've decided. I've come to the conclusion that I ought to give away nine-tenths of my money.'
Cratchit was clearly stunned by this news; his mouth fell open in a manner which Scrooge judged most satisfactory. He could scarcely have made a more dramatic announcement if he had told Cratchit that he was to become Archbishop of Canterbury.
'Nine-tenths of your money,’ repeated Cratchit slowly. ‘Give it away, you say. Well.... That sounds an awful lot, sir.'
'Well indeed it does. And if I only had ten bob to my name it would be too much. But giving away nine-tenths of over a million will still leave me with a hundred thousand. Which ought to be enough for a fellow like me. Wouldn't you say so?'
'Well yes, sir,’ said Cratchit. ‘If you put it like that.'
'Money can be a great blessing,’ said Scrooge, in philosophical mode. ‘There's no doubt about it. But it can also be a great burden. And I have come to the conclusion that my burden is too great to be borne much longer.'
'Well,’ said Cratchit, still struggling to take in the news. ‘It's a very generous thought, sir. But how exactly are you going to go about it?'
'Ah, indeed. That is the question. Giving away money ain't as easy as one might imagine. For a start, a fair bit of my capital is tied up in one way or another, and it can't all be released straight away. However, what I've decided is this. I will set up a charitable trust—the lawyers can sort out the details, and I've written them a long letter for you to take back. Mr Larking at Larking and Chester, he's the best man for this sort of work. Essentially, I will sign over quite a lot of money to the trust straight away, and more as it becomes available, when my various investments are paid back.'
'This will be an irrevocable gift, will it, sir?'
'Oh yes. Has to be. And there will be trustees, of course, to manage the trust. I shall be one, and I thought perhaps the Reverend Mr Bannister and his wife might also serve. I've written a letter to them too. We might need others, in the course of time, but that will do for a start. If any one of us dies, the remaining trustees will appoint a replacement.'
'And how will the trust operate, sir?'
'Well, the money that I give to the trust will be invested, mostly in government stock, or funds equally as secure. And the trustees will then distribute the income in the form of grants. And that's where you come in, Cratchit.'
'Me sir?'
'Yes sir, you sir. I wouldn't want you to think that you'll be out of a job if I give up my present profession. By no means. No, Cratchit, your job—if you're willing to take it, of course—will be to act as the trust administrator. We shall invite applications, from anyone and everyone you can think of who might need help to do useful things in the world. Individuals and institutions. And they will all have to fill out an application form. Very short, just one side of a sheet of paper. We don't want to be bureaucratic. And then the trustees will decide whether to approve an application. Any two out of the three trustees being sufficient to authorize a payment. The others must be able to over-rule me, you see, in case I have one of me attacks.'
'Attacks, sir?’ Cratchit looked worried.
'Yes, Cratchit, one of me attacks of stinginess. You must have noticed that they come over me from time to time.'
'Oh yes, sir, I had remarked on it, now you mention the matter. Only occasionally, of course.'
'Naturally. Anyway, as I say, there seem to be plenty of people doing good work who need a bit of help, so I'm sure that the trustees will normally approve the applications. Unless we're approached by absolute rogues, and we shall look to you to spot those at an early stage.'
'Well sir,’ said Cratchit, ‘I'm sure I shall consider it a great honor to serve in this way.'
'You can run the trust from our present suite of offices.'
'I'm sure I could, sir.'
Cratchit paused, as if undecided whether to say what was on his mind. Scrooge noticed, and gave instructions. ‘Well, spit it out, man. Don't just sit there with something on the tip of your tongue.'
'Well, sir,’ said Cratchit thoughtfully, ‘I was just thinking, sir, this will be a very big change from your former way of life.'
Scrooge leaned back in his chair and gave the point some thought.
'A very big change, you say.... Well, not as big as you might think, Cratchit. The way I see it, we shall be using the capital in much the same way as I do now. We shall be supporting and encouraging those with enterprise and vision. Except that in future we shall be making grants, not loans. And we shall be dealing with ventures which are by their nature not in the business of making profits. For instance, Cratchit, we can provide support for some of the charitable hospitals. And we might provide scholarships for able young men to go to university—fellows who could not afford it otherwise. And think what benefits that might bring, if only we can develop the talent that currently goes to waste.'
He paused, because the memory of Billy was still very painful.
'Take a fellow like Billy, for example. A bright lad, as I think you will agree.'
'Very bright, sir. Very quick.'
'We could have done something for him in better circumstances. And there must be thousands like him.... And we can help young women too—we mustn't forget them. Not quite sure how we could proceed in that regard, but no doubt we shall think of something. After all, in young Sasha we have a very good example of how a girl can blossom if she is given a little help.'
Scrooge lowered his voice to make sure that he was not overheard outside the room.
'Our Sasha has quite come into her own in this house, you know, Cratchit.'
'Yes sir?'
'Oh yes. Gets on wonderfully well with the widow. Soaks up knowledge like a sponge, does Sasha. Helps in the clinic every morning. And has, I believe, found herself a young man.’ Scrooge nodded knowingly. ‘A butcher.'
'Well well,’ said Cratchit, with an amused smile.
Scrooge and Cratchit talked through the details of Scrooge's proposals for some time, and then Cratchit prepared himself to catch the train back to London.
'You go and see the lawyers,’ said Scrooge as they parted. ‘See Mr Larking himself, on Monday morning, and give him my letter. He can write to me here if there are any problems. But I want everything set up so that I can sign the documents on my return to the office.'
'Any idea when that will be, sir?'
'Oh,’ said Scrooge, ‘I'm feeling much better than I was. But a man could get used to a life like this, you know. I'm in no hurry to move at present.'
CHAPTER 23
A few more days passed, and it began to be possible to talk of spring. The weather was still chilly and the wind still blustery, but the sun was higher in the sky.
Scrooge was now strong enough to take short walks in the open air, and as the warmth of the sun increased, so the vitality came back into his body.
It was good for him to be out of doors, he understood that now. When in the city, he hardly bothered about the seasons. They normally had little effect on him, beyond having to decide whether to wear an overcoat or not. Even that decision was hardly worth making on most days, because it was only a short walk from his home to the office and from there to the Royal Exchange.
Out here, however, life was quite different. He had become much more conscious of the rhythm of each day—the arrival of dawn, noon, evening. He also found himself more observant
of the rapid changes in the sky, and the much more gradual development of the spring season. He had, he realized, become aware of many things which had once been familiar but which he had long since neglected to notice. He remarked as such to his hostess, one Sunday afternoon.
The widow nodded. ‘In the country, you would have to be a very self-centered person not to be aware of these changes. Speaking of which, have you noticed, Mr Scrooge, that in the few days’ time we shall have a full moon?'
'Er, well, yes,’ muttered Scrooge (who hadn't really). ‘But does that have some special significance?'
The widow laughed, and gave him a reproachful look. ‘Why, Mr Scrooge, you are a city man, and no mistake. Out here we have no fancy gas lights in the street, you know, and as a result most social life in the country is clustered around the week of the full moon. Had you quite forgot?'
Well yes. Scrooge had.
All he could say, and rather lamely at that, was: ‘I invested in gas for the illumination of the streets very early, you know. Did very well out of it. And you will have it here before long, I am certain of that.'
The widow smiled. ‘That's as maybe. But in the coming week I am hostess to two little gatherings, and it is only right that I should give you forewarning. On Wednesday, I shall be having the usual monthly meeting of my sewing circle, here, in this house. Some of my lady friends come from as far as Pewsey, and from villages an equal distance in other directions, so we do need a clear sky if possible. We normally use the dining-room. I hope you will not think it rude of me, Mr Scrooge, but I doubt that you will much enjoy the company of a dozen or so ladies. Perhaps it would be sensible for you to retire to your room upstairs on that occasion.'
Well, Scrooge was not the most sensitive of men, but he could take a hint quick enough when struck over the head with it.