The Turn of the Scrooge

‘Scrooge!  A moment of your time if you please.’ boomed Fezziwig.

Ebenezer Scrooge carefully placed the battered, weather-worn crate he had been carrying on the table outside the office of his portly employer.  He adjusted his bow tie, straightened his lapels, whetted his lips and raised his right hand to knock.

‘Come in man, there is no need to knock if I have already requested your presence before me.’ grunted Fezziwig as he tipped burnt tobacco from his malodorous pipe.  ‘Now, sit yourself down, we have much to discuss.’

Scrooge squatted on to a cheap footstool and faced Fezziwig’s desk.  Leaning furtively in the direction of the office's sole source of heat - a lonely candle - he pondered the connotations of the phrase “much to discuss”.  More so he pondered quite what mood the old blighter was in today.  Given the absence of a “yo ho” or “chirrup” from his curt request and the acidic stare that greeted him as he entered, it seemed more than apparent that his employer was enduring a low spell – and that meant nothing but hard, frank business talk.

He recalled warmly the old man's jovial performance that previous Christmas Day and, although it had occurred some six weeks ago, the image of Fezziwig and his entire company of workers dancing, drinking and making very merry together lived strong in both his mind and heart.   Mr Fezziwig was altogether different that night.  Granted, from Midday he had liberally supped mulled wine from the huge brass bowl  that Mrs Fezziwig had wheeled in, whooping and coughing theatrically before declaring it "the best batch of bishop yet".  Yes, whether insisting Scrooge and his equally bookish co-clerk Dick Wilkins drop their quills and join his family in an exhilarating square dance or leading all assembled through a chorus of The Wassail Song, the outgoing side of Fezziwig really appealed to Scrooge.  It was his Protean duplicity: this downcast, mirth-drained, hard to please misanthrope before him he feared.

‘Now,’ began Fezziwig, his wire-rim eyeglasses slipping as he looked down angrily at an open ledger. ‘Business recently has been frightful.  The lack of commerce during this perishing winter and various financial vagaries have left me with little choice.  Not to put too fine a point on it my fine fellow, either I dismiss you or I dismiss Dick.’

Scrooge shifted uncomfortably but tried to remain stoic.  Dick Wilkins was practically his younger brother.  The two were apprenticed by Fezziwig barely a month apart; they shared sleeping quarters above the warehouse; there was barely a living soul he felt closer to.  Scrooge smiled, then immediately felt a pang of guilt.  Perhaps there was one.

‘I’ve given it considerable thought,’ continued Fezziwig.  ‘My daughter Belle thinks very fondly of you and harbours a wish to become your wife.  I will give you my blessing, continued employment and a token promotion if you should espouse her.  Do we have an accord?’

Belle Fezziwig twirled enthusiastically, showing off an elegant, blue, deeply-flounced gown.  Scrooge stood several feet away, his eyebrows raised in admiration while his jaw loosened into a wide, yet not unattractive gawp.

'Yo ho Ebenezer!' called her father beckoning, 'I know you are friendly with my other daughters, but have you met my eldest, Belle?  As fresh a rose today when she stepped from the carriage as that which sadly departed us six months ago.'

'Really Father!' blushed Belle. 'Mr Scrooge, finally I make your acquaintance.  Descriptions in the letters of my sisters precede you, but I fear do not do you justice.  Will you walk with me awhile?'

'I would consider it a pleasure my lady'

Old Fezziwig brusquely repeated himself, 'Do we have an accord?'

'Sir, my love for your daughter is matched only by my love of my work here.  I graciously accept your offer.' replied Scrooge with a firm handshake.

'Good.  I shall inform Wilkins.  I shall be sad to see him go, but frugality dictates this course of action.  You should write to my daughter at once to inform her of my intentions.'

'Yes, sir.'

'One further word of advice Scrooge.  The world of business favours those with a hard nose and crushes the delicate of will like grain under pestle.  Your affability will see you well through life but to be successful you must cultivate a ruthless streak.  We shall discuss your affairs further in the near future.  Good day now.'

‘Good day Sir and God bless us, every one!’