Tim Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Jim Piecuch Read Free Book Online

novelist Charles Dickens. “Have you read it?”
    â€œNo,” Jane replied. “It’s Mother’s. I love to read, but I don’t have much time for it lately. And it seems that every time I start to read at night, I fall asleep before I finish a single page. Mother did tell me it was quite a funny book.”
    â€œI read it many years ago, when it was first published,” Tim said. “But as I recall, it wasn’t meant to be funny.”
    Jane nodded, saying nothing. Tim hurried to fill the silence by asking why he hadn’t seen any of Mrs. Crompton’s cats.
    â€œNow, that’s funny,” Jane said with merriment in her voice. Tim was glad to see her smile at last. It made her look even prettier. “All yesterday morning while we were shopping, she was complaining that she didn’t know what you were talking about, and that she had wasted her money on the appointment. Then we got back here, and she started sneezing again. So she decided your advice might be worth a try, told me to put the cats outside and open the windows to air the house. In an hour she was fine, no sneezing or runny nose. Father accidentally let the cats in when he got home, and she was horrified when she saw them. She grabbed a broom and chased them right back outside!”
    Tim laughed. “That helps to explain why she was so gracious to me tonight. But what about your health, Miss Crompton? If it’s not impolite to say so, you didn’t look well yesterday, and I can’t say I notice any improvement in your condition tonight. I wanted to ask you yesterday, but your mother spirited you away too quickly.”
    Jane lowered her eyes. “I’m sure it’s just that I’ve been working too much, Tim. You needn’t worry about it. A little rest and I’ll be fine.”
    â€œMy professional judgment tells me that there’s more to it, Miss Crompton. I want to help, and hope I can, but I won’t be able to if you don’t confide in me.” As he spoke, Tim realized that his worries arose as much from personal concern for the young lady as from professional interest. The conviction of his words reflected this, although he feared that he might have implied more than he had intended.
    Jane gazed into Tim’s blue eyes and saw only sympathy.
    â€œMother has become much more demanding over the past few years,” she said softly. “She always had her own maidservant, and a cook and a housekeeper, and even though she complained about everything they did, she at least tolerated them. But then she began to get more and more critical. She started following them around, nitpicking at everything they did or didn’t do. Some of them got angry and quit, and others were dismissed, and their replacements rarely last more than a month or two. Every time Mother dismisses them, I have to do the work of one or the other, and sometimes all three, until she hires new people.”
    â€œThat’s quite a burden on you,” Tim observed.
    Jane nodded. “It is, but it’s my responsibility to help my mother. What I find most frustrating is that I no longer have any time to do the things that I want.”
    â€œAnd what’s that, if I may ask?”
    â€œMother thinks it should be marriage. Pursuing a proper husband, and nothing more. She says that the right marriage will allow me to enjoy a life of leisure like she does, but I think that too much leisure is the cause of her bad temper. If she had something worthwhile to occupy her, she wouldn’t have time to wander about finding fault with others.”
    â€œYou’ve told me what your mother wants for you, but you haven’t said what you want,” Tim pressed gently.
    â€œI’m not quite sure,” Jane replied after a moment’s thought. “There aren’t many options for a woman of my station. In that sense Mother is right—a good marriage is the only goal I’m