Marley's Tale

by Catmoran

Fandom: A Christmas Carol

Pairing: Marley/Ebenezer

Rating PG

Disclaimer: I disclaim nothing! The characters portrayed here are quite firmly in the public domain, and I own this story in full.

Originally published in 'Southern Hospitality', the 'zine of the 2001 Southern Gathering convention.

Note: All quotes are from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

©2001 Catmoran

Seven years? Has it really been that long? Time moves strangely in the spirit world. Some say that they are able to mark time by the appearance of those who still live, but in the years before my death I knew only Ebenezer well enough, and he has not changed much in these seven years. He is perhaps colder and harder than before, but the degree is so slight that I cannot judge the time from it.

I follow him, waiting for my opportunity. I was told that I would know it when it arrived, and I feel sure that it will not occur while Mr. Cratchit is present. But I cannot gamble on this task; it is the only chance Ebenezer has of escaping my fate. That I was given the chance to help, is a gift beyond the hopes of a spirit of my lot.

*

As I follow Ebenezer from our counting-house to the tavern, and then from the tavern to his rooms, I begin to feel an odd sort of strength about me. It comes not from within me, but from without. I gather my self and the energy into a point directly in front of Ebenezer and fling myself forward. He sees me, I am sure of it; but I have expended all on this parlour trick, and nothing remains to allow me to move or speak.

I fade from his sight, disgusted and horrified at my failure to complete my task. I desire to give up and fling myself, wailing, back into the maelstrom of damned souls; but something holds me back. I must remember that I am not alone in this. If I were, this would be a task bereft of hope. But I need only convince him to listen to the three good spirits who will follow me. He probably does not deserve their help, I know I do not. We are both fortunate that there are others who are deserving of the good that may come of this. Some one among them must have a powerful guardian angel, for Ebenezer to profit by it so.

I do not wish for him to share in my fate. Please, he must not!

I feel the strength gathering again as I follow Ebenezer into his rooms. Cold these rooms are, colder than when I kept them. The furnishings appear unchanged since I died. I suppose he derived the greater monetary profit by selling his household than he could gain by selling mine.

Is it time to attempt to show myself to him again? I must be careful this time, so that I don't expend all my energy at once.

*

I rattle my chains and wail as the energy fades. He saw me and heard me, but did he listen? I spent most of the energy convincing him that I am the spirit who was his old partner; little remained to deliver the message. Will he heed the spirits who follow? I can only watch and hope.

*

The bell tolls one, and here is his first visitor. I cannot see the spirit, for these joyful sights are blocked from my view. But I can see Ebenezer's reaction. Ah, this is doomed to fail! Here he is confronted with what must be a glorious and confounding being, and he behaves as if he is meeting a man with only slightly more position than his own.

Their spirits leave for the past, and I am left behind with Ebenezer's soulless body. I wonder what the spirit will show him? It's strange to realize, but I know nothing about this man's past. He was my friend and business partner for many years, my only friend for over a decade; and I only know of his life since our meeting. It is fair, I suppose; he never knew my past either.

I was the youngest child of my parents to pass the age of six, younger by many years than my older brothers and sister. It seems that they left the house before I was old enough to know them, although they were home on holiday often enough when I was a child.

My sister was not married too young; and still her oldest son, my nephew!, was nearly old enough to be my play-mate. He and I might have attended the same school if his parents had not settled in a village nearly a day's ride to the north.

My oldest brothers, once their apprenticeships were finished and they returned home, were inseparable. Father was sure that the business couldn't be stretched to support two families, but they managed quite well. They inherited the whole of Marley Bros. when Father passed away, and by now have probably passed it on to their own sons.

I do not know, for I never kept in touch with any of them after Mother and Father passed on. Much as I loved my siblings, and I suppose they loved me, we seemed too much like strangers. With our parents gone, it seemed that the bond between us dropped away.

My years as an apprentice were grand. I took to business as a duck takes to water. Numbers were second nature to me, figuring ways to make them grow were as a game. My master was a clever man, and goaded me to surpass the other boys while never making it a dull chore.

But greatest treasure of those years, is the friendship that I shared with another apprentice.

His name was Jamie. At least, that's the name I called him when I wanted to see his pale skin flush red; he fancied himself a 'James'. He was already apprenticed to Master Wickersham and nearly a year older than myself, when I met him. As apprentice boys, without the means to take a wife, Jamie and I had certain freedoms that gentlemen are not permitted in our society. He had the sweetest face, and a marvellous sense of fun; we shared many pleasures in the few short years that I knew him.

Sadly, he did not have the head for business that I had. He proclaimed that his money would be worthless without the leisure-time to enjoy it, and aspired only to manage a small business or shop. I had much grander goals in mind, not the least of which was that my business must surpass that of my Father's. While Jamie left to become the master of his own life, I stayed on at Wickersham's to learn all that I could. I fell out of touch with Jamie when he married, in the hope that it would spare my heart some hurt.

I think that Ebenezer always reminded me of Jamie. I could not have said how that was before I died; for they were as different as two men could be. Where Jamie was content with the lot of the average business-man, Ebenezer shared my loftier dreams. Where Jamie was fair, Ebenezer was dark. And that was not in their outward appearance alone; it was in their spirit and manner as well. Where Jamie could spin a tale to startle a laugh out of the dourest man, Ebenezer saw more value in diligent work and a neat row of figures. Mind you, Ebenezer was not always as cold and bitter as the world now knows him, but he has always been a sombre man.

I am still unable to define precisely in what way they were the same, but I can say that in both of them I saw someone I might love. And as a young man may, I did love Jamie. Not long, but well enough for our youth. I feel myself fortunate for that.

For Ebenezer I have only regret. Certainly we were friends in our own, poor, way; and I am glad we had that much. And you could excuse me for criticising society for our lack of a greater bond, but I can not misplace the blame. The customs of our place and time may have prevented the full relationship that I desired, but we could at the least have loved as brothers.

I can tell you, as one who is suffering the consequences: the frustrations of the body are as nothing to the frustrations of the spirit. If left uncared for, the discontented spirit will sicken, and will cause the soul to rot.

Ah, his spirit returns. I will cease my watch now, and return when it is time for the second spirit.

*

The bell strikes one, and Ebenezer is stirring behind his bed-curtains. Again, I am not granted the privilege to see or hear the good spirit, but I feel its presence approach as closely as the sitting-room. Is this a test? Must Ebenezer go to the spirit? I fear that he will not, and the work of yesterday will be undone. Tonight I have no energy to make myself heard to the living, but I silently entreat him to rise and go to the spirit. I imagine myself heaving a great sigh when, finally, he does so.

If a test that was, Ebenezer has passed it. Again I watch as Ebenezer's spirit leaves with the ghost, leaving his empty body.

Christmas Present. Where will the ghost take Ebenezer? Who will he see? He had a sister once. She is long dead (and gone to a much better place than I) but his nephew lives, and in a village near-by. And was he not promised to a young woman when we met? Perhaps she still lives.

Where would the ghost take me, if I were permitted to see such things? Ah, surely my sister and brothers are gone now; and I know not if I have any living nieces or nephews. Jamie was a little older than I, but not much; I suppose I might be taken to see him. Would seeing him cause me joy, or regret? I would like to know that he has done well for himself, and that his family has brought him joy. But this spirit deals in reality, and I may not wish to see the truth.

Oh, this is a pointless exercise. I can only worry, and hope that this lesson is beneficial to Ebenezer's soul.

*

The clock is striking twelve and the third spirit is due; but where is Ebenezer? His body is still, and his spirit has not returned. I am sure that something has gone terribly wrong. Perhaps the latest spirit was so dismayed that he has left Ebenezer's spirit to wander the streets alone? Or it may be that Ebenezer's end came this very night, and his fate has already been sealed!

Would the spirits leave me to wait and hope in vain? They might. It is my fate to wander the world forever, without hope or effect. And here I stand, with no help or hope to offer my friend. Yes, they might see little need to inform me that the student has failed and the lessons are complete.

The minutes pass, and the third spirit does not appear. He is one of many whose sight is not blocked from my senses. Indeed, in the past seven years I have frequently seen him, and others of his family, as they exit the sleeping chambers of the living after gifting them with a dream.

The spirits of that family are rarely seen by the living, for although they are good, their appearance is horrifying. Some spirits of my acquaintance have said that the countenance of any one of them will drive a man mad; others say that only mad-men may see them. I do not know which is the truth, but I have seen enough evidence to know that one of them must be. I meant to be present when the last spirit appeared, to plead with him not to show his face to Ebenezer.

Once again, Ebenezer's fate is out of my hands. If the lesson has been terminated and Ebenezer is lost, or if the third spirit has driven him to madness: I have not the ability to help him. I can only wait.

If I were permitted, I would shout with happiness! Ebenezer did not fail, and he was not abandoned. The spirits and their blessed lessons have had their effect, and he lives! When he dies I will miss him sorely, but for now I am overwhelmed with joy that my fate will not be his.

I watch, heart uplifted, as he moves forward to meet his life.

The spirits know their work well. Ebenezer's lightened heart works its effect on everything in his reach, to the benefit of many people. He has even given me a reliable timepiece over the years, as I watch his chains shorten and lighten to a much gentler burden.

What a life we might have had, if this change had been worked while I still lived! Ah, but that isn't true. If he had changed and I had not, I would have taken his kindness and charity as so much foolishness. I would have continued to my wretched fate, but without a single friend. My fate is set, and dreaming will not change it.

*

Many years have passed, since that long Christmas night. And on this frosty Christmas morn, Ebenezer does not awaken from his bed. I watch, in wonder and sorrow, as his spirit leaves his body for the last time. Wonder, because he glows so much more brightly than he did those many years ago, that I almost expect a night watch-man to cry out an alarm. Indeed, I am sure that a soul that bright may dispel the darkest night. And sorrow, because this is the last time I will see him.

He does not rise immediately. He remains just above the bed-covers, with a curious look upon his face. It seems to take him a moment to find his bearings, perhaps because he went directly from sleep to the spirit world. I am amazed when he turns and smiles on me. It is well known that spirits are not illuminated by any light but their own, and surely his must engulf my dim light?

Oh, but such a smile has not been directed at me since long before I died! Struggling through my sorrow at his certain departure, I answer his smile. As feeble as my attempt is, it must please him; for he extends his hand to me. I hesitantly extend my own, but stop short of touching his. I desire this contact so greatly, that I fear what may happen when it is snatched away. If I had a heart, I am certain it would now be beating wildly, and that I might faint dead away.

With a gentle smile, as if he knows my fear and understands, Ebenezer takes my hand. He does not vanish, nor pull back in horror. His hand is soft, and warm, as I never knew it in life. At this simple gesture, I feel a kiss upon my soul. I stare into his eyes with a look of longing that I cannot contain.

With an almost boyish grin, he beckons me to look down. Forcing myself to look away from him, I do so.

I almost cannot believe my eyes. The building in which we both have lived is falling away below our feet.

We rise together.

As I draw my eyes back to his face, I see that my chains (already shorter and lighter than I last recall) and his have both been split, and we each share the other's burden.

Rather than my fate becoming his, his fate has become my own. And I feel indescribable joy in sharing it.

The End