So I know I said I was going to do another War of the Worlds thing this week, but I had this amazing plot bunny pop into my head and I just had to share it with you. Merry Christmas. And a Happy New Year. God bless, everyone.
Scrooge was dead to begin with. Mind you, there is nothing remarkable about this in itself. Scrooge was an old man, and had been an old man for as long as anyone could remember. His death was peaceful, to the extent such things can be, and while the precise date and time were not anticipated, it had been well understood that the Christmas party he had hosted a few weeks prior was apt to be his last.
The funeral was well-attended, of course. Even outside the circle of his family and close personal friends, many who had been touched by his liberality wished to pay their respects. Even those whose relations with Scrooge had been entirely in matters of business reputed him as fair-dealing (Indeed! Even before his much remarked-upon “reformation”, while few would praise him, none could call him dishonest).
There were, of course, certain oddities of his behavior which were a-times the subject of much speculation around London-town. But such musings never raised any ill-will against him. On the contrary, the tale of the covetous old miser who one day, quite abruptly, transformed himself into a noted philanthropist tended to touch at the hearts of all who told it. And besides, Scrooge was so generous and jovial in his nature that few could maintain an ill notion in his presence and if his giddy joy, particularly at Christmas-time, occasionally became unseemly, well, such eccentricities were permitted of the rich, and no-one was inclined to speak against him.
Well, hardly anyone. For while Scrooge could not be strictly said to have had enemies, there were limits to his kindness, and thus some few people had found themselves subject to his scorn.
Of Scrooge, two things were said. First, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any mortal man could be said to possess that knowledge. The second thing was said less often, and always in hushed tones. For Ebeneezer Scrooge had a second eccentricity, which was that he had a disproportionate fascination with spiritualism. Though he had initially been discreet in his inquiries, it eventually became common knowledge that Scrooge would seek an audience with anyone who professed the power to communicate with spirits. It was the one great personal expense he undertook for his own benefit rather than the benefit of others.
Mind! This fascination of old Scrooge did not make him a credulous fool, apt to be easily taken in by charlatans. For while it was true that every spiritualist in London had received Scrooge once, few had met him twice, and a third audience was never requested. Whatever little enmity might have been felt toward Scrooge sprang from this source. For each time Scrooge sought the services of a spiritualist, a brief monograph would appear around town a short time later, methodically discrediting them and documenting proofs of their fraudulence. Scrooge was well-known to detest anyone who profited by defrauding his fellow man, but he seemed to hold a particular contempt for those who did so by claim of preternatural ability.
In light of this contempt, the matter of Mr. Scrooge’s final testament must be viewed with some curiosity. The disposition of his business had, of course, never been in question. His interest in the firm of Scrooge, Cratchit and Holywell was divided among his surviving partners, with a narrow majority interest going to Mr. Cratchit, widely recognized as having the superior business acumen of the two. Beyond his business, however, Scrooge was possessed of a substantial personal fortune. His modest personal effects had all gone to Mr. Holywell, of course, as next of kin, save for a few small requests of a sentimental nature (Most oddly, Scrooge’s will called for his best set of bed-curtains to be given to his charwoman!) It had been widely predicted the bulk of his estate would be divided among the various charities he supported. And indeed, there were generous bequests of this nature, as well as modest legacies to his household staff, and certain gifts held in trust to pay for the education of his partners’ children. But all these bequests made up scarcely a third of Scrooge’s estate.
The remainder of his estate, some six-hundred-thousand pounds, he specified, was to fund and endow the creation of the Marley Institution of Phantasmagorical Studies. The institute was charged with a most peculiar and specific mission. Under the charter laid out, it was the duty of the Institute to determine a method by which the cursed spirits could be released from their suffering, or should that prove impossible, be destroyed utterly.
The will was, of course, challenged, but the and meticulous care Scrooge had taken in thoroughly establishing charters and contracts to ensure the Institute would pursue its mission easily discredited any attempt to slander Scrooge as a madman. And so, in accordance with Mr. Scrooge’s wishes, his executors set themselves to the task of establishing the institute. But this work proceeded in a lackadaisical manner, with no-one possessing either the inclination or the relevant expertise to pursue it much. So for some years afterward, the Institute existed as a purely notional entity, with Scrooge’s fortune quietly accumulating interest in the bank and the firm of Cratchit and Holywell politely declining occasional correspondence directed to the institute. It was only when Mr. Drood, a clark at Cratchit and Holywell, took an interest in and was granted responsibility over the Institute that its work began in earnest. Even then, its progress was modest, primarily interested in continuing its founder’s work of investigating and discrediting false spiritualists.
It would take eight-score years before the Institute made its most remarkable breakthrough.