By Pamela Love
“Our firm must move with the times, Jacob. Renting an automaton will cost us half of what hiring a human clerk will, including the coal to power it. They are less error-prone, as well. Many London businesses are doing so. It’s in The Times.” Scrooge handed the newspaper clipping and his calculations to his partner. “Why not follow their example?”
Marley scanned the figures. “Very well, Ebenezer. Make the arrangements, would you? I have meetings today and tomorrow.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Another advantage of an automaton is that it won’t drop dead in the middle of copying an important contract, like Scribner did.”
It was past closing time the following day when Marley returned to the counting-house. After a morning conducting business, he’d spent the afternoon listening to the latest rumors about the Market. Normally, he would have gone straight home. However, curiosity drove him to see the new automaton.
Marley stopped dead in the doorway. Only one candle flickered on the clerk’s desk, yet it provided sufficient light to see that, instead of the sleek, silvery mechanical man he’d expected, a scrawny, shivering human was perched on Scribner’s stool, his breath visible in the chilly office.
“Who are you?” Marley demanded.
The man sprang to his feet and bowed nervously. “Bob Cratchit, sir. Scrooge and Marley’s new clerk.”
“Bah!” Marley strode into his partner’s office. “Ebenezer, where is the automaton?”
Scrooge sat hunched over a ledger. “All humbug.” He turned a page.
Marley folded his arms. “Nonsense. The solicitors Barrow and Skipworth have two. I watched them working this morning. They were faster than Scribner, with neater printing. Barrow said he wished he’d leased them months ago.”
“The automaton company sent a woman to install the thing, Jacob.” Scrooge ran a finger down a column of figures. “With some nonsensical name. Locket or Necklace. I sent her and her doll packing.”
“But… surely you read the article from the Times that you gave me.” Marley withdrew it from his pocket. “It says that Lady Ada Lovelace is partnered with a man called Charles Babbage. He designed the automaton while she invented something called programming. That’s what enables it act as a clerk. Most irregular, such an arrangement, yet—”
“A doll, I said! Our firm requires a clerk, not a toy. What if it should break?” Scrooge fidgeted. “Or explode? One hears such things about train engines and ship boilers in the Times, too. It’s better to stick to the tried and true. Cratchit comes highly recommended by his previous firm. And he’ll be earning less than Scribner’s wages, of course. I bid you good evening, Jacob. I am busy.”
Never before had Marley’s partner spoken to him in that manner. For a moment, Marley’s jaw hung slack. Then he pulled his hat down over his forehead, snorted, and swept out the door. I haven’t reached this position without being able to detect deceit. If Ebenezer’s trying to cheat me, I will make him regret it.
***
Cratchit was certainly diligent. By noon the next day, the heaps of paper were nearly cut in half. But on principle, Marley planned to get to the bottom of Scrooge’s odd behavior.
Marley took a hansom cab to the offices of Babbage and Lovelace. Presenting his card to an automaton, he was soon escorted in to see the partners. They stood by their mahogany desks, near drapery of maroon brocade. They greeted him with reserve.
Charles Babbage was graying at the temples, and Lady Ada Lovelace wore her fair hair in ringlets. “How do you do, Mr. Marley?” they said with some reserve.
“Good afternoon, milady, sir. I am Mr. Scrooge’s partner, and I’m here to look into why the automaton was unsatisfactory.”
Mr. Babbage slapped his hand on his desk. “Indeed it was not, sir! Mr. Scrooge was most pleased when I showed him how to set it to copying. He declared his eagerness to see it perform arithmetic. Yet moments later, he refused to see that very exhibition!”
Marley’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Did he give any reason for his change of heart? Wait, you delivered it? I was under the impression Lady Lovelace brought the automaton to our office.”
“I was also there.” Her dark skirts rustled as she approached Marley with determined strides. “I arrived slightly after Mr. Babbage due to an unexpected consultation with the Bank of England.”
Marley’s eyebrows rose. “Perhaps your tardiness offended my partner?” Now, that sounds like Ebenezer.
Her ladyship shook her head. “In fact, Mr. Scrooge acknowledged that I was on time. However, he did seem disturbed when I opened the door. His face turned quite scarlet.”
Babbage folded his arms. “Instead of answering civilly, he turned his back on her—most ungentlemanly, sir! Then he cancelled his order. He threatened us with legal action if your firm didn’t receive a full refund.”
Lady Lovelace brandished a slip of paper. “His receipt for the repayment, down to the last farthing.”
This is most peculiar. Ebenezer must have had some reason… “How did my partner know you were on time?”
“He remarked on the chiming of the hour. He looked at me and said, ‘Bell.’”
Marley exhaled. Now all was clear. “I will discuss my partner’s second thoughts with him further. I wish you well with your endeavors. Good day.” Taking his hat and coat from the automaton, Marley headed into the foggy street.
Ebenezer’s betrothed was named Belle. Ada Lovelace must bear a striking resemblance to her. Love, bah! Ebenezer never told me about Belle, and likely believes I know nothing about how she jilted him for caring, sensibly, more for money than for her.” He rolled his eyes, remembering the talk he’d heard the day before. But businessmen gossip as much as women do.
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