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

the effects of his easy, profitable practice. Attired in a rich black silk jacket and trousers and starched white shirt, he looked like a fashionable gentleman on his way to the theater. His flabby body lacked any semblance of muscular strength, while his ample stomach testified to his love of fine foods. The skin on his clean-shaven face was as pink and smooth as that of a baby.
    Dr. Eustace was something of a pioneer in the medical profession. The third and youngest son of Sir James Eustace, a Lancashire baronet, John Eustace had grown up expecting to live the leisured life of a country squire. He therefore devoted as little time as possible, and even less attention, to the tutors his father hired to educate him and his older siblings, but when the stark reality of his lack of inheritance became apparent, John realized he would need a profession. After a few months of unbearably boring legal study, he pleaded with his father to allow him to switch to the study of medicine, and eventually received his license from the Royal College of Physicians just as the financial support from his father was cut off.
    When Eustace went into practice in London his earnings were good, but nowhere near enough to support the lifestyle he wished to lead, which ultimately inspired his innovations in medical practice. Physicians of his day called on patients in their homes, making their rounds on foot or by carriage. Some of the more prominent doctors had reduced the time spent traveling about by receiving patients in their offices on Harley Street, the home of London’s medical elite. Eustace figured that if he stopped making home visits altogether, he could see three or four times as many patients in a day, thereby tripling or quadrupling his income. There would be an additional benefit in that those patients who were able to come and see him would likely be in better health than those he saw at their homes, and thus would not tax his rather limited skills. And so Eustace had purchased the house on Harley Street, converted it into medical offices, and soon developed a thriving practice treating wealthy victims of gout and dyspepsia.
    When Tim had joined Eustace’s practice, he had known his colleague only by reputation, and had expected to be working with a talented medical man. Tim soon learned that Eustace’s skills did not match his renown—he was competent to treat simple cases, but was neither brilliant nor dedicated to his profession. Upon becoming partners with Eustace and Dr. Humphrey Jones, Tim had taken over Jones’s ground-floor offices while Jones moved to the upper floor. Later, Tim learned that Jones could not abide Eustace and had taken the upstairs rooms to increase the distance from his partner. Less than a year after Tim had joined their practice, Jones left and returned to practicing on his own.
    Eustace had made changes in the grounds to keep the practices separate. Two gates in the wrought-iron fence along the street opened into two walkways, one leading to Eustace’s rooms and the stairs to the upper floor, and the other to Tim’s office.
    Tim stood and held the door open as Eustace entered his office, where they studied the week’s appointment book, diagnoses, treatments, and fees charged. Their contract required Tim every Saturday to pay his partner rent and twenty percent of fees collected, but Eustace often left early on Saturday or did not come in at all, so that Tim usually saw him only once or twice a month. Though not unfriendly, Eustace disliked trivial conversation, preferring to simply calculate and collect his fees and then leave. That done, he declined Tim’s invitation to his Christmas party, but did wish his young partner the joy of the season. “I shan’t be in on Christmas Eve, Dr. Cratchit,” he announced as he departed. “I’ll instruct my clerk to refer any emergency cases to you.” Tim grimaced; Eustace simply assumed that Tim would work all