Bait, a charles dickens fanfic

Bait

By Laura Schiller

Based on: The Mystery of Edwin Drood

When Mr. Grewgious came into his sitting-room with an open letter in his hand, with a face even more wooden and motionless than usual, all three of his young houseguests looked up. Rosa put down her embroidery; Neville, sitting next to her on the sofa, shut his book with a thud that made her jump. Only Helena's face betrayed no apprehension.

"It's from Bazzard," Mr. Grewgious informed them. "He has been investigating the case as I requested. He has found no proof against John Jasper as yet, but the evidence is growing."

"What evidence?" Rosa asked, half eager, half fearful.

"He has found the keys to one of the cathedral tombs in Jasper's study," replied Mr. Grewgious. "And a copy of Captain Drood's will in which all instances of young Edwin's name had been scored out. Moreover, several empty botles of opium – enough to impair the judgment of any man."

Rosa squeezed the ring she wore on her necklace, feeling the metal dig into her palm. She imagined Jasper sitting at his desk, viciously blackening out his nephew's name, dreaming his dark dreams under the influence of the drug. She could see it very well.

"That's not enough," Neville broke in, glancing at her with fierce protectiveness. "How do we prove he's guilty?"

"With all due respect, Mr. Landless," Mr. Grewgious replied, stiffly lowering himself into an armchair opposite his three guests, "We do not yet know, of a certainty, whether he is guilty or not."

"He has already confessed it." Helena's voice was low, but strong as steel. "In looks, if not in words. We saw it when he came here, did we not, little one?"

She caught Rosa's pale hand in her darker one, a reassuring touch for which Rosa was grateful. The memory of Jasper's face that day, gray as tombstones at the sound of Helena's accusation, made her sick to remember. He had not even attempted to deny it, only stared, as if Helena's were the voice of his own conscience come to life.

"That will never hold up in court," said Neville. "And, knowing him, it's the only confession he's ever likely to make."

He was right. Knowing the depths of Jasper's cunning, the way he had manipulated all of Cloisterham into believing Neville to be guilty, it was all too unlikely that he would ever let down his guard more than he already had.

"Do not despair, my dear," said Mr. Grewgious, his dry voice softening. "Bazzard may yet find the proof he seeks. Why," looking down at his letter, then up again, "This crypt key may be the key to the location of poor Edwin's remains! As soon as he obtains permission from the Mayor - " Something about Rosa's face made him break off, put down the letter, and clear his throat several times with what she knew to be remorse. "That is, of course – I did not mean to say - "

"I understand, Mr. Grewgious," she told him quietly. "You are no more eager for the discovery of … that … than I am."

"I am eager to see justice done," he said.

"I know."

Rosa's thoughts wandered back to the Cloisterham cathedral – those high stone walls and shadowy corners where she had spent nearly every Sunday of her life, without ever asking questions about the corpses right beneath her feet. Could Edwin – handsome, witty, careless, warm-hearted Edwin – really have been buried in the cobwebbed darkness there?

Only one man knew the truth, and he would say nothing.

Unless …

"What's the matter?" asked Helena suddenly, peering into Rosa's face. "Are you ill?"

"No." She took a deep breath and locked her hands together, keeping them from trembling. "Only … I've had an idea. It frightens me … but it might work."

All three of them watched her with deep anxiety, making her light-headed with nerves.

"It's … well, it's quite simple, really," she began. "I could not help but notice that … Mr. Jasper - " It took some strength even to speak the name out loud. "Is more honest while alone with me than at any other time. Too honest, really. If I can - "

"No!" Neville jumped to his feet, both fists clenched. "For God's sake, no!"

"You don't even know what my plan is!" she fired back, standing herself so that, as she was tall for a woman, she could argue with him face to face. Strangely enough, his opposition struck fire in her, turning her fear to determination. If she could face Jasper, she could certainly face an overprotective friend.

"You mean to offer yourself as bait to this monster," Neville accused, black eyes flashing. "To seek him out alone in order to ask for his confession! Ths after you barely escaped him the last time!"

"I will not be alone." Rosa gestured sharply to Mr. Grewgious' letter, which lay folded on the table. "We shall arrange things so that, on the very hour Mr. Bazzard and the others search the tomb, I shall take Mr. Jasper along the same direction. If I can persuade him confess within their hearing – "

"And if you cannot?" Neville challenged. "If he refuses to cooperate, what then? There are dozens of ways this plan might fail. You cannot do this!"

"You have no power to stop me."

Mr. Grewgious, still seated in his armchair, gave a small cough that turned all eyes in his direction.

"I have," he said evenly. "And I agree with Mr. Landless. It would be too dangerous."

Where Neville's objections had encouraged her, those of her beloved guardian, whose common sense had always been her anchor, made her crumble. Tears of helpless fury stung her eyes.

"Then what should I do?" she sobbed. "Should I sit here like a stupid little doll, waiting for him to come after me - or you, Mr. Neville? How could I forgive myself if you were sent to prison on my account, while I stood by and did nothing?"

Neville's hands relaxed at his sides. His black eyes glittered with sympathy, and with something else he couldn't help. However, he did not unblock her way.

"I say, let Rosa proceed." With a rustle of silk, Helena rose to her feet and came to stand beside Rosa, one supportive arm around her waist. "Her courage does her honor."

"It does, God knows," said Neville, in a tone that struggled between admiration and misery. "But - "

"Neville." Helena interrupted her brother with a firm gesture of one hand. "Think. We both know what it means to be subject to the will of another. Would you deny Rosa the chance, however risky, to free herself?"

The twins exchanged a long, intense look which Rosa could not read. In the end, it was Neville who bowed his head.

"Miss Rosa," he murmured, "Forgive me … "

He reached for her face, abruptly drew back without touching her, shot a glance at Helena and Mr. Grewgious, and – overpowered by some emotion he refused to let them see – rushed out of the room. In the silence he left behind, they could all hear him clatter up the stairs and shut the door.

Rosa sat down hard. She had refused to believe Jasper's innuendoes about Neville – until now. Was there a curse on her, that she should make so many men unhappy without even trying?

"It's not your fault, little one," said Helena, who could sometimes read her mind almost as well as her brother's. "He cannot help the way he feels, and neither can you."

"Then it is all the more important for me to stand by him," said Rosa. "For your sake as well as mine."

Mr. Grewgious, who had been watching and listening as silently as the wooden statue he resembled, giving nothing of his feelings away, suddenly spoke up.

"If you really are set upon doing this mad thing … " he began, creasing his face into several sharp frown lines.

"I am, sir."

"I had better ask Bazzard to bring a witness to the tomb. A tall, strong witness with an honest reputation."

"An excellent idea," Helena chimed in. "I would suggest Mr. Crisparkle. He will keep you safe."

Her stern face brightened at the mention of the Minor Canon's name. Rosa resolved, in some future time when the upcoming challenge was behind her, to ask her friend in private what that meant.

"Does this mean I have your permission, Mr. Grewgious?" she asked, holding out both hands to her guardian.

Mr. Grewgious creaked to his feet, lumbered over towards her, and helped her to stand. Keeping his large, warm hands around hers, he looked down into her face with something that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

"Since you would probably proceed with or without it," he said. "You do. Oh, bless me!" He shook his head. "How this little girl has grown without my knowledge. May God keep you and protect you, my brave Rosa. Your parents would be proud."

Slowly, awkwardly, and very lovingly, he drew her close to him for a hug. Despite his words, she felt very young as she breathed in the familiar scents of paper, ink and tobacco.

Feeling young reminded her of her childhood with Edwin, which, in turn, made her feel a furious determination running through her from head to toe.

Dear Eddy, she thought. I hope you would be proud of me as well. I will face John Jasper … no matter what the cost.