Chapter Nine

Meg: This meeting of the Lizz Mafia in now in session.

RAEB: The Lizz Mafia has been in existence for over a year and a half. Why are we having our first meeting now?

Meg: Because desperate times call for desperate measures. We have to plot how to get rid of Ratigan and get him to give me my stuff back.

Leigh: Why? Who cares about your stuff? I mean, those CDs are worthless. Who listens to Modest Mouse and Les Misérables and Ray Charles anyway?

Meg: I DO!

Lizz: Who's Ray Charles?

Emma: You don't know who Ray Charles is?

Meg: STOP! Please, can we get back to the subject, mainly about how I am going to get my stuff back?

Leigh: Nah. Ratigan might hold a grudge against the rest of us. Come on, let's go do something better than this.

(Everyone leaves)

Meg: Grrrrrrrr!

It's my birthday, Rose thought to herself as she got dressed on the morning of June 22, 1896.

I am seventeen.

Her heart ached with the thought that it was her first birthday alone. She wondered where her father and sisters were. She had dreamed of them last night. They had all stood in front of the Statue of Liberty and played hide-and-seek, but no one could seem to find Jessica. Rose and Gwen had went onto a boat to look for her, where Giovanni appeared and told Rose that he was going to fire her for forgetting to go to work.

Then she had woken up to reality.

Rose looked at herself in the cracked full-length mirror that leaned by the door to her small attic room. She had on a new green dress and had piled up her hair in an elegant, twisted bun this morning for the occasion. She tried smiling in a sophisticated way to make herself look older. A few moments later she gave up, determining that the expression just made her look stupid.

She sighed. It was not like anyone knew or cared that it was her birthday. She had never liked birthdays herself; all that fuss about getting a year older had just seemed unnecessary. This year, however, she yearned for the fuss, the enjoyment of knowing that some people cared about her birth. That was why she had dressed up today. She usually wore her old clothes from when she had run away four months ago while she was in the lair so the thugs or Professor Ratigan would not take much notice of her. Today she wanted someone to notice her, to see that she was more than just another mouse just getting by.

She straightened her dress, taking one last good look at herself in the mirror. She actually looked nice for once.

"Happy birthday to me," she muttered.

When she got down to Ratigan's lair, she regretted her earlier wish to stand out. The Professor was red in the face from yelling at about a dozen of his henchmen.

"HE'S IN BRISTOL? WE HAVE FOURTEEN HOURS; HOW THE HELL IS HE SUPPOSED TO GET BACK HERE BY THEN?"

"I dunno," one of them said. "He just went off on his own; didn't tell no one until he got there."

"AM I SUPPOSED TO DO EVERYTHING? I NEED HIM HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

No one said anything.

"Can't we do it, Professor?" Bill asked.

"Oh, now why didn't I think of that before?" Ratigan asked in a singsong voice. "You can help me, can't you now?"

"Why, sure," he said uneasily.

Rose started to make her way to the kitchen, just wanting to get out of the way.

"Sit then," Ratigan said in that same singsongy tone, motioning to the desk.

Bill sat down as Ratigan placed a piece of paper and a pen before him.

"Copy this down," Ratigan said. The lizard took up the pen, looking very frightened. "'Dear Mr. Hamilton- If you want to protect your investments, come to the East India Docks this evening at a quarter past ten. There will be a fisherman waiting for you. After making sure that you are unarmed, he will take you out to'- Bill, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He snatched up the paper. "You worthless reptile, 'dear' isn't spelled D-E-E-R!"

"I… I wasn't quite sure, Professor-"

"And why weren't you sure?" Ratigan asked angrily.

"Because I don't know that word-"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE AN UNEDUCATED BUM! ALL OF YOU! Tom, spell 'investment' for me!"

"Eh… E-N-"

"Stop, STOP!" Ratigan tore the piece of paper up. "WHAT DO I EVEN PAY YOU FOR? SOMEONE GO FIND WILKES AND BRING HIM BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

"But he's in Bri-"

"I DON'T CARE! SOMEONE DO IT, OR ELSE I WILL HAVE SOMEONE'S HEAD FOR IT!"

The whole group hurried out of the room. Rose sighed as she went into the kitchen. Ratigan's temper could change in an instant, but it normally did not affect her. He had never taken out his anger on her before; she would have been extremely surprised if he had started now.

Around eight o'clock Rose took Ratigan's breakfast to him in his study, where he was furiously writing something on a chalkboard. She wordlessly placed the food on the table.

Ratigan shot a quick glance at her, but then turned back to the chalkboard. Rose turned and headed toward the door.

"Rose, come here."

She turned around. "Yes, sir?"

Ratigan grinned. "You can read and write, of course."

Her heart sank, knowing what he wanted.

"No sir, I cannot," she lied.

His grin turned into a frown. "You cannot read or write?"

"Well, I can write my name. That's all I was ever taught to do."

He held out a piece of chalk to her. "Write your name."

She bit her lower lip, pretending to be thinking hard about it. She slowly wrote an R, then a sloppy O, a Z, E, M, C, G, E, E, backward D, and Y on the chalkboard.

She set the chalk down. Ratigan smirked. He erased the board and started to write.

When he was finished, he stepped back for her to see what was written on the board. It said:

Rose, if you are not out of this room in fifteen seconds, I will shoot you.

Once you have left, count to thirty and come back in. Go to the chalkboard, write your name on the board, and sit down at the desk. Fail to do this, and you forfeit your life.

I also want JANE EYRE back when you are finished reading it.

Rose's eyes grew wide. Ratigan was counting, "Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten-"

She bolted out the door. Slamming it behind her, she gasped for breath and closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves. What was she going to do? How did he know that she had taken the book? It had been about two weeks ago. Did he just notice that it was missing?

She realized that she was supposed to be counting to thirty. How long had she been out here?

She figured that it had probably been fifteen to twenty seconds, so she counted to ten and went back inside.

Ratigan was sitting at the table, helping himself to his breakfast. His eyes followed Rose as she went up to the chalkboard and wrote Rose McGeady in cursive. Then she sat down at the desk, where pen and paper had been laid out for her.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" Ratigan asked nonchalantly.

Rose did not trust herself to speak. She simply nodded.

"Good. Now, copy this down: 'Dear Mr. Hamilton- If you want to protect your investments…'"

Rose began to write, trying only to concentrate on Ratigan's words rather than the meaning behind them. She did not want to know what she was doing, how she was contributing to Ratigan's plans.

When that letter was finished, he made her write out an almost identical one to a Mr. Frederick. After that there was one to Mr. Bilson, Mr. Greenwood, Mr. Noir, Mr. James…

By this time Ratigan had finished breakfast and was back at the chalkboard writing some equations out on it, still dictating to her. Rose's hand was starting to get tired from writing, but she continued with it anyway.

Finally, about three hours and forty letters later, Ratigan stopped her with a "That's all of them. Take the envelopes and address them with each man's name on the front, then put the letters inside."

Now Ratigan joined her at the desk. As she finished with each envelope he would take the letter and put a seal on them.

Fidget had come in by this time to report that Wilkes was still missing, to which Ratigan just barked at Fidget to take some of the finished envelopes to the men they were addressed to.

Rose finally finished with the last envelope and flexed her hand, trying to get feeling back into it. She had never written so much in one stretch before, and she felt exhausted.

Ratigan stamped his seal onto the last envelope and set it down. He yawned and then looked at Rose.

"I have no need for you anymore," he said. "You can go back to your work."

She quickly got up and cleared away the breakfast dishes that were still on the table, only thinking of getting out of the room.

As she left, she wondered, What have I just done?

The throne room was more crowded than usual today. Thugs were running in and out of the room all day, some carting big crates, others bearing with Ratigan's temper as he shouted out orders and released a string of abuses against anyone who happened to be around for problems and frustrations. Rose thought it best to hide in the kitchen for the rest of the day.

She had made up her mind. When she left at eight o'clock, she was going straight to the police. She knew from the letters that she had written for him that Ratigan was going to be at the East India Docks tonight, perhaps on a ship called The Scottsdale, with most of his gang. He would be trapped.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she would be famous for turning him in. Maybe her father and sisters would hear about how she had turned him in, and write back to England, and then she would know where they were and go to them…

Yes, she would do it.

Rose left the kitchen at eight. Most of the thugs were still there, talking to each other in low voices. Ratigan leaned over Fidget and made angry hand motions as he berated him for something that Rose could not hear him describe. She was glad because he was too busy to notice her.

She was halfway across the room when she heard someone call her name. She turned around and saw Ratigan walking toward her.

She was rooted to the spot. Could he somehow read her mind and know what she was about to do?

"Where are you going?" Ratigan asked.

"Home, sir. To my flat."

"I need to hold you back for a little while longer. Do you have that book with you?"

Rose pulled Jane Eyre out of her pocket. "Yes, sir."

"Come with me."

He strode out of the barrel, Rose hurrying after him. They crossed the sewer, heading to one of the cells. Rose grew uneasy.

She watched him as he opened one of the cells. He held the door open for her and motioned for her to enter first. She passed, and he followed her into the room.

He went to one of the lamps and lit it. Then he went back to the door. "You don't mind staying here for the night," he said, sounding unusually pleased with himself.

"Sir?"

"You've been an invaluable help to me today, Rose. I reward those who are of use to me. I also repay betrayal. I'm sure you don't want to meet Felicia now, do you?"

"No, sir," she said softly. "But I didn't betray you."

"The best way to prevent something is to remove the means by which it can be carried out. You understand, of course."

"Yes, sir."

"You're a good girl. Perhaps I can get some more use out of you. Good night, Rose."

"Good night, sir," she said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

She stood there for a few minutes with the novel in her hands, thinking hard about what to do next. She had always thought that if she was locked up, that she would have fought to go into the cell. She was a little disappointed with herself for simply walking in.

She understood why Ratigan had locked her up. He knew that she was uncomfortable, and even guilty with being involved. He suspected that she might go to the police. It made sense to her, and in a way she was relieved. She would not have to risk her life now. It was just somewhat frustrating that he was smart enough to think one step ahead of her after she had finally decided to go to the authorities.

She looked at the book in her hand. How kind of him, she thought sarcastically, he's even left me with the means to entertain myself.

She then reflected with guilt on the men she had written the letters to. She had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to them. She had to attempt an escape!

She tried the door even though she already knew it was locked. She then proceeded to inspect the cell. She was familiar with it; she had to clean it at least once a month. But she had never seen another way out of there besides the door.

After a thorough five-minute search she decided that she was trapped. So she sat herself down on the bed and opened the book, determined to lose herself in the world of Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester and forget all about the day's events.

Meg: Awww, wasn't that nice of Ratigan to leave Rose with some reading material!

Emma: He'll want to hurt you for that. Where is he anyway?

Meg: I don't know. Haven't seen him for a while, and really hoping it stays that way.

Lizz: (running in) Meg, RAEB and I think we just found Ratigan. He's in your car, blaring out Disturbed.

Meg: (drops jaw) He likes ANRGY music?

Leigh: Wait, you don't own Disturbed. That's my CD!

Meg: Oops. Guess I borrowed it and forgot to return it.

Leigh: Jerk.