Chapter Ten

Meg: Thanks erosgirl for correcting me on 'bribing.' I did mean to say 'blackmail' in Chapter Eight.

Rose woke up the next morning to the realization that she had spent all night in the cell. She yawned and stretched. Getting up, she went over to the barred-window in the door and looked out at the area around the barrel. There was no one in sight, but she could hear voices from the barrel.

She withdrew from the window. Had the Professor forgotten about her?

Rose sat down on the small cot. She did not know what to do. Being locked up had not bothered her the night before; she had passed the time pleasantly reading about Jane's experiences after she left Thornfield and Mr. Rochester. Even though the experiences were different, Rose left like she could relate to Jane's suffering after running away.

Rose turned on the lamp and picked up the book again. She only had about thirty pages left; she decided the finish it before she could worry about the whereabouts of Professor Ratigan and the other thugs.

She was so enthralled in her book that she was not aware that the door had been unlocked until Fidget hobbled into the room.

"Miz Rose, Professor Ratigan wants to see ya," he said in his hoarse voice.

Rose stood up and followed the bat to the throne room, where about half of Ratigan's gang was passed out on the floor and the other half was counting the boxes of loot they had picked up the night before.

Fidget continued to the study, where Ratigan was leaning over the table, reading a newspaper.

"I brought Miz Rose, Professor," Fidget said.

"Good. Leave us."

The bat nodded vigorously before leaving the room.

Ratigan looked up at Rose. He motioned to the newspaper. "Last night was a success my dear, thanks to my brain and your aide."

Rose blushed. "I didn't do anything."

Ratigan laughed. "Of course you did."

"Well, what exactly did I do?"

"You've had an education, something about ninety-eight percent of those dimwits who work for me don't have."

"There was a school at Exeter. My father wanted us all to have educations."

"You have a family?"

"Yes."

"A well-to-do family? In Exeter?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"I… I ran away, sir. And they… well, the family I loved… moved away. A few months ago."

Ratigan seemed surprised. "From your manner, one would hardly guess that you are a runaway. How old are you?"

"Sixteen… well, actually, I'm seventeen. Yesterday was my birthday."

"And you spent it writing letters and sitting in a prison cell. I suppose you want some allowance for it."

"You don't have to do that, sir. I really didn't mind. I got to read Jane Eyre."

A small smile appeared on his lips. "Do you like it here Rose?"

"No," she blurted out. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and looked down at her feet.

Ratigan smirked. "I am sorry to hear that. Why not?"

"Well, it's not home…"

He handed the newspaper to her. "Read that."

Rose looked at the headline: BLAST AT EAST INDIA DOCKS; FORTY MEN KILLED.

Her heart sank. She read the article; a ship in the harbor had exploded, killing forty men who were on a ship called The Scottsdale. Scotland Yard suspected that the men were involved in some sort of illegal business gone bad, from letters written in the same hand that were left at several of the men's homes. They were thought to be the work of one Professor Ratigan, former professor of mathematics at Oxford. The best of Mouseland Yard, as well as Basil of Baker Street, were already on the case.

When she had finished, she gave Ratigan a horrified look. He appeared amused by her shock.

"What does this mean, Rose?"

"You… you did this!"

"No. We did this. And if the Yard ever finds out where this lair is, you will be thrown in jail and put on trial for the murder of forty men. Forty is a pretty big number, my dear."

"What?" she asked weakly.

"You're pale, Rose. Perhaps you should sit down," he said in a mockingly sympathetic voice.

She stumbled into a chair, feeling sick to her stomach. "I… I never meant to do this! I didn't want to do this!"

"You wrote the letters yourself. They could easily match your handwriting with those in the letters."

"But… no!"

"But yes!" Ratigan said, laughing evilly. "Oh, they will not have pity on you. They'd sooner canonize me as a saint. You're a criminal now, my dear."

"No! Never!"

"You wanted knowledge, Rose. Don't you remember?"

"Not this knowledge… not this! I'll be arrested, I'll go to jail… they'll hang me!" Rose shot him a wild look. He was leaning against one of the bookshelves, arms folded, wearing an awful grin on his face, delighting in her misfortune. "They'll… hang me…" she whispered, as if a Yard official were standing in the room with them.

Ratigan strode over to the armchair. Placing one hand on each armrest, he leaned in until their noses nearly touched. "Yes, they will hang you. That is, unless you keep your mouth shut," Ratigan said in a deadly tone. "I could have gotten rid of you when Giovanni first brought you down here. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd disposed of some worthless runaway just scraping to get by. No one would have missed you, no one who mattered."

Then why didn't you? Rose wanted to ask. Only fear halted her tongue. He was so close to her, leaning over her like that, and looking at her with those horrible yellow eyes. She felt utterly trapped.

"Sir?" she squeaked.

"Why didn't I?" Ratigan said, as if he had been reading her thoughts the whole time. "I'm a man of unpredictable impulses. I needed a cleaning woman, you needed a job, and you amused me with your honesty and innocence. I wanted to see how long it would take to corrupt you."

Rose was furious with his blatant and deliberate answers, and nearly replied with a sharp retort. One glance into those cold, cruel eyes dissolved the words before they came out of her mouth.

"And… and now?" she asked, hardly knowing what she was saying.

Luckily for her, the professor interpreted what she asked in his own way. "Oh, you haven't been corrupted yet. But I am working on it. Besides, I'm used to you. Agatha was a good servant, but hardened in the ways of the world. You're young and unassuming, and have a bit of intelligence. I can still make some use of you."

Rose's chest heaved as she silently gasped for air I can still make some use of you. He had said something to that extent last night. What did he mean by those words?

Ratigan seemed bored with the conversation. He straightened himself up and walked over to the desk. Opening a drawer, he rummaged around in it for a while. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Of… what?" Rose had practically forgotten the point of the conversation.

"You keep my secrets, I keep yours, and everyone prospers." He found what he had been looking for, a small velvet case that he set on the desk, and then shut the drawer.

Rose swallowed hard. She felt so drained, as if his eyes had sucked all her energy out of her. She wanted to know if she had to help him commit another crime again, but she did not trust herself to not say anything that might offend him.

"Rose!" he snapped. "Are you going to cooperate or not?"

"Ye-yes, sir. I'll cooperate."

"Come here."

She got up from the chair and went over to him, stopping when she was a few feet away. He sharply regarded her. "Betray me once, just once," he said in a cold tone, "and I will make you wish you had never been born. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He turned to the desk, picked up the velvet case, and handed it to her. "For your cooperation yesterday."

Rose turned red. She pushed the case back towards him. "I-I can't accept this, sir. I didn't do anything."

"I detest modesty. I'm giving this to you because you earned it. Now take it!"

She opened the case with trembling fingers. Inside she found a gorgeous silver oval-shaped locket with an elegant letter R inscribed on it. She opened the locket; there was nothing inside but a small mirror.

She looked up at him, speechless.

"You have the day off. Now leave."

She slowly started for the door, trying to get herself to say something. Finally, when she was at the door, she said, "Thank you, sir."

"Goodbye Rose!" he said with impatience, waving her away.

When she entered the pipes, she ran all the way back to The Rat Trap, not once daring to look back.

Once within the safety of her room, she curled herself up on the bed and hugged her pillow, trying to sort out everything that had just happened.

Ratigan had spared her life, had allowed her to go back to the surface… did that mean that he trusted her? That he would not kill her? Why did he give her that locket? He did not have to give it to her, but he had anyway. Did he want her to do something else for him later? Help with another crime? How could she possibly help now, with so much blood already on her hands?

She felt so guilty, so tainted, so evil…

She awoke with a start. She must have fallen asleep. She looked out her small window at the bright and sunny afternoon.

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her hat, pocketed the velvet case containing the locket, and left her room, determined not to come back until she had informed the authorities of what she had done.

Lizz: This story is weird.

Meg: It gets weirder.

RAEB: How? Any more love stories?

Meg: Yeah, that would make it really weird, wouldn't it? The outcome is a surprise.