Chapter Thirty
(Meg is crying)
RAEB: Meg, What's wrong?
Meg: I hate my life!
RAEB: All right, what new drama has unfolded now?
Meg: Ratigan got all his 'buddies' from Kennywood to scare me to death last week! I had a "Dawn of the Dead" experience!
Emma: It was so scary!
RAEB: (muttering) Glad I was gone on that band trip…
Lizz: Well, it scared JWJ as well.
Meg: (crying even harder) Don't mention that jerk to me!
RAEB: What'd he do?
Meg: (points to Leigh) He's dating my sister!
Leigh: (holds up hands defensively) He's not that bad of a guy, Meg!
Meg: TRAITOR!
Luke: That is something worth crying over!
Meg: And then I finished writing this chapter! It turned out better than I expected! It's great!
RAEB: And you're crying because…
Meg: Because the story ends here, and I didn't want it to end this way!
Luke: Huh?
Meg: Whaaaaaaaaaaa!
Swish-swish. Swish-swish. Swish-swish,
Rose moved the brushed back and forth across the scuffed floor. It was three days after the incident in Exeter. The police knew she was still in London; all the newspapers clamored with the news. But still she continued as if all were normal. She feared that she would go insane if she did otherwise.
Leaving London turned out to be more difficult than Rose had previously thought. She had a passport under an alias, but she could not decide where to go. In the end she finally settled to thinking it over for a few days. In the meantime she continued her job as a cleaning woman, hoping contact with the outside world would give her some inspiration as to where to go. Besides, she needed the money.
She rubbed her eyes, weary from her menial task. She felt much slower these days, as if her body was tired of functioning properly.
She heard voices come from the next room. There were several men in there; they had been debating prophecies and politics for two hours now. Rose stopped scrubbing, hoping to catch a snatch of the conversation.
"- living in the next Rome!" one bold voice stated. "Look at the evidence. The Book of Daniel mentions a statue with a head of gold, a torso of silver, an abdomen and thighs made of bronze, and knees and feet made partly of iron and partly of baked clay."
"I don't recall reading anything of such a statue," a quiet voice said.
"It's there, in the second chapter. I'll show you. Is there a Bible in here?"
There was a scuffle and murmur as several people began looking for a copy of the worthy text. Rose recommenced scrubbing.
An ejaculation of, "Who doesn't keep a copy of the Good Book in any respectable building?" a few minutes later confirmed that the object of their search had not been found. "Well, read the story at home: chapter two of the Book of Daniel. The king of Babylon, whatshisname, Nechadbenzy or something-"
"Nebuchadnezzar?" the quiet voice asked.
"Yes, that's it, Professor! So this king, he has a dream about this statue, and saw a rock break off the statue and fall on the iron-clay feet, causing the whole edifice crumble and blow away."
"So?" a different voice said.
"I'm getting to that. Daniel comes and tells the king the meaning of the dream: the gold head represents Babylon. The silver part represents a lesser kingdom, while the bronze part represents a kingdom even lesser than the second one. The fourth kingdom will be strong; it will smash and crumble other kingdoms, but it will be divided. That's why it was made of iron and clay. The rock that crushed it is a kingdom made by God that will destroy the foundations of all those other kingdoms."
"Are you suggesting that England is the God-made kingdom?" another voice asked.
"No. On the contrary, the iron-clay kingdom represents England, or at least our British Empire."
"Then what were the other kingdoms before ours? The silver and the bronze ones of the dream?"
"Well, many learned men believe that they represent the Persian and Greek Empires."
"What about the Roman Empire?"
"Well, maybe the Greek and Roman Empires."
"The Holy Roman Empire? Surely that was more important than those Empires."
"I disagree. It did not encompass as much land as the Roman Empire."
"Well, Rome was definitely one of them."
"What about the Byzantine Empire?"
There was a pause. Then someone broke the silence by saying, "Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does. We must be certain that the iron-clay kingdom is our own Empire. Ancient Rome was destroyed by corruption, and we are living in corrupt times."
"How so?"
"Look around you, man! Murders every day, all sorts of crime, slums with horrible living conditions, unhappy workers in factories. All sorts of leaders are having affairs of double-dealing behind everyone else's back! Our colonies are causing us so much trouble and grief; more and more soldiers die every day. Our empire is going to collapse, and all because of the immoral conditions we are living in!"
Rose smirked. The prophecy was interesting, but she did not think the man's argument held much water. There had been many empires on the earth; pinpointing one as being more likely to fit a prophecy than another did not seem valid to her. Besides, what society has not been corrupt?
"As interesting as this all is, I must return home and finish some last-minute preparations. Graham, I doubt your end-of-the-world scenarios will happen anytime soon."
"But it is something to consider, Professor."
"It is, and we shall consider it more carefully at a later date. I have some evidence than contradicts what you say, although I cannot exactly recall what it said. I shall search for it among my own books, and then present it to you."
"Have a safe journey, sir."
"Thank you. Good evening, gentlemen."
Rose stood up and stretched her back as the men bid the departing man adieu. She watched an elderly gentleman leave the room. Clearing her throat as he passed her, she said, "It would be Persia and Rome."
The gentleman glanced at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your empires. The Greeks never really had an empire; they were divided into independent city-states; never fully unified to create an empire. But they did greatly influence the Persians and the Romans. No empires were ever as big as those empires, although I believe Britain is headed in that direction."
The gentleman took a good look at her, smiling kindly. "You are right. I can recall learning something of that sort once."
Rose blushed at the good-natured smile. She had not seen one of those directed at her in a long time, and she felt that she was undeserving of it. "I only overheard what was being said, and thought it necessary to offer my… help." She got back down on her hands and knees and commenced with her work.
The gentleman, however, remained where he was. "How did you learn that?" he asked.
"Learn what, sir?"
"All that information about ancient civilizations?"
Rose stopped and wiped her hands on her dress. "I went to secondary school."
"Ah. And may I ask what Miss Secondary School is doing scrubbing floors?"
Rose felt somewhat elated and ashamed at the same time. She had found someone to tell some of her troubles to. "Miss Secondary School is alone in the world and cannot find a better, more respectable job. She never completed the necessary courses for her to earn her living as a governess, and no one will take her for anything else."
"Come now! You have no other skills?"
"I have knowledge in useless information, such as literature and history. Women cannot do much with such knowledge."
"On the contrary, everyone, including women, can do much with such knowledge. They pay for literary critics nowadays. I know a few women in the field."
"Really?" Rose said, looking up at the gentleman. "They pay women to write criticism about literature?"
"They pay anyone who is knowledgeable about the topic and can write a good criticism."
"Oh." Rose was not much interested in literary criticism. "And history?"
"Well, some women assist learned men in research on histories and cultures."
"Really? Are they picked for such a purpose?"
"Yes. If they are taking University courses, they do field research with their professors. Some women assist relatives in this as well."
"Really? I would love to do something like that!"
The girl's mind was buzzing with dreams of new opportunities for her in the form of castles, cathedrals, and the tombs of men long dead. But then reason came back to her.
"Oh, well, I couldn't do that," she said dejectedly.
The gentleman only continued to smile. "Why not?"
"I don't have anyone to assist."
"Well, that is unfortunate," he commented lightly. Then, changing his tone to that of excitement, he persisted, "But say, for one instant, that it was possible. Say you had a deep desire for learning of the past, and you wanted to take your learning and use it for a practical purpose. Would you do it?"
"Yes, yes I would!" Rose said eagerly, moved by his words and tone. "But alas, I have no means to make this dream a reality."
"Do you have a love for learning?"
"Of course I do! I research any obscure topic of interest for the sake of gaining more knowledge. It used to drive my parents crazy because I could never seem to keep my nose out of a book."
"Do you want to raise yourself up from the position you are in?"
"Most definitely."
"Then why not dare to dream a little?" The gentlemen asked.
Rose opened her mouth to utter a reason as to why this scheme would no work, but he held up his hand, arresting her complaints before they issued forth.
"One must have big dreams in order to have big successes." He tipped his hat and went down the stairs, leaving Rose to watch his receding figure.
She bit her lip and turned her attention to the dirty bucket of water next to her. She was disgusted with herself. The man had meant no harm; he was only trying to be helpful. And, even though it had been rather uncomfortable, she had enjoyed the brief conversation. It was a reminder of what normalcy could be; what it was like to associate oneself with one's fellow man.
Rose heard the voices from within the room once again, but she was too consumed with her own thoughts to eavesdrop on the conversation. What had caused her to say something to the man when he had come out on the landing?
She knew the answer in her heart: she had wanted someone to see her value.
Rose sat down on the steps and put her head in her hands. The voices in the next room lowered significantly lowered. She looked up at the door; recalling something one of them had said earlier that evening, when she had first come in. She stood up and headed to the door. Then she stopped and looked down at her russet-colored, water-streaked dress. She then saw her reflection in the window of the office. She was not presentable enough.
She picked up her bucket and dumped its contents out the window. She placed it in a closet of cleaning supplies, grabbed her cloak and headed down the stairs and out the door.
The next afternoon a well-dressed young woman wearing a pink and white striped blouse, a dark blue jacket and a dark blue skirt entered the offices of The London Free-Press. Her dark blond hair was neatly combed and pinned up, hidden under a small straw hat.
She walked confidently past the journalists sitting at their desks, working on their stories. The only sign of uneasiness she conveyed was when she reached the editor's door. She paused, took a deep breath, and then pasted her most self-assured smile on her face before entering.
She marched up to the editor and without a greeting extended her hand towards him.
All she said was, "I am looking for a secretarial position with your newspaper."
Rose raced up the stairs towards her flat. It was the middle of the afternoon; she only had two hours to pack all she had, destroy any evidence of her existence there, and let Madame Jiang know of the new vacancy.
She reached the familiar door, thrush her key into the keyhole, turned it, and tried to open the door.
It remained locked.
"Oh, come on!" Rose muttered, turning the key a second time. The door gave way, and Rose flew into the room and to the bed. She grabbed an old, worn carpetbag next to the bed and began to throw anything that came within reach into it, disregarding order.
"Going on a trip?" an all-too-familiar voice said.
Rose froze, a hairbrush and box of pins suspended over the bag. She slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with James Ratigan.
"You!" she gasped, dropping the pins. The box popped open, spilling pins all over the floor. "What… why… how?"
"Surprised to see me?" he asked, amused.
Rose could not believe it. She had finally decided to leave, and here he was, back from wherever he had gone. Her initial thought was to jump into his arms; but then her practical side actually wanted to tell him to leave so she could finish packing. She reacted instead by saying, "You're… back."
"Pleased to see you too," Ratigan said a little sarcastically. He sat down on the bed and motioned towards the carpetbag. "Where are you going, little lady?"
"I… I…" Rose threw her brush into the bag. She then got down on her hands and knees and gathered the pins towards her to stall for time. "Where were you?" she countered.
"You didn't answer my question."
Rose pretended to ignore the statement as she grabbed handfuls of the pins and put them back into the box. Ratigan waited for a few moments before repeating himself.
Rose looked up at him in what she hoped was a nonchalant look. "Sir?"
"Oh, so you go back to calling me 'sir,' then!" Ratigan said, laughing. "Of course, you don't know what the status is between us, so you recall our common association.
Rose shut the box and stood up. "How am I to know what the status is between us, Professor Ratigan, when you have not given me any solid indication of what you would wish it to be?" she said a little sharply.
"What do you mean?" Ratigan asked, seemingly unaware of her change in tone.
Rose placed the pins gently in her bag. Then she took them out again, along with everything else she had packed. She commenced folding all her clothes and carefully placing them back in the bag. "Well, I… you left, sir… with no indication of where you were going, and for how long. The way I saw it, it seemed like you were… were…"
She looked helplessly at her clothes. She reached into the pocket of the brown dress on the bed and pulled out the locket. She traced the 'R' with her thumb, aware that Ratigan's eyes were on her. She gripped it in her fist, held it against her lips, and then threw it in Ratigan's face, startling him. "How DARE you use me and then leave me as if I were a worthless piece of trash!" she shrieked.
Ratigan's eyes narrowed. "Don't start with me, Rose."
"Why not? Why shouldn't I?" she demanded, hoping to egg him on.
Ratigan gave an exasperated sigh. "I have no patience for this foolishness, Rose. I'm back now. Isn't that enough?"
Rose had slightly recovered from her first outburst, but she unintentionally began to shove her belongings back into the carpetbag. "No, it's not. I want an explanation!"
He reached out and closed the carpetbag, arresting Rose's movements. She gave him a questioning stare.
"Where do you think you're going? Is this some sort of act, to make me feel sorry for you?"
She sighed. "No, it's not. I didn't even see you when I first came in."
"Then why are you packing?" he asked her quietly.
She picked up her purse and pulled out a newspaper clipping. Handing it to him, she said, "I didn't expect you to come back."
Ratigan glanced over the clipping. He then looked at her, as if he was scrutinizing her appearance. He crumbled up the paper and tossed it away. "You don't need to do that, Rose. I'm building up my business again."
"Oh?"
"Yes. That was why I left."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to risk you giving the Yard any information."
"Did you think I'd be caught?" she asked.
He did not answer her. Instead he took his hand off the carpetbag and stood up. "Pack and be ready. We're going to Dublin."
"Dublin? Why?" she asked cautiously.
"Doonegan's been arrested-"
"I know," Rose said, remembering what Basil had told her.
Ratigan paused, and then nodded. "I have to pick up where he left off. Not like he deserves it, betraying me as he did. He'll get his just desserts soon enough, though. All of them will!"
"All of them?" Rose asked, feeling chills go down her spine.
"Yes, all of them." Then under his breath, he muttered, "Even that lying whore Rachel Dunlap-"
A revelation Rose had feared for weeks suddenly sprang forward. "You did go to see Mrs. Dunlap, didn't you?"
Ratigan straightened his cravat. "As a matter of fact, I did. Why do you ask?"
She had a queer smile on her face, as if she had control of the situation. "Remember before the Diamond Jubilee? Mrs. Dunlap sent a flurry of letters to you. We… well, Gerald, Kilburn, Fidget and I, we figured that the only reason for these letters, and the arrangements for her arrival in London after you were to take over the kingdom, were because she was going to stay with you, as your mistress!"
Ratigan folded him arms but said nothing.
Rose continued, "And then you fell, you were sick, and I took care of you, even when Dr. Reinsel had given up. You got better, you used my affections for you for your own selfish pleasure, and then you left, thinking that Mrs. Dunlap cared for you! Am I right?"
He smirked. "You think that's what really happened?"
She began to pack again, musing, "I bet she laughed in your face, sir. She knows you have nothing. She knows you are nothing. She probably called you a disgusting sewer ra—"
A blow from Ratigan sent Rose sprawling over the bed and onto the floor. She lay in a heap, her neatly pinned hair disheveled, her head throbbing from the pain. She could feel the left side of her face swelling up. She did not attempt to get up; she was afraid of what she would have to face when she did.
Perhaps she lay there for seconds, or perhaps minutes. Rose was not certain. At some point, however, Ratigan came around the bed, knelt down besides her, gathered her in his arms, and sat down on the bed, gently rocking her. Rose could not help it; she began to sob.
"You loved her more than I, didn't you? She is beautiful, witty, smart, entertaining, and I am so plain and simple and… and…" she began to choke on her own tears. She buried her face in his coat.
"Quiet, Rose… shhh," he said, stroking her hair. "It's over now; I'm not dealing with that slut ever again."
"It's true?" she murmured.
Ratigan sighed. "Yes, it is true."
They sat in silence for some minutes, Rose trying to figure out what to do next. She had been excited about going to Strasbourg, but Ratigan's untimely return had dispelled the eagerness. She wanted the job she had just received, but she also wanted to stay with Ratigan. She had a chance at two new futures now: one focusing on her own ambitions, and one focusing on Ratigan's. Which one would make her happier?
Which one would she never regret choosing?
Rose disentangled herself from Ratigan's arms. She dried her eyes and said in as calm a voice as she could muster, "I need to know: what happened while you were away?"
First I must explain why I left. I know you will never be satisfied unless I clear that little mystery for you.
I have never met a girl like you, Rose. Your obedience is so astounding that I cannot completely trust it. Your desire to please is also rather daunting. Granted, I have always liked you. You were innocent, quiet, and always ready to listen and oblige my whims. But I did not trust you. I suppose I am too suspicious of people to trust the motives that are shown to me.
I believe I realized this after I learned of your affections for me. I had always suspected that you had admired me; I wasn't aware of the extent of that admiration until you admitted it to me yourself; you seemed so embarrassed and angry that I could not help but take your word for it!
Don't blush, Rose. I used it against you; and for all the wrong reasons. But, in the end, I believed I realized how my affection for you had grown. It alarmed me; I thought I was going soft. And I have been attracted to Rachel for quite some time. I assumed that it was love at work. So I, fearing that you would usurp the position of the person I thought should hold it, left you, trusting you enough to hold your tongue, and paid a visit to dear Mrs. Dunlap.
It may please you to know that Rachel received me in a cold, friendless fashion. I was hardly there for five minutes before she told me to leave; I was unwelcome there. So I threatened her, and she in turn threatened to call the police. I then threatened to inform her husband of her shameful relation to me, and she promptly shut up. After that I left the Dunlap house in a rather humbling position.
I was disgusted with myself. I had fooled myself to believe I had cared for that woman. And then I thought of you, Rose. I convinced myself that your affection was as meaningless as Rachel's had been, and proceeded to rebuild my organization. For weeks I managed to shove all thoughts of any woman out of my head, until I read about your confrontation with your mother in Exeter in the newspapers.
Ratigan pulled out a newspaper and tossed it on the bed. "Why did you go to see her?"
Rose explained how desperation had caused her to go back to her mother. Ratigan nodded understandingly.
"I surmised as much. I then thought of you, alone in all this, and how badly I had treated you."
"So you came back out of pity?"
"Pity? No. I came back because I realized that I didn't want you to be alone anymore. I wanted you with me, to help me with my crimes and get revenge on Basil of Baker Street."
"Do you love me, Professor?" Rose asked.
Ratigan shook his head. "I don't know what love is, Rose. I am fond of you, but love… If you'd teach me, maybe I could learn. I don't know anymore."
Rose smiled sadly at him. "I am sorry for you, sir. I really am. I don't know why you cannot trust anyone. I don't know how I could teach you to love. I doubt you could teach me to love back." She placed the last of her articles in her bag. Then, taking out her brush and a hand mirror, she began to brush back her hair.
"Rose, this isn't the end," he said gently. "I am asking you to come with me."
"Why?"
"Because I am certain that we can make each other happy."
Rose sighed. "There was once a time I was convinced that you could make me happy. And then I degraded myself for you; I betrayed my friends, my family, my country. I helped you hurt so many innocent people. I just don't want a part of that anymore. Besides, Professor, I cannot trust you. How happy can I be if I cannot trust you?"
Ratigan gave Rose a look of despair that she would have killed to have received only weeks ago. He smiled sadly back at her. "So what do you plan on doing now?"
Rose pinned back her hair and examined her swelling eye in the mirror. "I plan on going to Strasbourg for The London Free-Press. Perhaps I can eventually get a position as a field reporter. You?"
"On to Dublin. After that… we'll see where fate takes me."
She closed her carpetbag, put on her cloak, and faced Ratigan. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, sir," she said, extending her hand.
Ratigan hesitated, and then accepted the hand warmly, a melancholy look in his eyes. "You're a wise girl, Rose, to get out of this before it is too late."
"You'd be wise too if you'd leave it alone as well, Professor. I'm sure you'll succeed in all your endeavors, but please look on Germany with kindness if you ever plan on conquering a country again."
"I'll spare Strasbourg," he said, laughing. "I wouldn't want to ruin the success of my protégée."
"Your protégée?" Rose gave him a questioning look.
Something oval and metallic was pressed into her hands.
"Keep it," he said, "to remember me by."
Rose looked at the object. It was the locket.
"I'll treasure it always," she murmured. She headed to the door. As she reached it, she paused.
"I have one last question," Rose said, turning back to Ratigan. "This locket. Why did you first give it to me, and what does the 'R' stand for?'
Ratigan cleared his throat. He actually looked a little uncomfortable.
"I had a baby sister named Rose. She died in infancy. That locket was supposed to be a gift for her when she got older. It fell into my possession when my father died. I, having no practical use for it, gave it to you on a whim."
Rose smiled. "Goodbye, sir," she said, leaving the flat for the last time.
She felt as if she was dreaming as she headed out into the streets and towards the docks to find the boat that would convey her to her new life. A part of her longed to go back to Ratigan, but somehow she knew it would be better this way.
As she approached the boat a sailor fell into stride with her.
"They don't speak much of the English language in Strasbourg, Miss McGeady," he said in a gruff voice.
"They don't speak much of the language of brotherly love in London, Mr. Basil," Rose replied.
"Good luck, Mam'selle," he said quietly. "Remember, lying is looked down upon in journalism."
"Good luck to you as well, sir. Difficult times lie ahead for you as well as I." Rose kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."
As she boarded the boat, she experienced that familiar feeling of losing a part of herself. This time, it was bittersweet.
(Meg has resorted to bawling her eyes out.)
Emma: Meg, that was a sweet ending.
Luke: I don't get it. Why are you so upset?
Meg: ROSE IS ALONE!
Luke: So? Ratigan treated her as if she was worth nothing! You wanted them to get together at the end?
Meg: NOOOOOOO!
Luke: So… what's the problem?
Meg: Rose went through so much, and she's left with… with…
Ratigan: Good God, you're crying over an ending you wrote!
Meg: It broke my heart, Mr. Insensitivity!
Ratigan: (grumbling) If I'm so insensitive, then why didn't you portray me as such?
Meg: Because I wanted the ending to be touching!
Ratigan: For goodness sakes, you could've just paired me up with her. Isn't that what you do best?
Meg: I was going to up until August, and then I had a change of heart! So I had to end it this way!
Ratigan: I will never understand you messed-up teenage girls for the life of me!
(JWJ bursts into the room)
JWJ: Hey, guess what, you Communist losers?
Everyone else: (annoyed) WHAT?
JWJ: (waves a letter above his head) Haha, I just got accepted into Washington and Jefferson College!
Leigh: That's great!
Lizz: Congratulations!
RAEB: Good thing I'm not going there!
Emma: Yes!
Luke: I'd care, but I'm already in college. Actually, I wouldn't care even if I wasn't.
Ratigan: The brat will stay in America, thank God.
Meg: WHAT? That's not fair!
JWJ: Haha, I'm smarter than you!
Meg: Not that… I just got accepted into W&J! Dang you!
JWJ: What? How's that fair? You ruined it! (tackles Meg)
Meg: HELP!