A/N I might be able to get one more chapter up before the year ends. If so, it'll be up Dec. 31. Otherwise, see you next year!
Disclaimer Having run out of witty ideas, I must again resort to "See all previous chapters."
Acknowledgement To my childhood friend, Cameron, whose mouse maze was the envy of my third grade heart.
Chapter 12
Gambit (n.) is an opening move in chess, in which the player risks minor pieces in order to gain an advantage... in extended and figurative uses a gambit is a way of beginning a conversation or of turning it to one's advantage... any sort of stratagem designed to give its user an advantage...
The Columbia Guide to Standard American English
"Ah, Miss Dawes, I was just wondering whether I ought to set another place."
"Thank you, Alfred." Rachel swept through the front door of Wayne Manor, her arms full of brightly wrapped packages. "There are more in the back seat if you could send someone to get them."
"Of course. Master Wayne and young Master Dick are in the library."
Alfred bowed and went to instruct the valet about the rest of the boxes while Rachel hurried to library. She found Dick deep in his comic book and Bruce fast asleep.
"Merry Christmas, Dick," Rachel greeted cheerfully, setting the packages on the library table. "I've brought you your present early."
"Are all those for me?" Dick sprang to his feet and hurried over to the table.
"Yes, sir. Open this one first." Rachel pushed forward a rectangular box that had a plastic handle sticking out of the top.
Dick eagerly tore off the Santa Clause paper and found himself holding a metal cage which contained a small mountain of wood chips and a black furry creature with a skinny tail. "Cool, a rat!"
"A gerbil," Rachel corrected as Bruce stirred and opened his eyes. "Good evening, sleepy head."
"Rachel. Hey." He stood up and stretched, the hair on the right side of his head sticking up at a funny angle. "What's this?"
"A gerbil," Dick explained excitedly. The cage swayed wildly as he held it up for Bruce's inspection.
"Cool. It looks like a rat."
Dick thumped the cage down and began opening the other packages. "Here's his food, and a water bottle, and one of those little wheels…"
Alfred came in, loaded with boxes. "Here are the others, Miss Dawes."
"Great. Could you just stick them on the table?"
"Alfred, Rachel gave me a gerbil for Christmas!"
"So I see," Alfred replied, less than enthusiastically.
Rachel pulled the largest box toward Dick. "Open this one next."
He did and found transparent, neon colored pieces to put together into a maze. "I can put a treat at one end, and then a ring a bell, and see how fast he can find it."
"Actually," Rachel put in delicately, "the pet store clerk said it was a girl."
Dick looked up at her, then past her, to the doorway. "Hey, Miss Somerville! Check out my new gerbil. Rachel gave him to me."
Somerville remained in the doorway and stared at the cage with pure loathing. "It looks like a rat."
"That's what everybody says!" Dick exclaimed. "Maybe that's what I should name him…her," he corrected himself. "Only it's sort of short." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Rat starts with…rrr…what's a girl's name that starts with rrr?" His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he exclaimed, "Rachel! Rachel the Rat, because you gave him to me." He beamed at the startled D.A.
"It does have a nice alliterative ring," Somerville added, her eyes gleaming.
"What about just Rachel?" Bruce put in hastily. "Rachel the Rat is a bit…long for such a short animal."
"Ok, Rachel Jr. so we won't get mixed up," Dick agreed.
"Why don't you take Rachel Jr. up to your room and then wash your hands for dinner?" Alfred suggested, gathering up the loose wrapping paper.
Dick grabbed the cage and raced out the door, Somerville jumping back just in time to avoid being whacked with a metal corner. "Don't drop her!" Bruce called after him.
"A little small for a watchdog, isn't it, Counselor Dawes?" Somerville asked.
Rachel eyed her coolly. "I suppose that would depend on what she's watching for."
If there were any tense silences at dinner, they were covered by Dick's happy chatter. After dinner, Somerville announced that she was going out for a while, and Bruce, Rachel, and Dick went upstairs to set up Rachel Jr.'s cage and accessories.
- - - - - -
Cecilia pulled into a Shell station and parked by the convenience store. Instead of walking into its invitingly lit interior, she walked to the edge of the parking lot and stood at the edge of the snow spotted rubble that separated the station from the neighboring movie theater.
She pulled out her cell phone and tapped in a number, then waited patiently. It took seven rings before an irritated voice demanded, "What?"
"I'm terribly sorry, did I interrupt your TV show?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, so make it fast."
"Did you know someone at Wayne Enterprises has been laundering money for the last five years?"
"The chairman put in a request for a hush hush audit today."
Her eyebrows flew up. "Really?"
"You sound pleased."
"I always love gossip."
"Anything on the kid?"
"Maybe. Give me a couple of days."
"By the way, your sister called. She said you haven't been returning her calls. She demanded to know if you were dead."
"Ah."
"Cecilia, did you block her number?...Cecilia?"
"I'll talk to you on Sunday." She hit the End Call button, then entered the store and bought three packs of peanut butter M&Ms before driving back to the mansion.
As she walked toward her room, she heard shouts drifting from the floor above. Quietly mounting the stairs, she stopped at the edge of the doorway to Richard's room. A towering structure of orange, blue, and green tubes had been erected over the gerbil cage, but the constructors had momentarily lost interest in it. Bruce Wayne was flat on his back, helpless with laughter, while Rachel battered his head with a pillow and Richard bounced on his chest. Cecilia hesitated, her eyes on the animated Rachel, then she glanced again at the gerbil cage and repressed a shudder. Moving soundlessly, she retreated down the hall and passed Pennyworth, carrying a tray full of steaming mugs, on the stairs.
"Would you care for something hot to drink, Miss Somerville?"
" No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."
In her room, now heated to a comfortable eighty degrees, she pulled off her sweater and looked curiously at a velvet box that had appeared on the vanity. She picked up the accompanying white envelope which was addressed in large, almost legible writing to Miss C. Somerville. The note inside read With deepest gratitude –BW.
Inside the box rested a large pin in the shape of a golden toad. Its beady jet eyes and the diamonds and emeralds (which she had no doubt were genuine) spotting its back gleamed in hideous splendor.
It was the most expensive insult Cecilia had ever received. She sank onto the vanity stool and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.
- - - - - -
Suffocating. Frozen. Watching the shadow come closer and closer. It loomed up, taller than the sky. Its eyes flew open, glowing pools of flame. A burning hand, fire pouring from its mouth. He suddenly found that he could move and turned to run, but the flames were already licking his feet…
Dick woke up, gasping, lying on the floor in a tangle of blankets. He stared wide-eyed around the dim room, looking. There, by the bathroom, a flutter of movement, a gleam of fire. He stared, petrified until an ominous scratching sound spurred him into action. Tearing himself out of the entangling covers, he bolted out the door and flew down the hall to burst into Bruce's room.
He stopped in dismay – the room was empty; the bed untouched and only the bedside lamp gleaming softly. His eyes fell on the switch by the bed, and he ran over to it and hit it repeatedly before dropping into a huddled ball on the floor. But no Alfred appeared.
At last, Dick, gasping like he'd just finished a marathon, crept to the door. Nothing moved in the hallway. He sprang from the room like an Olympic sprinter and raced down the stairs, swung around a corner, pushed through a door.
Somerville lay motionless beneath a mound of blankets. Dick patted her cheek frantically. "Miss Somerville!"
She stirred and groaned.
"Miss Somerville!"
"Richard?" she asked confusedly.
"Something's in my room, I saw it! And Bruce wasn't there and I rang and rang and Alfred didn't come."
She was sitting up now, turning on the lamp, fumbling for her glasses. "Richard, calm down. What was in your room, a person?"
"I…I don't know. Maybe." He blinked hard, trying not to cry.
Somerville looked at him intently, then threw back her mound of covers and climbed out of bed. "Wait here," she instructed, pausing by her coat thrown over a chair. She left the room, shutting the door behind her. Richard scrambled onto the bed and pulled the comforter up to his nose.
It seemed a very long time before she returned, leaving the door open behind her and pausing by the vanity to toss something into a drawer. "Did you find it?" whispered Dick.
"I did," she answered, "and it's not at all dangerous. Come and see."
Dick slid off the bed and grabbed on to her offered hand. They climbed the stairs slowly, and his feet grew heavier with each step. At the door to his room they stopped. "There," she said, and pointed to the bathroom.
It was still there – a dark flicker of movement, a gleam of light. Before he could do anything more than tighten his grip on her hand, she flipped the light switch. His robe hung on the bathroom door, its edge wavering in the draft from an air vent. Past the door's partially open edge, he could see the mirror reflecting light from the hall.
He protested, "But I heard…" A scrabbling interrupted him, and he turned to see Rachel Jr. leaping from one of her tunnels to the floor of her cage.
Dick let go of Somerville's hand and walked into the room, ashamed to the point of tears. "Sorry."
"For what?" she asked in a surprised voice, as she walked over to the bathroom and took down his robe. "If you wake up suddenly, it's easy to get confused between a dream and real life. You did the wise and logical thing in waking me." She handed him the robe. "Put this on." Dick obeyed silently. "You did have a dream?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
Somerville reclaimed his hand and led him out of the room and down the stairs.
"Where are we going?"
"The kitchen. Aren't you hungry?"
Dick considered the matter and realized that he was. In the kitchen, he climbed up on a tall stool and watched as she rummaged about, plugging in the toaster and pulling out bread. He decided she wasn't as ugly as he had thought. In her white and red striped pajamas she looked sort of like a candy cane with the curved part broken off. And with her hair in a fuzzy braid instead of a tight knot, her face looked softer, almost kind.
When Dick had a plate of cinnamon and sugar toast and a mug of hot chocolate sitting in front of him, she announced, "I'll be right back," and left. She reappeared holding the crystal and obsidian chess set that was always on display in the library. She sat down across from Dick and began to arrange the board. "I often find that a game is very relaxing before bed."
"I don't know how," Dick mumbled around a mouthful of toast.
"Then it's high time you learned. The object of the game is to capture your opponent's king. This is your king. He can move only one square at a time, but he can go in any direction."
At first, Dick was completely confused by the strangely shaped pieces with their separate sets of rules, but once he memorized the ways they could move, he found that he could hold sections of the board in his head, and try out a strategy without ever touching the real pieces. The game moved slowly because Miss Somerville carefully explained each of her own moves to Dick, touching briefly on some of the classic roles of each piece. Dick was down to his queen and a rook when Alfred walked into the kitchen, forest green bathrobe firmly tied over his pajamas.
"As much as I admire the game of chess, isn't a bit late for a match?"
"We couldn't sleep," Somerville answered, and slashed in with a bishop. "Checkmate."
Dick wrinkled his nose at the board. "Let's play again."
Somerville smothered a yawn. "Tomorrow," she promised. "Now is the time for us to return to bed."
Dick responded with a yawn of his own and hopped down from the stool. He looked at the legs of Alfred's pajamas, visible beneath his robe, then up at Somerville and back again. "Hey, you guys match!"
- - - - - -
Cecilia was still snickering when Alfred returned to the kitchen. He automatically picked up Dick's cup and plate and carried them to the sink.
"Has Richard always suffered from nightmares?" she asked.
"Not regularly. He has the occasional bad dream, but all children have those. Is that what had him up tonight?"
"Yes, he told me there was something or someone in his room. It turned out to be only the usual closet boogie augmented by that infernal creature scrabbling around in its cage, but he was seriously frightened."
Alfred turned from the sink. "I must confess that I do not understand why we set traps to keep out some rodents and make pampered pets of others."
She grimaced. "I'm with you on that one." She straightened her face and continued, "It would hardly be surprising if Richard did suffer from nightmares. He's been through a lot of trauma – children are resilient, but the mind needs some release."
"Just so," agreed Alfred, flipping off the light over the sink. "Master Wayne and I have discussed the possibility of a psychologist but…Master Dick seemed to adjust well here and seemed such a happy, normal boy that we hesitated to upset the balance."
"He has adjusted well," Cecilia agreed, following the butler from the kitchen, "but you, of all people, must realize he is far from normal."
"He is very bright."
"The boy is a mathematical genius," she stated flatly. "If I needed any further proof, I found it in the way he manipulated that chess board. But aside from that, he operates with a sense of purpose almost unbelievable in one so young. Some people go their whole lives without finding as much direction as Richard seems to have."
They reached the stairs, and Alfred mounted them with her. "I think I'll just check and see whether he's fallen asleep yet."
"You'd better check his his call button. He said he rang and rang."
When they reached her landing, she turned to him. "Mr. Pennyworth, would you wait for a moment?" She entered her room and reappeared, holding a velvet box. "Mr. Wayne gave this to me as a token of gratitude. Although I do appreciate the…thought…that went into the gift, I cannot accept something so expensive. I was hoping you might return it for me."
"If you wish." Alfred deposited the box in his pocket.
"Goodnight, Mr. Pennyworth."
"Alfred, Miss Somerville."
Deep brown eyes suddenly laughed into faded blue ones. "Cecilia, Mr. Pennyworth," she said gravely.
To Be Continued…
A/N Thanks and huggles to all reviewers! Responses to reviews can be found by going to my bio and clicking on my homepage.
I've finally discovered the respond to reviewers function which allows me to respond to reviews by sending the reviewer a private message. However, I know that when I'm reading a story, I enjoy reading through the author's responses to other people. On the other hand, it would be more convenient for you, as the reviewer, to have it emailed to you. What would you all prefer? Please let me know in your reviews.