drood ending!

8/6/2019 Drood Ending!

1/25

Wetta - 1

AN ENDING FOR EDWIN DROOD

Ch. 24 DUSK

The following afternoon, Rosa is having tea with her protectress when they are

startled by a knock at the outer door. Both raise their eyes and look about the room as if

the sound of someone knocking were shocking and curious.

You were not expecting anyone, my love? says Miss Twinkleton, looking over

her teacup as though the mere suggestion of a caller at teatime were a dreadful scandal in

itself.No, Miss Twinkleton. No one, she answers, blushing.

No doubt the person of the house has at last troubled someone to repair my

draperies, though why, at such an unreasonable hour, I should like to know.

The knocking continues unabated.

Shall I answer it? says Miss Bud, setting her toast aside.

Why, if neither you nor I am expecting a caller, I hardly see why either of us

should be expected to play butler to Mrs. Billickin. In fact, I should think it very rude to

answer that door, as it is sure to be none of our business.

Rosa is not entirely convinced of Miss Twinkletons logic. Furthermore, she

knows (as does Miss Twinkleton) that Mrs. Billickin takes an hour of repose at just this

hour every day. Yet Miss Twinkletons face has hardened into an expression of such

forced jollity, Rosa fears that any attempt at conversation might strain the fabric of her

skin to breaking point. And so the knocking continues until at last, after a great deal of


2/25

Wetta - 2

thumping about upstairs and tripping in the hall, the door is answered. There are muffled

voices, and now a knock at the door of the parlor itself.

Do come in, sings Miss Twinkleton, smiling stiffly at a scone.

Miss Rosa, says Mrs. Billickin having paused in the doorway to right her

bonnet, you ave a visitor.

Miss Twinkleton, in spite of herself, inquires who it might be.

Well, Miss Rosa, should you incline yourself to ask me who that visitor of

yourn is, I shouldnt be able to answer you as I never ave set eyes on the said gentleman

afore. But he do ave a mighty shock of white hair.Rosa brightens for a moment. Thank you, Mrs. Billickin. Please show him in.

Shortly, the white-haired gentleman appears at the doorway, cap in hand.

Well? says Miss Twinkleton, when the stranger does not speak, do be so kind

as to introduce yourself.

The gentleman enters fully into the room, apologizes with a frank but modest

grace for interrupting the ladies, and turns to Rosa with his reply. Datchery, Miss.

Richard Datchery. Dick, if you please. At your service.

Well, Mr. Dick Datchery, says Miss Twinkleton, pausing to place her teacup in

its saucer, do be so kind as to disclose the purpose of your visit.

Mr. Datchery smiles and nods. If it please you, Miss, I should prefer to consult

with your ward in private.

Miss Twinkleton, her face like a strained flag, prepares to exit the parlor in a huff.

I shall be in the drawing room, she says. She waits. Should you need me, that is

where Ill be. She waits a moment longer. Reading. Finding her exit still unimpeded,


3/25

Wetta - 3

she proceeds to the door. The drawing room, she says once more, like a Parting shot

and closes the door with a bang.


4/25

Wetta - 4

Ch. 25 THE GRITTY STATE OF THINGS AS THEY ARE

When Miss Twinkleton is safely out of earshot, Rosa turns to Mr. Datchery. All

about her relaxes, and her face loses that bright look of earlier. Yet she remains the meek

and pretty girl of whom everyone is so fond. Do please sit, she says, folding her little

hands in her lap. When Mr. Datchery has executed this maneuver, she continues, You

found your trip informative?

Ah, most informative, Miss.

Rosa lifts her delicate eyebrows and smiles. And?

Your admirer is a very queer character indeed. Mr. Datchery produces a smallleather-bound notebook from his coat pocket. Ill leave my notes with you to peruse at

your leisure, but to sum up The choirmaster of Cloisterham Cathedral appears to be on

intimate terms with a certain purveyor of opium

Rosa gasps.

who goes by the moniker Princess Puffer. He does a great deal of stealing

about, particularly at night. And ever since you removed yourself to London, he has been

making frequent trips here,

Another gasp from Rosa.

where he has neatly divided his leisure time between an opium den and the

alley across from your window. In fact, I believe him to be loitering there at this very

moment.

Rosa gasps a third time and dabs a little lace handkerchief about her temples.

In short, concludes Mr. Datchery, folding up his notebook and placing it in

Rosas tiny white palm, I think him quite probable and quite capable of having


5/25

Wetta - 5

murdered your betrothed. Furthermore, I do believe he is a real danger to your own

person.

Rosa abandons gasping for the moment and feints. However, the spell passes

quickly in favor of an adorably determined scowl. Thank you. Thank you so very

much. You cannot know how helpful this is to me. She picks up the leather notebook

and turns it over in her hands.

Shall I be off then, Miss?

I think so. Miss Twinkleton will be interrupting soon anyway.

Very well then.Oh. And Mr. Datchery?

Yes, Miss.

I think Mr. Datchery has outlived his usefulness.

Mr. Datchery smiles and nods, As you wish, Miss. Ill be shoving off, then.

And for your efforts, says Rosa, producing a small bundle of notes.

Datchery frowns and shakes his head. Wouldnt have it, Miss.

Rosa smiles prettily. Good day, then Mr. Datchery.

Good day to you, Miss Bud.

Mr. Datchery walks to the door, smiles at Miss Twinkleton, whose strained flag is

now flying at half mast in the hall, then exits the residence. As he descends the stairs,

Mr. Datchery removes his white wig and black eyebrows. He unbuttons his tightish blue

surtout and shrugs it off. He removes his buff waistcoat, packs it into his pocket, and by

the time he is at the street, he is again Mr. Tartar. He smiles at the figure hiding in the

shadows of the alleyway across the street, and walks whistling away.


6/25

Wetta - 6


7/25

Wetta - 7

Ch. 26 A PROPOSITION

Meanwhile, Miss Twinkleton has found Rosa in a swoon, sent out the alarm, and

summoned both Helena and Neville Landless to her aid. Mr. Grewgious is soon in

attendance. The leather notebook is passed round and both Twinkleton and Billickin

begin to circle the room like rooks at a bell tower, cawing ceaselessly.

Oh dear. Oh dear, cries Miss Twinkleton.

Dear me. Dear me, exclaims Mrs. Billickin.

My child. My child, declares Mr. Grewgious, smoothing his head and perusing

the contents of the leather notebook.Helena holds the shivering Rosa in her arms, stroking her pale face with the back

of her hand.

Outrageous! shouts Neville suddenly, and runs from the room, followed by

Grewgious. There is a terrible commotion from across the street, and Neville returns

tending a very bloody nose and being tended by the unflappable Grewgious.

Once Neville is duly settled, Mr. Grewgious takes the floor, smoothing and

resmoothing his head. My child. My child, he says again, this time, addressing first

Miss Bud and then Mr. Landless. If Mr. Jasper were not aware of our mutual friendship,

he certainly is now, which presents us with a unique and troublesome predicament. I

amI am a particularly angular man. Uncreativeand ill-suitedto quick thinking.

Clearly there is much to worry us about our dear girls unfortunate situation, but how to

proceed with it, I know not. Nor perhaps shall I ever knowunless I spend some time in

calm contemplation. Might I suggest that we each go to our separate quarters where we


8/25

Wetta - 8

may all digest it the betterif we sleep on it tonight. We can meet at my lodgings

tomorrow for breakfast.

Rosa looks up, suddenly, her pretty face obscured by tearsyet somehow even

prettier. No, please, guardian. Have it here. Do come here to breakfast. Id be afraid to

leave my rooms.

If it is your will that the event should proceed in that mannerI cannot see any

reason why it should be otherwise. Unlessthere be any objections.

There are no objections from any of the parties concerned. All but Helena and

Miss Twinkleton departHelena because Rosa will not allow her to leave, and MissTwinkleton because she will not be convinced to do so.

The next morning finds Helena still at the quarters of Miss Rosa Bud, though

Miss Bud looks fresher, prettier, and more delicately charming than ever. When it is

discovered that there are no cakes for the breakfast, she cheerily suggests that Helena and

she make an outing of ither crippling fear lost in the bright morning mists. Together,

Rosa and Helena depart arm-in-arm for the confectioners.

My love, do you think this isahwise? asks Helena as they step out of doors.

Of course it is, you silly thing, says Rosa, though her jollity sounds a little

forced. Do you think that old monster would dare accost two young ladies in broad

daylight? Come, let us have a walk in the air. It will do us good. I utterly refuse to have

breakfast without cake. Besides, she adds with a giggle, I noticed a Lumps of Delight

shop not far away. Some Turkish Delight might well settle my nerves.


9/25

Wetta - 9

And you, she says, turning to Miss Twinkleton, who stands mutely in the

doorway, too taken aback by Rosas cheerfulness to correct her manners, you start

without us if we do not return in time. We will shortly.

Miss Twinkleton stutters a good-bye and she and Mrs. Billickin shrug to one

anotherfriends now, having found a common enemy in John Jasper.


10/25

Wetta - 10

Ch. 27 A FRIGHT

The breakfast at Rosas residence was an utter catastrophe, though not for lack of

cake. Indeed, Miss Bud insisted on purchasing so much cake, and cake of such variety,

that she and Miss Landless arrived quite late to the meal. They were understandably

surprised to find the breakfast table circled with corpses. Miss Twinkleton was dead.

Mrs. Billickin was also dead. Mr. Tartar was dead as well. Poisoned. The tea, it

appeared upon investigation by certain authoritiesand a great multitude of authorities

appeared, including half a dozen beadles, four members of the London Watch and at least

two grandly mustachioed and top-hatted officers of the Bow Street Runnerswas lacedwith opium, and opium of such purity and quantity as to stop the heart of a horse. Should

the breakfasters have summoned a horse to dine with them that morning (and it was

roundly agreed by the assembled authorities that they shouldnt) that horse would most

certainly have died as well (should the horse have taken a cup of tea, which it wouldnt).

Thus, all twelve authorities conceded that the villain had to be Mr. John Jasper,

choirmaster of Cloisterham Cathedral, spurned lover, opium addict, and malcontent.

Within three hours, the case was solved, a warrant issued for the arrest of said party, and

Miss Bud left alone with Mr. Grewgious (who had never been more pleased to be a

drinker of coffee), and Neville Landless (who had never been more pleased to be a late

sleeper). Miss Landless was also in attendance to mourn the loss of so many good souls

and contemplate the lamentable state of everyone elses affairs.

Now what now am I to do? cried little Rosa, looking more delicate, more

vulnerable, more lost, more lonely and more weary than ever.


11/25

Wetta - 11

My dear, dear child, said Mr. Grewgious, I had already concluded last night

what course you ought now to undertake. This mornings events have convinced me that

my reasoning was indeed sound. As long as John Jasper remains aliveand aboutyou

are in danger. Neville and Miss Landless are no doubt in danger as well. I myself may

be in dangerso long as I am guardian to you.

Too true! cried Rosa.

Listen now, my dear ward. You must pack up your thingsall of themand

this time, use a much larger bag. You have come into a considerable fortune, thanks to

your dear departed father. Take your belongings and your inheritance with you to somefar away country. Find a new name. Begin a new life.

Rosa gasped and buried her face in her hands.

My dear, said Mr. Grewgious, You are not to worry. You are young and

pretty and clever. Wherever you go, you will find friends and benefactors.

She will not need them, cried Neville, stepping forward now with a look at once

dignified, protective, and gentle. Helena and I both will accompany her.

Rosa looked up from her hands.

Neville knelt before her. I have never yet had the courage to say to you, Miss

Bud, what in full openness I longed to have said when we first met. It is not easy to say,

and I have been withheld by a fear of its seeming ridiculous, which is very strong upon

me down to this last moment, and might, but for my sister, prevent my being quite open

with you even now. I admire you, Miss Bud, so very much, that I cannot bear the thought

of you in danger. I will go with you anywhere. And I speak for my sister as well, for she

does love you as much as I.


12/25

Wetta - 12

Miss Bud, stunned to silence by this revelation and the many events of the day,

nodded, consented, wept, smiled, and wept again. It was decided the three should leave

on the very next morning. For America.

So then, coughed Mr. Hiram Grewgious, None of us should be alone until you

are safely on that boat. Once you three are seen safely offI feel certain of my own

safety. After all, I have Mr. Bazzard to keep me companyif need be. Mr. Neville,

Perhaps you should lodge with me tonight. Helena, you with Rosa. Ill send someone to

collect and pack your things.


13/25

Wetta - 13

Ch. 28 SETTLERS FROM CLOISTERHAM

The four survivors collect themselves, collect their wits, collect their belongings

and recollect their many dayshappy and sadspent in the shadow of Cloisterham

Cathedral. By nightfall, they are all quite exhausted from so much collecting, and their

last supper together is quiet and quickall the quieter and quicker for the brooding

presence of Mr. Bazzard. A few awkward pleasantries are exchanged. It is revealed in

the course of their sparse conversation that Mr. Hiram Grewgious has named Neville

Landless heir to his estate. The young heir should be quite well set up in his new home,

wherever that might be. Moreover, in the future (far distant, it is to be hoped, for Mr.Grewgious sake) he may expect to come into a considerable inheritance. Should Jasper

be apprehended, Mr. Landless will, Mr. Grewgious jokes to polite laughter, be landless in

England no more. Should something happen to Neville, the property will be merged with

Rosas own sizeable fortune.

The news is well received by all but Bazzardthough to be fair, Mr. Bazzard has

never accepted any news well, be it bad or good, from Mr. Grewgious. All take to their

beds with high hopes for the future. All, that is, but Mr. Bazzard, who has been pressed

into service as a sentry outside the rooms of Miss Bud and Miss Landless.

The four survivors take to their beds in higher spirits, but they do not so awake.

In fact, two of the four do not wake at all. Next morning, Mr. Bazzard discovers Neville

Landless and Hiram Grewgious smothered in their beds.

John Jasper returned in the night! cries Helena, weeping on Rosas shoulder.

There is a sort of incongruity in the picture they present. Rosa simply is not meant for

the role of matron and protectress. Moreover, they are surrounded again by the dozen


14/25

Wetta - 14

authorities of yesterday, plus an additional dozen beadles, who rarely find their services

engaged by such lovely subjects. An excessively thorough search of Mr. Grewgious

rooms reveal only one piece of evidence: a certain gold engagement ring, set with a rose

of diamonds and rubiesthe very ring intended for Rosa on her wedding dayis

missing. The murderer has left no other clues to his identity. This, however, is quite

enough evidence for the beadles, who speak in hushed voices of Jasper the Grasper.

The Bow Street Runners, conscious of their dignity as defenders of the public (and

perhaps a little embarrassed at not foreseeing this crime) find the moniker silly and

lacking dignity. Whats more, grumbles he of the taller hat and broader mustache, theterm grasper bears no relation to the method of the murders. The Beadles are

summarily dismissed.

As least it rhymes, grumbles one on his way out.

Sbetter monikor than Murderous Mary Cotton, adds another.

at one dunt even rhyme, agrees a third. There is the low moan of grumbling

throughout the house as the beadles depart, but it soon drains out into the street and away,

leaving only the terse Runners. Miss Bud. Miss Landless. May we have a word?

No, says the distraught young Rosa. We know nothing more than yesterday.

Mr. Bazzard was posted just outside our door and Helena was with me all night. You

may ask them yourselves.

I am afraid, adds Helena with a conciliatory shrug, weve been through quite

an ordeal these last few days, and do not relish the thought of reliving it all so soon.

Ladies, replies he of the broader mustache, We quite understand your distress.

However, this is neither the first nor last time we of the Bow Street will encounter such a


15/25

Wetta - 15

crime. There are other equally important cases that require our expertise. So you see, we

must get to the bottom of this, and as soon as possible. The murderer must beindeed

shall be brought to justice, I assure you. But not without your cooperation.

Rosa, however, steadfastly refuses to cooperate with the authorities, and in the

presence of her obstinate taciturnity, Helena assumes a similar attitude. Finding no way

forward, the runners depart, leaving Mr. Bazzard alone with the two ladies.

If you please, Miss Bud, Miss Landless, I would be honored to continue in my

role as protector for as long as you choose to remain in the country. Mr. Bazzard

appears to have grown a foot or two. In the presence of miseryand the absence of Grewgioushe has assumed a new and thrilling sense of himself. For the first time in

his glum life, he feels dignified.

Rosa Bud, delightful as ever, yet somehow also possessed of a new and inspiring

maturity, replies in kind, Dear Mr. Bazzard, we accept your kind offer. Your presence

last night very likely saved our lives. Your presence today may well save them yet again.

You were always a faithful servant and amanuensis to my guardian. Thus it is right and

proper that you, not I, should inherit his fortune. I have a generous inheritance of my

own to tend.

Bazzard gains another inch of height and nods with expansive dignity.

Helena drops her hands to her sides and looks on, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

If, Rosa continues, taking no notice of Helena, you will kindly accompany me

to the Directors Commons, we may resolve this to everyones satisfaction.

Again, Bazzard nods. Rosa now turns to Helena, rests her head on her heaving

breast. Helena raises one trembling hand to stroke her hair. You are not cross with me,


16/25

Wetta - 16

are you? croons Rosa.

Miss Landless is about to answer when there comes a loud and sudden knock at

the door. All three jump, and Helena receives a mighty blow to the chin from the back of

Rosas head. As Helena nurses her chin and Rosa her head, Bazzard strides militarily to

the door, taking a toasting fork from beside the fireplace on his way. In such a state,

Bazzard can hardly be trusted to wield a weapon with discretion, and the Rev. Septimus

Cripsarkle is very nearly skewered on the doorstep. Here, the minor canons athleticism

serves him well, and he manages to dodge the blow, introduce himself, and disarm

Bazzard before any further damage is attempted. Both ladies are very glad to see him,and he is very sorry to have heard of the recent catastrophies.

And yet, how timely of you! cries Rosa. Helena and I leave this afternoon

aboard a ship for America. There is much for us to do about the city, and not nearly

enough time to do it. If you would kindly accompany Helena on her errands, Mr.

Bazzard may accompany me on mine. We may all meet at the dock at five.

And so the days activities are plotted out and set in motion before anyone has an

opportunity to be curious or concerned.


17/25

Wetta - 17

CHAPTER 29 DUSK

The ancient English Cathedral Tower. The well-known massive gray square

tower of its old Cathedral. Of course it is here. And yet, how can it be that it seems so

strangely out of place? There is no spike of rusty iron in the air, between the eye and it,

from any point of the real prospect. What is the spike that intervenes, and who has set it

up? Perhaps by the Sultans orders for the impaling of a certain murderer. It is so, for

cymbals clash, and the Sultan goes by to his palace in long procession. Ten thousand

scimitars flash in the sunlight, and thrice ten thousand dancing-girls strew flowers. Then,

follow white elephants caparisoned in countless gorgeous colors, and infinite in number and attendants. Still the Cathedral Tower rises in the background, where it cannot be, and

still no writhing figure is on the grim spike. Stay! Is the spike so low a thing as the rusty

spike on the top of a post of an old bedstead that has tumbled all awry? Some vague

period of drowsy laughter must be devoted to the consideration of this possibility.

Shaking from head to foot, the man whose scattered consciousness has thus fantastically

pieced itself together, at length rises, supports his trembling frame upon his arms, and

looks around. He is in the meanest and closest of small rooms. Through the ragged

window-curtain, the light of a setting sun steals in from a miserable court. He lies,

dressed, across a large unseemly bed, upon a bedstead that has indeed given way under

the weight upon it. No Chinaman lies beside him this time. No Lascar. Just the haggard

woman, blowing at a pipe, to kindle it. And as she blows, and shading it with her lean

hand, concentrates its red spark of light, it serves in the dim morning as a lamp to show

him what he sees of her.


18/25

Wetta - 18

Another? says this woman, in a querulous, rattling whisper. Should he have

another?

He looks about him, with his hand to his forehead. A sharp suck of breath and a

reeling in his head return him to the floor. For there, in all his glory, stands the sultan.

Magnificent. Bejeweled. Bedecked in silks. He carries the head of the murderer by its

hair.

Wait, says the sultan, holding out his hand. A small, white hand, unused to

labor, epicene, unmanly. On the index finger of that hand, a circle of gold, delicately set

with a rose of diamonds and rubies. Wait, says the sultan again. His voice is high andsweet. It has the languor of one who has seen all and all is too much. He has regained

consciousness. Can he not rise?

Oh me. Oh me. No, deary. Ive seen to that. I know how to mix them, I do.

Nobody but me (and Jack Chinaman tother side the court; but he cant do it as well as

me) has the true secret of mixing it.

He couldnt hurt me then? says the sultan. I am a young little thing. And so

delicate. The voice of the sultan comes to him as from a great distance, as though

through a thin wall or a thick mist. It is refracted and muffled as it presses on his brain.

And yet there is some indefinable note in that voiceso plaintive and so tenderthat he

feels the strings of his heart plucked; and the note sounded by that plucked string pierces

the cloud momentarily. In that passing moment, he recognizes the fresh young voice, the

pretty lips. This is his china shepherdess.

He can hear me then? she says.

Oh yes, Missy. He can hear ye. Cant say as he would make sense o what ye


19/25

Wetta - 19

says, but he hears ye, alright.

But he cannot rise.

Dont ye be afeared for him. He cannot touch ye. Not with what I gives him,

deary. I know how to mix them. She extends one skeletal hand and coughs. Rosa lifts

the severed head she holds in her pretty hands. No head, of course, but a very little bag.

A bag of no use for anything, surely. From the bag, she produces a little pouch of coin.

Oh me. Poor me, poor me, the market price is dreffle high. And I did faller him

three days just as you asked, and my head is so bad and ah, my poor nerves. Rosa

produces another. Princess Puffer coughs once more and sidles up to her twichingly.And ye know, I did talk to that Datchery for ye. And the other, too. The china

shepherdess casts her a look so cold and cruel, it might freeze the life out of the old

woman, were she not frozen, pickled, smoked, and mummified already. She turns her

empty eyes to the floor and shuffles out.

With great difficulty, the choirmaster of Cloisterham Cathedral lifts his eyes once

more to the china shepherdess. She stands now at his head, leaning close. Her pretty lips

close enough to kiss. Rosa, he says. Rosa, darling.

Her lips part. You are trying to speak, I assume.

Rosa, darling. You sweet witch. You must know I did not kill him. I would

havemight havebut did not.

And again? No use in that. I can guess what you would say. Dont talk, you

silly old man. Be still. She furrows her expressive little eyebrows and taps him on the

nose. You murderous old fiend.

But I


20/25

Wetta - 20

Quiet, now, you horrible little man. I cannot understand a word you say. Of

course I know you are not the murderer. No one knows that better than I. But you have

it in your heart, now dont you? In that, we are not so different. You would very much

like to be a murderer, but have never found the opportunity. I should very much prefer

not to be a murderer, but am. Again she opens her very little bag. That bag of no use

for anything, surely, but more than adequate for holding an old penny ink-bottle, a

mouthpiece, a thimble, and a little horn spoon. She fills the bottle, blows at the pipe to

kindle it, and places it to his lips. The pipe falls from his mouth.

Now, now, silly boy. You must take it, or be the death of me, to say nothing of my plans. She puts it back, and laying her hand upon his chest, moves him slightly from

side to side. She pinches his nose with two delicate fingers. He inhales. She sighs and

looks away. The third was certainly the saddest, if not the most difficult. She sighs

again. I had been planning that murder for years. Would have done it sooner, I dare

say, but for my inheritance, which I felt certain rested on my marrying that foolish

nephew of yours. She turns her pretty eyes to his and smiles. I had meant to frame you

for the murder. Kill two Rooks with one stone and have you both out of my way. (She

laughs at her cleverness.) But that silly Neville framed himself instead.

Jasper strains to lift his hand. To protest, expostulate, plead. But the weight of

the opium holds it down.

Dont talk, my dear. Ill explain it all to you. There is nothing lost by it, and I

have so longed to tell someone. Anyone. You most of all, I think, since you always

seemed to find a way to the center of it.

Rosa carries a box of Turkish delight. A gift! she cries, from dear Mr.


21/25

Wetta - 21

Bazzard. I gave him Mr. Grewgious inheritance as payment for killing him and Neville.

Small price, to be sure. She smiles and pops a lump into her mouth. I have never

wanted to be married, John. Not ever. Not to Eddy, not to you, and certainly not to

Neville. Why everyone around me insisted on marrying me off, I shall never know. But

it did make my life unbearably complex. Rosa smiles and chews, occasionally putting

her little pink fingers to her rosy lips, to cleanse them from the Dust of Delight that

comes off the Lumps. She soon loses herself among the sweetmeats, popping one after

another into her mouth in quick succession. Chewing madly, she looks about the

miserable room and smiles.But where was I? she says at last, her mouth still quite full. Ah yes! I was

about to confess to you that I poisoned Miss Twinkleton. She swallows. And my

landlady. She swallows again. And my next-door neighbor. She pops the last lump

of Turkish delight into her mouth and frowns. No, that wasnt it. Her face brightens.

I remember! I was going to confess that it was I who dispatched your nephew. Yes, of

course. The memories all get rather mixed up in my little head. But let me think now.

Yes. I remember. I followed him to your house that Christmas night, having locked the

door to my room at school and told that absurd old Hag (God bless her soul) and her

gaggle of gigglers that I was ill. Not to be disturbed till morning. They were all so

worried for me, I was desperately afraid they might defy my request and beat the door

down so to treat me in my infirmity. How fortunate for me that they did not.

But oh, what a cold, cold night! And unusually dark. How the dust did fly from

the earth. The trees themselves did toss and creak. Not such power of wind had blown

for many a winter night. And how the three of you did talk! I very nearly burst in and


22/25

Wetta - 22

beat the lot of you to death in my impatience. But I am such a young little thing. And so

frail. I do not doubt you would have let me do it, but then my pretty designs would have

been thrown into disarray.

So no, I waited. I followed Neville and Eddy along the beach. And when at last

they parted company, I called to him. Dear Ned proposed to me right then and there.

Silly thing. I suppose Id been too gentle with him when wed broken off our

engagement. I had been planning to tap him with a stone and throw him in the water by

the weir, but when he proposed, I came up with the most ingenious little idea. Oh, come,

Eddy. Let us go to the Church at once, I said, Let us stand at the graves of our dear parents and tell them the wonderful news.

Say! she looks down at the befuddled choirmaster as though she had just

noticed him there. You do know that I dispatched them as well, dont you? Oh you

must. How thick of you not to suspect. I pushed Mummy in the river when she told me I

must marry that nephew of yours. I was only eight then. And when Papa confided in me

that he had the same designs, I poisoned him too. Oh! That miserable man. Miserable!

Nothing but misery! He put it in his will and foiled me even in death!

A cloud of anger darkens her little face. It might be darling, but for the coldness

of her bright little eyes. It soon passes.

No easy task, dragging Ned all the way to the back of that catacomb, I dont

mind telling you. Rosa huffs and sighs as she thinks of it. She looks miserably at her

empty box of confections. I am such a delicate little thing. I had to twist him this way

and that... But the upside of it all was that I recovered this! It was all that the Lyme left

behind. She holds up her hand so the ring might be admired.


23/25

Wetta - 23

John Jasper struggles again to speak, but finds his tongue too heavy. A single

moan is all he can manage.

Listen to you! she says, holding the pipe to his mouth again and pinching his

nose. Youre quite unintelligible.

The lids of his eyes, heavy as smoke, close out the light of the waning day. He

struggles to speak, but his mouth feels full of soot.

Unintelligible! she snaps.

He smiles and drifts away.


24/25

Wetta - 24

Ch. 30ANOTHER FLIGHT

The Reverend Mister Septimus Crisparkle and Miss Helena Landless are at the

dock when Rosa arrives. She arrives alone.

Is something wrong? Mr. Crisparkle asks.

Why would there be? answers Miss Bud, a little out of breath. She is carrying

no luggage but her useless little bag.

Was not Mr. Bazzard to accompany you here?

Oh him, answers Rosa. He is following with my boxes.

Well, I do hope he hurries. You ship is about to set sail.A great low horn sounds, and the last passengers ascend the gang plank.

Or perhaps he arrived ahead of me, Rosa adds. No matter. Either way, I am

quite sure I shall find a way to cope. She kisses the befuddled minor canon and marches

upward. Helena does likewise and follows.

Another sound of the horn and the gangplank is drawn. A great plume of smoke

erupts from the stacks fore and aft. The frame of the ship shudders and shifts. It draws

slowly away from the dock. Looking up at the two ladies from below, Mr. Crisparkle

doffs his hat and waves.

That, I should say, is a good man, reflects Rosa, waving back. I think I would

miss him if I knew him better.

There are many I shall miss, sighs Helena, holding a lace kerchief to her eyes.

But she is suddenly distracted. Goodness! she drops her kerchief and takes hold of

Rosas little hand. Is not that the missing ring?


25/25

Rosa bursts into loud tears and buries her face in Helenas breast. It is all I have

left in the world!

Helena, bewildered and deeply concerned, gathers little Rosa in her arms. My

dearest, she says, we have one another.

Rosa sniffs, looks up to her, smiles.

Nothing, says Helena, holding her little face in her hands, will ever part us.

Nothing, answers Rosa with a curious half smile. The two young ladies turn

together toward the sea and gaze over the rail into its azure depths.

It is certainly a very long way to the water, Rosa whispers, If one of us were tofall overboard, I think no one would even notice.

Do draw away then, cries Helena with a shiver. I couldnt bear the loss of

another friend.

Dont be silly, answers Rosa. Look just there in the water. No there. Here.

Come closer.

###THE END###

J.C.A.Wetta

drood ending!

Documents