Chapter Three
Lucy peered out through barely open eyes as a weary, yet elegant looking lady kissed Jekyll on the cheek and departed from the house… she had not even noticed her entrance. Closing her eyes again, she sighed, all too aware of Jekyll's presence in the room. Just knowing he was there made her feel safe, and yet so confused… She had never felt this way about a man before, what was it about him that made her want to be the kind of lady he could love, that simply made her want to be near him?
She smiled, despite herself, as she felt his warm gaze settle on her.
"Ah Lucy," he whispered, "you can smile in your sleep, is it your only escape from the life you lead?"
Her smile faded slowly as she listened to him speak, careful not to move a single muscle for fear that he would know she was not asleep. She heard him slowly kneel beside her, and rest his head on the arm of the couch.
"Poor Lucy, what am I to do? The sight of you melts my heart, eases the pain I feel yet every day… but confusion… how confused I am, Lucy. What am I to do? Would that Hyde did not hurt you… would that he would not hurt or kill or maim the quiet lives of his victims!"
She started at the sound of the name, the name of the man who tormented her days and yet enticed her so easily. She was drawn to him in a strange way, as she was Jekyll, and yet she did not feel safe with Hyde, he did not warm her with his gaze; no, her heart turned cold at his very touch. There was something that drew her to them both, and yet they were so opposite! How…
Wait, he knew Hyde!
What?!
My sweet doctor, an acquaintance of Hyde? He speaks of him as if he knows him as well as any brother, and yet not so kindly, not with any amount of love…
Lucy heard him sigh and then felt the warm brush of his lips on her cheek, sending warm chills down her spine, and then he left, left her alone to absorb his words, her own confused thoughts…
"Good night, Lucy," she heard him whisper as he left the room, and as his footsteps faded down the hall way, as she felt the hope he always instilled in her dissipate, she sat up, knowing she had to leave.
Henry would not mind if she stayed, he would, perhaps, even be upset that she had left, gone back to the relative darkness and danger of the streets, or The Red Rat. The thought warmed her a little, knowing that for the first time in her life, someone had true concern for her… but she could not take advantage of that.
Hope. That was one thing she should not base any aspect of her life on… hope was a lost cause in the world she lived in, the world of east London… where, for many, life truly was without hope, without joy… without love.
Lucy rose to her feet. She glanced up the darkened stairway and wished she could express her thanks to Jekyll, wished she could write a note, or find some way… But she did not know how to read or write. A woman's thirst for knowledge was scorned, or ignored, but still, she wished she were wise and helpful to the world, like Dr. Jekyll… Men weren't forced into such lifestyles as she had been, because they were allowed to learn. How she wished…
She shook her head adamantly, then stopped immediately for the sharp pain that it caused. Putting a hand to her head, she frowned, then pulled out the comb that held her hair in place, and stared at it. Made of fine pearl, it was one of two real pieces of jewelry she'd ever owned… the other was the necklace around her neck, something she'd had ever since she could remember.
Well, she would leave it there for him, as a symbol of her thanks… She placed it on the coffee table, hoping he would understand.
As she quietly slipped out the door, she gasped as the cold night air took her breath away, and the coldness of being alone took her hope away…
But she knew he would understand. He always did.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Emma walked home slowly, staying a few paces in front of her escort, wanting to feel safe, but wanting privacy as well. Tonight had been a small improvement over her other visits, when she was either turned away by Poole, or even by Henry himself, saying he was tired after only a minute or so of broken conversation, or too busy…
She sighed, feeling dismal as the gray skies above her.
"I barely even know him anymore," she murmured to herself.
"What's that, milady?" Frederick queried, sounding concerned.
"Nothing, Frederick, just mumbling to myself again!" She tried to sound cheerful, and thanks to many years of practice, it went over well.
He chuckled quietly, then resumed his quiet state.
Emma was grateful for him… he was ever accompanying her to Henry's house without complaint, and understood her need for privacy and quiet at times, and her need for mindless conversation at other times. She often felt lonely, now that Henry had withdrawn so much, and he offered the understanding, non-committal company that she so badly needed.
And Father… goodness, he was starting to worry, and did not agree with her decisions to go out so often, so late. But she knew that during the day, Henry was rarely home… during the hour or two preceding midnight, there was often a candle in his study window, but after that, she did not know his doings or his whereabouts… but then, neither did anyone else. It was all so strange, and there seemed something dark and strange surrounding it. Something harsh and surreal...
And that woman! She had nearly forgotten about her, the beautiful woman who lay asleep on Jekyll's couch, the beautiful, vulnerable woman, whom Jekyll seemed to hold such affection for… but then, he always had been compassionate. Why did it disturb her so?
Ah, Father still kept a light burning for her. A simple gesture that touched her heart each time… he never failed to welcome her home. How she would miss that when she married Henry and moved away, but then, Henry's light would always burn for her, would it not? She knew that her heart would always welcome him, no matter what, for she belonged with him, and no one else. Nothing would ever take that from her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
November 12, 1885, 12:17 A.M.
Poor Emma.. sweet Emma.
She did nothing to deserve this.
A maniacal fiancé who surely cannot give her anything.. not now.
For this monster has taken over inside. Such darkness could never manifest love.
I feel it, beneath the fear of Hyde taking over, beneath the turmoil inside my heart and head, that I do love her and I know she loves me… but does she know what I am?..
Dear Emma, she has stood by my side, supported me through it all.
Sometimes I think, if I wished to separate good and evil, I could separate myself from her, for it seems to me that she is all that is good and kind and beautiful in life, and everything else is darkness.
All that is in me is despair.
Ah, but sometimes when I think of her sweet face, the way she smiles at me, how she takes my hand in hers.. I feel something that I thought was forgotten..
Like a cool breeze that suddenly stirs up in the sweltering heat of the summer, refreshing and reminding me of those lovely spring days.
If she knew what I've done - what I've become! What Hyde has done.. Oh, if she were one of his victims I would never, ever forgive myself. But how can I compare her life to that of any other victims?
In a way, she suffers more than the rest…
As Jekyll wrote the last words, tears smudged the ink, and the pen drew a long, crooked line across the parchment. But tears disappeared as he felt an odd yet familiar sensation take over, and dread filled his soul.
Minutes later, a growling voice read aloud as he wrote on the same page, sadistic laughter filling the air…
And soon… she will suffer, much, much more! I live, and Henry Jekyll will perish, along with every other hypocrite in London! Now and forever… they will remember -
Edward Hyde!
Email: littllucy@collegeclub.com
