Hyde Page 5

  "Would that you had. Then you would know the folly of attempting to follow him up. I must insist once again that you abandon your courtship to my daughter."

  "I cannot. We are in love."

  "Love." The general snorted and turned away. "Such is not a proper reason for marriage."

  A soft woman's voice filled the study. "It is for me, father."

  When Jekyll turned, I caught my breath.

  The woman was a vision, beautiful in form. I guessed her age at roughly in her forties. Her long blonde hair fell in sheets around her heart-shaped face. Her large blue eyes regarded the general with an anger that made them sparkle. Her dress was modest, but did nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts and narrowness of waist. Her skirt floated as she entered the room.

  "Father," she said, "I must once again insist that you mind your own affairs."

  "And I insist that I will not." The general glared at her. "You are still my daughter, Charlotte, and your future is precious to me. Too precious to waste on a man such as Jekyll."

  "One day, I hope you see him as the good and noble man that I do, Father. But I do not need your permission to marry him, and do not seek it." Charlotte went to Jekyll and took his arm. "Come, the play will begin. Good night, Father."

  "Good night, General," said Jekyll.

  The general merely grunted and returned to his book.

  Jekyll led Charlotte by the arm through the manor and back to his carriage. After helping her inside, he climbed in and instructed his driver to take them to the theatre district.

  Jekyll remained silent for a long while until Charlotte touched his shoulder. "Do not let my father upset you, my love."

  "How can I not?" asked Jekyll. "I wanted your father's approval of our marriage. It seems that approval grows more and more remote with each encounter."

  "We need not have his approval at all. But come, let us speak of other things. How goes your political aspirations?"

  "Well, I think. I believe I have a good chance at getting a seat in the House of Commons. I even found someone who I feel could become my sponsor, Sir Danvers Carew. Or at least, I did."

  Charlotte frowned. "You did? What has changed?"

  "There was an incident last night. I do not wish to discuss it, either."

  Charlotte leaned her head against Jekyll's shoulder. "You seem pre-occupied this evening."

  "I do have much on my mind." Jekyll looked out the window at London sweeping by.

  "You are so secretive, Doctor Jekyll. Are you keeping secrets from me?"

  He looked down at her for a moment before asking, "Of course not. Are you?"

  "Only that I love you."

  "That's no secret."

  Jekyll smiled and held her hand. The mood was lifted and they rode the rest of the way in peace.

  Charlotte frowned as she looked closer at his cheek. "Where did you get those bruises from?"

  Jekyll touched his cheek. "Oh, it was nothing. I slipped and fell this afternoon. I struck my face against some furniture."

  "Oh. How terrible." He said the words, but I could feel his lack of interest. Jekyll didn't deserve a woman like her.

  She didn't seem to notice. Jekyll kissed her, and the moment passed.

  Jekyll and his fiancee finally arrived at the theatre to witness the hottest play of the season, "The Looking-Glass of Amelia White." Jekyll bought their tickets for the very third row and sat among assorted dignitaries and members of the aristocracy. He exchanged pleasantries with Samuel Enstrom, the noted shipping entrepreneur until the orchestra began to play and the lights dimmed.

  I was forced to watch the play along with Jekyll, a gothic mystery about a woman who moves into her uncle's mansion, only to find her reflection supposedly leaving her looking glass and wandering the house at night to cause havoc. I found it somewhat dull.

  During the intermission, Jekyll and Charlotte went into the lobby. Jekyll smoked a cigar and wandered among the crowd. made pitiful attempts at unraveling the mystery of the play with Charlotte and other members of the audience. Several prostitutes wandered the lobby, brazenly offering their wares. Jekyll pretended to ignore them, but I was witness to his occasional glances at the fullness of their bosoms at the necks of their dresses and bare ankles showing at the edges of their skirts as they walked. Such was the most enjoyment I gained out of his evening. One of the fallen women garnered my attention, a woman in possession of fiery red hair and generous hips that fluttered a fan before her face heavily marked with rouge and lipstick.

  "Quite a show, eh?" said one old woman.

  "Indeed," Charlotte said with enthusiasm. "I do wonder at the mystery of the reflection."

  "I'll wager it to be ghosts," the old woman said. "Her grandfather stated that the mansion was said to be haunted."

  Jekyll puffed out smoke as he murmured, "I disagree. It would seem to be magical in nature. The looking glass reminds me of a fairy tale. But whatever the secret, I think we can all agree it to be a splendid play. I enjoy the performance of the actress Penelope Chambers especially."

  Charlotte clasped her hands over her chest. "Oh, heavens, I agree. She is marvelous. I always wished to be an actress."

  Jekyll laughed. "An actress? Heavens no."

  Charlotte managed to look hurt. "Why not? I'll wager I would be a jolly good actress."

  "No, not an actress. That would require deceit, something I believe you are not capable of."

  She smirked. "How little you know me. I would be quite good at it."

  Jekyll was about to respond when he looked over at an old man across the lobby. Grey formed a ring around a bald head. Heavy jowls sagged around a smiling face. He held the hand of a slightly younger woman chatting with others in the lobby.

  Charlotte followed Jekyll's gaze. "Who is that, Henry?"

  "Sir Danvers Carew. He is the man I hope to sponsor my run for the House of Commons. Come. This would be a fine opportunity."

  Jekyll took Charlotte's hand and walked with her to Sir Carew.

  A bell chimed, signaling the end of the intermission.

  His plans thus thwarted, Jekyll and Charlotte finally returned to their seats to see the final act of the play. I, of course, had already deduced the ending, long before it was revealed that the so-called reflection was in reality Amelia's long-lost twin sister kept prisoner in the house, but Jekyll expressed surprise. I decided then that I was not only more morally unencumbered than Jekyll, but wiser as well.

  Charlotte and Jekyll left then and enjoyed a ride through the park, where they talked of plans for their upcoming wedding in the fall. If I had been capable, I would have either fallen asleep or screamed in frustration at being forced to endure their mindless drivel.

  At one point, Jekyll had the gall to ask, "Why do you love me?"

  She smiled and said, "Because you're the kindest and most pure man I have ever met. Why do you love me?"

  "Because you are so beautiful and wonderful in every way."

  I silently expressed relief when Jekyll finally returned Charlotte to her home and they exchanged a chaste kiss goodnight.

  Jekyll immediately said, "Home, quickly," his driver whisked him back to his home in record time. Jekyll wasted no time, fairly leaping from the back of his carriage and rushing through his house to his laboratory.

  My excitement peaked as Jekyll mixed the formula with practiced ease and downed it in one go. The agony of the change came again, but seemed more bearable this time. My clothes expanded on my body as it shrank. My skin turned pale. My hands twisted and sprouted hair. When once I had my voice, I threw my head back and laughed to the rafters.

  "Free at last," I roared to the empty room and to Jekyll, who was now a passenger more than driver. "Now, Jekyll, I shall show you the way to truly enjoy an evening."

  I gathered up Jekyll's coat and hat and slipped out the back entrance.

  A strong wind blew past Jekyll's door, carrying flurries of snow that swirled in the dim light of the gas-lamps on the streets. The chi
ll air brought numbness of my cheeks and nose, and cut through my loose clothing. It made me ache for clothing in my size that did not hang so generously about my person.

  As I stepped down onto the sidewalk, I heard a child's laughter. I turned to see a little girl skipping up to me. She carried a lollipop in one hand that she pointed at me.

  "Monkey Man," she screamed in a sing-song voice. "Monkey Man. You're a nasty Monkey Man."

  I snarled at her, "Be gone, you impudent child."

  But she continued to sing and giggle as she danced around me, "Monkey Man, Monkey Man, you're a nasty Monkey Man."

  Some of the passer-by paused to watch her, then looked at me. Their familiar looks of revulsion turned into scorn and they laughed along with the girl as she sang and laughed, laughed at me. Humiliation burned inside of me until I lunged at the girl, my fists raised.

  Out of nowhere, it seemed, a man and woman rushed to her side and pulled her to them.

  The man yelled at me, "Leave her alone. Don't you touch my daughter, you hear me? Are you all right, Lucille?"

  The girl stayed behind her parents while still screaming her Monkey Man song. I wanted to tear the little whelp to pieces, but could not with the parents and the small crowd that had gathered. Instead, I hurled curses at them, then hurried away.

  Lucky, the cab driver I had met the night before, rode by then and I waved him down. As he opened the door for me, he said, "Ah, Mister Hyde. I see you're none the worse from last night."

  "Better than ever," I said as I settled into my seat. "Take me to a pub. The worst you can think of."

  "Are you quite certain, Mister Hyde?"

  "Absolutely. The more dangerous the pub, the higher your fare shall be."

  "As you wish, sir." Lucky snapped the reins and rode off through London's winding roads.

  He was as good as his word. When he finally came to a halt, I found myself in an area of the city I had never seen before. Shabby men and women shuffled through the streets. I drew attention immediately as I stepped from the cab in my fine, though over-sized, clothes. That was what I wanted. I wanted them to see me as I strode into the pub.

  Many heads turned to witness my entrance. I ignored them all, heading straight for the bar. I slapped down a sizable pound note onto the counter. The bartender looked down at it and gaped.

  "Rum," I said. "Leave the bottle."

  "Yes, sire," said the bartender, who hurried off to get my order.

  I swept the room with my gaze, watching them recoil the moment my eyes laid upon them. Rather than allow myself to quail before their scorn, I basked in it. I wanted them to hate me, be repulsed by me.

  The bartender set the bottle down along with a shot glass. I ignored the glass, took the bottle by the neck, and poured its contents down my throat. Others at the bar paused in their conversation to watch me, unable to resist. When the last dregs went down my throat, I slammed the bottle down on the bar and turned to a woman beside me. She was not a fair young woman, overly dressed and made up. Yet she looked like a woman of quality and refinement.

  I regarded her with a wicked smile as I said, "Hello, love. How would you like to return to my place for a quickie?"

  She shrank back, nose wrinkling in disgust. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I said, would you like to go home with me? I would do you right."

  I could see the young man on the other side of him rise in indignation, as I had hoped. "Here, let's have none o' that. She's with me."

  "I know," I said, "and I thought she might do better. Although she hardly seems worth it. I first mistook her for my horse."

  The young man's chest swelled. "I demand an apology."

  "You'll get this instead." I grabbed the bottle and hurled it at the young man.

  It struck him in the head, shattered, and sprayed the bar with blood and shards of glass.

  The woman screamed.

  To the man sitting on my left, I grabbed his shoulder with one hand and threw a punch to his gut with the other. As he doubled-over, I heaved him into the nearest table. The three men at the table scattered as my new-found projectile hurtled into them.

  The crowd had started to recover from the shock. One of them drew a knife and lunged at me, aiming to slit my throat. I faked a motion to my left as if to avoid the knife, knowing he would move to compensate. Instead, I then dodged right, towards the knife. I trapped his outstretched arm in my armpit and turned on my heel quickly to snap his forearm.

  As he crumpled to the floor, howling in agony, I leaped onto a nearby table. A pack of three men came at me, and I dove into them as a swan into a lake. The three of them collapsed in a heap and I stamped my foot into the face of one of them, while driving my elbow into the throat of another. Rolling forward, I sank my teeth into the cheek of another man's face and pulled until I tore out a chunk of his flesh. I felt a fist strike the back of my head, causing a shower of stars in my eyes. I whirled and tackled the owner of the fist, raining blows on his face.

  The fight went on, and I lost count of what I did and who I did it to. Every crack of bone, every tear of yielding flesh, every spurt of blood invigorated me as a tonic. The cries of anger and rage melted into the screams of the wounded.

  When I at last stood in the center of the pub, blood dripping from my hands and face and realized that no one approached me, I emerged from my lust as if from a fog. The patrons of the bar stood apart from me now. No one dared approach. I saw the faces of the men and women who scorned me had transformed into expressions of terror.

  I stepped back, over a crying young man clutching his throat, trying to hold back the blood gushing from under his hands. I reached down, tore his coat from his back, and used it to wipe my hands and face. I tossed the coat onto a woman's lap. She screamed and threw it aside.

  I stalked out of the pub.

  Lucky sat at his cab and regarded me with wide eyes. "Are you all right, sir?"

  "Fine." I climbed into the back. "Take me to the theatre district."

  "Yes, sir." Lucky snapped the reins and headed off again.

  As I rode, I asked myself why I had done what I did. It never occurred to me until that moment to ask. Perhaps I had needed the release, the freedom of movement and purpose. Perhaps I had craved the excitement of the fight from the first night. Or perhaps I merely wanted to strip the loathing from the faces of my fellow men. If I could not be loved, I would be feared. The world saw me as a monster. So a monster is what I would become.

  I brooded on this as I rode to the theatre district. When I arrived, I bade Lucky to slow down and travel along the road as I examined the crowds. I was looking for someone.

  I found her.

  I recognized her from the lobby where Jekyll had seen the play, her curly red hair, her plump breasts still on display, her hips swinging with every step. She walked along towards one of the other theatres, no doubt to solicit her wares.

  "Her," I said to Lucky. "Slow down alongside her."

  He obeyed and I leaned out from the cab. She looked at me and I caught the same look of revulsion on her face, no doubt from my appearance but also the blood that stained my clothes and skin. But the look soon passed, replaced by a feigned expression of coy flirtation. She was a professional.

  "Hello, handsome," she said. "Can I help you?"

  Said I, "No need to flatter me. I wish to acquire your services."

  She fluttered her fan and giggled. "And what might those services be?"

  "Knitting. Where can we go?"

  She pointed us towards a nearby boarding house. I bade her to get in and we rode there. She made the journey a pleasant one, and the hour was well-spent. Once the deed was done, I left her and returned to the cab.

  As I left the boarding house, I noted a well-dressed old man entering it with a woman under his arm. The fluttering in my mind summoned knowledge from Jekyll. I knew his face; it was Sir Danvers Carew, the M.P. that Jekyll hoped to solicit a sponsorship for the House of Commons. But Carew was known as a pillar of the com
munity, a family man with a devoted wife and son. A son who I had sent to the hospital. Yet here he was with a prostitute under his arm. He had a double-life as well. I thought he took great risk by coming here in the open.

  "He could use Jekyll's potion," I murmured as I got into the cab.

  Lucky called back to me, "What was that, sir?"

  "Nothing."

  "Yes, sir. Where to now, sir?"

  I thought of the opium den, but decided against it and said merely, "Just drive. I don't care where."

  "As you wish." He sent the cab rolling again.

  I rode in the cab, gazing at the crowds walking by on the streets of London. As we moved from the slums to the finer districts, the men and women dressed better, the homes became newer, the smiles broader. But even the lowest whelp on the street begging for scraps or scraping dung from the streets inspired envy in my soul, for they at least had the hope of a better life. I had none.

  I was born into a life I never intended nor desired. I was created to satisfy baser desires, as a cloak for a well-respected man to hide in. My lot in life was to taste the nectar of sin, but never the sweetness of sainthood. No doubt, Jekyll sat within me as he had sat in the audience of the play, enjoying the sights and sounds, but knowing that at any moment he could draw the curtain and end the show. Yet I never could. No doubt Jekyll was right about my appearance. No man or woman could ever look at me without seeing the scars of my twisted soul. They would always revile me as they reviled all darkness. I was the embodiment of all the evil that men hid within themselves, born into human form. I was, simply put, a monster. I was Edward Hyde and always would be. No amount of drink or drugs or pain or prostitutes would change that.

  I could bear it no longer.

  "Home," I called to Lucky. "Take me home."

  "Yes, sir."

  Lucky took me back to the darkened doorway that led back into Jekyll's lab. I climbed out, stumbled from the pain and drink, and tossed some money over my shoulder.

  Lucky climbed down to gather up the notes from the snow as he said, "Good night, Mister Hyde."

  "Good night, Lucky." I found the key, unlocked the door, and let myself inside.