Chapter Text
Gabriel John Utterson was, as a lawyer, not someone who could easily be startled. But the incident his cousin Richard Enfield had told him about was nagging at him. No, nagging at him was an understatement. Ever since he had heard the story, he had been plagued for nightmares. They were always the same. His dear friend, Henry Jekyll, being haunted by dark shadows, usually in the shape of a man. Or a replay of the occurrence Enfield had told him about. The man was always faceless, which in itself was uncanny enough.
And every time he awoke from his nightmares in cold sweat, he was compelled to go to his safe and read the will of his friend Dr. Jekyll over and over.
The good doctor had declared a certain Mr. Edward Hyde to be the sole heir to his fortune. And that very man had trampled over a little girl without even a shred of sympathy, cold as ice. What was compelling Jekyll to leave his fortune to such a creature? Did he even know? In what kind of relation did Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde stand with each other? Who on earth was this Mr. Hyde?
A visit to Jekyll's former friend, Dr. Hastie Lanyon, didn't bring any answers.
Utterson couldn't stop pondering about it, no matter how hard he tried. So often he tried to calm himself down, that he was just being unhealthily obsessed with the matter and that this was nothing a good night's sleep couldn't solve. But he never got one.
After several nights without sleep and an incident that involved him dozing off in his own office (luckily with no one around), he decided that this state of perpetual unrest was unsustainable.
He was convinced that the only way to end this was to face the source of his nightmares. He wanted to look this Mr. Hyde in the eye, if only to either confirm or shatter his suspicions. He wanted to see the man in person, hoping that just one look at this peculiar face would answer his questions.
What was so repulsive about it, that his calm and collected younger cousin felt such an irrational loathing just at the very sight of it?
So it came that every evening from then on, Mr. Utterson went to the street where the scene had happened, stood in his chosen post and waited. He was aware of how creepy this seemed to be, but for the sake of his own rest and the well-being of his friend, this had to be done.
If he be Mr. Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek.
After what seemed endless nights of waiting, his patience was finally rewarded.
One frosty, clear winter night, when he had just assumed his usual – uhm, watching duty, as he would have loved to shamefully call it, but couldn't bring himself to – well, his spot, he was alerted by hasty, oddly light steps coming down the lonely road. They were coming closer and for some reason, Utterson felt an inexplicable sense of triumph and quietly hid in the shadows of the court entry. When the footsteps came around the corner, their owner came into view. The lawyer snuck a glance to see what kind of man he would be dealing with.
He was small and plainly dressed, but that alone wouldn't have been too noteworthy. However, there was something about him, a dark aura, that made the beholder uncomfortable even from a distance.
The man hurried down the street, crossed the road and purposefully made his way across the courtyard. The lawyer could faintly see him take out a key, as if approaching his own home.
Then Utterson decided to step forward and tapped the smaller man on the shoulder.
“Mr. Hyde, I think?”
The other started rather violently, with a hissing intake of breath. But he collected himself quickly. Despite avoiding to look Utterson in the eye, he finally answered coolly: “That is my name. What do you want?”
To know why my best friend would leave his fortune to a man like you, Utterson thought, but what he said instead was: “I see you're going in. I'm an old friend of Dr. Jekyll's – Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street – you must have heard my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me.”
“You won't find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home”, Mr. Hyde replied, blowing the key.
He's using every excuse to avoid eye contact with me, isn't he? How would he know that the doctor is from home anyway, when he himself has been out until now?
Suddenly the smaller man startled him by asking suspiciously (but still without looking up): “How did you know me?”
“On your side, will you do me a favour?”, the lawyer countered.
This seemed to surprise Hyde in return, before he recovered and guardedly replied: “With pleasure. What shall it be?”
This is my chance!
“Will you let me see your face?”
For a moment, Mr. Hyde seemed to hesitate, like he was considering whether he should do it or not. Then, as if making up his mind, he turned around with an air of defiance, lifting his top hat far enough to show his eyes.
A few agonizingly long seconds of silence followed, as the two men fixedly stared at each other.
Then the lawyer nodded politely and said: “Now I will know you again. It may be useful in the future.”
“Yes”, returned Mr. Hyde and the way he smiled back sent shivers down the older man's spine. “It is fortunate that we have met; and apropos, you should have my address.” And he gave him the number of a street in Soho.
Good God! Could he be thinking of the will?
But Utterson didn't voice what he was thinking and simply grunted to show his acknowledgement of the given address.
“And now”, Hyde continued, obviously getting agitated, “How. Did. You. Know. Me?”
I must be careful with what I'm saying.
“By description.”
“Whose description?”, the smaller man inquired suspiciously.
“We have common friends”, the lawyer said vaguely. For the sake of his cousin's safety, he chose not to give any names.
“'Common friends'?”, the other echoed incredulously and rather hoarsely, “Who would that be?”
“Jekyll, for instance”, Utterson offered.
“He never told you!”, Hyde blew up, red with anger, “I didn't expect you to lie to me!”
“Come!”, Utterson cried with a frown, “That is not fitting language.”
To that Hyde reacted by bursting into a savage laughter that was even more disturbing than his smile. Then, before the older man knew what was happening, the younger one had unlocked the door and disappeared into the house without so much as a goodbye, slamming the door shut.
For a few minutes Utterson stood there, shaken to the bone. Then he left the street and went home. Every few steps, he stopped to take a deep breath.
Come on!, he scolded himself, Pull yourself together! You're being hysterical!
But it didn't help.
What is wrong with me?
He had a feeling that this question would never be answered.
Mr. Hyde sure wasn't like any man Utterson had ever seen.
He was ghostly pale and dwarfish, definitely a lot smaller and younger than Dr. Jekyll. There was no sign of malformation about him and yet, he gave off an inexplicable air of deformity. He had dark hair, in the darkness of the street Utterson hadn't been able to tell if it was black or dark brown. But determining the colour of his eyes was just the easier: they were of such a startling green that they almost seemed to glow in the dark. He had a displeasing smile – no, displeasing didn't describe it. No smile had ever been this cold. The man had borne himself with a murderous mixture of timidity and boldness and spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice that didn't sound remotely pleasant.
All this in its own made him repulsive enough, but even all these traits combined couldn't explain the deep aversion Utterson was feeling towards the young man.
There is something else – there must be more! If only I could name it. God help me, this man seems hardly human!
Maybe it was that strange, dark aura that had made him uncomfortable even from a distance earlier. Perhaps the evil of that man's soul was leaking through and that was what … yes, that had to be it.
Oh god … for such a man to be acquainted with Jekyll … if I have ever seen a monster, it's him!
Now he felt even more uneasy. He had to see Jekyll right now and confront him about – wait, Hyde had said that Jekyll wasn't home. But how would that demon spawn know, if he himself had just been returning from god knew where?
The lawyer gritted his teeth and made his way around a few corner into a nearby street full of formerly grand houses. Most of them were now in decay and inhabited by all kinds of people, but there was one house that was splendid and beautiful and still inhabited, although now the lights were off. But still he knew that someone was awake. So he knocked.
The door was opened by a well-dressed, elderly servant.
Utterson asked immediately: “Is Doctor Jekyll at home, Poole?”
“I will see, Mr. Utterson”, the old butler replied, letting him in.
He guided the lawyer into a large, low-roofed, comfortable hall paved with flagstone, warmed by a large, open fire and furnished with expensive oak cabinets. It was the doctor's pride and Utterson was quite sure that this room was the most pleasant one in London. But not even this place, where he usually felt at peace and at home, could calm him down tonight.
As he waited, he tried to get rid of his inner unrest, but the shadows that the light of the fire threw onto the wall seemed to make it only worse.
The demonic, ghostly visage of Hyde was branded into his mind like a burn scar and it made him feel horrible.
Why do I suddenly feel so sick … so averse to life … what is wrong with me!
He was ashamed of the relief he felt when the butler came back and announced that Jekyll wasn't home.
When Utterson inquired about Mr. Hyde entering the house from the back door just like that, Poole informed him (to his horror) that, not only did Hyde have a key, but that also Jekyll trusted him enough to order his servants to obey him in everything. And when Utterson asked why he had never met Hyde before, the butler explained that the young man was rarely seen in this part of the house.
This put the middle-aged lawyer even more on edge and he politely wished the butler a good night, before going home.
He couldn't recall when or even if he had ever been as depressed as he was feeling right now.
Memories flooded through his head, of when Henry Jekyll and he had been young. Digging in his own memories, he couldn't find anything that could be put against him. And still he felt tainted, like he had committed an unforgivable crime.
Jekyll on the other hand … he hadn't exactly been a paragon of virtue in his youth either. In fact, he had been a rather wild youth. Only Utterson and Lanyon still knew about the adventures he had been up to.
Oh my god … what if Hyde knows and is blackmailing him! What does he have that he could put against my friend? What is he doing to him?! How do they know each other? When did they even meet? What does Henry see in him! He is … he is …
Utterson shook his head. Sure, it was perfectly normal to be concerned for your friend, but this was just ridiculous! He was thinking like a jealous wife, when there wasn't even–
The black-haired man groaned and gripped his head.
So much for there being nothing that could be put against me. I thought I was over that!
And the thought, that he might have something in common with someone like Hyde, made it even more nauseating.
Knowing that he would get no rest for the night and desperate to confide in someone who wouldn't judge him, he opened one of the drawers of his desk, got out a visiting card and crept into the next room to the telephone. There, as quietly as possible, he dialled a number on the telephone and listened intently.
Finally, someone picked up and Utterson was relieved to hear the sleepy voice of the person he was wishing to talk to right now.
“…Hello?”
“Good evening, this is Utterson speaking-”
“Ah, Mr. Utterson! You mean good morning, it's almost one o'clock. I hope you have a good reason for calling me at this hour. It's not exactly becoming for a gentleman like you”, the voice remarked with a light German accent.
Utterson sighed. Of course, what had he been thinking? Of course she would have been sleeping. He really had to be out of his mind, calling someone in the middle of the night, tearing them out of their slumber. Some fine gentleman he was!
Luckily the voice spoke up again, tearing him out of his self-loathing thoughts.
“Mr. Utterson? Are you still there?”
He blinked. “A-ah! Y-yes, I'm still here. I'm truly sorry, Madam. What am I thinking, waking you up at almost one in the morning.”
“Don't mention it. But tell me why you're calling me in the first place. It must be something really disturbing, if you're desperate enough to call me at this ungodly time.”
“It is. It truly is”, Utterson admitted.
The voice at the other end of the line sounded concerned: “You sound like you're crying, Mr. Utterson. What happened?”
“I …” He wanted to tell her, he really did. But now was not the time. He would just … wait, had she said that he sounded like crying? It was only now that he noticed that his sight was blurred with tears and that his voice was hoarse and choking. No wonder the other person was concerned.
“… Never mind. I owe you a million apologies for disturbing your rest, Madam. I will consult you later at five in the afternoon.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure you don't want to get it off your chest now? You dialled my number, after all.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. How could a person as open-hearted and empathetic as the woman he was talking to possibly be German? That was incomprehensible!
“No, it's fine. But thank you. It's good to have someone who's willing to listen no matter what time it is.”
He could practically hear the smile in her voice, as she answered: “Please, that's what I'm there for. And God knows, you really need someone to confide into. Just one thing: I already have a visitor at five in the afternoon. But I am free at eleven o'clock. And you would even have more time, since the client I had at noon cancelled her appointment. So come then and feel free to pour your heart out. You know that I will listen to you.”
That answer made him smile as well. “Yes, of course. Thank you. Good night, Madam.”
“Good night, Mr. Utterson.”
Utterson hung up the telephone. He might not have been able to tell what was ailing him just yet, but knowing that someone was willing to listen to his problems even at this hour, had made him feel so much better.