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It was unfortunate that their meeting had to be held the day after the memorial. Helena would have preferred more time to compose her thoughts, to prepare herself for the possible answers to her question, but, the time constraint could not be helped; they were due back at the University on Thursday.
She hesitated at the door for only a moment. After knocking briskly, she was admitted and asked to wait in the entry. Helena removed her gloves, and put them down, along with her purse on the pier table. She caught sight of herself in the gilded mirror. Was this the same woman who had been to this house only three months before?
Certainly some of her emotions were the same; a slight feeling of dread,
a distinct desire to turn and run from the entire situation, the knowledge
that she could not...
She was adamant about not attending the party; he was determined that she should. In the three years they had been acquanted, in the nine months they had worked side by side, it had been their only quarrel.
"Henry Jekyll, think outside yourself, just for a moment," she railed, "This is Emma's night, but all the talk will be about your "other woman"."
It was the first time he had ever heard her raise her voice, betraying an anger he did not know she felt. Her outburst only lent fuel to his own emotion. "When did you become so concerned about propriety, Helena?" he shot back.
A sharp retort was on her lips. No, better not. She managed to keep it in, while turning to John Utterson, who had maintained his habit of improptu visits to the lab. "Mr. Utterson, surely YOU can see the folly of this action?"
For once, he did not dissappoint her. "Helena is correct, Henry," he responded, "the idea of her being at the engagement party is unwise, at best."
Henry Jekyll and Helena St. Just stood on opposite sides of the lab bench, each staring the other down, each waiting for the other to give in. Something tickled Helena's ankle; it was the cat circling to be picked up. Helena scooped him up, and walked toward the fire, her voice muffled in his fur "I will not be there."
She was firm in her resolve, until two days later when her sister handed her an envelope upon her return from the lab. She recognized the handwriting as one she had seen before but could not place. Opening it, she saw the monogram surrounded by violets, and knew the missive was from Emma Carew.
"My dearest Miss St. Just" it began, "I beg you to reconsider your response
to our invitation. Be assured, my father and I would delight in your attendance,
and your absence would make the evening incomplete for Henry, as you must
know. Fondly, Emma Carew."
What had this note cost Henry Jekyll? Sir Danvers Carew would certainly NOT delight in her presence, he disliked her immensely, although whether it was as Jekyll's female lab assistant, or as any "over-educated woman" she could not say. And although in her limited acquaintance with Emma Carew she had seemed above the petty backstabbing of London society, could she be serious in her invitation?
What to do now? She sat in her sister's parlour, trying to come to a logical conclusion, but friendship and logic seemed incongruent.
"Hard day at the Dr. Jekyll's, Helena?" Her brother- in-law had come in for tea. Dear Jonathan Bascomb, champion of all and any of Helena's endevors, even more so than her own sister (It was his voiced support of her employment at Dr. Jekyll's laboratory that had swayed Marissa to allow her to remain living in their home).
"No, no, just a conflict between head and heart. Emma Carew implores me to attend her engagement party, while logic tells me it will end badly if I do." She handed him the card.
He studied it, in the way one would expect an acctuary to view a document, seeing more meaning in the construction of it, rather than the words. At last he said "Someone took the trouble to write this, after someone took the effort to have it written. What does that say to you?"
"You think I should go?"
"What I think is irrelevant. But someone wants you there, and is willing to risk the consequences." He replied, and then added, "If you really want an opinion, why not go for a short time, at the very beginning of the evening, when fewer people will be there. Be sure to wish the happy couple joy, congratulate the proud father, and leave. No one could accuse you of shirking your duty."
And so it was decided.
Caught up in the preparations for the evening, Helena began to think
she had made the right decision. Marissa took it upon herself to pin up
her sister's hair: since childhood Helena had been hopelessly inept with
her thick, dark hair. Any style beyond a simple knot frustrated her to
no end. Their shared time in front of the mirror brought back memories
of the few good times in their youth, and even Jonathan felt the warmth
between them. Helena was especially moved when Marissa lent her the rhinestone
haircombs that had belonged to their mother. Her niece and nephew dutifully
cleaned and polished her shoes, for which she very seriously paid them
two pence each. Jonathan walked her to the cab. Her smile was genuine as
she bid him goodnight.
In theory, the evening should have been without incident. Henry Jekyll had appointed his best friend as Helena's escort and guardian for the night; John Utterson was on his best behavior, and managed to sound sincere when he complimented Helena on her choice of gown. Sir Danvers actually spoke to her more than civily, and Emma Carew 's warm greeting put her at ease.
And everything would have gone just as Jonathan had predicted, had Henry Jekyll not been nearly an hour late. By the time he arrived, everyone Helena dreaded meeting was in attendance, and it was hard for her to ignore the whispers that trailed in her wake. After what seemed like hours, Helena "wished the happy couple joy" and while the others watched the pyrotechnics outdoors, quietly prepared to slip away unoticed.
She was already out the door, when she heard a familiar voice call her. She turned to face Henry Jekyll.
"Doctor Jekyll, haven't you missed enough of your own party this evening?" she chided him.
He smiled back at her. "Helena, thank you for coming. I know it was difficult for you."
They stood in silence together on the sidewalk. Finally, Helena spoke. "You do know, Henry, that I am most sincere in my wishes for you and Miss Carew?"
"Yes," he answered her quietly. And then, taking her hands in his, he spoke what were to become the last words she would ever hear him say. "Helena, whatever happens after tonight, will you promise to remember the high esteem in which I regard your friendship?"
It was a very odd comment. Helena did not know what to say, except to respond somewhat reflexively, "Of course I will. But what...?"
The large boom signaled the end of the fireworks. Henry dropped her
hands and opened the cab door for her. "I must get back," he said, looking
straight into her eyes. "Remember your promise."
It was that promise that brought her back to London three months later.
"Miss Carew will see you now," the houseman informed her.
His voice shook her from her memories. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and followed him into the parlor.
Helena was stunned to find that Emma Carew looked more beautiful than before. Her pale skin had taken on an even more porcelin quality, and the black dress she wore served to emphasis the golden highlights in her red hair. She wore no jewelry except for a small gold crucifix on a delicate chain, hanging next to it a gold wedding band.
Helena began. "It was kind of you to see me today, Miss Carew." She extended her hand.
Emma said nothing but motioned her to sit on the divan . When she was seated, Emma faced her, and cleared her throat. "It was very good of you to come all the way from Glascow," she said very softly.
"I could not do otherwise," Helena answered truthfully.
Emma poured tea for them both, putting a spoonful of honey in Helen'a cup; Helena was touched that she had remembered. There was an awkward silence between them. Helena had come with a purpose; she would have it out, no matter what the consequences.
"For the last three weeks," she began slowly, "I have spent time everyday reading the telegram you sent me. Everytime I unfold it, I pray I will find it written in Latin, or Sanskrit, or Hungarian, any language but English, so that it's meaning is not what I read the day before..."
She looked at her hostess. Should she continue? Emma looked straight ahead, she appeared to be coping...
Helena found it difficult to go on with her composed recital of events. "Miss Carew, I know this is a difficult time, but I beg you to tell me the details of Doctor Jekyll's death!"
Her answer caught Helena off guard. "You left London very soon after our engagement party, if I am not mistaken. Why was that?"
Helena took a deep breath. "I was dismissed," she said simply.
That wound was still as raw as the day it had happened, three months earlier. In fact, it happened the day after the engagement party. Helena had come to the lab to continue her work. She found it cold and dark, save for one lamp burning. Beside it was an envelope bearing her name.
Miss St. Just:
Your services are no longer required. Enclosed you will find your
salary for the past month, as well as a letter of recommendation to any
prospective employer.
Sincerely,
Henry Jekyll, MD
She managed to contain her shock until she was outside on the sidewalk. Dismissed? Why? Did she not even deserve an explanation made to her face? She so confused. Everything between Henry Jekyll and herself had always been out in the open, they had both insisted upon it. And now, to be treated as if she were a parlour maid!
She had to think this through. She dared not go back to her sisters' in this frame of mind. She walked to the park, found an empty bench , reread the note. She took out the money and did not have to count it to know that it was much more than the wages owed her. She took out the letter of recommendation. It was a glowing testimonial to her skill, knowledge and loyalty.
Helena found it hard to think rationally. Her first idea was to bang on Jekyll's door, and demand to see him for an explanation. Better still , she would confront him in public at St. Jude's that very morning.
She knew she would do neither. She found herself thinking the same thought again and again: what had happened recently to warrant such a drastic change? She could not recall any incident in Jekyll's laboratory. Oh, to be sure, she had made little effort to disguise her enmity for John Utterson on his all too frequent visits, but Henry seemed to regard their mutual sniping as a form of innocent entertainment. And despite the fact that she found his fiancee rather ordinary, she had never, ever, let any words but praise escape her lips in Jekyll's presence...
Helena gasped. How could she be so stupid? There it was, plain as the day unfolding before her. Now that the engagement was official, Sir Danvers, or Emma, or both had finally demanded the Henry Jekyll put an end to his female laboratory assitant.
And why should he not? Emma Carew was beautiful, accomplished and wealthy. Laboratory assistants were easy to obtain in London. Even for a man used to getting his own way, what choice was there, really?
The logic of this explanation calmed her. She could easily tell this chain of events to her sister and brother-in-law. Collecting her belongings, she went home, releived of the burden that had begun her day.
"Helena," her sister whispered excitedly, "you have a guest waiting!"
No. At this point she did not want to see Henry Jekyll. It would be too embarassing for both of them. "Marissa, tell Dr. Jekyll I am...unwell. I will not see him."
Her sister looked at her quizically. "It isn't Doctor Jekyll. It's someone else. A doctor from Scotland!"
From Scotland? Helena was not acquainted with anyone from the north. She followed her sister into the parlour.
An older gentleman rose to greet her. As she came closer, he seemed more familiar.
"Miss St. Just, forgive me for being so presumptive," he began.
"Doctor Bard, is it not?" Helena recalled the Dean of the Royal College of Medicine at Glascow. He had been to Jekyll's laboratory earlier in the year, discussing mutual research. She shook his hand with genuine delight. She remembered him as intelligent and open-minded, traits she rarely found in most physicians.
"I'm pleased to see that you remember me," he said as they sat down. " Perhaps that will make it easier for you to hear what I have to say."
Helena leaned forward to hear.
"Miss St. Just, the new term at the college begins on Monday next. Due to unforeseen circumstances, one of our instructors suddenly had to vacate his post, leaving us without anyone to supervise the first-year students as they begin to perform laboratory work. I realize that this is very short notice, but I was wondering if you might come and join the faculty at the Royal College?"
This was too amazing. An offer to join the faculty of a prestigious institution? It was beyond even her wildest expectations. She struggled to maintain composure.
"Doctor Bard," she began, " you realize that I have never held a teaching post?"
"Perhaps not in the classical sense. But I have seen with my own eyes that you taught Henry Jekyll what an organized, structured laboratory is. That is precisly what you would teach in Glascow."
Henry Jekyll. That man again.
"About Doctor Jekyll..." Helena began.
"I have spoken to Doctor Jekyll just two days ago. He seemed reluctant to let you go, but he could not deny the opportunity the move to Glascow would afford you."
Reluctant? Was that so? Helena thought not.
Doctor Bard took out his watch, amd glanced at it with a frown. "Forgive me, Miss St. Just, but my time in London is short. And as the new term begins in five days, I fear I must have your answer tomorrow."
Helena rose as he did. "You shall have it. Until tomorrow, then." They shook hands and she walked him to the door.
By the time she closed the door and faced her sister, Helena knew her
answer.
"Dismissed, rather suddenly, if I am not mistaken," Emma was saying, "Why do you suppose that was?"
"I had thought..." Helena replied slowly, "I believed that it was your father's wish to have me gone before the wedding...or yours."
"Then you are very much mistaken. Henry Jekyll alone was in control of his life in the laboratory. Neither I nor my father could have influenced him to take such action unless he felt it best."
"You have a different explanation?"
"In deed I do," she began. "Henry dismissed you because he was about to begin a phase of this research he could not allow you to become a part of."
"That is foolish," Helena retorted, forgeting she was speaking in a house in mourning, "I was a part of all his research ."
"No, you were not," she replied. "That night, the very night of our party, Henry decided he had no choice but to use himself as the subject of his formula."
Helena's shock was evident on her face. "No. No he would not do that! It goes against every principle of true research..."
"But that is what he did," Emma suddenly looked frail, "Forgive me if I spare you, and myself, the horrific details of the events that subsequently occurred. I will say only that it was this experimentation that lead to Henry's death three weeks ago."
Helena was numb. What desperation had lead her friend to this course of action? Had she been blind to his ambition all the time she had been in the laboratory?
Seeing her strong reaction, Emma tried to change the subject. "You are a married lady now, I believe. Mrs. Ferguson, isn't it?"
Helena looked up. "Yes," she answered, " Six weeks ago.'
Emma smiled sadly. "Henry was delighted to receive the announcement. It was one of the last times I saw him truely happy..."
I must go, thought Helena, I must leave this house at once.
"Helena, would you answer a question of mine honestly, without reserve?" Emma Carew had tears in her eyes. Helena nodded. "If you had stayed in London, if you had known what Henry was about to do, would you have stopped him?"
The easy answer was waiting on her lips, but Emma has asked for truth. "No," she whispered to herself as much as to her hostess, "No, I would not have stopped him. Every man must decide his own course of action and follow it through to its conclusion."
"No matter what the cost?"
"There is always a price to be paid for knowledge."
Emma stood up. Clearly this was not the truth she had hoped for. "I think you had better go."
There was noise in the entry. A male voice that they both recognized asked after Emma's health that day.
"Miss Emma has a visitor, sir," replied the houseman.
"A visitor? That's good!" said John Utterson, walking into the parlour.
Helena stood up. The surprise on John's face registered her presence. She held out her hand "Mr. Utterson."
But her grabbed for her left hand, and stared at her wedding ring. After some time he said "Mrs. Ferguson... How are you enjoying married life?"
Another day, she would have been ready with some biting remark, some witty epigram saved just for him. But that was another day...and another woman. "Very well, thank you," she replied, "Good day to you both."
The cab was waiting, but Helena was not ready to return to the hotel. She sent the driver away, and began to walk in the opposite direction, east toward the Tower Bridge.
During her first two weeks in Glascow she has been truly homesick. Her hasty departure left her yearning for the familiarity of her sister's home, the smiles of her niece and nephew, the comfort of London itself. Here was the opportunity she had craved, walking those same streets, yet she found them changed somehow.
The Tower Bridge stood as solid as ever. The clock was still working, as far as she could see (and hear). Nothing in London had changed, except of course, herself. She leaned over the edge of the low stone wall, watching the Thames flow beneath, wondering how great her friend's desperation to prove himself right had to have been to go to such lengths...what despair had taken hold that he could not confide in her...
The clock struck six. This would not do. She had promised Geoffrey she would return for tea, two hours ago. She hurried back.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized, " I became lost in thought."
"But not lost in London, I hope," her husband replied, "It was only the knowledge that you are so well accquanted with the city that kept me from contacting the constabulary until now."
She removed her hat and gloves and sat down with a sigh.
"You found much to talk about with Miss Carew?" he inquired gently. Geoffrey was not one to pry.
"Do you recall that saying by Mister Oscar Wilde one hears these days "Each man kills the thing he loves?" I never saw the truth of that until today." And she related the whole tragic tale.
She concluded with her answer to Emma Carew's question. Her answer seemed to take him by surprise.
"I wonder, why did you feel the need to lie to her?" he said.
It was Helena's turn to be surprised. " I did no such thing!"
He smiled at her sadly. "Then, my dearest, you were lying to yourself."
She began to object, but he continued. "Helena, if you had known that Doctor Jekyll planned to use himself as the subject of experimentation, you would have gone to any length to stop him. You would have gone to his fiancee, to her father, to the entire governing board of St Jude's if need be. You would have burned that laboratory to ashes to save any man...especially that man."
His words cut straight to her heart. In six weeks he had come to know her better than she knew herself. Suddenly she saw her him with new eyes, seeing clearly for perhaps the first time. Was it coincidence that her husband was six feet tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and a physician to boot? In whose arms exactly had she been sleeping these past weeks?
This was too disturbing. She quickly went to the window for some air, some relief of the oppression in the room.
Geoffrey stood behind her. "My darling, in the past three weeks I have seen you through many emotions. I have seen the shock when you first received that telegram. I have been witness to your confusion and anger. Yesterday, at the memorial, I saw the defiance in your face at every mention of God's will. But I have not yet seen you weep for your friend..."
Helena had not cried for many years: she often felt she had used up all her tears enduring her father's abuse. But now she felt the sting in her eyes...
"Do you want me to leave?" her husband asked softly.
Did she want him to leave? A husband so confident in his love for her that he encouraged her to weep over another man?
"No," she whispered, "Don't leave. Don't ever leave me."
She fell into his arms, and he held her as she wept.