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I glanced behind myself nervously as I ushered Emma out of Jekyll's
house. For some reason, we weren't being followed...probably because Hyde
didn't quite feel like venturing out into the light of day. Or maybe
he didn't want to run into Poole. Come to think of it, where was Poole?
Everyone in
this bizarre world had the oddest (and most irritating) habit of disappearing
into thin air.
Ah well, no matter. The important thing was, we were out of the house,
and presumably out of danger...at least for now. I was getting just a little
tired
of watching my back to make sure no one stuck a knife in it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't even catch your name. That was very rude of me. How do you do?" Emma said, bright little smile on her face.
Name, name, name... "No problem. I'm Anna Collins." We politely shook
hands, while I wondered if I could acquire a notebook somewhere, to keep
notes on. Or maybe a pen, to at least write my alias on the inside
of my hand, so I could remember it...
"So, where should we take our walk?" Emma inquired.
"Erm...why don't we just, ah...walk to your house?" I'd just walk her
up to the door, beg her pardon, and run to somewhere where I could get
a refill
of liquor. I had never drunk so much in my life, but I desperately
needed a good brain buzz in order to get through this whole mess. "Dr.
Jekyll's been
telling me all about it...I'm just dying to see it." There. Did that
sound nitwitted enough?
Emma beamed. "Oh, it is a lovely home, I'm sure you'll adore it!" Guess so. "My father will be delighted to meet Henry's assistant."
Oh, joy. Her father. This was just exactly what I needed to brighten
my day. What was his name, again? "Oh, I'm sure that he wouldn't be interested
in meeting me. I'm not very good at conversation."
"Nonsense. Sir Danvers loves to talk to just about anyone!" Damn. Well, at least now I had his name... "So, how did you come to work for Henry?"
"Um...yes, well..." If nothing else, I was going to become an expert
at thinking on my feet after I got out of here. I'd be able to lie anywhere,
anytime.
Mom would be so proud. "Dr. Jekyll decided not so long ago that he
needed an assistant, to, ah, assist him with his new experiments." Assistant
to
assist? Oh, yeah, that was convincing. Luckily, Emma didn't seem to
be a very bright one. "So, he hired me to help him out. So he would have
more
time to, uh, spend with you."
"Really?" Emma blushed. "Oh, that's wonderful. I've missed him so much
lately." Damn. I almost felt bad for getting her hopes up like that. If
there's
a hell, I'm probably going to go there. "Where did he find you to hire?"
Ok, where would an outcast doctor find a woman with medical training
in the nineteenth century? I was beginning to seriously regret not paying
attention in European history in high school... "I was trained by a
friend of Dr. Jekyll, and he recommended me."
"I see. Whom?"
"Ah...Dr. Schunard. Over on Elm?" Today for you, tomorrow for me...
"Oh, yes," Emma nodded wisely. "I believe I have heard Henry mention him before."
No way. This was un-fucking-believeable. Surely there wasn't a real
Dr. Schunard over on Elm...I wasn't even certain there was an Elm! Hopefully,
Emma was just pretending to understand...if she wasn't, with my luck,
we'd probably bump into Schunard on the way to the Carew place. I was
beginning to think it was a bad idea, suggesting going there. "Well,
it has been very nice walking with you, but I'm afraid I really must be
going."
"Don't be silly, we're here!" Emma walked up the front steps of a gigantic
house I hadn't been paying attention to (which was a wonder, considering
that the facade took up most of the street we were on). "Just come
in for a moment and have some tea." She opened the mahogany front door
and
stepped inside.
"Hopefully a Long Island," I muttered, reluctantly following her through
the front door. A manservant immediately closed it behind me. I looked
around incredulously. "My God, I've wandered into The Ritz...."
The place was enormous, I reflected as Emma removed her gloves, coat,
hat, and whatever other paraphinelia she had on her person. There was a
large, sweeping staircase directly in front of me, a ceiling that looked
as if it was done in gold (or at least a reasonable facsimile), buffed
wooden
floors, a few chairs scattered tastefully that looked as if they belonged
in a museum, and servants skittering everywhere. I was suddenly hit by
the
sinking feeling that if I touched anything, I'd be forced to pay for
it. However, when I glanced at a slightly open drawer on a credenza (I
was stunned
that any of the maids had allowed it to be open), I spotted a flask.
Joy! Discreetly, I snuck it into one of the folds on my dress, pausing
momentarily to
give it a sniff. Smelled like whiskey. I grinned.
"This way," Emma said politely, still looking regal but slightly less
formal (was such a thing even possible?). I followed her through (careful
not to
drop the bottle that was going to get me through this) to a smaller
but no less magnificent room, dominated by a small round table in the center,
set with
various items that I recognized from a plastic tea set that I had had
as a child.
"Won't you sit?" she smiled from her own seat, and I sank into a very
stiff chair, which made it difficult to slouch. As I squirmed in an attempt
to get
comfortable, the flask escaped from my pocket and fell onto the floor.
I grabbed for it, but Emma was quicker.
She straightened again in her seat, inspecting her new possession. "What on earth is this?" she questioned, puzzled.
My jaw gaped. Surely she wasnít so naive as to not know what a flask
was? How could she function in society? "It's...it's just something I use
to
flavor my drink." Ah, half-truths, where would I be without you?
"Oh! Well, in that case..." Emma lifted the lid off the teapot and dumped
in the contents, no small amount. She wrinkled her nose as she poured the
tea
into our cups. "Smells a bit like champagne, doesn't it?"
"Tastes a little stronger than champagne," I sighed, resigned to my
fate, gulping down all of my tea (tasting strongly of whisky) while Emma
took a
demure sip and gagged.
"Oh, excuse me," she coughed out, patting her lips with a folded napkin."That's
a...very interesting flavoring you keep there," she said, obviously
trying to be polite.
I was about to respond, when a small idea sparked in my head. It would
be a gutsy move, but if it worked... "Ah, my dear, you're drinking it all
wrong! When you take tiny sips, it tastes horrible. You need to drink
the whole cup at once! It's a style developed by the French. They often
have five
or six cups in a row!" C'mon, c'mon...
"Oh," Emma said, nodding and clearly feigning comprehension. "Well,
then," she smiled, "we must do it correctly!" and promptly downed the rest.
She made a small face, but went ahead and refilled the teacup. I smiled
slightly. With any luck, before long she'd be too drunk to even remember
I was
here.