Silver, Part II
Now with 100% more Rachel!
Lanyon took in Utterson’s wine-flushed face and tipsy balance and folded his arms.
“I see your meeting with Jekyll went well,” he remarked.
“It was a very fine Claret,” Utterson mumbled, flushing redder than the copious amounts of wine he had imbibed.
“He certainly has a handle on your weaknesses,” said Lanyon. “I swear, sometimes it concerns me how the world would fare if that man ever did go bad. Did you at least manage to wring something out of him before he set you afloat?”
“Only more excuses,” said Utterson. “I dislike this, Lanyon. I dislike doing this. We oughtn’t talk about him behind his—hic—back like this. We oughtn’t be scheming.”
“He’s left us no other options,” said Lanyon. “It was bad enough when there was nothing pressing going on. Now the Society’s lost its funding, and it’s up in flames, and the whole city’s primed to rout us from our houses and homes thanks to that horrific travesty of a play—I just don’t know, Gabriel. I just don’t know what’s gotten into him! Did you know he told me he would die for his science? He said so, in those exact words! It’s not healthy, I’m telling you. It’s unnatural!”
“Perhaps he’s just … pressing back,” said Utterson, who was apparently several sentences behind.
“Yes, but against us, Gabriel? I’ve never known Jekyll to bristle like this about anyone, least of all some—some—”
“Somebody,” Utterson supplied helpfully.
“No, some nobody like Hyde! Something is afoot, and I won’t have it.”
“What is it you suspect is going on?” Utterson asked.
“I shudder to think!” said Lanyon. “And I certainly don’t feel I should say it aloud, God knows. Blackmail, of some sort, at best.”
“Blackmail had—hic—occurred to me, as well,” said Utterson. “But what could Jekyll have done, that would paint him into so tight a corner?”
“Haven’t the foggiest,” said Lanyon. “Knowing him, he’d sell his soul over any minor indiscretion, if it was dressed up enough.”
“Oh, now,” said Utterson, frowning.
“Gabriel, you and I both know that Henry is—well, he’s always been a touch dramatic,” said Lanyon. “Whatever he’s done, I’m sure he’s inflated it to monstrous proportions and is convinced it will topple him and everything he cares about.”
“If it’s blackmail,” said Utterson.
Lanyon pursed his lips and sighed through his nose.
“I must believe it is,” he said.
“Why?” said Utterson. Lanyon pinned him with a needle-sharp glare.
“You really have overdone it with the Claret,” he said. “I hope you didn’t treat Henry like this, otherwise he’ll never speak to either of us again.”
“He called you jealous,” said Utterson.
“Jealous?” Lanyon cried. “Jealous, of that—that—that? What on earth have I to be jealous of? What nonsense, what poppycock, what—”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Utterson muttered, fighting down a smile.
“Methinks the lawyer doth drink too much,” Lanyon retorted, although his face had gone hot.
“I think,” said Utterson, rescuing Lanyon from further embarrassment, “that we’re coming at this from the wrong side.”
Lanyon folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, expectant. Utterson made a face, like he was trying to push his mustache up his nose.
“Well?” Lanyon prompted.
“Oh? Ah. Yes,” said Utterson. “If Henry won’t see sense, perhaps it makes sense to see Hyde.”
“If Henry won’t listen to reason, that impertinent ape certainly won’t,” Lanyon sneered.
Utterson’s eye twinkled.
“Perhaps it’s the Claret talking,” he said, “but I was considering being rather unreasonable.”
Lanyon blinked. “My dear Gabriel,” he said. “What are you suggesting?”
“We’re men of leverage, aren’t we?” said Utterson.
“Ye-es,” Lanyon said carefully.
“Then perhaps we can lever Hyde off of Jekyll,” he said. “With, you know, a proper application of force.”
Lanyon opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Mr. Utterson, somewhere under all that humorless wooden facade, you are a wicked man,” he said, impressed.
Utterson shrugged.
“I’m a lawyer, Robert,” he said mildly. “It’s what we do.”
Lanyon sat forward, rubbing his hands together.
“So,” he said, “what’s the plan? Threaten legal action? We could tell him we plan to blame him for the fire, see if he skips town on his own cowardice.”
“He might inform Henry, and then we’d be in for it,” said Utterson.
“Ugh, true,” said Lanyon. “What did you have in mind? Surely there’s something we can threaten the man with. Counter-blackmail, eh? Someone like that, we’d find half a dozen worthy offenses in the past month!”
“No,” Utterson said slowly, “no, I don’t think that’s quite the right tack, either.”
“Well,” said Lanyon, put off, “what’s your idea, then?”
Utterson very nearly smiled.
“How wicked,” he said, “would you find acceptable, in this circumstance?”
“Oh dear,” Lanyon sighed.
Rachel was alerted to Jasper’s presence by the snuffling. She poked her head under the counter and he froze, the big orange eyes staring up at her mournfully.
“D'you do that even when you’re not all wolfy?” she asked.
“Uh,” he said, looking about. He adjusted his hat. “Yeah, apparently.”
“You weren’t trying to look up my skirt, were you?” she asked, scowling.
“What?” Jasper cried, mortified. “No! No, no of course not, that—I—”
“Come out from there,” Rachel said, offering him her hand. He took it, and she helped him out from under the counter. “I’ve got some fresh-cooked pork at the back if you want some of it.”
Jasper swallowed, his nostrils twitching.
“Oh yes,” he said, “that’d be very nice. Thank you. Honestly.”
“Have at it,” she said, bumping him with her hip. Jasper slunk off to the back of the kitchen, nearly doubled over in his slouch. She watched him go, biting back a smile.
“Fo,” he said, around a mouthful of pork, “you’ve been around de Fofiety for a while, yeah?”
“A while, yeah,” Rachel agreed. “Why?”
“Well, it'f juft… .” He swallowed. “I was just wondering, y'know. Does stuff like last night happen a lot, or… ?”
“Oh God, no,” said Rachel. “I mean, one or two explosions here or there, but definitely not the whole building up in flames. It’s going to be hellish to get it all fixed.”
“S'pose that’s good news,” said Jasper. “I’ve been avoiding going up there. Y'know, to see how bad it is. I managed to get all of my creatures out, and they’re all fine—Christopher had a whale of a time, I’ll tell you—but I’m a bit nervous about everything else.”
“Aw, bless him,” said Rachel. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Jasper. There’s plenty of places that weren’t even touched by the fire. The repair kraken did a grand job keeping the fires out of the chemistry labs, and then Mr. Luckett’s actually very good at making sure his stuff doesn’t blow up when it’s not supposed to.”
“Really? Wow!” said Jasper, sounding genuinely awed.
“Right?” said Rachel. “You wouldn’t think it, being as he’s on fire nearly all the time. Sometimes he’s come to dinner on fire and the other lodgers have to put him out.”
“By dumping water on his head?”
“Oh God, no,” said Rachel, rolling her eyes. She turned to face Jasper and leaned against the counter, her arms folded. “We tried that once and it made everything about a thousand times worse. Usually it was just a load of people smacking him all over.”
Jasper laughed. It was a lovely sound. He had a bit of pork grease dribbling down his chin.
“I can only imagine,” he said. He scrunched up his face and added, “Say, I’ve been wondering.”
“Yeah?”
“That Mr. Hyde—is he a lodger, too?”
“Oof, well,” said Rachel, settling in for a good gossip. “Not as such, though by the amount he’s in and out, you’d almost think so. He’s not even a scientist, actually, although he’s certainly a rogue.”
“Fertainly,” Jasper said, around another mouthful of pork. “He'f very… .”
“Excitable? Dramatic?” Rachel suggested. Into playing matchmaker, she didn’t say.
“Fort of,” said Jasper. “D'you fink I’m gonna meet him?”
“Well, maybe,” Rachel said cagily. She really hoped he didn’t. Knowing Hyde, it would take less than a minute for him to get round to drenching the poor boy in unsubtle innuendoes. Specifically unsubtle innuendoes about Rachel.
“He’s not about much?” Jasper asked.
“No, all the time,” said Rachel. “But he is eccentric. Not on any sort of schedule or anything. He just—turns up whenever he feels like it, so far as I can tell. Sometimes Henry lets us know he’ll be by, but not always.”
“So what does he … do?”
“Mostly, make a nuisance of himself,” Rachel said fondly. “He’s a bit rough round the edges, but he’s harmless. We all know he and Henry are, you know.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“I—I don’t know,” said Jasper, looking lost.
“Youuuuu know,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes and gesturing. “Sometimes we catch ‘em wearing each other’s clothes. Most mornings after Mr. Hyde’s been by, Henry’ll turn up looking like he hasn’t slept all night. Nobody can work out any real job Mr. Hyde does here—you know.”
“It sounds very odd,” Jasper said earnestly, still looking lost.
“You’re hopeless,” Rachel sighed. “They’re screwing, Jasper.”
Jasper went positively crimson.
“Oh!” he squeaked. “Oh, so—oh!”
“But don’t say anything about it in front of Henry,” Rachel warned, wagging a finger at him. “You’ll upset him. He’ll deny it 'til he’s blue in the face. He’s horribly ashamed of himself, God only knows why. Nobody cares but him. I suppose he’s mortified that his posh friends might find out.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Jasper, raising greasy hands in surrender. “Of course not. Never. I just—I had no idea!”
“Fair enough, you’ve only been here, what, two days?” said Rachel. “You would’ve caught on. They don’t make a terribly good secret of it, especially not Mr. Hyde.”
“I see,” said Jasper.
A silence descended. Rachel cast about desperately for something else to talk about.
“So where are your creatures staying now?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh.” He rubbed his arm, smearing pork grease on his sleeve. “I’ve taken them back to the flat. My old flat. That I have here. In London. I’m staying there, too, while the—the Society’s, um… .”
“Being reconstructed? Yeah, good plan,” said Rachel.
There was another silence. Rachel considered if it might be worth it to pull a Hyde and jump straight out the window.
“Mostly I’m … stalling,” Jasper admitted, his voice gone soft and sad. “I don’t really want to go up there, because—what if it’s all gone? What if my notes and everything have all burned up? I’ll have nothing.”
“W-well,” said Rachel, unbalanced by this sudden display of genuine emotion. “I think loads of the lodgers are in the same place. Miss Lavender was inconsolable. She lost years of work.”
“Oh, that’s horrible,” Jasper said, his face all scrunched up with pity. “She didn’t have any copies of her notes, or anything?”
“She did, just … the copies got burnt up, too,” said Rachel. “If Moreau weren’t already dead, I think she’d draw and quarter him. I know I would. What a bastard.”
“Speaking of—what happened to Dr. Frankenstein and the monster?” Jasper asked. “D'you know? I sort of … lost track of them, in all the excitement.”
“Me, too,” Rachel sighed. “You wouldn’t think you could lose an eight-foot-tall green thing with glowy eyes, but apparently you can if there’s enough fire!”
“Hahah, yeah,” said Jasper.
The silence descended for a third time. Rachel filled her cheeks up with air and bugged her eyes out. Jasper prodded another hunk of roast pork with one finger.
“So, er,” said Jasper.
“Yeah,” said Rachel. Her face had gone hot, sweat prickling down her sides.
“Mm-hm,” said Jasper, who looked to be in much the same state.
“I could … come and help you look,” Rachel offered hesitantly. “For your stuff. If you want.”
“No, but, you’re like, busy,” he said. “Besides, I—I just feel like I should … it doesn’t really take two people. Honestly.”
He sniffed. Rachel was struck by a bolt of understanding.
“Right, sure,” she said. “Just er, let me know if there’s anything I can do?”
“I will,” he said. He rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand. “Um, thanks for the pork. And—sorry about going under your table, I really didn’t mean anything by it.”
She waved him off, pretending as hard as she could that she wasn’t blushing.
“It’s fine!” she said. “Go on, go. And come back whenever you’re done, I’ll make you some more cookies.”
He flashed a sheepish grin at her. “Thanks, Rachel,” he said.
She shooed him out of the kitchen, scolding him the whole way. When he had gone, she planted her fists on her hips and shook her head.
“Honestly,” she muttered to herself.
“This feels silly,” Lanyon whispered.
“Shh,” said Utterson.
“What are we doing, Gabriel?”
“Shh!” he insisted.
“This is ridiculous,” Lanyon went on anyway. “What if he doesn’t come home? What if he’s not in? We’ll be standing about in the cold all night, and for nothing! Making absolute pillocks of ourselves! We could have hired people to do this, you know. We’ll be a laughingstock.”
“If you keep chattering like a magpie,” Utterson said.
“I am not—chattering like a magpie! I am voicing legitimate concerns with this cockamamy plan!”
“You were all for it yesterday,” Utterson pointed out. “A person might think you’d lost your nerve.”
“I haven’t lost my nerve, I’ve regained my senses!” Lanyon hissed back. “This is foolish! There are ten thousand better ways we could go about this than lurking in a dingy alleyway with the—the riff-raff waiting about to do God knows what to God knows who—”
“Ahem.”
Lanyon screamed and nearly jumped out of his skin. Utterson whirled. Jekyll was standing scarcely a few feet behind the two of them, arms folded neatly behind his back, impeccable and bright-eyed.
“Did my party invitation get lost in the mail?” he inquired, blinking placidly at the two of them.
Utterson started up a trundling mutter of half-formed excuses while Lanyon’s face went hot.
“I, er, that is to say, we were … hoping to run into you!” Lanyon said. “Yes, we—we thought perhaps you might come this way, and, er, we—we—we happened to be in the neighborhood, and—”
“And just so happened to stop, hidden behind several barrels in a back alleyway directly across the street from Mr. Hyde’s lodging just after lunchtime,” Jekyll finished for him, still utterly composed. “Yes, of course, happens all the time.”
“I—well—well what are you doing here, then?” Lanyon blustered.
“Me?” said Jekyll. “I was on my way to check in on Mr. Hyde. He has a copy of my notes, you see, which is seeming a fortuitous bit of foresight on my part at this juncture.”
“Aha, and you’re concerned he may attempt to use them for leverage!” Lanyon cried, seizing upon this most satisfactory of explanations.
“No,” Jekyll said, baffled. “I simply would like to have my notes. I’m sure you can understand my concern for their well-being!”
“Why has he got a copy of your notes?” Utterson asked, apparently having overcome his attack of chagrin.
Jekyll turned to him, smiling pleasantly, in the way that many venomous and reptilian things smile.
“In case something were to happen to the originals,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He softened somewhat. “My dear friends, I fear you are making this a far more dire business than it actually is. If it will ease your minds, why don’t we all three go and see Mr. Hyde, together?”
“That—that sounds ideal,” said Lanyon, taken aback. “Yes, I think that sounds like a most reasonable thing to do.”
“Hm,” said Utterson, fooling with the buttons on his coat.
All of the chill professionalism evaporated off of Jekyll on the instant, and he clapped both of them on the shoulder.
“Come along, then,” he said. “We shall have to hope he is at home, otherwise all this silliness will have been for nothing.”
Lanyon was tempted to shoot some barbed remark about Jekyll’s not having a key to the place, but decided it was best left alone. Jekyll ushered them across the street, keeping his own head down as though he was embarrassed to be seen there. That, at least, seemed normal and sensible, even if nothing else about the business did.
They found their way to the landlady’s door, whereupon Jekyll knocked and promptly folded his arms behind his back.
“Do you … call here often?” Lanyon hazarded, while they waited.
“Never once in my life!” Jekyll said brightly. “With any luck, she’ll have no idea who I am.”
Utterson shared a glance with Lanyon behind Jekyll’s back. Lanyon made a face. Utterson shrugged. Lanyon tipped his head towards Jekyll in an encouraging gesture. Utterson scowled and shook his head.
The door opened and a middle-aged woman with steel gray hair poked her head out. She took one look at the three of them and started gleaming with mischief.
“Can I 'elp you?” she asked, then added slimily, “Sirs?”
“Yes, I was just wondering if Mr. Hyde was in,” Jekyll said.
“Wot’s it to you?” she said, looking him up and down.
Jekyll produced a bank note apparently out of thin air and held it out to her with two fingers. He never looked away from her face, and his smile never faltered.
“He’s a friend of mine,” he said.
She took the note.
“What sort of friend?”
Jekyll’s smile went a bit stiff. He leaned in, ever so slightly.
“The sort, madam, who has brought his own lawyer,” he said.
Dutifully, Utterson put on his most wooden and formidable face. The landlady fairly sparkled.
“'E’s in trouble then, is 'e?” she said, gleeful.
“Ever so much trouble,” Jekyll said sweetly.
“I’ll see if 'e’s in,” the landlady declared, and promptly shoved past all three of them to stomp up the stairs.
“He seems a well-liked fellow,” Lanyon said dryly. “What if he’s not in?”
“Then doubtless, he shall soon know I was looking for him,” Jekyll said. “The woman has gossip written on every inch of her.”
“And perhaps her room number was written somewhere on the entry,” Utterson said. “I must have missed it. Good thing you didn’t.”
Jekyll froze, just for an instant. He turned to Utterson, a pitying smile on his face.
“My dear Gabriel,” he said. “Mr. Hyde has at least been courteous enough to give me instructions on how to find his landlady, should I need to contact him at home.”
“Ah,” said Utterson, flushing, twitching his mustache as though to sweep the words off his lips. “Yes. Of course.”
Jekyll gave him a knowing look, but didn’t say anything else.
The landlady soon returned to inform them that Mr. Hyde was not at home, nor had he been for several days. Jekyll thanked her, passed off another small bank note, and spoke very prettily at her until she grew visibly annoyed.
“All right, clear off,” she said. “I en’t got all day. If 'e gets back, 'oo should I say called?”
“Just tell him Henry would like to see him,” Jekyll said. “Thank you.”
The three of them took their leave, Lanyon and Utterson in the lead. It was with some relief that Lanyon hailed a cab and pointed the driver back towards cleaner streets.
“Ah, well,” Jekyll said. “Perhaps we’ll catch him next time. It was very lucky running into you two. I shouldn’t have liked to go in there alone, hah hah.”
“No, I should think not,” said Lanyon. “At the very least, it’s clear the setting is congruous with the man. I wouldn’t have expected anything else but that den of—of hypocrisy. What are the odds he was home, and simply didn’t wish to see us? I imagine he fled at first mention of a lawyer, hmph!”
“Robert, honestly,” Jekyll sighed, an amused smile playing over his lips.
“What?” said Lanyon. “After all the mischief he’s caused? If we can’t put the fear of lawyers into the man, he’s fearless! Isn’t that right, Gabriel? With any luck, he’s skipped town altogether and we shall never hear from him again!”
“Henry,” Utterson said slowly.
“Yes?” said Jekyll.
“No,” Utterson said. He fixed Jekyll with a penetrating look. “He knows you by Henry, does he?”
Again, just for an instant, Jekyll locked up, like an automaton that had slipped a gear. Again, he smoothed it over with condescension.
“He knows it’s my name, yes,” he said, laughing. “The last thing I wanted was to leave any sort of blemish on my reputation by bringing it to bear in a place like that. I’m certain Lanyon understands, don’t you, Robert?”
“Ye-es,” said Lanyon, “I suppose it’s sensible enough.”
“Of course it is,” said Jekyll, and shook his head. “Honestly. Things are bad enough as they are.”
The rest of the cab ride passed nearly in silence, until they were dropped off near Cavendish Square, where Lanyon resided and from where Utterson and Jekyll could easily walk home. Utterson paid the cabbie, handling the matter quietly, as though to keep from upsetting Jekyll. When the cab had driven away again, the three of them stood for a moment at the side of the road, hands in pockets against the cold.
“It’s a shame,” Utterson said, his breath fogging in front of his face, “we didn’t manage to get your notes, Henry.”
“Not such a shame,” said Jekyll, waving him off. “There will be another time. I hardly fear for their safety, hah hah.”
“Hardly,” Lanyon said dryly. “I for one am rather disappointed we were unable to have our chat with Mr. Hyde.”
“Likewise,” Jekyll said, “I’m certain there will be another time.” He took a breath and sighed it out. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must be getting back to the Society. Several of our lodgers are nigh inconsolable, and I worry what will happen if I leave them for too long.”
“Of course,” said Lanyon. “Take care, Henry.”
“And you as well,” said Jekyll, shaking his hand warmly. “Gabriel, you too.”
“Hm,” said Utterson. He turned to go, and Lanyon turned to go with him, hoping to sneak in a few words about the failure of their plan and the next steps they might take.
“Oh, and by the by… .”
Jekyll put a hand on the back of each of their heads, leaned in and spoke conspiratorially in their ears.
“You’re not subtle or clever,” he said. “I know what you’re up to, and my dearest, sweetest friends, I assure you, it is completely unnecessary.”
He patted their heads, then turned on his heel and strode off, leaving only a whiff of peppermint behind him. Utterson and Lanyon shared a glance.
“Well,” said Utterson.
“Indeed,” said Lanyon.
“Damn,” said Utterson.
“Quite,” said Lanyon.
