Thank you to everyone who has commented, I love hearing from you! And thank you to Nine Bright Shiners, for helping with the story in general and the back story for Milton and Christine.

Today's chapter shows Doctor Blake's diary entries from three years earlier, and then we jump back to the present and he and Beth pay a call on some familiar characters.

...

Thursday, March 3 1883

This morning I woke on the floor of my laboratory. My blood pressure was high and heartbeat rapid, but despite a great sense of nausea I was hopeful. Throughout my delirium of the night before I had been sure that when I thought of Christine I felt no covetousness, and when I thought of Milton there was no maddening jealousy. To test the lasting effects I took out Milton's paper on his theory of memory – and gave a howl of anguish when the familiar antipathy rushed through me. I was consumed with the desire to destroy them for what they have. Why have I been burdened with this capacity for devastation and envy? Why must I feel like he has wronged me with his happiness?

I want to cut that part out of myself like it is a cancer. I feel I am close. The experiments will continue.

...

Tuesday, March 22 1883

For three nights together I have not been able to recall even a fragment of how I passed the hours. I may have been asleep, but I have no memory of being in bed, and I do not feel rested. This morning I took up Milton's paper and thought about his position at the hospital that I have coveted, and I felt nothing. My heart should have leapt, but it was curiously silent.

Something feels strange.

...

Friday, March 25 1883

Something has gone horribly wrong. This morning I went to call on Christine and the housemaid paled and shook when she saw me. She tried to close the door but I forced my way inside. Her mistress cried and screamed when she saw me, and begged for mercy. She would not let me approach and told me that I had said and done such terrible things, and was I never to leave them in peace?

It is the nights I have lost; I have not spent them in sleep or delirium, but in tormenting them.

...

Saturday, March 26 1883

Milton came to see me. There was such hatred in his eyes and he will not believe me when I say I do not remember the things have done. I begged for his forgiveness but he said he always suspected that I have a jealous and spiteful nature.

I have a name for the thing that I became in those lost hours: Edward Hyde. Milton said that I called myself Hyde when I came to their house, as if I was pretending to be someone else. He will not believe me that I was someone else.

Instead of removing that dangerous part of myself I have liberated it and given it a will of its own. It acts without conscience and remorse, using my body and my face.

I must reverse the effects of my experiments immediately.

...

Monday, June 6 1883

There had been no relapses for nearly a fortnight and I had begun to hope that Hyde might be gone for good, even though I have had no success with finding an antidote.

This morning I woke to the news that a whore had run into the street screaming that a madman had carved his initials into the flesh of her thigh. Everyone is talking of an E. H. and wondering who he could be.

My nurse, Miss Eliza Kercher, has begun to act strangely. She stares at me. Today I asked her if she'd ever heard the name of Edward Hyde but there wasn't a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She does not seem afraid of me so perhaps she has merely noticed I am not myself. Or it is nothing at all.

...

Blake sighed and slammed the diary closed. Nothing he'd tried in the previous three years had reconciled the two halves of his psyche into one, or even affected how often Hyde appeared. He'd tried locking himself up at night but Hyde always knew where to find the key. He was sure that Hyde knew his every move. Sometimes he felt like he was being watched by something outside his own body, and found himself turning quickly to find that there was no one there.

Just after eleven p.m. there was a knock on the door and the housemaid handed him a note. He read it and his heart sank.

Blake stood hesitating outside Miss Greene's door. He couldn't hear any sound from the other side and he was loath to disturb her rest, but if things were as dire as he suspected they were he would benefit from her assistance. He knocked softly.

A moment later he heard her muffled call of enquiry.

'It's me,' he said. 'I –'

The door opened and she looked up at him with sleepy eyes. She wore her nightgown and blinked in the light from the candle he held. For a moment he stared down at her, wondering that she was so trusting of him, so willing to open her door when he came knocking in the middle of the night.

'Something's wrong,' she said, studying his face. 'I'll get dressed.' She closed the door again.

He waited downstairs and she appeared a few minutes later in her grey dress, throwing a cloak around her shoulders.

The night was clear and cold and they walked north-east, toward Shoreditch. The houses grew smaller and the streets grubbier. There were few abroad at that time of night and those that were about were either drunk or looking for trouble. Blake kept a watchful eye as they walked.

He stopped at a squat, brown brick terrace and knocked at the door. It was opened by a middle-aged woman who peered myopically up at him. 'I'm the doctor,' he said, and he and Miss Greene were admitted.

Beth held her tongue as she followed Doctor Blake upstairs. She'd seen from the look on his face when he'd roused her that there was some emergency, and her father had taught her to be a silent helper. The more serious the situation, the more silence was required; the family of the patient would be creating enough noise and confusion.

Upstairs was a room with two small beds. In one lay a child, a girl of about eight. Beth's heart turned over. Sick children were the most distressing cases. The girl's eyes were closed and her body was motionless. Beth looked hard, and was relieved to see the rise and fall of her chest. A woman sat beside the bed, weeping.

Speaking softly, Doctor Blake helped the woman to her feet and began questioning her. When was the child taken ill; what symptoms had she complained of first; how long had she been unconscious. The woman was in her forties, Beth guessed, and had short, silvery hair. She spoke in tones of despair, wiping tears from her cheeks, her eyes never leaving the child's face.

Sophia, as the girl was called, had complained of a headache the previous evening, and had seemed sleepy. She'd woken with a fever in the morning and slipped into unconsciousness that evening.

When Doctor Blake had finished questioning the woman he looked up at Beth and then his eyes flicked to the door. Beth understood and helped the woman out of the room and downstairs. She left the woman with the one who had opened the door, who was a neighbour, and went back upstairs.

Doctor Blake was examining Sophia. He checked her pulse and asked Beth for his stethoscope, and she handed it to him. His listened, and then laid a hand on her forehead for a moment, looking pensive. Then he put a hand under the girl's head and felt her scalp. Checking for bumps and injuries, Beth guessed. It looked like a concussion, but for the fever.

He frowned deeply and looked up at Beth. 'Does her neck feel stiff to you?'

Beth went to the other side of the bed and slipped her hand beneath the girl's neck, cradling her head. Her skin was hot and damp to the touch and the sinews of her neck felt like rods beneath her fingers. She nodded. Not a head injury and concussion, then.

'Help me turn her over.'

They turned the little girl in the bed and Doctor Blake felt up and down her spine. Throughout this Sophia didn't stir or open her eyes. Her limbs were floppy. They placed her on her back once more. Beth watched as he performed a battery of reflex tests – tapping her forehead, the centre of her lips, her knees. Either there was a response where there should be none, or no response where there should.

Beth felt a creeping sense of dread. When he was finished he stood, regarded the child, rubbing a hand over his chin. 'Have you seen this before?' he asked, turning to her.

It was disease, not injury, and there were very few things that could come on so quickly and cause such devastation. 'I think so. Is it polio?'

He nodded, his eyes downcast. 'Will you sit with her a moment? I will talk to her mother.'

Doctor Blake's face was set in grim lines. She'd seen expressions like that on her father's face, and she felt pained for him. Doctors saw illness and death every day, but it was never easy to give bad news.

Beth sat in the chair next to the bed and held Sophia's unresponsive hand. A few minutes later there came the sound of loud weeping from downstairs and Beth felt her eyes prick with tears. She blinked rapidly as she heard Doctor Blake ascending once more. Even though the prognosis was bad she knew there were treatments they could try and she needed to concentrate.

He stood by Beth's elbow a moment and watched the girl. Then he sighed deeply. 'You go back, Beth. Get the neighbour to find a hackney with you.'

She looked up at him, startled. 'But there are things we can do for her.' He'd called her Beth, not Miss Greene or Nurse Greene, but it didn't feel intimate. It felt hopeless.

'I know. And I will. But it will be a long night and I can manage.'

Beth stood and looked him in the face – as best she could, at least, with their height difference. 'I think I can be useful.'

He regarded her. 'I know you can. But I'd rather you weren't here.'

She looked at him, confused and hurt. Hadn't she held her tongue when she'd wanted to ask questions? Helped him with the diagnosis? Helped him with the girl's mother?

Seeing her expression he said gently, 'I'd rather you weren't here when it reaches her lungs.'

Understanding dawned. He didn't want her to watch the little girl die. She would struggle for breath, turn blue. Her mother would wail and tear at her hair. There wouldn't be anything for them to do. They would feel worse than useless. Like intruders. Like monsters.

But at least there would be two of them. Doctor Blake wouldn't have to feel all that alone. She'd never left her father's side at a deathbed and she wasn't going to leave his. Resolved, she looked up at him. 'What can I do?'

He touched her arm briefly, giving her a small smile, and she thought she detected gratitude in his sombre eyes. 'Quinine for her nervous fever,' he murmured. 'And a mustard poultice.'

While he checked Sophia's vital signs and administered the reflex tests again she opened his medical bag and found the hypodermic syringe and bottle of quinine. She passed them to him and he drew up a measure of the drug and injected it into the vein at Sophia's elbow.

Beth mixed up a mustard poultice and began spreading it on bandages. 'On her legs?' she asked, and he nodded. The mustard would stimulate blood flow and the nerves, and the idea was it would reverse the paralysis that had set into Sophia's limbs. In the face of so sick a child it seemed no better than a token gesture, but she knew how important it was for them to do something, to give them hope as well as the mother.

'Her eyes look a little sunken,' he said. 'She likely hasn't drunk any water in some time.' He hesitated, and she knew he was considering the risk of giving a polio patient fluids. Sophia's swallowing reflex might be abnormal as well. 'Let's try a little, if we can wake her up.'

There was a ewer in the corner and Beth poured a little water into a cup while Doctor Blake sat the girl up and supported her with his arm. 'Sophia? Sophia, can you hear me?' No response, and her head was slack. He shook his head, and Beth put the cup down again.

A few minutes later Sophia's mother came into the room, and she hesitated by the door as if she was a trespasser. Doctor Blake urged her to come in and sat her down by the side of the bed. She took her daughter's hand in hers and then looked up at him. 'She feels cooler. Her fever is going down. Thank you.'

Beth's eyes flicked to his face and she saw his jaw tighten, and she could tell the woman's gratitude didn't sit well with him when he'd been able to do so little.

There wasn't much for anyone to do over the next few hours. The neighbour went home, and Beth made tea for them all.

Doctor Blake took her aside when she came back upstairs. 'I want to give her some privacy with her daughter,' he murmured. 'I'm going to go downstairs. Will you sit in the corner, and call out to me if there's any change?'

'Of course.'

But when Beth retreated to a corner the woman called her forward to sit by her, and Beth drew her chair up alongside.

'You're new,' the woman said thickly, he eyes never leaving her daughter's face. 'I haven't seen you with the doctor before.'

Beth nodded. 'My name is Beth Greene. I've been with him a very short time.'

The woman glanced at her and gave her a small smile. 'I wouldn't have guessed that. Carol Peletier,' she added, introducing herself.

Beth supposed that was because she'd already been a nurse for several years, though Mrs Peletier would think her too young for the experience. 'Have you known the doctor long, Mrs Peletier?' Beth asked her.

'Yes, nearly four years. He's been very kind to Sophia and me. Did he tell you about us?'

Beth shook her head.

Mrs Peletier spoke softly, telling Beth how she'd first met Doctor Blake when she would come to St Barts with sprains and fractures that she couldn't explain. He would press her occasionally to tell him how they'd happened, but she'd always lied. After the second visit he gave her his address and told her to come directly to his home the next time she needed medical attention. He never took any money from her.

'Black eyes, a broken nose. That sort of thing.' She sighed. 'I was married at the time, you see.'

Something about the way Mrs Peletier connected her marriage to the injuries seemed so sad to Beth; as if one naturally followed the other.

'With Doctor Blake's help I left my husband and took Sophia. It's against the law, you know, to take a child from their father. I think he could have got into trouble as well as me. But he did it anyway, and set me up here in secret.'

'What happened to your husband? He never found you?' Beth asked.

Mrs Peletier shook her head. 'He drank himself to death last year. And now my –' Her voice hitched and she bowed her head.

Beth saw that Sophia's breathing was laboured and her chest barely rose. She went to fetch Doctor Blake. They kept silent vigil for another two hours, Doctor Blake standing at the foot of the bed, Beth sitting beside Mrs Peletier, all three of them listening to the sound of the girl struggling for breath as her lungs failed. Beth felt tense and useless.

An hour after dawn Sophia died. Beth took the poultices off the little girl's legs and wiped them clean with a damp cloth, a lump in her throat. Mrs Peletier held Sophia in her arms, rocking her. She thanked them both when they left, and they murmured what condolences they could.

The streets were grey and there were few people about as they walked home. In the distance they heard the chiming of a clock striking the hour.

'Mrs Peletier told me what you did for her and Sophia,' Beth said when they reached Clerkenwell Street. 'It was very kind of you. Not many would take such a risk.'

Doctor Blake didn't reply.

In the hall of his home she turned to him. 'Your rounds this morning. What time will you go?'

He shook his head. He had a shadow on his chin and cheeks like he had the first time she had seen him. Perhaps he'd stayed up late that night with a patient that night too. 'Get some sleep. I'll be able to manage.'

She looked up at him. 'I will come.'

...

Blake put his hands in his pockets. He was grateful that she'd come on the call and even more grateful that she'd stayed with him until the end, but he'd been selfish enough. She was barely more than a child herself, though when he looked at her he saw a young woman. A very capable young woman. But she was under his care just the same and he doubted her father would like her good nature being taken advantage of.

'It's more children, Miss Greene, and you have just attended a child's deathbed all night.'

'I am your nurse –'

'You are not my nurse,' he said. 'You are my guest.'

Her mouth twitched. 'I'm not even that. I'm an unexpected visitor that has been foisted upon you. Let me be useful, please, or I shall become embarrassed.'

Despite himself, he smiled, and passed a hand over his eyes. 'You are very welcome here, Miss Greene. I mean that.'

'Won't you call me Beth?' she ventured.

He looked at her. He had called her Beth, hadn't he? In the sickroom.

'I've never been called Miss Greene so much in my life and it feels strange,' she explained. 'Either Beth or Nurse Greene, please.'

'I can't call you Nurse Greene at the dinner table,' he said, bemused.

She smiled and nodded, 'So then it's settled. How long until you leave for Great Ormond Street?'

Her father had never been so assertive, he was sure. She must have got it from her mother. He looked at the grandfather clock. Just after seven. 'In two hours. But if you're not up –'

'I'll be up,' she said, and turned and went quickly up the stairs.

Blake watched her go and then followed a moment later, shaking his head.

He opened the curtains in his bedroom so that the daylight shone in, and put the chimneypiece clock on his bedside table so that the chimes would wake him. He dozed lightly, waking every quarter hour or so, and got up at a quarter to nine. He felt a little more rested but knew it would be a long morning.

Ten minutes later he had changed his shirt and was downstairs. When he went into the dining room he saw Beth lying on the chaise longue beneath the window, asleep. He went over and hunkered down beside her. Her face was sweet in repose.

'Beth,' he said softly. No response. He considered leaving her where she was, but was sure she'd follow him to Great Ormond Street as soon as she woke if he did. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers and she stirred; her eyes fluttered open. She didn't move, merely watched him. 'Did you fall asleep here on purpose?' he murmured.

She said sleepily, 'I was worried you'd go without me.'

He smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had concerned themselves with where he was and what he was doing. Anyone who wasn't Hyde, that was.

He stood quickly and went to get himself some coffee.

...

Hmm, I think Doctor Blake is liking having some company in his house and on his rounds again, don't you?