Utterson's face froze as if it had been struck. Suddenly, every memory he had of Jekyll came rushing back to him at full speed, causing his head to swim and his stomach to plummet. A sick feeling crept throughout his body. He wanted to lie down.
Jekyll hardly mentioned it, but as a younger man he had a devious side that often indulged in the darker side of life. He occasionally spent nights off from the University in a local pub, chattering with the usual customers on all aspects of life. Dostoyevsky once remarked that most existential thoughts are voiced in bars and whatnot, and Jekyll certainly had his opinions. Not once did her ever grow violent, though; he never drank enough to completely intoxicate him.
But now there was a son that he obviously didn't know about. It never occurred to Utterson that his friend had a love, or a lover, or that the Doctor was even interested in sex at all; most of his days were consumed with lab work. The Lawyer thought deeply.
Would Jekyll have taken his own life had he known that Harry existed? Could the boy have saved Jekyll from a horrible end, or prevented Hyde from ever being created? Utterson suddenly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
What if Harry was the result of Hyde's viciousness?
Utterson knew what the Leierkasten and Le Sphinx were; the most famous brothels in Western Europe. It was possible that Hyde had grown bored or impatient, done something cruel to the poor girl, and forced her into bed with him. It was also possible that for once Jekyll did drink until intoxication, unable to remember all that he had done the night before. Either way, it was impossible to know now.
Which brought yet another point into Utterson's already racked brain. Did Harry know his father was dead? Surely not, as he referred to Jekyll in the present tense. How was the Lawyer supposed to tell him?
"Harry, there's something about your father you must know," he began gently. Harry perked up a bit, anxious to hear any bit of news. Utterson's heart sank. The boy was expecting too much.
"Your father died a number of years ago."
Slowly, the young man's features fell as the news sank in. The father he had only known through stories and distant recollections was completely cut off. Now he would never be able to see the man his mother described as 'the most caring of all the male species'.
Utterson was startled as Harry nearly jumped out of his seat and began pacing the room. He marched back and forth, nervously rubbing at the scar on his head. Suddenly he began speaking, but to no one.
"You promised he would be here…" Harry mumbled, his voice much deeper than usual. Utterson wanted to protest, but the young man kept talking.
"I promised nothing. How was I supposed to know?...Why didn't you check the directory before coming all the way across town for nothing?...I was being careless, I wasn't thinking…What am I to do now?"
Harry's voice bounced from one end of an octave to the other. His mad pacing was growing frantic with each step, and sweat trickled from his brow. The spasms that rtoppledd Harry's face upon his arrival were becoming even more violent than originally shown. Utterson could only watch, afraid to interfere. It was natural for someone to be upset, but the scene was…surreal, if anything. The young man stopped and looked about, suddenly unsure of where he was.
"I have to get out of here…I'll never escape…There's got to be a way out…Find it, stupid…Let me go!...Let me go!"
Harry pounded on the front door, too despondent to undue the latch. Utterson ran forward as the boy's knees nearly collapsed beneath him, and the Lawyer held the young man as if a son he would never have just scraped his knee. Tears deluged Harry's face in a river of clear slime, drizzling onto Utterson's best jacket, but neither cared.
The impact of Jekyll's death hit him at full force, causing tears to swell in Utterson's own eyes. The Doctor had been a good friend until the creation of Hyde, and now he was gone, buried in a sinner's graveyard. Had the priest known that Jekyll's suicide was for the best, he would have been laid in a more deserving place.
They sat there for the better part of an hour, until an alarming fever sprang onto Harry's forehead, causing him to phase in and out of consciousness. The mumbling continued, but was too inaudible to fully understand. A clock tolled noisily somewhere in the house, giving Utterson a start as he helped Harry to a guest room.
The poor boy's face was swollen and damp from the tears, and his eyes gazed listlessly in their sockets, not fully awake. The Lawyer made sure the young man was safe in the comfort of a warm bed before sending a telegramme to the local doctor, describing the symptoms carefully. He even added the pacing and conversation Harry had with himself.
Utterson wanted to wire the boy's mother, but there was no way he could reach her. The most he could do was sit and wait for the woman to come looking, or Harry to wake long enough to give a postcode. A maid brought in a few cool towels, as well as a pitcher of water and something small to nibble at. The rest of the day, and possibly long into the night, was going to be very tiresome indeed.
For hours he sat, reading over the cases abandoned earlier that morning, or dozing in a large chair. Only once did Harry uncomfortably stir before falling once again into a deep sleep. Utterson could barely keep his eyes open when a knock came at the door. He bid the maid to answer it, and she returned only seconds later, followed closely by a young woman.
"Harry!" she cried upon entering, passing the Lawyer completely and running towards the boy. She lovingly pushed back strands of loose hair from the young man's face, kissing his forehead gently as she did so. Utterson did not dare interrupt her.
She turned after some minutes to face the older man, and looked to the floor, nearly bowing.
"Thank you, sir, for taking care of my Harry. I wasn't sure what to do this morning when I couldn't find him, but there was a note with this address on his bedside table. I-"
"You're most welcome, madam," Utterson blurted, alarmed at her submissiveness. "He's an interesting fellow; I'm glad to have met him. And, please, allow him to remain until the fever is at least broken. There would be no trouble at all if he stayed."
The young woman's eyes lit up with such gratefulness that she held back sobs. Utterson escorted her into the sitting room where he had first met her son, and beckoned her to sit. Her small frame was engulfed by the larger chairs. To begin, he asked her name.
"Clara Woodrow, sir," she said in a rather timid voice. She looked to the floor, in much the same way Harry did upon his arrival.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Clara. I'm sorry to impose so suddenly like this, but may I ask where you're coming from?"
Clara nodded in approval, though she stammered from embarrassment.
"W-we live in Mann Court, sir, over by the docks." A long walk or ride, surely. And from one of the most dangerous ports in town.
Miss Clara Woodrow did not look like the sort of girl to live in and out of brothels. Most of the girls were fairly large and robust, but she was almost the exact opposite. Harry must've towered over her, though he was rather small for his age, but in no way was his mother a dwarf. Her light hair contrasted that of her son's, but it was easy to see where his dark eyes came from.
There were too many questions that Utterson wanted to ask, but he knew that the night was still young, and more than likely Clara would stay with her son. He wanted to know how she came so close to Jekyll, how she could manage to break the walls the Doctor had shut himself into. Had the two been married at some point? Did Jekyll even know she was expecting a child? Curiosity suddenly became the better of him.
"If I may, but, I was wondering. How is it that you came to know Doctor Jekyll?" said the Lawyer, regretting it the moment the phrase left his lips. But to his surprise, a regretful smile shot to her lips. She looked to Harry as she spoke.
"I was expecting you to ask, sir. You may as well sit comfortably; this is going to take a long while…"
