In The Fog of London

The Disappearance

Once Kathrine had arrived home safely, she immediately made her way upstairs and changed into a dark wine-red dress she'd normally wear whenever she went to the market or other book shops. She let her hair down this time around, finding that it looked much nicer this way. She changed nothing else aside from these things before tending to a few remaining customers and heading out towards Leicester. She brought her umbrella, smelling the rain in the air before it had even started. I'm glad this is a rather short dress, she thought, or else the bottom would be a mess by the time I'd made it to Henry's front step. She continued to ruminate on mundane things as she walked, trying to make sure she had finished her to-do list for the week, tousling her hair some if she thought it was too flat, wondering if she looked alright, etc... She then became aware of how much she had been thinking about her appearance, though she promptly brushed it off as general anxieties about her looks. Before she knew it, she'd arrived at the front of Dr. Jekyll's home, nearly tripping over the first step, as she was still daydreaming. Poole answered the door, looking a little less chipper than he normally did, and upon Kathrine asking about the doctor, Poole responded that the doctor was "locked up in his cabinet," but "may take you as a visitor." Kathrine nodded in thanks as the butler let her in before dashing off through the house and out the back door. She waited for a while, much longer than usual, though it bothered her none. Eventually, Poole returned, his expression somewhat cold, "Dr. Jekyll expressed to me that he is not generally taking visitors at this time," he paused and sighed, "though he instructed me to accompany you to the cabinet door. He will let you in himself." Kathrine thanked the butler and followed him out, leaving her umbrella at the front door. She was led through the rest of the doctor's beautiful home before going out a back door into a courtyard. To the right was a small garden plot, to the left was an opening into a bystreet, and straight on was a large, ominous building with two windows at a second-floor level above a stoop that framed a large, wooden door. The pair stopped in front of that door, with Poole walking up to it and unlocking it with an old, metal key. The two stepped into a surgical theatre, walked round on a small path through the seats, and found themselves on a landing, where a second wooden door was. Poole knocked, announced, "Kathrine Hughes, sir!" and promptly left without another word. This made Kathrine a bit uneasy, but she tried to push away the sense of dread she felt while inside the large, empty theatre. She listened to Poole's steps as the sound echoed and faded away from her, followed by the sound of the first door shutting and locking. It was only another moment of silence where she could hear only her breath and the heavy drumming of her heartbeat before distant steps drew nearer and the door to the cabinet opened. Standing in the frame was a disheveled and almost frightful-looking Henry Jekyll. He was in his undershirt, which was slightly unbuttoned and halfway untucked, and his trousers, held up by suspenders. It looked like he'd hastily tried to fix himself up and was actually still trying to primp his hair as he stood there looking rather aloof. They stared at one another for a moment and neither of them smiled. "Are... Are you alright, Henry?" She asked sheepishly, knitting her fingers together. He ignored her question, simply responding with, "Come inside. Please." She did as she was told and walked inside into the new room. Her eyes took in the sparkling visuals of light bouncing against graduated glasses and test tubes and scientific instruments. She was nearly overwhelmed with the amount of things happening at once. The air smelled of chemicals, glass tubes nearly boiled over with multicolored elixirs above bunsen burners, and Henry had shut and locked the door behind her. "I said I would make time for you, did I not?" Henry spoke weakly, sounding ill. "Y-yes, you did, but you look feverish. Are you alright?" She asked again and Henry took her by the shoulders. "I am low... Very low indeed." He whimpered, causing a lump to form in Kathrine's throat. "Oh, Henry... Is this about Lanyon?" She asked and he stepped back. "N-no," He started, turning away from her, "unfortunately, I've not enough time to grieve. Now what is it you needed from me?" He seemed a little cold to her, suddenly returning to a work space and putting liquids into glasses and powders into chemicals that fizzed and steamed. "I was just wondering if you needed comfort. B-because of the funeral and all. I didn't think it was fair that Lanyon didn't allow you admittance to his burial." She asserted. "He had his reasons. I respect them and understand, though he might have been a closed-minded individual who I lost reverence for later in our lives." Jekyll droned in response, "Although, I do need comfort. Due to other things. Just your being here is a help, dear." He added and Kathrine blushed slightly. "What can I do to help, Henry?" She asked, approaching him. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and sighed, setting his things down and rubbing his face. "Oh, Kathrine. God grant me the strength to make you understand," He seemed to mumble that to himself before turning to her, his eyes wild and his words spoken slowly and deliberately, "I've lost many things in these past months. I don't want to lose you too. Please, please, if our friendship means anything to you, take this note, read it only when you've arrived home, and heed it's instruction to the letter. You must'nt disobey and you must go straight home. Do you understand?" He handed her a folded piece of paper and she looked up at him, nodding. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. "I understand." She mewled. Henry smiled painfully, looking satisfied. "Good. Now go, I beg you. I am so sorry it has to be this way." He rasped as she left through the side door that led out into the street. She so wanted to say more, but feared that she may burst into tears if she opened her mouth to speak at all.
Kathrine had rushed home after that, feeling sick to her stomach. As soon as she entered her shop, she set the note on the counter and stared at it, dreading what words lay written on the crinkled page. Eventually, she opened the note and took in the grim instructions she was meant to follow,