The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde

Lost Friendship

It was now February and Mrs. Utterson had not seen Dr. Lanyon for a month. A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to her bed, and in something less than a fortnight she was dead. A letter had come to the door, and Utterson could not believe what she was thinking. She opened it, and upon reading, she gazed and saw that it was an invitation to the funeral of Dr. Elanor Florence Lanyon. The lawyer felt a tear slip down her cheek in response to the death of Lanyon, her best friend. Five hours after had reading the letter Mrs. Utterson gathered herself and dressed in formal wear, boarding a carriage, she brought herself to Lanyon's mansion. She sighed and rang the bell.

"Mrs. Utterson. How are you madam?" said the butler. Mrs. Utterson shook her head and sighed. "Please come in."

Mrs. Utterson entered the mansion, greeted solemnly with the sight of very few people attending the funeral. She felt confusion, as Lanyon was a rather well-known woman in the medical field, so why there is not more family or friends attending? Mrs. Utterson turned to the butler with a solemn expression.

"I am truly sorry about your mistress," said Mrs. Utterson.

"I did not think her condition would deplete so suddenly."

"The funeral is fairly small... Was this at Elanor's request?"

"Yes, Mrs. Utterson. The mistress requested at her expense a small and simple funeral. She did not want many visitors either."

"I am sure there was more people who wished to say goodbye to Elanor."

"Yes. I am sure of that by now, everyone in London has heard of the tragedy of Mistress' death."

"Oh Elanor..."

Mrs. Utterson felt a silent tear graze her cheek, and she put a gentle hand on the top of the casket to rest on, and she took a shuddering breath and sigh.

"Elanor... I cannot believe you are gone... I did not know that conversation would be our last. I realised too late... I should have paid more attention to you, perhaps gotten you some help from another doctor. I am sorry. I had only spoken what was on my mind. Coming here is all I could do for you, Elanor... Oh Elanor, I deeply apoligise..."

A few more tears fell from her cheeks, dropping onto the casket, leaving small salty puddles. The butler approached the lawyer.

"Mrs. Utterson, take this. It is a letter from the mistress to you."

"Thank you," said Utterson, "For seeing off my dear friend. Thank you kindly. She must have felt so relieved to have you by her side."

The butler nodded silently. "Mistress had left me a letter before passing away. She had given me explicit instructions to deliver it to you at the funeral."

"Thank you again," said Mrs. Utterson.

In moments time, she watched as the coroner lowered the casket into the cemetery. The rain pattered on Utterson's umbrella, then beginning to pour outside. She felt more tears slip down her cheeks in silence.

Mrs. Utterson left the mansion and returned home, sleeping in her quarters, trying to let go of her grievances of Lanyon. Mrs. Utterson was soon back home, and she documented in her journal that she kept on the case.

'On the envelope it was written "Do not open this before Dr. Jekyll dies or disappears." The word 'disappearance' in the will of Dr. Jekyll was surely in relation to Ms. Hyde. But why would Lanyon write 'disappear?' I wished to solve that mystery at the time, but I could not betray her last wish. Ignoring my own curiosity that had plagued my mind proved to be more difficult that completely overcoming it altogether. After Mistress' death, I became more worried about Dr. Jekyll. She was not the same woman I had known. Poole could not give me any good news either. Every time I went to see Dr. Jekyll, I was told that she was still confined by her own will in her laboratory, So I ceased my visitation.'

The night after the funeral, at which she had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of her business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholy candle, drew out and set before her an envelope addressed by the hand and sealed with the seal of her dead friend. PRIVATE: for the hands of G. J. Utterson ALONE, and in case of her predecease to be destroyed unread, so it was emphatically superscribed; and the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. I have buried one friend to-day, she thought: what if this should cost me another?

And then she condemned the fear as a disloyalty, and broke the seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewise sealed, and marked upon the cover as not to be opened till the death or disappearance of Dr. Katherine Jekyll. Utterson could not trust her eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in the mad will which she had long ago restored to its author, here again were the idea of a disappearance and the name of Katherine Jekyll bracketted. But in the will, that idea had sprung from the sinister suggestion of the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain and horrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? A great curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibition and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; but professional honour and faith to her dead friend were stringent obligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of her private safe.

It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it; and it may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired the society of her surviving friend with the same eagerness. She thought of her kindly; but her thoughts were disquieted and fearful. She went to call indeed; but she was perhaps relieved to be denied admittance; perhaps, in her heart, she preferred to speak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and sounds of the open city, rather than to be admitted into that house of voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with its inscrutable recluse. Poole had, indeed, no very pleasant news to communicate. The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined herself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where she would sometimes even sleep; she was out of spirits, she had grown very silent, she did not read; it seemed as if she had something on her mind. Utterson became so used to the unvarying character of these reports, that she fell off little by little in the frequency of her visits.