Trails of Intertwined Stars: Chapter 74 {Part 1}

~Chapter 129: Miss Nichols~

I got married to Lady Brandon, now Lady Mohan, and moved to London without hesitation. Her father, as promised, bought her the house by the Thames, and the maid Rosie tended to the housework for us. I hated the quaintness of it all, and the filthy air that seemed to carry from those peasant slums in London all the way to my home. I missed Mohan manor, as surprising as it may seem. I felt cheated. It was rightfully my house, yet Duncan had stolen that from me, even in death, and I was paying the price. I'm not one for complaining though, might I add. Unlike my sister, I get on with life; so I made due with what I had. My wife was absolutely grating and enraged me beyond words, but I was quite pleased when she told me her father was taking her to Norway, and I wouldn't have to put up with her pestering for another couple of months or so. It was just me, and the maid, Rosie; who was competent enough, and a diligent young woman. If anything, I enjoyed Rosie's company much more than my so-called wife's. I worked a lot those days, back and forth from the surgery to my study at home; dealing with profit and patient requests. I hardly slept anymore, but I had Rosie make me tea and cake frequently, so it warded off sleep enough for me to mull through my work competently enough.

Then there was that bloody Friday, August 31st. I was sat at my desk at work, rubbing my temples as I saw the woman in front of me. A not so nice woman, from the slums of Whitechapel, with an unwomanly face, unwomanly body, unwomanly essence... unwomanly everything. She was old, 42 to be exact, with gray hair.
"Miss Nichols?" I murmured, scanning over her documents and reasons for abortion.
"Call me Polly," She stated.
I couldn't conceal a slight glare, as I cleared my throat, I would not be on friendly terms with the likes of her," Miss Nichols. You are here today for an abortion, is that correct?"
"Yessir."
"And you feel as if you deserve this privilege?"
"Yessir."
"You are aware abortions are an act against God, are you not?"
"Yessir."
"Do you believe in God, Miss Nichols?"
"Yessir."
"And you are aware this act would be going against Him?"
"Yessir."
"You are willing to go to such measures?"
"Yessir."
"You acknowledge abortion is a taxing process on our surgeons, and could earn you in a lot of trouble if discovered?"
"Yessir."
"You swear to never tell a soul about this practice?"
"Yessir."

"You have the funding for such treatment?"
I remember her face falling, as she started to fiddle with her clothes, anxiously.
"Nossir."
"Don't no-zir me!" I hissed, slamming my hand on the desk, I couldn't help but mock her Whitechapel accent," You think this is funny? You think it's a game? I run a tight ship here, because abortion is a dangerous thing to tamper with. I could get into a lot of trouble, you know? I'm a saint, in noble clothing! You come here, Polly, in hopes of treatment, with no funds. Am I a joke practice to you? Is that it? Do you find my business a joke?"
"Nossir."
"Zir this! Zir that! Is that all you can say!" I yelled, beyond fury now," Leave! Out! Never come back!"
Miss Nichols stood up, her face putridly stubborn and upset, as she glared at me defiantly. It reminded me dreadfully of the way Leora looked at me, and I think that was what pushed me over the edge. I watched as she left through the door, storming into the cold night, and... something came over me. Something I couldn't quite express. I slipped on my coat, and found one of the bags my surgeon had left behind, and followed her out of the building; sticking to the shadows. I followed her for a while, I recall, my breath steady with fury, and my steps light as to not disturb her. She was completely oblivious to my presence.

I recall following her down an alley till we reached a dark gateway in Buck's Row. The street was silent...deadly silent, and it felt as if there was nobody else in the world aside from me and her. Though, it wasn't her I was seeing. For one moment, I saw my mother. I saw her in those silly dresses she used to wear, with an elegant smile plastered onto her face as she walked down those grubby streets. But then my eyes adjusted to the light, and I saw Leora in her place. Leora wearing our mother's old dresses, with that smirk she gave me when we were young on her face; walking fastly across the street. Then my mother again. Then Leora. Then my mother. I felt ill with rage. I wasn't quite sure what came over me, but in that instant, there was this burning urge. My hand fished in the bag desperately, till I found the blade and pulled it out. Before thoughts could place what was happening, my body jerked forward with an intent I did not know I had. All I could hear, was poor Miss Nichols screams of fear, before my world went black.