Snakes And Secrets
There is something that truly bothers me about Mr. Gray. What it is, exactly, I am not sure of. When ever he comes about, something in the back of my mind and the pit of my gut coils sickeningly, and his mere presence has irritated me more than once. He is a nice enough man, polite if a bit...honeyed with the women. Yet even when I write this, I cannot help but think that the honey is concealing a well honed razor.
"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't," Shakespeare once stated.
I get the same feeling with him that I had -- and often still have, for good reason -- with the Count. He nearly caused Hyde to claw his way to the surface, and I had to excuse myself to partake of the formula. I was watched this time, by that masked one, but it mattered not. What mattered was getting him under control.
Erik was there, and the conversation I had with another had come to mind. I had questioned his abilities concerning chemistry, and was disappointed when he mentioned he only dabbled. I explained that while Hyde is my assistant, he only wished to keep the sickness alive. It was true, though I should have further explained that he wanted it so for experimental purposes. It would make sense. There are many things I should have said concerning Hyde to dampen in others the desire to do him wrong.
During our conversation I found that he is searching for a key. A small, bronze key. A key to what, exactly, I've no clue. He would not explain to me. This does not surprise me in the least. I have found that when he is asked too many questions, he quiets and glares, or leaves the room all together. I must say I am becoming used to this where the glares or the rude, sudden exit does not bother me any longer. I made my way to the parlour then, and mingled with the others.
Most of them were still there, and from what I observed, Mr. Gray was getting a little too familiar with Miss Murray. More than the woman liked. She was quite clever in driving him away with a pointless tale, though. Her sly expression was enough to convey what her little trick was. Unfortunately, he came to stand behind my chair. I did not feel as unnerved as I was before, and simply cast it off to the thought that Hyde was too close to the surface.
I am coming to learn that some men here have the attitude I do not. I suppose for someone of my standing, I should see women as baubles to have upon my arm, to be wed to because of money and good breeding, not because she makes for good conversation. This is not the case, though. I have met many intelligent women over the years, and each of them was a delight to speak with. I rarely noticed their beauty, or lack there of. If my mind can be stimulated, everything else falls into place.
The conversation around me turned toward a more sinister route; a blame needed to be place upon someone for these attacks, and Mr. Hyde as well as the madwoman had been placed beneath verbal finger pointing. I tried to explain about the bite marks, that it is more important for we have no conclusion as to what was causing them, though it seemed my words were brushed aside. When I had stated that while the assaults are, indeed, a problem, they can be taken care of easily and readily. These marks, and the weakness that comes with them, are a mystery that needs to be solved.
I understand her accusation in saying that my supposed loyalty is drawing the blame away from Hyde, though that is not true. I mentioned the bite again, and Mrs. Linton made the mistake of saying that it was not a bat. She cannot recall who, or what, bit her. Just how can she say it was not a bat? I want to believe, fully, that it was a bat...though I know it was not. It is my mind needs a scientific explanation for these events. Something that makes sense, and that could be easily conveyed. Yet, still...the evidence proves true, and evidence never lies.
The night among them ended on a strange note. I had been speaking with the Count when Mrs. Linton exited the parlour rather abruptly with Liza upon her heels. I am not sure what caused such a reaction, but when she returned, she appared quite shaken, and Liza had a hand print upon her face. I did not question; I have enough enough of that as of late. I tried to convince the woman that she needed to eat before she made herself more ill than she is already, but she hardly listened to me, stubborn girl that she is.
I sit here now, watching over her as she sleeps. I did not wish to disturb her to carry her up the stairs. She is safe from him; I had taken the formula earlier in the evening, though it still makes me wary. I daren't go to sleep...I could not bare it if something happened.
"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't," Shakespeare once stated.
I get the same feeling with him that I had -- and often still have, for good reason -- with the Count. He nearly caused Hyde to claw his way to the surface, and I had to excuse myself to partake of the formula. I was watched this time, by that masked one, but it mattered not. What mattered was getting him under control.
Erik was there, and the conversation I had with another had come to mind. I had questioned his abilities concerning chemistry, and was disappointed when he mentioned he only dabbled. I explained that while Hyde is my assistant, he only wished to keep the sickness alive. It was true, though I should have further explained that he wanted it so for experimental purposes. It would make sense. There are many things I should have said concerning Hyde to dampen in others the desire to do him wrong.
During our conversation I found that he is searching for a key. A small, bronze key. A key to what, exactly, I've no clue. He would not explain to me. This does not surprise me in the least. I have found that when he is asked too many questions, he quiets and glares, or leaves the room all together. I must say I am becoming used to this where the glares or the rude, sudden exit does not bother me any longer. I made my way to the parlour then, and mingled with the others.
Most of them were still there, and from what I observed, Mr. Gray was getting a little too familiar with Miss Murray. More than the woman liked. She was quite clever in driving him away with a pointless tale, though. Her sly expression was enough to convey what her little trick was. Unfortunately, he came to stand behind my chair. I did not feel as unnerved as I was before, and simply cast it off to the thought that Hyde was too close to the surface.
I am coming to learn that some men here have the attitude I do not. I suppose for someone of my standing, I should see women as baubles to have upon my arm, to be wed to because of money and good breeding, not because she makes for good conversation. This is not the case, though. I have met many intelligent women over the years, and each of them was a delight to speak with. I rarely noticed their beauty, or lack there of. If my mind can be stimulated, everything else falls into place.
The conversation around me turned toward a more sinister route; a blame needed to be place upon someone for these attacks, and Mr. Hyde as well as the madwoman had been placed beneath verbal finger pointing. I tried to explain about the bite marks, that it is more important for we have no conclusion as to what was causing them, though it seemed my words were brushed aside. When I had stated that while the assaults are, indeed, a problem, they can be taken care of easily and readily. These marks, and the weakness that comes with them, are a mystery that needs to be solved.
I understand her accusation in saying that my supposed loyalty is drawing the blame away from Hyde, though that is not true. I mentioned the bite again, and Mrs. Linton made the mistake of saying that it was not a bat. She cannot recall who, or what, bit her. Just how can she say it was not a bat? I want to believe, fully, that it was a bat...though I know it was not. It is my mind needs a scientific explanation for these events. Something that makes sense, and that could be easily conveyed. Yet, still...the evidence proves true, and evidence never lies.
The night among them ended on a strange note. I had been speaking with the Count when Mrs. Linton exited the parlour rather abruptly with Liza upon her heels. I am not sure what caused such a reaction, but when she returned, she appared quite shaken, and Liza had a hand print upon her face. I did not question; I have enough enough of that as of late. I tried to convince the woman that she needed to eat before she made herself more ill than she is already, but she hardly listened to me, stubborn girl that she is.
I sit here now, watching over her as she sleeps. I did not wish to disturb her to carry her up the stairs. She is safe from him; I had taken the formula earlier in the evening, though it still makes me wary. I daren't go to sleep...I could not bare it if something happened.