A · Soul · Beneath · Notice

Being beset by food poisoning is certainly not enjoyable. I have been unable to go downstairs for several days now...or even able to request the doctor visit me for treatment. It's been an endless circle of purging my stomach or lying abed to weak to move. I did creep downstairs last night to find something to nibble on and fortunately, I have been able to keep it down.

I do wonder what I've eaten that has made me so very ill...perhaps it was that stew. Those potatoes did seem a bit suspicious.

The baby is kicking much more vigorously now, a steady thud of small pulses within. I've heard that once I am past my sixth month, these small evidences of his life will far more painful...but I look forward to it.

Speaking of children...I do hope Erik has been able to restrain his murderous tendencies toward his son. Poor Caim...he grows devilishly fast, but a child is a child none the less. If I find out that his own father has hurt him...I swear by all that is holy, I'll poison the man.

It's so late, but I cannot sleep any longer. Not that I was truly sleeping to begin with. There's some commotion downstairs, shouts, feet pounding. But then again, many is the night that I hear such things within my room, only to step out into the hall and find only silence and the hiss of th gas lamps. This house is so very strange...

I'm grateful that I am the only one in the servants wing. My privacy is complete and the hours that Ive spent crying tonight would not have been heard by another. But just as my privacy is complete, so too is my solitude.

I've never felt so terribly alone. I feel so foolish for the things that I desire, but I've begun to long for them and the lack is so very, very painful. I just want someone to care that I am with child. I feel that I am such a burden as of late, though. Mrs. Linton is terribly ill and even if she might be concerned, her own need far outweighs my own. I understand it and I accept it. I do not mind caring for her or giving her the medicines, but I fear that I've begun to resent her. Her child is not healthy, mine is. She is not healthy, I am.

And yet...

My father always told me that a child can starve upon a full plate. And I'm starving.

Oh, but I feel so incrediably stupid! How foolish and selfish is it that I want someone to put their hand upon my stomach and smile when they feel movement? I can feel the first stirrings of life and it should be enough. But it's not. I want someone to hold me and tell me that I am not a horrible woman, that my child is not worthless. I know those things are not true, but yet when I look at Mrs. Linton and the care, the love, the sympathy that is given to her and her child, I resent her.

I've tried so hard not to let the doctor's coldness toward me hurt, but tonight there was no possible way to ignore the contempt and dislike that he feels toward me. I wanted to hurl one of those books at his damned head. I'm scared, too. I'm a woman, just like her, carrying my first child. I worry and I wonder what it will be like. I feel the same surges of overwhelming love when my baby moves, and yet I feel...that I have not the right.

And oh God, I'm so lonely.

Now I'm weeping again and my chest aches and my throat is tight. So, so stupid, all of this.

I try so hard not to resent her. But I would give anything to have ten minutes of the sympathy and love that she takes so much for granted. If for one moment I could know that another cared even a tenth of that much for me and my child, I should be happy.

I miss Mr. Hyde...even if I knew that he would likely not care that I'm carrying his child, at least he would touch me.

I miss that most of all.

It becomes necessary for me to take apart my feelings and list them here, one by one. There is so very much to write of and I am near to bursting with the need to speak of it. Even to simply copy it here, in my journal.

First, four of those within the mansion know that I am with child. Mrs. Linton, Dr. Jekyll, Erik, and now Miss Mrs. Christine...Daae? Of those four only two know who the father of this babe is: the doctor and Erik. And while Christine is so kind in her support and Mrs. Linton so icy in her disapproval, the gentlemen in question...I fear that they disagree so very much that they may take drastic action against me.

Erik has offered the solution of penny royal. No, not merely offered, outright told me that I will take the "remedy" for my affliction. And I cannot even know if he is truly concerned for me...or for the fact that I will not be able to fulfill my duties for several weeks before and after the birth.

And the doctor...I fear his disapproval is the most severe. He has called the child that grows within me a burden, a spawn of great evil, and if I carry it, a gross mistake. It seems that I am forever at the end of that man's scoldings. And how very odd that they should each revolve about Mr. Hyde. It is no coincidence, but a very unhappy truth that perhaps his hate of my one and only lover is extended to me. No, perhaps not me. He is kind...and he tends to my hurts, even smiles upon me on occasion. But his hatred certainly extends to what grows within me.

My child. My innocent child.

I have grieved over you so very often. I fear for you and what may happen when you are born. I even fear that you may never be born. What will I do if they take you from me? My life used to center upon my duties, the hour or so I might have free to read or write. And yet now, my thoughts are filled with you. You are not even moving inside of me...you have shown yourself only in the swell, though slight, of my stomach that I now pass my hand over. And yet I love you. More than myself, more than any other. If I was strong enough, large enough, I would fight them off to the death to keep them from taking you from me.

They don't understand. Perhaps Mrs. Linton disapproves because she will never truly know what it is to be a mother. She will have her child and yet it will be another who will care for it and nurture it as it grows. But you, you will be all mine. Only I will watch you grow and memorize your every move. And perhaps Erik and the doctor do not understand because they are men and they have been denied the privilege of carrying a child. Would Erik feel differently if it was Christine carrying his child? Would the doctor be so eager to be rid of the baby if it was his seed? Or perhaps it is just simply that they hate Mr. Hyde...and that makes you a thing to hate as well.

I won't let them do this terrible thing. I will have my child. I will be a good mother. I will try, so very hard...

For now, I had bet put pen and paper away and make my way downstairs. One day upon my very sore back was enough. Though it still pains me.

Mr. Bones, I fear, has gone as mad as the man who put these holes within my throat.

I am with child.

His child...

I've cried. I've pleaded for it not to be so. I've been alternately furious and wrought with grief.

I've felt fleeting surges of a joy I've never known.

I cannot stay...but I tried to leave and I cannot.

I avoided Mrs. Linton last night...even the doctor, for I hate to tell him the finer details. I would seek out Erik, for he...comforts me with his plain talk and his uncompromising eyes...but I dare not risk seeing the others. I can only be a coward for so long before I am dismissed..and not for my condition.

I should go down tonight...after this illness passes. It seems that my stomach will not accept anything...

Sweet Lord...what will I do?

I'm so weary of smiling, holding back how I feel in the presence of the others, only to return to my room to cry. I feel so very, very stupid as of late. So incrediably foolish for taking things as hard as I do. It seems that every ill word, every scolding, every disapproving glance and whisper hurts me terribly. I feel as if I am shaken apart inside, a puzzle that no longer fits together. Whether to feel angry, or resentful, full of regret or unapologetic. And I go from one to the other without warning.

I am, at once, deeply offended by Mrs. Linton's words to me about my relationship with Mr. Hyde and reluctantly understanding. It angers me that she cannot find it within her to even try to understand how I felt about him! To see that he did indeed change toward the end of his time here! To even see that my feelings for him could have possibly gone beyond the fear and unjust hate that she feels! And yet...I also feel very foolish for some of the decisions that I have made, including ever taking up with the man in question. I knew things about him, dreadful things, that should have kept me from him. But...I cannot regret it. I miss him. I will not apologize for feeling as I do, but I will apologize for the way in which I spoke to Mrs. Linton. Though after last night, I do not know how much good it will do. I sent her out a tart, trying to encourage her to eat and to express my regret over our harsh words, only to see her become violently ill a moment later. Perhaps now she will think that I have deliberately tried to make her ill...

And then there is Dr. Jekyll...I all but accused him of murdering Mr. Hyde without any real proof to make such an accusation. Before this, I have had nothing but respect and admiration for the man. It is a mark of how strong me feelings for Mr. Hyde ran that I felt neither of those things for him the night I found the blood and the hat. But I have made the accusation and I cannot simply take back the words. All I can do is apologize and hope that he knows I acted out of pain and grief.

Last night, I finally did apologize...and he would not accept my regret. I feel that he now hates me, along with Mrs. Linton, for the damage that I have may have wrought. Mrs.Linton truly seems the lady of the house and I cannot help but feel that the doctor is some of the glue that holds us together. If they both should be against me, then...I cannot stay.

Not with the suspicions that I now harbor. It seems ridiculous to give credence the words of a man who enjoys wandering about naked, speaking of women as "mates" and speaking of children as offspring, but the unknowmn man has set the thoughts within my head withe the assessing looks he gave me last night.

If it is true, and these bouts of illness and the very recent absense of something I've grown very used to are any indication, then I cannot possibly stay. I would be outcast, shunned, one of those maids that take advantage of their employers' generosity and find themselves compromised and a burden. I hate to think of their faces when they might realize...

No, I won't think of it. I am not certain. Only time will tell. But when the day comes, and I do know...then I will go. I will not be a joke.

I will not be a burden.

Any anger, hurt, or sense of abandonment that I have felt since his leaving without saying goodbye has now vanished, gone forever beneath an even more horrible and hopeless emotion and that is my grief since finding that terrible room, splattered and smeared with blood, its sole familiar occupant a hat that is also stained...

He is not gone.

He is dead.

The cuts on my fingers, palms, and arms are beginning to heal, but bringing a tight, itching pain, so this journal entry will be brief.

I don't know why I take it upon myself to be adventurous when I know it to not be a thing suited to someone of my temperament...or station!...for that matter, but in this one regard, am I glad that I felt the need to enter that maze of hedges. The good doctor and poor Mrs. Linton were stuck inside, both of them cold and with their own injuries from the stinging nettles that tore into my own skin. How did they get lost so within that place? I would have never entered such a maze if it had not been for the fact that it seemed so very odd that the mansion was empty.

Isabella Linton has been returned to us, also a victim of the maze and rescued by the good Sherlock Holmes.

What shall I continue to say about him...

I have never been more cared for in my life, asides from the few occassions that a doctor of this place has treated me...but the detective has a way of making me feel...important, needed. Not like the way that Erik makes me feel necessary to the household...and a very, very great difference from the way in which Mr. Hyde needed me. It is a good sort of need and care...

The stomach ailment that has been troubling me still persists, though not with any great severity. I am certain it will soon pass.

I have found a new friend. He is a better man than most, so very concerned for others, taking little heed for his own welfare, and with a simply given kiss to his weary and troubled brow, I am determined to be a shoulder for him to take his concerns and worries to.

Detective Holmes has ever been polite to me, if a bit nervous when I--indeed any female--is about, but I have never truly gotten the chance to know him. Our interactions have amounted to a broken in door, many biscuits, and some inquiries of my time here. Yet last night I felt that I now know the man perhaps more than any other here, save for Mrs. Linton and the one I am determined not to mention, lest my good spirits be ruined.

Perhaps it was that he was very ill and in need of a gentle, comforting hand, but he spoke to me of a great many personal and private things. So troubled is he...so worried that he will not do his duty by us. And yet he goes to such great lengths to insure our safety! Even the matter of my broken door only proves that he was simply concerned for me.

He needed comfort and I gave it, very willingly. How could I not be entreated by his pale, pained face and eyes that held such vulnerability? I never known a man to look so...needing. And though if someone had come upon us--and indeed someone did!--it might have looked as if we were lovers, but it is nowhere near such a thing. I had forgotten how...pleasant it is to simply be close to another for the sole purpose of simply having the warmth and comfort of anothers hand upon yours, their head on your shoulder, their breath against your face. There was nothing but friendship in our embrace and perhaps a bit of appreciation for each other's company.

He told me that he is much concerned for my safety and that I do not deserve to be put upon so. I may not agree--afterall, it is my station--but it was nice to hear such. He asked me if anyone was there to care for me when I am sick and I answered truthfully--no. And now that his friend has left for a brief hiatus, he is much the same situation. Perhaps he and I can be a comfort to one another. I do find myself, even now, looking forward to the next time that I shall see his face.

...The naked man was in residence again last night. I have not written of him before, so do not be so shocked, journal. Yes, a naked man, as big as you please, strolling about the parlor, eating raw meat and questioning my pies. He is beyond filthy, his smell is horrendous. Yet while the others seem shocked and appalled and I myself attempt to be as discouraging for this kind of behavior, I cannot help but smother a laugh each time he turns away.

I dare to hope that things are changing for the better and that I might actually feel...happy, again. I still miss him and I think that I might always miss him, but at least I know that he is somewhere and I find myself praying that he is safe and content. They never liked him or treated him with any respect. I hope that those outside this place can manage to do so.

After so many days of feeling poorly, I am in much better spirits and body. The exhaustion has seemed to fade, though I do still wake weary, but for the most part, I have so much more energy. I believe that I have scrubbed this entire house from top to bottom in only a handful of days! I realize that some of the guests think it regretable that there is not another to help me, but truly, I enjoy the responsibility.

After many weeks of something close to animosity existing between Erik and I, I think he has finally found that I can be trusted...even liked. He brought me a gift the other evening of tulip bulbs, which I have now planted about the atrium, the house, and even the chapel. I can barely wait till the day that they bloom. I do so hope they do! There grows here nothing but night-blooming flowers and such a fresh face of spring would be a welcome sight. It has already done much to improve my own spirits.

There has been one dark shadow...I think that Catherine's husband, Mr. Linton, has passed. Already, two souls have passed on since our first day here. Mina's fiancee and now the husband of Mrs. Linton. Are those outside these walls dying without us, without even our goodbyes. I have no one beyond this house, not counting the one who has left, but...how it must hurt. To lose another, forever, and be trapped, never able to receive a final sight of their face.

For now, I shall not lose hope or let this sadness overcome my own person. I am going to try my best to be content with my place here and those around me. I do not have to feel wanted, but merely needed is enough.

This entry will the shortest that I have written so far. I just don't have the heart within me to sit here and recount every little, last detail.

It has now been four days since the doctor's return and his explanation to me of the fact that Hyde has left. Three days in which I've barely slept, hardly eaten, and felt simply not a part of this house.

How can I possibly explain to those who ask me if something is the matter? Everyone here hated him, save for me, and I would only grant myself more censure if I do explain.

I cannot say what, exactly, he was to me. I suppose...he was my friend, of sorts and...my escape.

Here, everyone has a someone, for the most part. The Count with his Mina, Mrs. Linton with Heathcliff...and Mr. Gray...and I'm sure the admiration of the doctor. Christine with her Erik. Mrs. L with her Mr. T.

And I had my own gentleman, thought no one knew, who made me forget my loneliness, my weariness, and the months that have steadily passed in this place. He made me feel as if I was perhaps more than merely a person there for convenience, though I'm certain he did not love me. I didn't need love. Only to...know.

And now that piece of comfort is gone and I just don't know what to do any longer to keep myself from feeling low.

I think I may be getting ill as well.

Again I am exhausted, but I know that he will be expecting me to arrive at any minute and, when it comes to Erik it is best not to dawdle.

I have convinced myself, in part, that he and I might have reached a truce of some kind in this little war of ours, which I am certain is no war at all. We have worked tirelessly upon the chapel for two days now and it seems that this project has at least given us some common ground on which to walk.

Amid the spiders, talk of music, and a question of his name, we had, perhaps a moment or two of kind words between us. Kind...perhaps that is not the correct word to use. More it was a brief understanding of one another.

Then, of course, as soon as I thought we might rub along nicely after all, my hopes were dashed. That enormous wolf made an appearance again, proceeded to stick his wet, cold nose where it did not belong, then cause me to take a tumble right onto my bum. How...humiliating! And of course Erik--or whatever he shall be called--had the gall to laugh at me. If I didn't know better, I'd say the wolf laughed as well. It's not a laughing matter! My rear is bruised and sore. I cannot even sit comfortably...

He was a bit chilly after that incident, not even bothering to respond to any attempt to wish him a goodnight. Would it be so hard, for once, to be polite to me?

I'd better be going. He demands that I be there "Earlier" and Earlier he shall have.

I did not want to leave the warmth and comfort of my bed this morning! I have rarely passed a night of such deep and dreamless sleep since I came to this house, save for the nights that he visited, and I wonder if that should mean that I am not working hard enough?

The night before, after my harrowing experience in those damned woods, Erik gave me a draught for a cold that I seemed to have caught. At the time, I thought that he might genuinely be concerned for my welfare. I should have not deceived myself on that point! He wanted me in fit form for the work he set for me last night.

There is a chapel on the grounds, a beautiful, old chapel, and it has surely seen much better days. The inside was a complete and utter mess. Bats, cobwebs, moldy rafters, dust lying several inches thick! Erik was kind enough to provide me with gloves, new cleaning supplies, and most surprising--his assistance. We spent several long hours in the chapel, knocking down cobwebs, wiping up those ominous layers of dust, sweeping out bat droppings. He tells me the bats will return until they realize that we have taken the place for our own.

I am quite shocked, I must confess, that he and I rubbed along quite nicely for a bit, even if the rest of the evening passed in silence broken only by the sounds of our cleaning. He was rude, as usual, but not half as so. And for truly the first time since our worst row, I did not feel threatened. Perhaps there can be peace between us. Or perhaps not. Only time will tell.

In the meantime, I have a dress and apron that needs to be scrubbed in the hottest water imaginable. I do not even want to recount how many times I washed my hair last night.

I hate Erik...

I know it is wrong to hate another--and there are times I can honestly hear Father Mullohand's voice in my head when I think such things--but I hate the man.  He seems to derive such pleasure from tormenting me!  There is not a thing I can do right in his eyes and I do not think that I deserve such censure or such treatment on his part.  I've done nothing to the man.  He has even refused my requests for assistance with a simple alteration to my room, and I thought to flatter him by asking!  He is the handiest that I've seen with such things, but no...he flat refused.  I took it upon myself to install the servant's bells outside my room so that I can hear should someone ring for me in the night.  I very much doubt that it will happen, but never the less...

What bothers me the most is this show of false and mocking concern for my person.  "You value your rest, don't you?"  Yes, I value my rest, but I am here to be of service and if I was remiss in my duties, then I'd hear about that from him!  It seems that I am damned if I do, and damned if I do not in his eyes.  

The other night...it was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak.  I merely asked him where I should leave a basket of food for Dr. Jekyll and he then proceeded to nearly convince me that I'd starved the poor doctor and Mr. Hyde to death!  It is a good thing that I had not been near any knives or I fear I would have done him an injury.

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Only a few moments ago, I returned to the corridor to see if the basket had been taken and indeed it had.  And--thank God!--there is a letter attached from the doctor himself, thanking me.  He is alive--perhaps not well--but he is trying to overcome the disease.  The relief was...in a word--sweet.  

There...was also a letter attached from Mr. Hyde.  It's contents I shall not divulge, even in this diary.  Needless to say...well...there is little to say...

Ah, and there's the Father's voice in my head again...intoning upon sin and damnation.  I don't believe my Bible would be a suitable hiding place for his letter.  Best to keep it in a drawer.   

And now I cannot stop smiling.  Oh, please let no one ring for me now.

It has been sometime since I have last written and I have to admit that I have as of late been unwilling to put my feelings down upon paper. But I cannot ignore the need to record my thoughts any longer.

So much has happened recently that surely I would use this entire little book to put it all down, so I will only remark upon the things that have had some true significance.

I have been a victim of the bloodloss. After so long of hearing of others in the household suffering from it, I had truly begun to think that perhaps, as a mere servant, I wasn't important enough to be...dined upon. Now I read that and I realize how very foolish it appears, but I am less and less inclined to believe that it is a bat that is attacking others. Would we not see a bat? It is an unusual animal, to be sure, and the flap of wings, the sinking of fangs into our throats would surely be noticed! And it makes little sense that if a person was commiting this, we would notice it even more so, but...what if our minds are being wiped clean? I haven't brought this up to any other. Only two in the mansion know that I have been bitten: Erik and myself, and I strongly believe that I will not tell any others. It's far too confusing to think about...

Erik continues to hate me, for no apparent reason. He has expressed that he doesn't wish to be bothered, but how do I truly bother him?! I bring him tea, I have done his bidding on occasion...so how am I such a nuisance to him? I am beginning to believe that everyone is a nuisance to that man, truly. I am loathed to admit...that I quite lost my composure with him one night: the very same night that I was bitten. He inspected my wounds, then proceeded to ask me if I knew of someone who could replace me should I "expire". The utter complete lack of tact, decency, and basic kindness that that man possesses astounds me! I cannot believe how absolutely cruel he can be. I just...well...I simply exploded on the spot. I've tried to keep my temper at bay, but unfortunately I was unable to any longer. I called him a bastard and told him to rot in one of those coffins. Oh Good God...I cannot believe I said such a thing to someone!

I must be a truly dreadful creature for the fact that I am even now laughing about it. If I were to be completely honest with myself...I would say that it felt good!

One last thing must be written about and that is the fact that the house seems to be coming to life on its own. It has taken me some time to wrap my mind about that, but...after the other night I cannot really dispute it. The doors locked on their own, the walls shifted, made a horrific groaning noise, the very foundations seemed to tremble. Then the doors once again flew open and the poor detective was knocked unconcious. He did, however, seem to be quite invigorated by some cookies...

If this house truly is beginning to act on its own, then whatever freedom that we have had before now seems to be severely threatened. What if we can't leave? What if those stores, that just seem to magically appear, are prevented from arriving? Will we all starve?

It's getting on in the morning and I should really be getting dressed and getting onto things.

I have not written in some time...it seems that life here at the mansion has diminished somewhat and I can only assume that there must be some illness spreading about that has caused the guests to stay abed rather than come down.   As of late, the only faces that I have seen have been that of the Count, Miss Murray, and Mr. Heathcliff.  I have heard that Catherine has been abed as well...and there is that masked man, the one called Erik.  But I shall write of him in a bit.

I enjoyed a lovely moonlit walk in the gardens with Miss Murray the other night.  I have to admit that I have needed to see another face besides my own in the mirror and it was so very good to see her.  But our discussion was weighted with the grief that...her fiancee has passed.  To find out that such a young man has been taken, far too early in his life, is dreadful to hear.  Dear Mina...she tried so very hard not to let her pain show, but I know she is grieved.  She spoke with animation and we had a bit of fun over the night-blooming flowers that grow here, but she has changed.  I can see it in her eyes.  

The Count came upon us and joined us for a bit.   He is the kindest of gentlemen!  When Mina decided to travel to the stables, presumably to check upon a horse, he was so very considerate of her safety and hurried back to her side--after escorting me to the parlor doors, of course.  It is so very good to see a gentleman so concerned over a lady such as her.  She needs, right now, the attentions that he can give her.  

I miss Mr. Hyde.  I am so very lonely right now...I have become used to the attentions of a gentleman myself, and even if he is not perfect and not the most well-liked of men...he makes me happy.  Is that so very foolish?  I just must keep my mouth shut on certain topics.

Perhaps my loneliness was reason for how very hurt I was later in the evening.  Erik was at the piano, playing, and I came to the fire to warm myself.  He promptly shut the screen, cutting off light and warmth.  I shouldn't of questioned him...I would have been far better off if I hadn't.  But I cannot understand why the man hates me so!  He has been cold to me since the night he helped me after...sustaining my injuries.   He has told me never to talk to Christine again and I cannot understand why!  He wouldn't answer, only told me that he did as he did to get me to leave.

So, I did.  Later in the evening, when he was with the Count--and glaring horribly at one another, and surely my eyes deceived me on the light in their eyes!--and I attempted to be polite and serve him tea, he wouldn't let me do so, but took my wrist in hand and pushed me aside, upon the other side of the piano.  Then he said, to the Count, that none had been within the room.  I felt so very small then.  So very small and insignificant.  Perhaps he did so to "get me to leave" or perhaps to simply put me in my place.  Either way, it has done the trick.  I went to the kitchen and cried like a simpleton.  

Very well.  I simply won't serve him tea any longer.  If my presence so disgusts him, then I will keep my distance.

I miss him terribly.

Nothing is as it was. Everything here has changed now and the beliefs, ideas, things, and people that I once was able to depend upon to be a certain way are...no longer that way. I truly don't know how else to put it.

There have been some incidents over the last days that I could recount, but it seems that everything truly came to a head the night before last.

Mr. Renfield was, once again, terrifying the ladies with his disgusting eating habits and I'm most shocked to say that I fainted. I never faint. There have been far too many times, in both my time before this place and after that fainting would have been a blessed release. Witnessing that murder, being at the mercy of Mr. Hyde, that terrible looking monster that has terrorized us...and I chose to give in to that most dreadful of feminine tendencies at the sight of a headless rat! There are far more terrible things than a dead rat!

It is afterward that I gathered the ladies together in the kitchen for tea and female companionship that I realized I truly am the mother hen of this group. I feel, at times, that I am their age, most of them being under the age of twenty, but at twenty-five and having led a far more servatory life than they have, I feel much the elder. I was comforting their tears, their worries and realized...who will comfort me? Usually, in the typical household, the lower maids see the housekeeper as their confidant. I am the housekeeper and the only other servant is an older woman, but Mrs. Lovett! I couldn't take comfort from that woman if I wanted to. And I most certainly wouldn't want to.

We spoke among us, about what to do with Mr. Renfield and his tendency to destroy any peace that we have, but the only suggestion that my mind could create was one so terribly shocking...that I am afraid Mrs. Linton now has even more reason to suspect me of any manner of wrong-doing and circumspect behavior. Poisoning, murder...these are thoughts that would have never entered my head only days ago now seem to be almost..viable solutions in my head. It is the environment of this place. It is...changing me in ways that I never thought possible.

Later, Mrs. Lovett upset me to the point that, after her threatening me bodily harm, I found myself entertaining thoughts completely unsuitable. But--God! Even now, more than a night afterward, my hand is shaking in my fury--the woman had the gall to tell me that my place was to clean and clean only and I am not to cook and not to serve the guests. I am doing what I have been hired to do and nothing more! How dare that awful cow tell me what I can and cannot do, especially when her cooking is nothing short of atrocious! I was so enraged, I stormed to the woods and screamed my fool head off. I can't say that I've ever been driven to such a thing before.

I also found out some...things...about Edward that I never wanted to discover, but which do comfort me in some small way. Not to mention the fact that I laughed like I've never laughed before in my life! And yet...it put a place of doubt inside me that perhaps I was nothing more to him than some kind of amusement before he went on to what he truly wanted. And that stayed with me for the rest of the night until I sought my own bed.

Perhaps the most disconcerting facet of the evening was my conversations with Mr. Hyde. The man, whom before I had hated with a passion, was now standing up for me to Mrs. Lovett, and defending my cooking and my position in the house. He was polite, if crude, and humorous, if a bit cruelly so at times. We shared a riotous--and completely unsuitable laugh--before the conversation changed tones completely. The man was flirting with me, hinting at activities that I had--at that time--no knowledge about. Sparking my curiousity, much to my shame at the time. I suppose he must have seen such, as he advised me to lock my door. That particular order started a bit of a banter between us, I denying my curiousity and assuring him I'd lock my door and he continuing to give me this smile that said he knew a great deal more about me than I'd admit to.

I went to bed, thoroughly confused and torn over my feelings, new feelings, that had surfaced throughout the entire evening. I dreamed about Mrs. Lovett murdering me, Renfield giggling, Mr. Hyde with that knowing smile.

And I was so very distracted that...I forgot to lock my door.

Everything has changed.

Including me.

I have not written in sometime...

Every night it seems I have fallen into bed, absolutely exhausted and unable to record my thoughts here.

Much has happened and yet I don't feel as if I can possibly put it all upon paper. At least not now. Only one thing dominates my thoughts as of right now...

Edward Rochester is married.

Married! Married to Bertha, the madwoman, the one that I risked this..."price" with the masked one to bring safely back to him. No, I should not put it that way. I do not regret bringing him his wife. She is, afterall, his wife and the poor woman needs proper care. But it doesn't change the fact that he's married! His life, his love, his fidelity has been promised to another! And yes, of course I realize that most married men of wealth and distinction often taken mistresses and tumble the maids...but I thought he was...different. I realize now how foolish I was in that assumption. I barely knew him; how did I believe that he could be so very different. I am a low-class servant, he a privaledged man of some consequence. But the fact remains that I thought I meant something to him beyond...

I won't think of what I must have meant to him. I can only thank God that I did not let myself be carried away by my stupidly romantic heart and do something I would have regretted.

**************************************

There's been a recent bout of violence and destruction about the mansion. There's a "monster" loose, though to me it appears he's a very, very large man with...who looks like a quilt. As if he has been patched together. He has so far destroyed the parlor, part of the staircase and now, twice, the kitchen. Our Musician, who I still dare not call Erik, even though I have heard that is his name, tirelessly repairs the damage each time. And speaking of that man, I seemed to have shocked him the other night by simply giving him a teacup...

Amid the attacks upon our household, there's been more incidents of the guests' throats being bitten. I thought that it had to be Mr. Renfield, after witnessing him at Edward's throat prior to our...discussion...but the doctor, Dr. Jekyll that is, assures me that this is not the case and it is related to something wholly supernatural in nature.

I've often thought this place must be haunted, possessed, or something beyond our understanding.

And if this is the case...will we ever be able to be free of it...or each other?

So very much has happened that I surely cannot recount it all. And right now, with my ribs bound the way they are under my nightshift, I do not even feel up to writing...

But my head is so very full right now and I must get some of these churning thoughts onto paper.

How is it possible to have both the most wonderful and the most terrible night of one's life...on the same night? I fear that that is exactly what took place yesterday evening.

I've told what I know of Mr. Hyde and my connection to him. And to, of all people, Mrs. Linton. What possessed me to do such a thing, I do not know. But she wouldn't let the subject rest and...I couldn't help but feel that, since she has been attacked by him, that her claims that she had the right to know were very true...A horrible dread rested upon me for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening after my confession. It was relieved only by one bright spot...

After worrying over the delicate Miss Lucy, but irrationally hurt over Edward's cold treatment of me, I finished cleaning the ballroom--and what a beautiful and so very interesting place it is!--then passed by the library. Someone was within, nearly destroying the place and I found Edward...in such a horrible state. We spoke, briefly, and when I discovered he fell asleep there, in that cold room, I brought him blankets and pillows. How could I do anything else? My feelings for him have grown and to the point that I worry for him...

But to my embarassment, he woke.

I won't go into what happened afterward...my virtue is intact, but certainly not my heart. For once I have a thread of hope that I might not always be a servant...

But the rest of the evening was something out of a nightmare.

I found Dr. Jekyll in the ballroom and for several moments we had a pleasant conversation. Until I told him what I had done. It was after that that the evening became so very dreadful. I don't know if I've shed more tears in one night. For myself, for Dr. Jekyll who is dying and so very needs the assistant that I have condemned with my words, for both of us, caught in this...

Then the doctor had an attack and I ran for water. Returning was my mistake. Did the doctor, in his weakened state survive who came into that room next? It was Mr. Hyde who waited for me when I returned.

Again, I will not go into what happened, as punishment for my wagging tongue and my own selfish desire to not be harmed. What stupidity! Would I wear a horrible bruise on my face, a gash in my mouth and bindings on my ribs if I had kept silent? Most certainly not.

And my greater fears...Has he hurt Mrs. Linton? Did the doctor pay as well? I have seen neither of them since the kind Count Dracula returned me to my room after finding me in the cellars.

I'm so tired...so exhausted from the affects of the drugs that my rescuer gave me.

My rescuer. I have omitted him until now because it still seems impossible that the man I have feared and hated was only stopped from forcing himself on me by the other man in this household who has held fear and threats of my life over me. He was very kind, if cool. He could have left me there to be used, but instead he took me and nursed my wounds.

And yet something worries me at the back of my mind that I have, somehow, betrayed him as well. I can't remember. I only have vague memories of the Count leading me to my room and then the drug took affect again and I was nearly unconcious with exhaustion.

Perhaps I'm being paranoid again.

It wouldn't surprise me. And yet...I think I've learned to heed my inner warnings.

I saw Miss Mina last evening, but I could not seem to will myself to apologize to her. It's not that I do not believe I have something to apologize for, but rather that I'm afraid she might not grant me forgiveness. How do I explain to her my connection to Mr. Hyde without confessing that I witnessed that man murder another?

I cannot. It is that simple.

I'm afraid that I took the coward's way out last night and made myself scarce. The masked man, Erik, cornered me once again in the kitchen and warned that he would come for me later...What task did he have for me this time? Was I to go to that underground hideaway of his to care for some unknown person? Rather than stay and wait for him...I ran to my room and hid there for the remainder of the night. I can only hope my absence will not be punished. I fear I might lose this post which I so desperately need...

What started out as a perfectly lovely evening has absolutely dissolved into a frustrating mess and I cannot recall a time when my temper was more sorely tried.

I finally had an night free of both duty and Mrs. Lovett. Miss Mina and her dear friend Miss Lucy had the idea of a tea party for the ladies--and the gentlemen who would be brave enough to risk so much feminine talk--and all was going quite well until he appeared...

Mr. Hyde.

I could have ignored him, I suppose, and I tried to, but then he began making the most lewd, inappropriate comments toward Miss Lucy and Miss Mina and I promptly took Miss L off to the kitchen. I am not certain what happened afterward, but...

I don't feel as if I can honestly sit here and recount it all, I am still that upset. And strangely enough, not all with Mr. Hyde. The assumptions that he has come to would have been relieved if I could have simply spoke to him, regardless of the danger!

I swear...I've said nothing.

But couldn't they have listened?! If only Miss Mina--a wonderful friend, truly--and Mr. Holmes--a gentleman in who I can find nothing ill--would have simply let Mr. Hyde and I have our chat, if I can even call that would-be conversation that, then I wouldn't be burdened down now with this terrible fear. Or lying abed with my lovely guards. Though their concern does make me feel as if I am more than the lowly maid that I know I am.

Now, the next time he accosts me, it will be even worse. He will blame me for this hunt which now makes him seem all the more criminal and remembering that white-haired man's broken body...I fear I won't come out as well had he simply been able to interrogate me the first time!

It's over and done with...

And now I know, through the household seeing Mr. Hyde's zeal to corner me, that they suspect a connection between he and I, outside of this house. I'd heard whispers of a less than proper relationship between us...Dear God, I'll lose what reputation I have!

I'm going to try to rest now, that I am alone and in my room...though the door refuses to lock properly.

Poor Mr. Holmes.

It should be added that both Mrs. Linton and Dr. Jekyll were in tears last night, in their windows. Perhaps I should think little of my own problems when those of others could be...so much greater.