The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering
by Lady Norbert
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4 November 1899
We are, as I intimated previously, now sailing out of the Mediterranean region and making our way to England. We will visit London for a few days to purchase necessities for the wedding and for Christmas. Mina will be handling the majority of the wedding details, as is the bride's prerogative; for my part, I have been placed nominally in charge of the Christmas arrangements. The gentlemen seem to feel this is a task best suited to the fair sex, and as there are only two of us (and one is a bit busy), there were few candidates. Nemo is financing all of the decorations as, he says, his gift to the bride and groom, and has urged me to purchase whatever I feel is necessary to the occasion.
Skinner's disposition is much improved since his impromptu bath in the storm. The information regarding the invisibility serum has been procured from the German scientists, though when Henry and Mina will actually start working on the cure is uncertain; they are, after all, very naturally preoccupied these days. I think Skinner was a bit concerned that I might divulge his real concerns to the others, but I of course would do no such thing, and he seems to have realized that I've kept my silence.
I seem to have picked up a mild cold from having gone out after him in the rain; it's nothing serious, but my head does ache a fair bit and I'm wheezing just slightly. A day or so of rest and hot tea should set me right again without difficulty.
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7 November 1899
It's taken me a bit longer to throw off the cold than I anticipated, but I'm quite well now. Tomorrow I am going to finally make use of the key Nemo gave me, and begin sorting through my father's possessions. I am rather nervous about the project, in truth, for I really haven't the first idea what to do with half of what I'm about to find.
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8 November 1899
What a surprisingly painful day...where do I begin?
I found any manner of excuses to put off actually entering Father's room until after luncheon. Over the midday meal I mentioned to Nemo that I would be in there, and asked him to have someone come and fetch me for tea. After we adjourned from luncheon, I made my way to the appropriate corridor and unlocked the door.
The rooms were meticulously neat, of course. That didn't surprise me; Father was ever fond of order. I wasn't certain where I should actually start, so I went to the bathing area, which seemed safest. The usual toilet articles were there -- his shaving supplies and so forth. I'd forgotten what a handsome shaving set he possessed; the handles of the brush and razor are sterling silver, the case fine leather.
My first real pang came when I began to sift through his wardrobe. The clothes still smelled of him. I have few memories of Father from my childhood, but the smell of him is something that stays with me. Whether it's a memory, or the memory of a dream, or simply something I invented on my own I have never been sure, but I have a brief image in my mind of being a very small girl, seated on his lap and starting to fall asleep; he smells in the memory as he did in life, of outdoors and Scotch and the faintest smell of gunpowder. I really don't know what to do with his garments -- obviously they're of no use to me. Except for one or two items of particular sentimental value, I believe I will box up the majority and deliver them to one of the local charities when we reach London.
Next I opened the large trunk at the foot of his bed. I remembered this steamer trunk well, for it went with him everywhere he travelled. It contained a fair number of books, a supply of gunpowder and bullets, and -- I lifted it out of the trunk in surprise -- Matilda, the elephant gun. Tom told me that he had given Father a modified Winchester like his own, which Father had then taken to using. I stared at Matilda as though I could not believe what I was seeing. Surely I could not just toss away something which had been so important to him; Matilda had been like an extension of Father's own arm.
And that was when it struck me. I will present my -- our -- friends with items of Father's for Christmas. They were his friends before they were mine, and they remember him fondly, so I think it will be very meaningful for them to receive personal keepsakes of his. Matilda, of course, will go to Tom; I decided that straight away.
Now I had a mission, which was to find suitable gifts for the others among his possessions. I spent the next few hours going through boxes and chests, sorting out what to keep and what to give away and what will go to charity. I found his portable secretary, a handsome wooden case containing pens, inkstands, postage, and other manner of writing implements; I have a similar one of my own, so this one I shall give to Henry. There is an elegant mahogany glove box with silver inlay which I will give to Skinner, with his handkerchiefs inside. I believe I will give Nemo his pocket watch, which was a birthday gift to Father from Harry; he stopped carrying it on his person after Harry died, but always kept it polished and in finest working order. Mina, naturally, was the most difficult one for whom to find a gift, and I ultimately removed all the articles from a small, many-drawered chest on his dressing table; I do not know where he acquired such an interesting jewel-case. I call it that for that is how he used it -- for the storage of cufflinks, button-holes, and other amenities one would not normally associate with rough-and-ready Allan Quatermain. Father was a far cry from a dandy, but I suppose even he needed to keep such items on hand for the occasional wedding or other formal event. The little chest seems to be made of ebony, the drawers lined in red velvet, and I believe Mina will like it.
I hope they all like their gifts.
Having settled on presents for each of the League members, I set to work going through his desk. This was where I really came undone. Most things in the desk were unremarkable -- blank papers, a personal address directory, and the like. But in the bottom-most drawer I found a box, much like one would use to hold cigars. Inside was a small pile of photographs.
The top photograph was of Harry, as he appeared in the months just prior to his death. Beneath this was a wedding portrait of my parents, which I had never before seen. I stared at my mother's face in wonder; her features were similar to my own, though in colouring I more closely resemble Father. This was painful enough, to look upon my parents as they once were, but further heartache was to come. The third photograph was of myself, in infancy, most likely commissioned by Aunt Adelaide and sent to Father; I recognized her handwriting on the back of the photograph. Elizabeth Grace Quatermain, April 1880, aged seven months.
And then there was the fourth picture.
It was like looking at the memory of which I wrote in a previous paragraph, the one I am never quite certain is truly a memory. I was perhaps six years old, no more than seven, and Father was holding me on his knee. Harry sat beside us on the davenport, a young man in his late teens. I have no recollection of this photograph ever being taken. Father looks handsome: younger, partially bearded, and with an expression of pride and fondness on his face the like of which I rarely ever saw. One hand he had pressed to Harry's shoulder; the other was secure around my waist, holding me close.
Tears had been threatening throughout the afternoon, as I saw this book or that object I remembered from his life. But the sight of this photograph was more than I could bear, and I could no longer hold them back. I crossed to the dressing-table to retrieve a handkerchief from the drawer, and into this I began to weep in earnest.
Unfortunately, after only a moment or so of crying, I heard a tap at the open door and someone stepped into the room. I was unable to stop weeping swiftly enough to avoid being observed, and my face was still hidden in the handkerchief when I heard him speak. "Bessie?"
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Is it tea time already?"
"Yeah...you all right, love?"
"I'm fine. I just need a moment."
Skinner hesitated, as though trying to decide what to say. "Really, I'm all right. I'll be down in just a moment." I gave him a watery smile, still wiping my face.
He nodded. "See you in a bit, then." I really think he was unsure what to make of the situation, but bless him, he gave me the privacy I desired. I heard him walking down the corridor, though a bit slower than usual.
I left the room, locking it as I went, and returned to my own quarters to wash my face and smooth my hair. Once I was satisfied that I looked presentable and not at all upset, I made my way to join the others for tea. No one seemed to think anything was the least bit amiss; Skinner alone gave me a querying look as I sat down. I smiled at him again, grateful that he had clearly not mentioned my outburst to anyone. Mina then engaged me in a conversation about, of all things, wedding attire, and tea time passed without incident.
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9 November 1899
I believe I am still amazed at what transpired today. But I should start at the beginning.
Today I returned to Father's room to begin packing of such articles as I intend to dispense to charity. I spoke with Nemo over breakfast, who sent two of his men to collect a number of suitable cartons in which to put the items; I went to the room and unlocked it, and they left these on the floor for me to use as needed. As I was just opening the wardrobe to begin, I heard knocking.
"Thought I'd come and see if you needed a hand," said Skinner. "Got nothing planned for today, so maybe I could be useful."
I think he really wanted to make sure I was going to be all right, and that I wouldn't be alone if I started weeping again. This was, in my estimation, incredibly sweet of him; but I was not about to embarrass either of us by acknowledging his intentions. "If you wouldn't mind, that would be lovely," I said. "I don't need help so much, but I'm always glad of your company."
He grinned. "Just tell me where you want me."
"Open that box for me. I'll start folding the clothes, you put them in the cartons."
We didn't speak much for the next hour or so, being industrious. But that's an odd thing about my friendship with Skinner; as much as I enjoy conversing with him, and as often as we have sat deep in discussion about this or that, we have just as often sat very comfortably in perfect silence. It seems a little peculiar, I admit, but it's very liberating to have a friend who is content to simply be near you.
We filled one carton with shirts, another with pants, and a third with undergarments and shoes. "The boxes can just stay in here until we reach London," I said. "Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."
I took the articles I had cleared from the small drawered chest (the one I've earmarked for Mina) and transferred them to the glove box I plan to give Skinner, and in this surreptitious manner took his present to my room. I returned with some more cartons, smaller than those holding the clothes, and into these we slowly began to pack the personal items I intended to keep. I found I could now look upon the photographs of my family without tearing up, and these I showed to Skinner,
"You look like your mum," he said. "I can't believe Allan was ever that young."
"Neither can I," I admitted. "When Harry died I was still a girl; it seemed like Father aged overnight."
I opened the steamer trunk in order to remove Matilda, as well as the gunpowder and shells, and put them in yet another carton with the other Christmas gifts. I examined the titles of the few books which were in the trunk, decided to keep two for myself, and set the others aside for the ship library. There were a few maps in there as well, and some documents in an unfamiliar language which I thought I would discuss with Nemo.
There was a knock at the door. We both looked up to see Jaya, the first mate, bearing a large tray.
"Pardon the intrusion, Missee Sahib Quatermain," he said. "The Captain thought you might be ready for your luncheon and asked me to deliver this to you and Mr. Skinner." He set the heavy tray on the desk; it held sliced meats and cheeses, rolls, fruit, and a flagon of cold tea. "He thought you would rather remain at your task rather than join the others." I thanked him and asked him to thank Nemo as well, and we took chairs on either side of the desk and fell to eating.
The luncheon was just what we needed, and I returned to the tasks at hand with renewed vigour. I finished emptying the steamer trunk and studied it critically. "This was my grandfather's trunk," I said. "I think I'll take it to my room...I rather want to keep it. It's not very deep, but I can make use of the space."
"Looks deep," Skinner mused. He was still at the desk, popping the last few grapes in his mouth; he swallowed these and came over to examine the trunk. "Hang on..." He looked inside, then at the exterior and back again. "This isn't right. The trunk's deeper on the outside than on the inside." He dropped to his knees and started searching the interior. "It's got a false bottom, or I'm not the world's ultimate thief."
I knelt beside him and watched, fascinated, as he started working with the base of the trunk. It appeared seamless to me, and I thought he was really mistaken. Suddenly there was a popping noise, and the entire bottom of the trunk was lifted out and set aside. We stared.
Beneath the false bottom of the trunk was...money. There was also a small fireproof box, which opened to reveal documents and a bank passbook, and a letter from a banker in London which verified the contents of an account. I took everything and carried it to the bed, where I spread it out to examine more closely. The pound notes were bundled in stacks of fifty; they totalled six hundred pounds Sterling. According to the letter from the bank clerk, the London account holds a further ten thousand pounds. It would appear that the Quatermain legacy is marginally intact.
In the space of ten minutes, I went from being penniless and dependent on the goodwill of my father's friends to...well, I'm not exactly wealthy -- not like Father had been -- but I am comfortably well off. I am no wizard at matters financial, of course, but as I understand it, I will never need to worry about money for the rest of my life.
"Skinner...please go get Nemo." The shadow at my elbow vanished at once.
I will not bore myself, nor any other possible reader, by recounting the entire conversation Nemo and I had about the fortune. Suffice it to say that he assured me of his assistance in managing my windfall, and refused my offer of some of the money to repay him for his kindnesses. "It is yours entirely, Elizabeth, as I have no doubt Allan intended."
"You're sitting pretty now, Bess," said Skinner. "You don't even have to stay on the sub anymore." He seemed a bit subdued, although that may have been my imagination.
I looked at Nemo, who nodded. "That is true. You are now in a position to leave us, if such is your desire."
"I...no! I would much rather stay -- that is, if you'll permit it?"
Skinner grinned openly, and Nemo chuckled. "Of course. There is always room for a Quatermain aboard my vessel."
After he left, I turned to Skinner. "I don't know what to say."
"Well, that makes two of us. Quite a day you're having, eh?"
"And if it weren't for you, I'd never have found it. I'd have that trunk in my room and there'd be a small fortune buried under my summer clothing." I shook my head. I wanted very much to thank him somehow, but I feared I might offend him if I offered him some of the money. "You always are there when I need you, Rodney, even if I don't know that I need you."
He looked rather gratified by that little speech, though neither of us said anything further on the subject. I gathered up all the documents and bills, returning the paperwork to the little fireproof box, and put it back in the trunk. We put the false bottom in its place and closed the lid. "It'll have to do until I can figure out a better idea," I said briskly. We each took one of the handles at either end and, with only a bit of difficulty, transported it to my room.
We finished sorting through Father's belongings for the rest of the afternoon, without any further extraordinary discoveries. Before joining the others for tea, I collected Father's elegant shaving kit from his bathing area. "I really don't have any need for this, Skinner," I said. "And it's too nice to just give away to strangers. Can you make use of it?"
I kept my tone as cavalier as possible. Though I would have preferred to be honest, and tell him I wanted him to have it as thanks for all his help, I feared I might make him uncomfortable. By acting as though he would be doing me a favour by accepting the gift, it made it far easier for him to agree gracefully. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes, please take it."
"Well, all right, as you can't use it. Thanks, Bessie." We made our way to the stateroom to join the others, and tell them my news.
by Lady Norbert
4 November 1899
We are, as I intimated previously, now sailing out of the Mediterranean region and making our way to England. We will visit London for a few days to purchase necessities for the wedding and for Christmas. Mina will be handling the majority of the wedding details, as is the bride's prerogative; for my part, I have been placed nominally in charge of the Christmas arrangements. The gentlemen seem to feel this is a task best suited to the fair sex, and as there are only two of us (and one is a bit busy), there were few candidates. Nemo is financing all of the decorations as, he says, his gift to the bride and groom, and has urged me to purchase whatever I feel is necessary to the occasion.
Skinner's disposition is much improved since his impromptu bath in the storm. The information regarding the invisibility serum has been procured from the German scientists, though when Henry and Mina will actually start working on the cure is uncertain; they are, after all, very naturally preoccupied these days. I think Skinner was a bit concerned that I might divulge his real concerns to the others, but I of course would do no such thing, and he seems to have realized that I've kept my silence.
I seem to have picked up a mild cold from having gone out after him in the rain; it's nothing serious, but my head does ache a fair bit and I'm wheezing just slightly. A day or so of rest and hot tea should set me right again without difficulty.
7 November 1899
It's taken me a bit longer to throw off the cold than I anticipated, but I'm quite well now. Tomorrow I am going to finally make use of the key Nemo gave me, and begin sorting through my father's possessions. I am rather nervous about the project, in truth, for I really haven't the first idea what to do with half of what I'm about to find.
8 November 1899
What a surprisingly painful day...where do I begin?
I found any manner of excuses to put off actually entering Father's room until after luncheon. Over the midday meal I mentioned to Nemo that I would be in there, and asked him to have someone come and fetch me for tea. After we adjourned from luncheon, I made my way to the appropriate corridor and unlocked the door.
The rooms were meticulously neat, of course. That didn't surprise me; Father was ever fond of order. I wasn't certain where I should actually start, so I went to the bathing area, which seemed safest. The usual toilet articles were there -- his shaving supplies and so forth. I'd forgotten what a handsome shaving set he possessed; the handles of the brush and razor are sterling silver, the case fine leather.
My first real pang came when I began to sift through his wardrobe. The clothes still smelled of him. I have few memories of Father from my childhood, but the smell of him is something that stays with me. Whether it's a memory, or the memory of a dream, or simply something I invented on my own I have never been sure, but I have a brief image in my mind of being a very small girl, seated on his lap and starting to fall asleep; he smells in the memory as he did in life, of outdoors and Scotch and the faintest smell of gunpowder. I really don't know what to do with his garments -- obviously they're of no use to me. Except for one or two items of particular sentimental value, I believe I will box up the majority and deliver them to one of the local charities when we reach London.
Next I opened the large trunk at the foot of his bed. I remembered this steamer trunk well, for it went with him everywhere he travelled. It contained a fair number of books, a supply of gunpowder and bullets, and -- I lifted it out of the trunk in surprise -- Matilda, the elephant gun. Tom told me that he had given Father a modified Winchester like his own, which Father had then taken to using. I stared at Matilda as though I could not believe what I was seeing. Surely I could not just toss away something which had been so important to him; Matilda had been like an extension of Father's own arm.
And that was when it struck me. I will present my -- our -- friends with items of Father's for Christmas. They were his friends before they were mine, and they remember him fondly, so I think it will be very meaningful for them to receive personal keepsakes of his. Matilda, of course, will go to Tom; I decided that straight away.
Now I had a mission, which was to find suitable gifts for the others among his possessions. I spent the next few hours going through boxes and chests, sorting out what to keep and what to give away and what will go to charity. I found his portable secretary, a handsome wooden case containing pens, inkstands, postage, and other manner of writing implements; I have a similar one of my own, so this one I shall give to Henry. There is an elegant mahogany glove box with silver inlay which I will give to Skinner, with his handkerchiefs inside. I believe I will give Nemo his pocket watch, which was a birthday gift to Father from Harry; he stopped carrying it on his person after Harry died, but always kept it polished and in finest working order. Mina, naturally, was the most difficult one for whom to find a gift, and I ultimately removed all the articles from a small, many-drawered chest on his dressing table; I do not know where he acquired such an interesting jewel-case. I call it that for that is how he used it -- for the storage of cufflinks, button-holes, and other amenities one would not normally associate with rough-and-ready Allan Quatermain. Father was a far cry from a dandy, but I suppose even he needed to keep such items on hand for the occasional wedding or other formal event. The little chest seems to be made of ebony, the drawers lined in red velvet, and I believe Mina will like it.
I hope they all like their gifts.
Having settled on presents for each of the League members, I set to work going through his desk. This was where I really came undone. Most things in the desk were unremarkable -- blank papers, a personal address directory, and the like. But in the bottom-most drawer I found a box, much like one would use to hold cigars. Inside was a small pile of photographs.
The top photograph was of Harry, as he appeared in the months just prior to his death. Beneath this was a wedding portrait of my parents, which I had never before seen. I stared at my mother's face in wonder; her features were similar to my own, though in colouring I more closely resemble Father. This was painful enough, to look upon my parents as they once were, but further heartache was to come. The third photograph was of myself, in infancy, most likely commissioned by Aunt Adelaide and sent to Father; I recognized her handwriting on the back of the photograph. Elizabeth Grace Quatermain, April 1880, aged seven months.
And then there was the fourth picture.
It was like looking at the memory of which I wrote in a previous paragraph, the one I am never quite certain is truly a memory. I was perhaps six years old, no more than seven, and Father was holding me on his knee. Harry sat beside us on the davenport, a young man in his late teens. I have no recollection of this photograph ever being taken. Father looks handsome: younger, partially bearded, and with an expression of pride and fondness on his face the like of which I rarely ever saw. One hand he had pressed to Harry's shoulder; the other was secure around my waist, holding me close.
Tears had been threatening throughout the afternoon, as I saw this book or that object I remembered from his life. But the sight of this photograph was more than I could bear, and I could no longer hold them back. I crossed to the dressing-table to retrieve a handkerchief from the drawer, and into this I began to weep in earnest.
Unfortunately, after only a moment or so of crying, I heard a tap at the open door and someone stepped into the room. I was unable to stop weeping swiftly enough to avoid being observed, and my face was still hidden in the handkerchief when I heard him speak. "Bessie?"
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Is it tea time already?"
"Yeah...you all right, love?"
"I'm fine. I just need a moment."
Skinner hesitated, as though trying to decide what to say. "Really, I'm all right. I'll be down in just a moment." I gave him a watery smile, still wiping my face.
He nodded. "See you in a bit, then." I really think he was unsure what to make of the situation, but bless him, he gave me the privacy I desired. I heard him walking down the corridor, though a bit slower than usual.
I left the room, locking it as I went, and returned to my own quarters to wash my face and smooth my hair. Once I was satisfied that I looked presentable and not at all upset, I made my way to join the others for tea. No one seemed to think anything was the least bit amiss; Skinner alone gave me a querying look as I sat down. I smiled at him again, grateful that he had clearly not mentioned my outburst to anyone. Mina then engaged me in a conversation about, of all things, wedding attire, and tea time passed without incident.
9 November 1899
I believe I am still amazed at what transpired today. But I should start at the beginning.
Today I returned to Father's room to begin packing of such articles as I intend to dispense to charity. I spoke with Nemo over breakfast, who sent two of his men to collect a number of suitable cartons in which to put the items; I went to the room and unlocked it, and they left these on the floor for me to use as needed. As I was just opening the wardrobe to begin, I heard knocking.
"Thought I'd come and see if you needed a hand," said Skinner. "Got nothing planned for today, so maybe I could be useful."
I think he really wanted to make sure I was going to be all right, and that I wouldn't be alone if I started weeping again. This was, in my estimation, incredibly sweet of him; but I was not about to embarrass either of us by acknowledging his intentions. "If you wouldn't mind, that would be lovely," I said. "I don't need help so much, but I'm always glad of your company."
He grinned. "Just tell me where you want me."
"Open that box for me. I'll start folding the clothes, you put them in the cartons."
We didn't speak much for the next hour or so, being industrious. But that's an odd thing about my friendship with Skinner; as much as I enjoy conversing with him, and as often as we have sat deep in discussion about this or that, we have just as often sat very comfortably in perfect silence. It seems a little peculiar, I admit, but it's very liberating to have a friend who is content to simply be near you.
We filled one carton with shirts, another with pants, and a third with undergarments and shoes. "The boxes can just stay in here until we reach London," I said. "Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."
I took the articles I had cleared from the small drawered chest (the one I've earmarked for Mina) and transferred them to the glove box I plan to give Skinner, and in this surreptitious manner took his present to my room. I returned with some more cartons, smaller than those holding the clothes, and into these we slowly began to pack the personal items I intended to keep. I found I could now look upon the photographs of my family without tearing up, and these I showed to Skinner,
"You look like your mum," he said. "I can't believe Allan was ever that young."
"Neither can I," I admitted. "When Harry died I was still a girl; it seemed like Father aged overnight."
I opened the steamer trunk in order to remove Matilda, as well as the gunpowder and shells, and put them in yet another carton with the other Christmas gifts. I examined the titles of the few books which were in the trunk, decided to keep two for myself, and set the others aside for the ship library. There were a few maps in there as well, and some documents in an unfamiliar language which I thought I would discuss with Nemo.
There was a knock at the door. We both looked up to see Jaya, the first mate, bearing a large tray.
"Pardon the intrusion, Missee Sahib Quatermain," he said. "The Captain thought you might be ready for your luncheon and asked me to deliver this to you and Mr. Skinner." He set the heavy tray on the desk; it held sliced meats and cheeses, rolls, fruit, and a flagon of cold tea. "He thought you would rather remain at your task rather than join the others." I thanked him and asked him to thank Nemo as well, and we took chairs on either side of the desk and fell to eating.
The luncheon was just what we needed, and I returned to the tasks at hand with renewed vigour. I finished emptying the steamer trunk and studied it critically. "This was my grandfather's trunk," I said. "I think I'll take it to my room...I rather want to keep it. It's not very deep, but I can make use of the space."
"Looks deep," Skinner mused. He was still at the desk, popping the last few grapes in his mouth; he swallowed these and came over to examine the trunk. "Hang on..." He looked inside, then at the exterior and back again. "This isn't right. The trunk's deeper on the outside than on the inside." He dropped to his knees and started searching the interior. "It's got a false bottom, or I'm not the world's ultimate thief."
I knelt beside him and watched, fascinated, as he started working with the base of the trunk. It appeared seamless to me, and I thought he was really mistaken. Suddenly there was a popping noise, and the entire bottom of the trunk was lifted out and set aside. We stared.
Beneath the false bottom of the trunk was...money. There was also a small fireproof box, which opened to reveal documents and a bank passbook, and a letter from a banker in London which verified the contents of an account. I took everything and carried it to the bed, where I spread it out to examine more closely. The pound notes were bundled in stacks of fifty; they totalled six hundred pounds Sterling. According to the letter from the bank clerk, the London account holds a further ten thousand pounds. It would appear that the Quatermain legacy is marginally intact.
In the space of ten minutes, I went from being penniless and dependent on the goodwill of my father's friends to...well, I'm not exactly wealthy -- not like Father had been -- but I am comfortably well off. I am no wizard at matters financial, of course, but as I understand it, I will never need to worry about money for the rest of my life.
"Skinner...please go get Nemo." The shadow at my elbow vanished at once.
I will not bore myself, nor any other possible reader, by recounting the entire conversation Nemo and I had about the fortune. Suffice it to say that he assured me of his assistance in managing my windfall, and refused my offer of some of the money to repay him for his kindnesses. "It is yours entirely, Elizabeth, as I have no doubt Allan intended."
"You're sitting pretty now, Bess," said Skinner. "You don't even have to stay on the sub anymore." He seemed a bit subdued, although that may have been my imagination.
I looked at Nemo, who nodded. "That is true. You are now in a position to leave us, if such is your desire."
"I...no! I would much rather stay -- that is, if you'll permit it?"
Skinner grinned openly, and Nemo chuckled. "Of course. There is always room for a Quatermain aboard my vessel."
After he left, I turned to Skinner. "I don't know what to say."
"Well, that makes two of us. Quite a day you're having, eh?"
"And if it weren't for you, I'd never have found it. I'd have that trunk in my room and there'd be a small fortune buried under my summer clothing." I shook my head. I wanted very much to thank him somehow, but I feared I might offend him if I offered him some of the money. "You always are there when I need you, Rodney, even if I don't know that I need you."
He looked rather gratified by that little speech, though neither of us said anything further on the subject. I gathered up all the documents and bills, returning the paperwork to the little fireproof box, and put it back in the trunk. We put the false bottom in its place and closed the lid. "It'll have to do until I can figure out a better idea," I said briskly. We each took one of the handles at either end and, with only a bit of difficulty, transported it to my room.
We finished sorting through Father's belongings for the rest of the afternoon, without any further extraordinary discoveries. Before joining the others for tea, I collected Father's elegant shaving kit from his bathing area. "I really don't have any need for this, Skinner," I said. "And it's too nice to just give away to strangers. Can you make use of it?"
I kept my tone as cavalier as possible. Though I would have preferred to be honest, and tell him I wanted him to have it as thanks for all his help, I feared I might make him uncomfortable. By acting as though he would be doing me a favour by accepting the gift, it made it far easier for him to agree gracefully. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes, please take it."
"Well, all right, as you can't use it. Thanks, Bessie." We made our way to the stateroom to join the others, and tell them my news.