The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. IV: Only in America
by Lady Norbert
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Jessica, my best friend in the entire world, with much love.
30 March 1900
In anticipation of our impending arrival in Washington, D.C., where we should be disembarking sometime tomorrow afternoon, I have done some reading about the city. I confess I've always had a lingering curiosity about America, and perhaps now some of that curiosity will be satiated.
The design for the city was drawn up a little more than a century ago by Major Pierre L'Enfant. The first American President, George Washington, announced that a tract of land had been specially set aside by Congress (which is like the American version of the Houses of Parliament, as I understand it) for the creation of a national capital city. It is roughly diamond-shaped and stretches between the Potomac River and the Eastern Branch River. Major L'Enfant had become friends with President Washington during the Revolutionary War, and he was given the honour of designing the new city. His plan included wide streets to be lined with trees, one named after each state in the United States, and he intended there to be statues and memorials erected to prominent and worthy citizens. Two immense buildings were to be the main focus of the city, from which these streets would branch off; these were the home of Congress and the Executive Mansion, which I am told they call the "White House."
I grant you that it is white, but the name seems a little obvious.
The current President, William McKinley, is overseeing a new movement within the city to devise a system of parks. This is supposed to be part of America's observation of the city's hundredth birthday, but it is as yet incomplete.
It is to President McKinley that Tom will be reporting while the rest of us are sightseeing on the afternoon of 2 April. We will continue to use the Nautilus for our lodging, keeping it docked securely in the depths of the Potomac; when we leave the city for Missouri, the submarine will return to sea until we come back.
1 April 1900
Washington is beautiful!
It is, to be sure, a very busy, bustling city. But so many white buildings, so many trees, and ever so much to see and explore - will a week be long enough?
It was past teatime when we reached the city; indeed, the sun was well on its way down, so we had little opportunity for more than a bird's-eye view from the upper levels of the deck. Tomorrow following luncheon, Tom will report to the Secret Service and the President, while the rest of us tour the city in hansom cabs. He will join us for sightseeing the day after, and we can actually visit some of the buildings over the course of a few days. I am much interested to see their so-called Library of Congress, said to be one of the largest libraries in the world, and also a museum called the Smithsonian, which is said to be like no other.
2 April 1900
Up close, Washington is even lovelier.
After Tom departed for his meeting, the rest of us boarded a pair of hansom cabs. The Jekylls and I rode in one, Nemo and Skinner in the second, and in this fashion we toured the streets of the city. Many of the buildings are magnificent, particularly those faced in marble, such as the Capitol Building (where Congress meets) and the White House.
We did not stop much, but one building which we did pause to visit was the memorial to George Washington, which is an obelisk of granite and marble standing more than five hundred feet tall. Fortunately, it is equipped with a lift, so we were spared the exertion of climbing the hundreds of stairs to the little room at the top. From there, four windows allow you to view this remarkable city in all directions, and the scenery is extraordinary.
Tom rejoined us in time for the evening meal. Apparently, the President and the head of the Secret Service are satisfied with his report and his accomplishments of the past year. From what he told us, he did tell them about visiting Egypt and meeting Dr. Howard Carter, but wisely left out all references to the vampire encounter. Of Machu Picchu he said nothing, in accordance with our decision to keep the discovery quiet. He remains an agent of the Secret Service, but by and large he is free to pursue his own plans.
3 April 1900
Today we visited "the castle," as some people refer to the Smithsonian Museum. What a beautiful building that is! In this city of white structures, it stands out, being made of red-hued sandstone. It really does look like a castle. It was named after an English scientist, James Smithson; he was a son of the Duke of Northumberland who willed his entire fortune to the United States. It was his wish that they use his money to create "an establishment for the increase and diffusion of Knowledge among men." They have certainly done well by his bequest.
I would write more, but I am frightfully tired.
5 April 1900
There has been little enough time, or energy on my part, to write of all we have been seeing and doing. Yesterday we visited the United States Capitol building. It is a marvellous, magnificent structure, though it looks almost nothing today as it did when it was first built. It has been reconstructed on a number of occasions, such as when the British soldiers set fire to it during the War of 1812. Another, later fire cost them several thousand books held in their library, which was part of the reason for the construction of a separate home for the Library of Congress.
But the Capitol itself is quite fine. One wing holds the part of Congress called the House of Representatives, and the other wing holds what is called the Senate. (Unlike our Houses of Lords and Commons, there seems to be little difference between these two bodies of legislature in terms of political or noble standing.) In the middle, where the two wings are joined, there is a great marble dome. Flights of elegant stairs run up and down the outside of the building, and people from all around the world swarm over the stairs every day.
Today we did no sightseeing, as it has rained throughout the afternoon. Tomorrow, however, we have a real treat in store for us; we are going to tour the White House!
6 April 1900
It is early; we have only just finished breakfast. We shall soon leave for the White House, but I wanted to take a moment to note something terrible which has happened.
It would seem that England's own "Bertie," our jolly Prince of Wales, is visiting the country of Belgium. Yesterday, in the city of Brussels, a young man attempted to assassinate our future King! He claimed he did it because of what has been happening in South Africa. He fired twice on the Prince, but we may praise God that both shots missed their target. I am given to understand that the Prince is quite well and the would-be assassin is in the hands of the authorities.
later
Oh, how can things have gone so dreadfully wrong! And after so many enjoyable days in this lovely city, too. I must start at the beginning, however, and write down all I can remember, for it may be of use.
We arrived at the White House and joined the parade of people who were lining up to go through the North Entrance. It was still rather early, so we did not have to wait terribly long. Just inside we viewed the exquisite stained glass curtain, designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany, which separates the entranceway from what is known as the Cross Hall.
I do not remember in which order we visited the rooms. Would that I could recall! It might be important! But I will describe what rooms I can remember.
Many of the public rooms in the White House, much like the structure itself, are known simply by their dominant colour. One of the prettiest, in my estimation, was the Blue Room. President Chester Arthur was married in this room, in 1886. Another is the Red Room, one of several which were redecorated by Louis Tiffany. It stands out in my mind for the wonderful cherry mantel and the ceiling, patterned in gold and copper stars.
But the State Dining Room, which was our last stop on the tour, I can see most clearly in my mind. This too was redone by Tiffany, who painted the walls in different shades of yellow and highlighted these with silver tones. The walls alone are exceptional. In this dining room is a mahogany table, which - when not being used for formal dinners - is laid out with a portion of a stunning silverware collection. The gilt silver was purchased from France in 1817 by President James Monroe.
Our visitors group consisted not only of myself and my friends, but a small handful of other people and, of course, our tour guide. The guide was a young man, perhaps two or three years older than myself, and in between his lectures in the different rooms he fell into a habit of walking and talking with me. I, personally, found this tolerably amusing (though a certain other gentleman was less amused), and I saw no harm in chatting with him when he was not doing his specific duty. His name was Richard, and after each of his little speeches he invited us to view whichever room we occupied at our leisure, during which he would walk around and point out little details and specific items. He was well-mannered and full of interesting information, so I was actually rather enjoying his company, even if we were not introduced in an entirely proper way.
After our visit to the State Dining Room, Nemo caught my eye and beckoned me to where the League was collecting in the hallway just beyond the door. We had a quick discussion about our plans for luncheon, and Skinner excused himself for a few minutes - "to powder my nose," as he so delicately put it. Once he rejoined us, we followed the group back to the entrance hallway and prepared to leave by the North Entrance.
Suddenly, there were security guards swarming everywhere, and no one could enter or leave the building. I was quite flustered; Tom pulled one of the guards aside, showed him his badge, and inquired as to what was happening. The group which entered the State Dining Room after ours had made the appalling discovery that some pieces were missing from President Monroe's gilt silverware collection! The set was there in its entirety when we visited the room, so the natural assumption was that someone in our group must have been the perpetrator. We were ushered into an unused chamber for questioning.
This, in and of itself, was bad enough. But one of the guards then appeared with a clue in his hands, something which had been discovered at the scene of the crime. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what had been found, and when he placed it on the table for all to view, I could feel the blood draining from my face.
It was a handkerchief. A white handkerchief, made of fine Egyptian linen and embroidered, in green thread, with the letters R. S.
I knew it well. Those were my stitches.
I stared at the handkerchief, then glanced around at my friends. I quickly realized that none of the others had been aware of my gift to Skinner at Christmas - the handkerchiefs had been concealed inside the glove box of Father's which I had also given him. Only Skinner and I knew it for what it was. I met his eyes and, though of course I could not see them, I knew they must have reflected my own alarm.
"Whose is it?" demanded the guard.
I opened my mouth, ready to claim it, but he was too fast for me. "It's mine," he said hoarsely. "I must have dropped it."
I could not say, for certain, exactly what happened next. There was a great flurry of activity all around me, but it seemed like I understood none of it. My ears were ringing and I could hear nothing; I was seeing, but not comprehending what I saw. Only when I realized that the guards were taking him from the room did I fully understand what had just happened.
Skinner has been placed under arrest.
Believing that they had their man, the guards allowed the rest of us to leave. Tom went with the ones who had actually taken him into custody, which made me feel marginally better; at least he was not alone. Nemo steered the rest of us into a carriage and we returned to the Nautilus. No one spoke until we were safe in the stateroom, staring at the luncheon which had been prepared for us. I couldn't even think of touching food just then.
Henry broke the silence. "What do we do now?"
"We must wait," said Nemo, simply. "That is really all we can do, I'm afraid."
"But...what will happen to him?" I asked, in a voice that tried very hard to stay calm.
"He will get a taste of the American justice system, which Tom prizes so highly," Nemo replied. "If it is as just as he claims it to be, and if Skinner is innocent, then he will surely be set free."
"What - what do you mean, if he is innocent?" I looked around at them. "Surely you don't think he really did this!"
They all looked slightly uncomfortable. "I don't know," said Henry with a sigh. "I really don't know what to think."
"Me neither," said Tom, coming into the room and sitting down.
"What news?" asked Mina.
"It doesn't look too good. It's all circumstantial, of course. That handkerchief's a bit damning. It doesn't help that he disappeared on us for a couple minutes just before the theft was discovered. And if he's got a record in England that they manage to hear about, it's really not going to help." He shook his head. "He's clean, though. The silver wasn't on him. And he keeps saying he didn't do it."
"Of course he didn't!" I all but snapped. Tom looked at me seriously.
"You think so?" he asked.
"Don't you?"
"I - like Henry said, I'm not sure what to think." He too looked uncomfortable. "He's our friend, but...he is a thief."
I stood up. I could not believe what I was hearing. "As you say, Tom," I said, bristling, "he is our friend. What reason do we have not to trust him?"
"Elizabeth," said Mina, mildly, "we don't mistrust him. But have you considered the possibility? I think your...affection...for Skinner has you a bit blinded to what he is capable of doing."
She and I stared at each other across the table. Her expression was calm, slightly curious; I can't imagine how mine looked. "Of all the people in this room, Mina," I said in a firmly controlled tone, "I would have thought you would understand."
There was silence, and I instantly regretted the words. "I beg your pardon, Henry," I added, more humbly. "I meant no offence, to you or to Edward."
"None taken," he replied. They were all looking at me with faces I could not read. Only now, as I write the scene in this diary, do I realize what they must have been thinking. Without actually saying it, I had made it very plain to them all just how much I esteem him.
Well, that cannot be helped now. Still, I do feel a bit of an idiot.