The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. IV: Only in America
by Lady Norbert

A/N: This chapter's dedicated to Kame, one of the fan artists who sent me some lovely pictures, and who helped me with Elizabeth's dream in the library.

13 April 1900

Nearly everything is ready for our journey west to Missouri. We will travel by rail and then closed carriage to the town of St. Petersburg, where Tom spent his childhood. Except for the funeral of his friend Huck, he has not been home in a good two years, so we will indulge him by remaining there for about a month.

We leave tomorrow for our trip through the American countryside. Ever since Greece, I confess a rather strong fondness for travelling by train, and I am looking forward to the excursion.

14 April 1900

Well, that was a curious dream. I suppose that's what I get for reading Shakespeare until I fall asleep.

I dozed off in the library - this much I know. My friends and I, in this odd dream, went to a masquerade. We were very much amused by one another's costumes. Henry was dressed as a pirate called Long John Silver; Mina was a Greek goddess (Aphrodite, I believe); Nemo was a character from an Indian legend, whose name I knew in the dream but cannot now recall. Tom was a knight in shining armour, which I thought appropriate for his disposition. I'm not quite certain of it now, but I think I was supposed to be Queen Elizabeth, though in her younger days when she was merely a princess. It made sense at the time, but most things do in dreams. Skinner was dressed as - well, I don't know exactly what he was. Some kind of cavalier, with a long black cloak and matching black mask; he carried a rapier and looked exceedingly elegant.

The masquerade was huge, and we were soon separated by the massive crowd. It was an outdoor affair, at Kensington Gardens back in England. I remember dancing with a great many faceless gentlemen, all of whom rather unnerved me. Then there came a very energetic reel-style dance (though not any reel I recognize), and one rather clumsy pair collided with myself and my partner. I fell to the ground with a twisted ankle or some such nonsense, and my most ungentlemanly partner disappeared. The dancing went on around me as if I were not there, and I felt somewhat in danger of being trampled Fortunately, at that moment, I heard the swishing of a cape as someone swept over and picked me up off the ground. I could not see his face, either, but this did not disturb me as it had with my faceless dance partners. I put my arms round his neck and rested my head on his shoulder; I could hear his pulse accelerate slightly as he carried me away from the dancers.

When I awoke I was in my own bed, still dressed, with a light blanket covering me. How I got there from the library, I do not know...though I could guess.

I am growing quite ridiculous, honestly.

16 April 1900

We are on the train heading west, and I confess the American countryside is really beautiful. There are many green fields and thick, dense forests, and yet also many farms and growing cities and settlements. Tom tells me that the country is very different from one end to the other, and I am inclined to believe him. It is also a country of incredible size, for how young it really is. The whole of England could fit three times over in the state of Texas alone!

The journey to Missouri will take about two more days, time we will pass in reading, in card games, or in good conversation. We are accompanied by just eight of Nemo's men; Jaya and the others have taken the Nautilus back out to sea, and will rendezvous with us in Washington when we return.

Tom seems eager to be returning to St. Petersburg; the closer we get, the more boyishly excited his expression becomes. His cousin Mary is expected to greet us when the train reaches the station, and I believe he is looking forward to seeing her again. His half-brother Sidney and his family have relocated to California, so we will not be meeting them.

21 April 1900

So this is St. Petersburg! A bustling, jolly little community, on the whole, and delighted to have their native son home again. We arrived here on the eighteenth, but I have not had the time to write before this.

Tom let out an amusing whoop when he got off the train, and straightaway a young woman on the platform began to laugh. This was his cousin, Mary, with whom Tom had grown up and of whom he is dearly fond.

"How do, cousin!" he called, all but vaulting across the station to sweep her into a great hug. As we joined them, he introduced us each in turn, and she likewise introduced us to her husband Matthew. Tom had never met this cousin-in-law, having already left to join the Secret Service when their marriage took place, but he seems to approve of the gentleman and appeared thoroughly delighted to learn that Mary is expected to give birth to her first child in the new year.

Mary and Matthew will not be remaining in St. Petersburg during our visit; they live some miles north of the town, and made the journey just to greet Tom and see us all settled. We are staying at a charming hotel run by the Singers, a pleasant elderly couple. Tom's kin stayed over our first night and departed the next morning for their home, but not without urging Tom to refrain from being a stranger in future.

Already we have met a great many of the town's more prominent residents, who have turned out in droves to see the famous Tom Sawyer. Among these are the Reverend Miller, of St. Michael's church, whom I quite like, and deputy mayor Benjamin Everett, whom I do not.

I feel a bit regretful to write such a thing, but it is the plain truth. There is something about this gentleman which makes me slightly uneasy, and I am not solely referring to the fact that he rarely goes anywhere without at least one of a number of larger, stronger men acting as his bodyguard. The actual mayor of St. Petersburg is presently in the city of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, accompanying his wife to a family funeral, and will probably not return until after we have departed; for this reason, Deputy Mayor Everett is acting in his stead and was chief among the welcomers on our first day here. They having anticipated our arrival, a lovely banquet was arranged in Tom's honour at the Singers', and it was just before this that we met Mr. Everett. He was introduced to Tom by one of the men who remembered him from his youth, and then Tom introduced each of us.

His eyes lingered on Skinner, who stood beside me; I expect he, and many others, were a bit taken aback by Rodney's odd appearance. Then he turned to me and learned my name. If he recognized "Quatermain," he gave no sign, but when we made to enter the hotel for the meal, he offered me his arm and I felt obliged to take it. Since that time he has been nothing but considerate and solicitous of me, and in perfect truth, this bothers me a great deal.

I could not say precisely why it bothers me. Mr. Everett has very polished manners; his appearance is not unpleasant, being fully as tall as Tom with thick brown hair and eyes to match. Perhaps it is merely that I am unaccustomed to receiving such singular attention from a man outside of the League - oh, very well, let me be frank. I am unused to this much attention from anyone, except Skinner, from whom I welcome it!

He does not seem to trust Mr. Everett, not at all. Whether this is anything along the lines of jealousy, I could not say, but it is very plain that he is uncomfortable with how often we find the deputy mayor in our company. None of us can quite bring ourselves to be rude enough to tell him to go away and leave us in peace for awhile, and so we have found ourselves enduring his presence during at least one meal of every day thus far. As I have said, he is well-mannered in nearly all respects, so it is hard to object to his company. Still, I am certain that Skinner does not care for him, whatever the reason, and that alone is sufficient reason for me to be slightly suspicious.

23 April 1900

Today I accompanied Tom to the town cemetery, where we paid a visit to the graves of his parents, his Aunt Polly, and Huckleberry Finn. They are all buried in the same row; when Huck was killed, Tom insisted on burying him in the family plot, saying that he had practically been his brother.

When I had occasion to visit my mother's grave, I was never in the habit of addressing her as one would address a living person, but that's precisely what Tom did. He actually introduced me to the four of them, and paid me the honour of explaining that I was as much like his sister as Huck had been like his brother. "So don't go gettin' any romantic notions there, Aunt Polly," he added. I wasn't really certain if I was supposed to say anything, so for the largest part I kept quiet. I had brought flowers, as I did when I visited Mother in London, and these I distributed among the four graves.

"Saw Mary," he told them. "Well, guess you know she's expecting. Her husband seems real nice. Everyone sure looks happy that I came home, isn't that funny?" He put his hands in his pockets.

"Well, you probably know everything I've been doing. Been a crazy year, and painful sometimes, but I'm happy. I'm enjoying my life." Tom seemed to have forgotten I was there. "It's like I've got a family again. Not that I don't still miss you folks, because I do. I hope you're proud of me." His tone was wistful; he suddenly looked much younger than twenty-one.

When he had finished talking to his loved ones, he turned to me. "Let's go back," he said quietly. I gave a respectful nod to the four graves, and we walked out of the cemetery.

"They are, you know," I told him quietly.

"What?"

"Proud of you. I'm sure of it."

He didn't answer, but I saw him smile. I took his arm, and we made our way back to the hotel for tea.