The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. IV: Only in America
by Lady Norbert
A/N: Okay, you know how much you loved me after that last chapter? That's about how much you're going to hate me after this one. I'm sorry, that's how the story goes!
This chapter is dedicated to Lynn, a/k/a settiai, with thanks for the League of Extraordinary Fanfiction.
3 May 1900
I am a little embarrassed to note this, but I slept through breakfast today. Fortunately, I was not the only one. Not unlike the day after Christmas, we were feeling a bit deflated after the excitement of the ball. I left the rose in a glass of water on my nightstand, half wondering if he would mention it. I doubted it, however, as it is simply not his way.
In fact, he was not even at the luncheon table when I arrived. He joined us perhaps half an hour later, looking at once nervous and immensely pleased about something.
"Where've you been?" asked Tom.
"Had an errand to run." For some reason, this seemed to make perfect sense to Tom; apparently to Henry as well, for he glanced at Mina and gave a very small nod. She smiled at him. Whether Nemo was in on the scheme as well I could not say, for he was diverted just then by a question from one of his officers.
After the meal, Tom took me aside. "I wondered," he said, "if you'd care to call on Becky with me. She rather liked you, and she's a bit lonely with her husband out of town, so I said I'd bring you to visit her if you were willing."
"Whenever you like."
"Would now be all right?
We spent the next few hours in Becky's front parlour, and the pair of them seemed to have truly renewed their friendship. Her name is Becky Phillips now, since her marriage, and she admitted freely that she had intended to wait for Tom to come back. "But when I met Edward, everything just happened so fast. I never meant to hurt you, Tom dear."
"Ah, it's all right," he said affably. "If you hadn't married him, I wouldn't have left to join the League, and my life wouldn't be what it is now." He winked at me.
We regaled Becky with some of our exploits of the past year. I am not entirely certain she believed everything we told her, and quite honestly, I could not blame her for having doubts. Invisible assassins, vampires, stone statues that came to life - no sane person would accept such stories without question. In any event, however, she seemed to find it all extremely entertaining.
We left her at about half past three, she thanking us for the amusement and we thanking her for the hospitality. I like her a great deal. We came back here and are about to join the others for tea.
later
This may well be considered the worst night of my life - so far, at any rate. If all goes as planned, there will be far worse to come. Ben Everett just left us, and I feel completely alone in the world.
Mr. Everett came to see me just after teatime, which I felt was just as well; I wanted to tell him the truth, about how I liked him but could not encourage him further, as my heart is not in it. He escorted me into a back parlour of the hotel, where we were thoroughly undisturbed, partly because he left one of his "bodyguards" stationed just outside the door. (I am starting to understand why he takes them with him so often.)
"Now, my dear Miss Quatermain," he said pleasantly, "I think the time has come for me to tell you that I'm quite familiar with your father's exploits."
I lifted my eyebrows at this news, but said nothing. That was hardly surprising, after all. Father penned his memoirs about a number of adventures and they were fairly well read.
"I wanted to ask you," he went on, "whether he ever told you anything about the location of King Solomon's mine. Did he never return?"
"No," I replied, now puzzled. "He never went back to the mine, nor did he ever say anything to me about how to reach it."
"Is there no record of such information? You see, I'm rather eager to see it for myself."
"As I understand it, the mine caved in," I replied. "Whether there is anything left to be seen I could not say. As to the route, if there is such a notation, it would be in his papers, which are back on Nemo's submarine. I have no knowledge of the matter myself; I've not come across any mention, though I admit I haven't read all of his notes."
"Is there no way to investigate it?" He was still smiling, but there was something hard in his eyes. His demeanour was rather disquieting.
"Not without returning to the Nautilus itself, which is presently submerged somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean." It afforded me a curious sense of satisfaction to be able to say that. "And Nemo has made it plain that no one is permitted aboard the vessel save the members of our party."
"Which excludes me, I presume. But there's a way around that, surely." The smile appeared glued to his face, and without further preamble, he dropped to one knee. "Elizabeth Quatermain, will you marry me?"
"What?" I was sure I was hearing him wrongly.
"With you as my bride, who would question my right to follow in my father-in-law's footsteps? We can uncover the mine together and be richer than kings." I could swear there was a hint of mania growing in his expression, and I was becoming more and more alarmed, though I strove to conceal it.
"Mr. Everett, I thank you for your...flattering courtesy," I said coolly. "But I'm afraid I must decline." I hesitated, then added, "My affections are already engaged elsewhere."
He seemed not the least disturbed by this, and I quickly learned why. "Oh, I know. And who can blame you? He's a countryman, older, more experienced in the ways of the world...not to mention that he's bound to be the only invisible man in existence."
Now I was truly concerned - how on earth had he discovered the truth? A note of menace had begun to creep into his voice. He went on, "It must be a difficult sort of life, don't you think? After all, if anything goes amiss around him, he's bound to be blamed for it. Think of all the crimes for which he could be framed - burglaries, even murders."
There is no possible way Everett (he is not worthy of the courteous "Mr.") can know about Skinner's life of larceny before joining the League. Nor can he know about the misadventure in Washington prior to our arrival in Missouri. This was cold comfort, however, for then he said something that brought my heart into my mouth. "Imagine, for instance, that one of your other friends - Sawyer, perhaps - died tonight in his bed! What a strange and terrible tragedy! And how swift the forces of justice would be to act. Why, Mr. Skinner would probably have an appointment with the gallows before the week was out."
"You wouldn't dare," I whispered.
"Would you care to try me, Elizabeth? Do you really think I would object to sacrificing a few bodies on the way to Solomon's mine?" The smile was gone, but the hint of mania was stronger than ever. "But it doesn't have to be that way, you know. It's entirely up to you."
We stared at each other. "What do you want?" I asked finally.
"Marry me. This week, before your friends plan to go back to the submarine, so I can journey as one of them. I'll handle the rest." He caught my chin in his hand, squeezing painfully. "And not a word out of you, mind. No one in town will believe you. You say one word to any of those freaks, and I'll have Sawyer choked in his sleep. You can imagine what will happen then."
I have seen a look such as was on his face only once before in my life. Sebastian de Gaulle, the madman who claimed he was my illegitimate half-brother, wore a very similar expression during our one and only meeting. Then, as now, I had to act to save two precious lives. Everett, like de Gaulle, was threatening Tom, my "almost-brother," and Rodney - the dearest person to me in the entire world. I would walk through fire for either of them. I put a bullet in de Gaulle's head to save their lives; had I possessed the means, I would have done the same to Everett.
But I could not. And he frightens me at least as much as de Gaulle ever did - more, really, because I have known him for these few weeks. I thought him charming; I never would have guessed him dangerous! Is he really capable of what he claims? If I were to tell the others, would he know of it? Could he really have Tom killed? I do not know the answer to any of these questions, but the possibility terrifies me. He is threatening two lives I hold dearer than my own, and it is a risk I am not willing to take. Moreover, I am all too well aware that it is, indeed, very easy to blame Skinner for crimes he did not commit - and Tom would not be here to solve the mystery this time.
If I am to save my loved ones, my options are few. So I did the only thing I could do: I agreed to his terms.
May God have mercy on me, I agreed to be his wife.
4 May 1900
I think I may still be in shock.
The wedding is to take place six days from now, on Monday. I must wear this mask of happiness for six whole days. But what then?
The looks of astonishment I received from the League when we made the announcement last night were well-deserved. Mina and Henry exchanged thoroughly bewildered glances; Nemo frowned; and Tom seemed almost angry. Rodney said absolutely nothing - he looked like a stone statue. I could scarcely stand to even look at him, I thought my heart would break. I did my best to appear happy about the impending marriage, but perhaps I am not good enough an actress to completely fool them. If I can intimate to them that all is not right, without actually telling them, they may be able to somehow stop this madness. I cling to that hope with every ounce of strength I possess.
The hardest part of all was when I, acting under Everett's orders, gave them the further news that we would only be returning to the Nautilus with them long enough to collect the remainder of my belongings. I am to quit their company entirely after my marriage; Everett does not wish to share whatever treasure can be found in Solomon's mine, and moreover, he means to remove me from the presence of the only people in the world who care enough about me to stop him. I got around it as neatly as I could, explaining that I really wished to settle down and lead a normal sort of life, and that as dear as they all are to me, I can never have that with them. I hope I managed to phrase this in a way that gave no offence.
I should also mention in passing that I rather loathe the engagement ring Everett forced upon me. Two very small diamonds flank an equally small pearl on the band. The ring is half a size too large for my hands and keeps slipping around; I am forced to wrap embroidery thread around the band just to make it fit. Like everything else about this marriage, it suits me not at all.
He did, at least, go through the proper motions of asking Nemo for his permission to marry me; he must have remembered my telling him that Nemo is more or less my guardian. Nemo glanced at me, and said, in his stoic way, "If Elizabeth has accepted the proposal, then I shall of course not be of the mind to stop you. She is as a daughter to me, but she is in control of her own destiny."
Oh, sweet Nemo. He could not know, of course he could not know, that I have never been less in control of my own destiny than I am right now.
The moment Everett left our company, I excused myself to come back up to my room, and allowed myself to give in to the storm of weeping that had been threatening all along.
5 May 1900
It is a great thing asked of me, in some respects. I am pretending to be a happy bride. Today I am to go and purchase a suitable dress for the wedding ceremony; were this a normal wedding, I should wear my mother's gown, which is back in my quarters on the Nautilus. But in my heart and my soul, I am not now and never will be married to Ben Everett. It is a false marriage, and therefore I am content to wear some other dress. Indeed, even if I had Mother's gown here I would not wear it - I would not dishonour the true bonds of love and matrimony which it represents by wearing it to such a wedding as this.
Mina should be knocking at the door presently. As my matron-of-honour, she's accompanying me on the shopping trip and will be helping me to dress the day of the wedding; Nemo is giving me away, as my father is not here to do it. The ceremony is scheduled to begin at one in the afternoon on Monday. I suppose I should enjoy what remains of my freedom until then, though I could do that much easier if someone were here with me.
But he is not. He has barely said three words to me since I told them all about my engagement. I have badly hurt him - at least, if my previous suspicions about him had any sort of foundation, then I imagine I have hurt him grievously. It may be that I was completely mistaken in that presumption, of course; but I know my own heart, and I thought I knew his. Indeed, I have been entertaining the hope that I did know his, and that his love would induce him to fight for me, to save me from my fate. Now it would seem he cares nothing for me at all, and this only increases my pain. But I would rather have him alive and free and hating me than hanged by his neck for a murder he didn't commit.