The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. IV: Only in America
by Lady Norbert
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to loyal reader and fellow writer Crystal Nox, who borrowed Elizabeth for a few segments in her songfic "Fiction Unleashed." Thanks for the compliment. :)
6 May 1900
Ghastly proceedings, these. I've just returned from St. Michael's church with my "betrothed," where he engaged the services of Reverend Miller. Also, Sunday night there's to be some sort of formal engagement dinner downstairs, in the hotel's main dining room. Several of the town's more important personages are expected to come and dine with my friends and me.
7 May 1900
Tom is growing suspicious, not least of my apparent lack of knowledge or concern for Rodney's injured feelings. (If he only knew.) More than once he attempted to draw me into private conversation this afternoon, but we were constantly interrupted. I am grateful for the suspicion, as it may lead to a happier result than what presently lies in view, but I am fearful that my tongue may slip and bring about the fulfillment of Everett's menace.
My thoughts are constantly in the past. I may drive myself mad before this is all over, but I keep recollecting many memories of the last several months. How many times he placed himself in mortal danger to protect me...how he makes me laugh...the careless affection and bluff kindnesses I have known from him...the many times we have sat, deep in conversation or in companionable silence. I want to weep, and frequently do. Quite apart from all the fear and anxiety, I miss Rodney terribly. I feel like part of myself has gone away and may never return, even when he is only across the room.
8 May 1900
I have just finished having my dress altered. It is pretty enough for the purpose: a simple gown of white muslin, with lace trimmings and pearl beading on the sleeves and neckline. I will wear a hat covered in silk roses, to which a short veil is attached. (Were this really my wedding, and I cared for such things, I would have orange blossoms on my hair as is the custom; but I see no need to go to such expense for this pantomime.) The dress and hat constitute my "something new;" for "something old" I have my mother's pearl necklace; Mina is lending me a pair of gloves for "something borrowed;" and my "something blue" is a sapphire brooch, my birthstone. I will not have a lucky sixpence in my shoe, as tradition dictates, but this parody of a marriage has nothing to commend it to luck.
When I am not out dealing with the details of the wedding, I spend a great deal of time shut in my room. It is far easier this way; if I am not facing my friends, then I do not have to lie to them. I cry a great deal, and when I am not weeping, I try to distract myself in reading. I am rather enjoying Nicholas Nickleby - as much, at least, as I can enjoy anything just now. I have found a passage in the book which I consider very relevant to my current situation, and how I keep sending my mind to dwell in the past:
"...If our affections are tried, our affections are our consolation and comfort, and memory, however sad, is the best and purest link between this world and a better."
later
Tom finally managed to get me alone in my room.
"What is going on, Elizabeth?" he demanded. "I don't understand what's happening, but I'll be damned if I let you go on without an explanation."
I could feel tears already pricking at my eyes, so I turned away from him. "What do you mean, Tom?" I asked in the most falsely cheerful voice I have ever used. "Don't I appear radiantly happy about my wedding? Don't you know how ecstatic I am?" I knew he was bound to catch the sarcasm, and he did not disappoint me.
"I'll tell you what I know," he said hotly. "I know you don't love Ben Everett. You lo-"
"Please, Tom! Do you think I need you to tell me what is in my own heart?" Tom is very dear to me, but at that moment I wished he were a bit less privy to my inner thoughts.
"You know you can tell me anything, don't you? If there's something not right here, tell me - we'll fix it."
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"I promise you, I can't. I would, if I could - oh, don't make me say anymore!"
He paused, and regarded me thoughtfully. "Well, if you won't talk to me...and I know you aren't talking to Skinner...wait here. I'll be back soon."
He returned in a quarter of an hour with his friend Becky. "You two girls sit here and hash things out," he said. "I'll make sure you're not disturbed." He closed the door.
I looked at Becky. She looked at me.
"Elizabeth?" she asked finally.
"Becky...oh, I have to tell someone," I cried. "I'm going mad. Please, I know that what I'm about to say is going to sound ridiculous, but please believe that every word of it is true." For the next twenty minutes or so I poured my heart out to this virtual stranger, one of the very townspeople Everett swore would never believe my allegations.
"Oh, you poor thing," she said when I'd finished. "That horrible man! What are you going to do?"
I wiped my eyes on a handkerchief. "There's nothing I can do, I'm afraid. You mustn't say a word either. If Everett finds out that I told anyone, he'll make good on his threat. He's dangerous."
"I believe that," she said slowly. "All the more reason you can't possibly marry him."
"What choice do I have?" I asked plaintively.
9 May 1900
The wretched engagement dinner is now over, and I don't mean to record a single detail of the festivities. I want to remember nothing of the events leading up to tomorrow's ceremony. But tonight was significant nonetheless, for my situation grows ever worse.
Everett intimated, during our last meeting, that I am not showing him nearly enough public affection to make the engagement believable. So at this horrible dinner, I presented him with a pair of cufflinks. "They were my father's," I told him, "and I want you to have them. You can wear them tomorrow for the wedding." I have no real attachment to the cufflinks; they were a gift to Father from his first wife, Harry's mother.
The dinner seemed to drag on endlessly. It was made that much more miserable for me by one conspicuous absence - Rodney was nowhere to be found. Indeed, from the remarks made by the other League members, he had not been seen for several hours.
After the majority of the guests had left, Everett whisked me off to the back parlour where he first "proposed." I had little desire to be left alone with him, and in fact, for the first time, we actually were alone; he brought none of his men with him to stand guard.
"Who's going to disturb us?" he asked when I wondered about the absence of his friends. "Besides, they have other things to do, which I will explain shortly. For now, though, come here."
To my complete revulsion, he made to put his arms around me. I backed away. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"We are engaged, you know. Society allows us a few liberties."
"You will take no such liberties with me, sir! There is a limit to how much I will participate in this charade!"
He glared at me. "I'll let that slide for tonight. Tomorrow night had better be a different story. But just to be sure of your complete devotion to me, I've taken some additional precautions." That eerie smile was back on his face.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your friend, Mr. Skinner...I don't trust him, dearest. He's entirely too fond of you, he's likely to make a scene at the wedding. Therefore, I decided he had better not come."
I could already tell something very bad was coming. "What have you done with him?"
He smiled mirthlessly. "He's been taken out of the way so our wedding doesn't get interrupted by any objections."
"Where is he?"
"Shush, pet, he's fine. But if you want him to stay that way, you'd better start playing the game." His eyes were hard. "Those old abandoned mine shafts are dangerous places, you know. It doesn't take much to make them collapse, and they will never find him. So if you want him to see the light of day on Wednesday, you'd better have a good wedding tomorrow - and a good wedding night." His meaning was unmistakable.
"You are a monster, Ben Everett," I whispered.
"Such endearments won't save your unnatural friend, my love. The cufflinks were a nice touch, though, very good." He pulled them from his pocket and examined them critically. "Yes, very nice indeed. So for that, I'll let the monster comment go." He pocketed the cufflinks again. "Well, enough chitchat. You've got to get plenty of beauty sleep so you're all set for tomorrow."
I came back here as soon as I was decently able, and allowed myself a good cry. As if all of this weren't hard enough! Now he's being held a prisoner! I can't even bear to think about it. I can only pray for his safe return, for I do not trust Everett to bring him back even after the wedding night.
I must make some sort of attempt to sleep, for tomorrow - who knows what tomorrow will bring? This may well be my last night as an unmarried maid, in which case I can but say...God preserve me.
God preserve us both.