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

by Lady Norbert

A/N: This regrettably short chapter is dedicated to a whole bunch of my readers: LotRSeer, Steffi-333, Cecily Marla Smith, Ana Denali, and Katie - all with thanks, heaps and heaps.

16 May 1900

Today there was a great farewell banquet in the town square - mainly for Tom, but also for the rest of us. Capping the festivities was the arrival of the United States marshals who are escorting Everett and his men to the state prison to serve their terms; they had not heard the complete story of what these men had done, so we were entreated to tell the tale one more time. I hope it will be the last time, for I am heartily sick of the whole affair.

Rodney and I have still not spoken. I hesitate to go to him, not only for reasons of propriety but also because I am embarrassed. Once again, his life was nearly forfeited on my account - and I believe that Everett might have left him in the mine shaft to rot, with or without my cooperation.

As to why he does not come and speak to me, I can only guess. Perhaps he is angry with me about what's happened, though he did not seem to be when he came to the church. Perhaps he is distressed, as Tom was, by the fact that I was going through with a marriage to a man for whom I have no love. Or perhaps he is, as I am, uncertain where the recent events have left us. Our bond, heretofore as unshakable as it was indefinable, seems to have changed.

I wish there were some way I could let him know that, if I had the power to rewrite the events of that day, I would put Everett in his place at the bottom of the mine shaft. I would have a far more suitable bridegroom, the one of my own choosing, if I could but make that switch.

18 May 1900

We are on the train heading east, back to the state of Virginia to rendezvous with the Nautilus. America is incredibly beautiful, and most of the time I have spent here has been splendid, but I am nevertheless ready to go. I should like to return sometime, however, to see more of it.

I think I have lost something infinitely precious to me - if it ever was mine to begin with, that is. I thought, for a time, that it was. Now I believe I may have been very wrong. I am sick from the loss, and have not the heart to write further.

19 May 1900

More of the same. Lovely scenery. Still no real conversation. The men are passing the trip by playing cards. Mina reads. I brood.

20 May 1900

It is late, and we are back aboard the ship we all consider home. I was so relieved to be in my own quarters again that I almost wept.

I may do that anyway, for I am no nearer a resolution to my difficulties than I was five days ago. I shall leave my unpacking until tomorrow; for now, I think a hot bath and some tea will help me sleep. Perhaps asleep, in my own bed, I can forget.

21 May 1900

Have spent much of the day puttering with my herbs and indulging in relatively pointless needlework. In other words, I have been putting my hands to use in the sort of mindless occupation which filled my long, lonely hours at Solomon Manor.

Henry and Mina have resumed their task of analysing the information Dr. Draper sent them, and using it to formulate an antidote for Skinner. When we left the ship for our American visit, they believed they were getting close. As to Rodney himself, I do not know where he is; I have not seen him all day, though I suppose he is with them.

I did go to the library for a time and attempt to read, which did not go well. It seemed that every book I opened reminded me of...things. Fortunately, Tom came in and invited me to play a game of chess with Nemo's wonderful ebony and ivory chess set, and this was distracting.

I was studying the board, deep in thought about something other than my concerns for the first time in days, when he spoke up. "So what's going on with you and Skinner?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Used to be I couldn't trip over one of you without crashing into the other. But now you two are a bit like strangers."

I sighed. "I feel like we're strangers. But I don't know why."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"No...check. No, I haven't. I really don't know what to say. 'Thanks for stopping my wedding, sorry you could have been killed'?"

He shifted one of his pawns to block my assault. "You should have seen him when we got him out of the mine," he remarked in an excessively casual voice. "Hadn't eaten or drunk for hours, probably didn't sleep much. But all he cared about was getting to you, stopping that wedding."

"Yes, well, he's always looked out for me. You all have."

"So what's changed with you two? Check."

"I really haven't figured it out." I captured his attacking bishop with my queen. "Goodness knows I've tried...I've had little else on my mind lately, if you want to know the truth."

"Yeah, we kind of noticed you've been preoccupied. I thought that might be it." He picked up his knight and began to place it on one square, then changed his mind and set it on another. A playful expression darted over his face, and he added, "Your father probably wouldn't approve."

"He - of what?"

For the first time since the conversation started, he met my eyes. "I know you better than you think I do, li'l sis. And I've a pretty good idea what's going on in that head of yours."

Trying very hard not to admit to anything, I teased him. "In London society, Mr. Sawyer, you would be considered brash and extremely forward for these remarks." I slid a rook across the board.

"Hang society. We both know what's happening here. I was in the church that day, remember? I saw your face when he walked in." He grinned. "Checkmate."

He had me, I could see it. "Very well," I said, surveying the board with dismay. "I concede the game."

25 May 1900

Even sleep does not help, as I am finding out more and more often. Lately, whenever I fall asleep I have different versions of the same dream - Rodney comes and tells me what I so desperately need to hear. The dreams are so real that I believe in them. Then I awaken, and realise that I still don't know if he loves me or not.

He is my friend. He does care for me, is still kind to me in a distracted way. Perhaps this is all it will ever be.

27 May 1900

It's nearly a week since last I wrote, but there has been nothing worth mentioning of late. The situation has not changed.

Well, that's not entirely true. I was in the library again yesterday, and he came in. I looked up from my book just in time to see him leaving again, so I called him back.

"Er," I began intelligently. "Skinner...might I have a word with you?"

He hesitated for just a heartbeat. "Sure, Bess." I took the fact that he called me by the pet name as a good sign.

"How are you feeling?" I inquired, for lack of a better opening.

"Oh, I'm all right." He sat down in a chair near the door.

"How, er, are they coming with the antidote?"

"They think they're closing in on it."

"Are you really going to take it?" I blurted.

He frowned slightly. "Wasn't sure for awhile," he admitted. "But yeah, I think I will. It'll make shaving easier." He rubbed his chin.

"I imagine that's true." Daring more than I intended, I said, "I admit I'm curious to see what you look like."

He shrugged. "Nothing special. Well, I'd better get back. See you at dinner?"

"Oh...right. Of course."

He did grin at me, for which I was grateful, before leaving the room. But I still feel like a coward.