Only in America: Skinner's Story

A TPDoEQ special edition

by Lady Norbert

13 April 1900

Bess disappeared into the library after dinner; we'd all been talking about our plans to travel by train to Tom's old stomping grounds in Missouri, but when the conversation had faded and the meal was over, she left. Sawyer, Jeks and I played cards for awhile; around ten, everyone said goodnight. I went down to the library to see if she was still around, and found her dozing over that Shakespeare book she likes so much.

I hate to wake her when she's sleeping. She looks peaceful. I took the book and put it away, and I thought about just leaving her there, but then I thought she'd probably be uncomfortable when she woke up. So I picked her up to take her back to her room, like my dad used to do when I was a kid and fell asleep in front of the fire.

She fits in my arms pretty neatly. She mumbled in her sleep, and then she put her arms around my neck and put her head on my shoulder. It was like when I carried her after the puma attack in South America, only better because, after all, she wasn't soaking wet or bleeding this time.

I was about halfway to her room when I bumped into Tom, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. "She fell asleep in the library."

"I wasn't going to ask."

She shifted in my arms, and I looked down at her. Just for a lark, I grinned at Tom and said, "She followed me home, can I keep her?"

He started to laugh, but covered his mouth with his hands so he wouldn't wake Bess. "Why don't you ask her that?"

"Yeah, right. Night, Sawyer."

"Night." He headed for his own room, and I made my way to hers.

I settled Bess on her bed and managed to convince her to let go of my neck, then found one of her extra blankets and covered her. "There you be, princess," I told her quietly. She smiled in her sleep.

All right, I admit it, I gave in to temptation. Just this once. She kissed me goodnight one time, so I returned it. She doesn't need to know.

18 April 1900

Rail is a nice way to travel. But I hope we get there soon.

24 April 1900

Okay, we're here, we've seen St. Petersburg. Can we go now?

Not a bad place, really. Actually, it'd be quite nice except for one thing. The hotel is clean and comfortable, the people who own it are nice, and you'd think Tom was some kind of national hero the way he's been welcomed. Of course, we've all been welcomed...some of us more than others.

The regular mayor of the town isn't here, he's off with his wife at some family funeral. So the deputy mayor, Ben Everett, took on the duty of formally welcoming us to town. Fine. He welcomed us. Now somebody tell him to go away. I don't like him. None of us like him.

Well, Bess kind of does. He sure pays a lot of attention to her. We haven't been able to get rid of him, actually. He's always coming to the hotel to see us. Bollocks - he comes to the hotel to see her. Usually he worms an invitation to stay for dinner, which he accepts every time, and then sticks around afterward to talk to her. She seems flattered by this. He's good-looking, I guess, and smart, and real attentive.

I rather hate the bastard.

26 April 1900

Managed not to catch sight of that poncy Everett today, which meant it was a good day. Tom and I went out on the front porch after lunch and sat around, just talking. He really is a mate sometimes. He told me flat out he doesn't like Everett and doesn't trust him; he wishes the bloke would go away and leave Bess alone.

"Can't we tell him that?"

"Nope, sorry, I don't think we can. She could, if she wanted, but you know Elizabeth - even if she wanted him to stop coming, she probably wouldn't say anything because it's not polite." He rolled his eyes.

"Too right," I agreed, grinning. "Girl's too bloody courteous for her own good."

He grinned back, and got a wicked look in his eyes. He stood up real straight, imitating Everett's perfect posture, and started affecting the way he talks. "Oh, hello, I'm the most important person in this entire town. But enough about me - what do you think of me, Miss Quatermain?"

"Oi, that's him!" We both started laughing.

"Pompous ass," Tom said as we calmed down. "I'd love to tell him what I think of him - bet you would too."

"Not enough swear words in the world for that."

He grinned again, then shaded his eyes. "Here comes Elizabeth. Doesn't look too happy, either."

I looked, and he was right; she was pretty steamed up about something, to judge by the way she carried herself. The closer she got to the hotel, though, the more she seemed to relax, like she left whatever was bothering her far enough behind. "Where've you been, Bess?" I asked her.

"Oh, just out for a walk," she said. Then she claimed she came back because she got bored walking by herself. Bessie doesn't tell lies often enough to be good at it, but we pretended we believed her. Tom asked why she didn't get one of us to go with her, and she said she didn't want to disturb us. That part I could buy.

"You never disturb us - does she, Skinner?"

"Never." She smiled at us then, and sat in the chair next to mine. Still don't know what had her upset, but she seemed to forget about it.

27 April 1900

Everett invited himself to dinner again, the sod. And as if that wasn't bad enough, after we finished eating he asked Bess to go for a walk with him while it was still light. I had my napkin in my hand, and I kind of crushed that instead of his head, which is what I really wanted to crush. We stayed at the table, not really saying anything, for maybe twenty minutes.

Just in case I wasn't already irritated, Mrs. Singer - the landlady, sweet old woman - came over to clear our dishes and noticed right away who was missing. "Oh, the young lady is out with Mr. Everett, is she? You know," she said to Mina, "I do believe he's looking to settle down."

If Mina said anything in response to this, I didn't hear it. I got up then and went outside, thought I might throw up. No sense in ruining my coat and the table, after all.

I stood on the porch of the hotel, hands in my pockets. The sun was on its way down, which meant they'd soon be on their way back. Good.

The door opened, and Tom came to stand next to me. "They're not back yet?"

"Not yet."

"Soon, I'd wager. She wouldn't stay out after dark with him, not without a chaperone."

"Right."

"I don't trust him either."

"Good."

"But I'm not jealous of him." I heard the grin, even though I didn't see it.

"What, you think I am? Jealous of what?"

"I have no idea." All right, he's not stupid.

We stood there in silence. Finally, I asked him, "Do you think she knows?"

"Knows?" He paused. "Oh. I don't know, honestly. I don't think so."

I nodded. "Don't tell her."

"Oh, I won't. You should, though."

"What good would that do?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Yeah, right." We went inside; the others were still at the table. I followed Mina, Henry and Nemo into the back parlour, where Mrs. Singer brought us a tea tray; Tom decided to wait for Bess, to try and keep Everett from inviting himself to join us again.

Mina was just starting to pour the tea when they came in. Bess looked a bit flustered, and red in the face; she pulled off her gloves and sat down, not really looking at anyone. "Did you have a good time?" she asked.

"I suppose so. It's a lovely evening."

Mina handed her a cup of tea, and said she was of the opinion that Everett likes Bess. Good thing I didn't have my tea yet at that point, because I might have broken my cup at the look on her face. Bess was actually smiling about that fact. Her smiles shouldn't be wasted on that idiot...you'd think she was surprised that someone was interested in her. She said he was well-spoken and solicitous, but at least she didn't say she liked him too.

Mina kept handing out tea. Then she told Bess what Mrs. Singer had said, about Everett wanting to settle down.

"Indeed?" she asked. I was just starting to drink my tea when she added, "That could explain why he was inquiring whether I wanted a home and family of my own."

I lost my grip on the teacup at that, and it smashed on the floor. I muttered something about not holding it right and started to clean up, but Mrs. Singer brought a dustpan over and made me stop touching the broken pieces.

Solicitous. He'd better watch what he's soliciting.