December 10, 1921

Did we meet Summerlee? An incarnation of him? His ghost? A transformed self of the kindly old botanist? The meaning of the events of the past few days is still a mystery to me. Veronica expressed the hope that one day we will meet him again, that he is simply waiting for us in some remote place. Challenger mumbled something about different planes of existence, which are shifting on the Plateau. Marguerite was quiet.

Later she and I talked on the balcony. We reminisced about the old man, what he had meant to both of us. I expressed my sorrow that I hadn’t always treated him well in the beginning. It had taken weeks until I realized what a valuable expedition member he was. Marguerite smiled and patted my hand.

“It’s sometimes easy to be fooled by first impressions.”

I wonder whether she was also referring to my first impression of her. I cringe today, when I remember the night, when I threatened to ‘throw her to the wolves’. Today I would die for her. But I probably would have even then. So it’s primarily my manners that have improved.

May 24, 1922.

Are all women attracted to men in uniform? What other reason could there be for Marguerite’s strange infatuation with this hideous Captain Askwith?

The man is untrustworthy, highly suspicious, arrogant and on top of it all – nearly bald. How can she find him attractive? Why is she always on his side? Bringing him back to the Treehouse. Letting him lean on her as we walked!  Sitting next to him at dinner!

I can find only one possible explanation. It’s not the man – it’s the garment. The striking blue Royal Navy captain’s uniform gives Askwith a stature and nobility, which the man would never ever possess in civilian clothing.

I myself am well aware of the lure of the uniform. During the Great War I noticed the increase in admiring female glances whenever I was in uniform. And let’s face it – my uniform then had a distinct disadvantage compared to Askwith’s. The fabric was prone to creases and crinkles, a short staff briefing wreaked havoc on an officer’s appearance. We commiserated about this time and again in the mess hall.

But all this is moot now. Even if Challenger found a way to solve the fabric problem, I didn’t bring my uniform with me. Who knew at the onset of our journey that we would be cut off supplies for such a long time? Askwith is offering us a way out, but for the life of me I can’t trust this man. He’s sleeping now. Resting after his ‘ordeal’ with the T-Rex. Good Lord, how often did we outrun vicious dinosaurs and we never got extra naps out of it! Marguerite really is blinded by his uniform and gives him much more leeway than she would anyone else here.

She was quite cross with me earlier. “Think about Malone, Roxton!” she admonished me. Admittedly Askwith had a point there, if we repair the dirigible, we probably can find our journalist faster. I miss the lad. I’m sure he would understand my dislike of Askwith and probably share it. It’s late. I need sleep. Tomorrow we need all our strength to repair the airship and all our cunning to keep track of Captain Askwith and his undoubtedly dark intentions.

June 12, 1922

So much time has passed since I found a quiet moment to write into my diary. The adventures we had battling first evil Captain Askwith and then the trickster god Olmec aka Francois Locke took a lot out of us.

Malone is still missing. The second expedition member that disappeared. Challenger and I had a long talk where he shared with me his misery about dragging us all onto the Plateau and into danger and death. I tried to comfort him as best as I could, but I felt guilty myself. Hadn’t I sworn to protect them all? I’m not living up to my promises.

I read my earlier entry and it seems like a silly shallow man wrote them. Fretting about uniforms, when in truth a dangerous ghost was among us. And how ironic that I got my wish to wear a uniform only a few days later. One that didn’t have the crinkle problem that my other uniform had. Be careful what you wish for! I should have learned a long time ago that on the Plateau wishes come true in the most unfortunate way.

Seeing Marguerite in uniform was of course a revelation. The stern olive colour was a pleasing contrast to her milk-white skin and dark hair. Her beauty is astonishing whatever she wears. Her resourcefulness and courage are truly outstanding.

But her qualities are also dangerous, because they lure predators to her who want to possess her. A silly fight – both of us on edge because of Malone’s disappearance – led to her being captured by a man in a truly ridiculous outfit. I mean really, ruffles.  What real man walks around with ruffles on his shirt? Did he really think Marguerite would want a man who looks like a complete fop?  Dressed in 16^th century fashions Francois Locke looked like a clown. But Marguerite wasn’t fooled by his charm and his promises of a possible return to England. She knew right away something was wrong. At least that’s what she told me last night, after we returned from Olmec’s cursed ruins.

I’m glad that we got her back safely. She was moping about losing her treasure, but it didn’t sound quite convincing to me. Later she thanked me again for saving her life. I reciprocated and thanked her for shooting at Locke. She smiled and commented that as long as we looked out for each other no enemy could harm us. A most pleasant thought!

Before I go to sleep tonight, I will look again at this little piece of paper she scribbled on. Lady Marguerite Roxton. She was practicing her signature. One day she will sign her name under our marriage license, I’m sure of it…