Remarkable Creatures (23 page)

Mary’s first ichthyosaurus was also there, displayed in a long glass case of its own, thankfully without waistcoat or monocle, though there were still traces of plaster of paris here and there on the specimen, the tail was still straight, and Lord Henley’s name was still attached. I had already visited it several times, and written to the Annings to describe its new position.

It was quiet in the room, with just one other party of visitors wandering amongst the cases. I was studying the skull identified by Cuvier as a mammoth, when I heard a familiar voice ringing out across the room. “Dear lady, once you have seen this ichthyosaurus you will understand just how superior my own specimen is.” I closed my eyes for a moment to still my heart.

Colonel Birch had entered by the far door, dressed as usual in his outdated red soldier’s coat, while a lady a bit older than I held his arm and walked alongside. From her somber dress it seemed she was a widow. She wore a fixed, pleasant expression, and was one of those rare people who lead with no feature whatsoever.

I froze as the two went over to Mary’s ichthyosaurus. Though close to them, my back was turned, and Colonel Birch did not notice me. I heard all of their conversation—or rather, all that Colonel Birch said, for his companion added little except to agree with him.

“Do you see what a jumble of bones this is compared with mine?” he declared. “How the vertebrae and ribs have been squeezed into a mass? And how incomplete it is? Look, do you see the discolored plaster of paris, in the ribs there, and along the spine? That is where Mr. Bullock filled it in. Mine, however, needs no filling in. It may be smaller than this one, but I found it intact, not a bone out of place.”

“How fascinating,” the widow murmured.

“And to think they thought this was a crocodile. I never did, of course. I always knew it was something different, and that I must find one myself.”

“Of course you did.”

“These ichthyosauri are some of the most important scientific finds ever.”

“Are they?”

“As far as we know, no ichthyosaurus exists now and has not done for some time. This means, dear lady, that learned men are charged with discovering how these creatures died out.”

“What do they think?”

“Some have suggested they died in Noah’s Flood; others that some other sort of catastrophe killed them, like a volcano or an earthquake. Whatever the cause, their existence affects our knowledge of the age of the world. We think it may be older than the six thousand years Bishop Ussher allotted it.”

“I see. How interesting.” The widow’s voice trembled a little, as if Colonel Birch’s suggestions disturbed her ordered thoughts, which were clearly slight and not used to being challenged.

“I have been reading about Cuvier’s Doctrine of Catastrophes,” Colonel Birch continued, showing off his knowledge. “Cuvier suggests that the world has been shaped over time by a series of terrible disasters, violence on such a great scale that it has created mountains and blasted seas and killed off species. Cuvier himself did not mention God’s hand in this, though others have interpreted these catastrophes as systematic—God’s regulation over His creation. The Flood would be simply the most recent of these events—which does make one wonder if another is on its way!”

“One does wonder,” the widow said in a small voice, her uncertainty making me grit my teeth. For all he annoyed me, Colonel Birch was curious about the world. If I were at his side I would have said more than “One does wonder.”

I might have kept my back to them and let Colonel Birch pass forever from our lives, but for what he said next. He couldn’t resist boasting. “Seeing all of these specimens reminds me of last summer in Lyme Regis. I grew rather good at hunting fossils, you see. Not just the complete ichthyosaurus, but fragments of many others and a large collection of pentacrinites—the sea lilies I showed you, do you remember?”

“I’m not sure.”

Colonel Birch chuckled. “Of course not, dear lady. Ladies are not equipped to look at such things so carefully as men.”

I turned around. “I should like Mary Anning to hear you say that, Colonel Birch! She would not so easily agree, I think.”

Colonel Birch started, though his military bearing prevented him from revealing too much astonishment. He bowed. “Miss Philpot! What a surprise—and a pleasure, of course—to find you here. When we last met we discussed my ichthyosaurus, did we not? Now, may I present to you Mrs. Taylor. Mrs. Taylor, this is Miss Philpot, whom I met when I was staying in Lyme. We share an interest in fossils.”

Mrs. Taylor and I nodded to each other, and though her face didn’t lose its pleasant expression, her features seemed to snap into place, so that I noticed her lips were thin, with pursed lines along them like a drawstring bag.

“And how fares lovely Lyme?” Colonel Birch asked. “Do its residents still comb the shores daily in search of ancient treasure, of evidence of denizens of previous eras?”

I presumed this was an elaborate way of asking after Mary, couched in bad poetry. I did not have to respond with poetry, however. I preferred straightforward prose. “Mary Anning still hunts for fossils, if that’s what you’re asking, sir. And her brother helps when he can. But in truth the family is doing poorly, for they have found little of value for many months.”

As I spoke, Colonel Birch’s eyes followed the other party of visitors heading into the next room. Perhaps he wished he could disappear with them.

“Nor have they been paid for their services to others, as you will be aware from correspondence,” I added, raising my voice and allowing a needle into it that made Mrs. Taylor’s mouth pucker as if its strings were being pulled tight.

Just then Margaret and Louise entered from the far end of the room, in search of me, for we were expected home shortly. They stopped when they saw Colonel Birch, and Margaret turned pale.

“I should very much like to speak with you further about the Annings, Colonel Birch,” I declared. It was bad enough to come face-to-face with him in all his smugness, showing off to his widow friend about fossils he had not found. But it was his dismissal of women’s power of observation—thus denying Mary and me any credit for all that we had found over the years—which made me completely reverse my decision about keeping him out of the Annings’ lives. He owed them a great deal, and I would tell him so. I had to speak up.

Before I could continue, however, Margaret hurried forward, pulling Louise with her. Introductions between my sisters and Mrs. Taylor, as well as banal words to and from Colonel Birch, interrupted me—which is what Margaret intended, I am sure. I waited until the polite conversation was dying down before I repeated, “I should like to speak with you, sir.”

“I am sure there is much to say,” Colonel Birch replied with an uneasy smile, “and I would dearly love to call on all of you”—he nodded at my sisters—“but sadly I am shortly to travel to Yorkshire.”

“Then it will have to be now. Shall we?” I gestured to another corner of the room, away from the others.

“Oh, I don’t think Colonel Birch—” Margaret began but was interrupted by Louise, who tucked her arm through Mrs. Taylor’s and said, “Do you like gardens, Mrs. Taylor? If you do you must see Mrs. Delany’s florilegium—you will be enchanted. Come, both of you.” It took all of Louise’s goodwill to drag Mrs. Taylor through the Saloon towards the exit, Margaret trailing behind them and throwing me warning looks. Her face was still white but with two red spots in her cheeks.

When they were gone, Colonel Birch and I faced each other alone in the long room, the high windows throwing a rainy gray light over us. He was no longer looking neutral, but concerned and a little annoyed. “Well, Miss Philpot.”

“Well, Colonel Birch.”

“Did you receive my letter about providing a dapedium for my collection?”

“Your letter?” I was thrown off guard, for I had not been thinking about that letter. “Yes, I did receive it.”

“And you did not answer?”

I frowned. Colonel Birch was already steering the conversation away from where I had intended it to go, making it a criticism of my own behavior rather than his. His tactics were low and angered me, so that my response was as direct as a dagger. “No, I didn’t answer it. I do not respect you, and I will never let you have any of my fossil fish. I did not feel the need to put such sentiments in writing.”

“I see.” Colonel Birch reddened as if he had been slapped. I expect no one had ever told him to his face that they did not respect him. Indeed, it was a new experience for us both: unpleasant for him, frightening and thrilling for me. Over the years, living in Lyme had made me bolder in my thoughts and words, but I had never before been quite so reckless and rude. I lowered my eyes and unbuttoned and rebuttoned my gloves, to give my trembling hands something to do. The gloves were new, from a haberdasher’s in Soho. By the end of the year they too would be ruined by Lyme clay and seawater.

Colonel Birch laid his hand on the glass case nearest him, as if to steady himself. It contained a variety of bivalves, which in other circumstances he might have studied. Now he looked at them as if he had never seen one before.

“Since you left,” I began, “Mary has not found one specimen of value, and the family has little stock on hand to sell, for she gave everything she found last summer to you.”

Colonel Birch looked up. “That is unjust, Miss Philpot. I found my specimens.”

“You did not, sir. You did not.” I held up my hand to stop him as he tried to interrupt. “You may think you found all of those jaw fragments and ribs and shark teeth and sea lilies, but it was Mary who directed you to them. She located them and then led you to find them. You are no hunter. You are a gatherer, a collector. There is a difference.”

“I—”

“I have seen you on the beach, sir, and that is what you do. You did not find the ichthyosaurus. Mary did, and dropped her hammer by it so that you would pick it up and see the specimen. I was there. I saw you. It is her ichthyosaurus, and you have taken it from her. I am ashamed of you.”

Colonel Birch stopped trying to interrupt me but remained still, his head bowed, his lips in a pout.

“Perhaps you did not realize she was doing this,” I continued more gently. “Mary is a generous soul. She is always giving away when she cannot afford to. Did you pay her for any of the specimens?”

For the first time Colonel Birch looked contrite. “She insisted they were already mine, not hers.”

“Did you pay for her time, as her mother requested in a letter a few months back? I know of the letter because I added your address for her. I am surprised, sir, that you chide me for not answering your letter when you have not answered one that is about far more important matters than collecting a fossil fish.”

Colonel Birch was silent.

“Do you know, Colonel Birch, this winter I discovered the Annings about to sell their table and chairs to pay the rent? Their table and chairs! They would have had to sit on the floor to eat.”

“I—I had no idea they were suffering so much.”

“I only persuaded them not to sell their furniture by advancing them the money against future fossil fish Mary finds for me. I would have preferred just to give them the money—in general I find specimens myself rather than pay for them. But the Annings will not take charity from me.”

“I do not have the money to pay them.”

His words were so stark that I could not think of a reply. We were both silent then. Two women wandered arm in arm into the room, caught sight of us, glanced at each other, and hurried out again. It must have looked to them as if we were having a lovers’ quarrel.

Colonel Birch ran a hand over the glass of the case. “Why did you write to me, Miss Philpot?”

I frowned. “I did not. We have already established that.”

“You wrote to me about Mary. The letter was anonymous, but the writer was articulate and said she knew Mary well, so I thought it must be from you. It was signed ‘a well-wisher who only wants the best for both parties,’ and it encouraged me to consider—marrying Mary.”

I stared at him, the words he had quoted reminding me of something Margaret had said about “both parties.” I thought of her turning red as she left the room; of her memorizing Colonel Birch’s address on the letter; and of her discussing Colonel Birch with Mary. She had taken it upon herself to write to him on Mary’s behalf. Molly’s letter about money was not enough; Margaret wanted marriage to be part of the discussion as well. Damn her meddling, I thought. Damn her novel reading.

I sighed. “I did not write that letter, though I know now who did. Let us leave aside the thought of marriage. Of course that is an impossibility.” I tried now to be clear, as this was my chance to help Mary. “But, sir, you must understand that you have robbed the Annings of their livelihood, and Mary of her reputation. It is because of you that they are selling their furniture.”

Colonel Birch frowned. “What would you have me do, Miss Philpot?”

“Give her back what she found—at least the ichthyosaurus, which will bring them in enough money to pay their debts. It is the least you can do, whatever your own financial difficulties.”

“I do not—I am very fond of Mary, you know. I think of her a great deal.”

I snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I could not bear his foolishness. “Such sentiments are completely inappropriate.”

“That may be. But she is a remarkable young woman.”

It was so hard to say it, but I forced myself. “You would do better to consider someone closer to your age and of your class. Someone . . .” We stared at each other.

At that moment Mrs. Taylor entered at the far end of the room, pursued by my sisters and looking as if she hoped Colonel Birch would rescue her. As she hurried over to take his arm, I could only finish in a whisper, “You must do what is honorable, Colonel Birch.”

“I believe we are expected elsewhere,” Mrs. Taylor announced, firm at last and leading with her mouth. They left us then, with promises to visit us in Montague Street another time. I knew that would not happen, but I simply nodded and waved good-bye.