Remarkable Creatures Part 11

"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 convinced 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 gla.s.s 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 bright cheeks as she left the room, of her memorising 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. d.a.m.n her meddling, I thought. d.a.m.n 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 hard to say it, but I forced myself. "You would do better to consider someone closer to your age, and of your cla.s.s. 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 honourable, 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 goodbye.

The moment they were gone, Margaret burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should never have written that letter! I regretted it the moment I posted it!" Louise looked at me, bewildered. I did not take Margaret in my arms in a sisterly embrace of forgiveness, however. That would take several days, for meddling deserves punishment.

Leaving the British Museum I felt lighter, as if I had transferred a burden I'd been carrying over to Colonel Birch. At least I had spoken out for the Annings, if not completely for myself. I had no idea if it would make a difference.

I found out soon enough.

It was my brother who saw the notice of the auction. John came home from his chambers one evening and joined us in the drawing room-an over-decorated room on the first floor with large windows looking out onto the street. A crowd was there to greet him: apart from us Lyme sisters and our sister-in-law, our other sister, Frances, was visiting from Ess.e.x with her two children, eight-year-old Elizabeth, named after me, and three-year-old Francis. They were running after Johnny, now a proud eleven year old who suffered the adoration of his cousins. The children were toasting tea cakes over the fire, which had been lit only for that purpose since it was a warm May evening. Johnny relished dangling the cakes so close that they caught fire, with the younger ones following suit, and in the chaos of putting out the flames and scolding the children about the danger and the waste, I didn't notice the peculiar look on my brother's face until the children had settled down.

"I saw something in the newspaper today that I know will interest you," John said to me, his brow furrowed. He handed me the paper, folded so that a boxed advertis.e.m.e.nt was in view. As I scanned it, my face went red. I looked up, and the eyes of all my siblings rested on me. Even Johnny was gazing intently. It can be unnerving to have so many Philpots give you their attention.

I cleared my throat. "It appears Colonel Birch is selling his fossil collection," I announced. "At Bullock's, next week."

Margaret gasped, while Louise gave me a sympathetic look and reached for the newspaper to study the notice.

I turned the news over in my mind. Had Colonel Birch known when we met at the British Museum that he was selling his collection? I doubted it, given the possessive pride with which he spoke of his ichthyosaurus to Mrs Taylor. Moreover, surely he would have told me? On other hand, I had made so plain my dissatisfaction with his conduct that perhaps he was unlikely to have told me he was planning to turn his fossils into cash. All of the specimens Mary had given him would now go towards lining his empty pockets. My words to him had had no effect at all. This stark evidence of my impotence brought tears of anger to my eyes.

Louise handed back the paper. "There are previews of the sale," she said.

"I'm not going anywhere near Bullock's," I snapped, taking out a handkerchief and blowing my nose. "I know exactly what is in that collection. I don't need to inspect it."

But later, when John and I were on our own in his study, discussing the Lyme sisters' finances, I interrupted his dry discourse on numbers. "Will you accompany me to Bullock's?" I did not look at him as I asked, but kept my eyes on the smooth nautilus I had found on Monmouth Beach and given him to use as a paperweight. "Just you and I, not a large party to make an outing of it. I only want to slip in and have a quick look, that's all. The others needn't know. I don't want them to fuss."

I thought I saw a look of pity cross his face, but he quickly hid it with the bland expression he often used as a solicitor. "Leave it with me," he said.

John made no mention of a visit for several days, but I knew my brother, and had faith that he would arrange things. One evening at supper he announced that he would need the Lyme sisters to come to his chambers later in the week to look over certain doc.u.ments he had drawn up for us.

Margaret made a face. "Can't you bring the papers home?"

"It needs to be at chambers, as a colleague must be present to witness it," John explained.

Margaret groaned, and Louise pushed a bit of haddock around her plate. All of us found the law chambers dull. Indeed, though I loved and respected him, I found my brother dull too at times-perhaps more so since we'd lived in Lyme, for there people were many things, but rarely dull.

"Of course," John added, with a glance towards me, "you needn't all come. One could represent the others."

Margaret and Louise looked at each other and at me, each hoping for a volunteer. I waited a suitable interval, then sighed. "I will do it."

John nodded. "To sweeten the pill, we shall dine at my club after. Would Thursday suit?"

Thursday was the first day of the preview, and John's club was in the Mall, not far from Bullock's.

By Thursday John had managed to have some sort of paper drawn up that I could sign, so that his ruse was not a lie. And we did dine at his club, but briefly, just one course, so that we arrived at the Egyptian Hall in good time. I shuddered as we entered the yellow building, still with its statues of Isis and Osiris keeping watch over the entrance. After seeing Mary's ichthyosaurus there several years before, I had vowed never to go back, no matter how tempting the exhibits. Now I was choking on that vow.

Colonel Birch's fossils were displayed in one of the Hall's smaller rooms. Although set out like a museum collection, and divided into sets of similar specimens-pentacrinites, fragments of ichthyosauri, ammonites and so on-the fossils were not behind gla.s.s, but laid out on tables. The complete ichthyosaurus was on show in the middle of the room, and it was just as breath-taking as it had been in the Annings' workshop.

What surprised me more than Lyme fossils transplanted to London-for I had already witnessed that phenomenon at the British Museum-was seeing just how crowded the room was. Everywhere men were picking up fossils, studying them, and discussing them with others. The room with vibrant with interest, and I picked up the thrum. There were no other women there, however, and I clutched my brother's arm, feeling awkward and conspicuous.

After a few minutes I began to recognise people, mainly men who had made fossil trips to Lyme and stopped in at Morley Cottage to see my displays. The British Museum Keeper, Charles Konig, was with the complete ichthyosaurus; perhaps comparing it to the specimen he had bought the year before from Bullock. He gazed about the room, perplexed. I am sure he would have been thrilled to have so many visitors to the Museum's fossil rooms. But his collection was not for sale, and it was the possibility of ownership that made the room buzz.

I noted Henry De La Beche across the room, and was just making my way to him when I heard my name called. I started, fearing it was Colonel Birch come to justify himself. When I turned, however, I was relieved to see a friendly face. "Mr Buckland, how very good to see you, sir," I said. "I believe you have not met my brother: may I present John Philpot. This is the Reverend William Buckland, who is often at Lyme and shares my pa.s.sion for fossils."

My brother bowed. "I have certainly heard a great deal about you, sir. You lecture at Oxford, I believe?"

William Buckland beamed. "I do, indeed. It is a pleasure to meet the brother of a lady I hold in such high regard. Did you know, sir, that your sister knows more about fossil fish than just about anyone? What a clever creature she is. Even Cuvier could learn from her!"

I flushed with the rare praise, coming from such a man. My brother too seemed surprised, and glanced at me sideways, as if looking for evidence of the special quality William Buckland spoke of that I had hidden from him. Like many, John thought my fascination with fossil fish peculiar and indulgent, and so I had never discussed in any depth the knowledge I had gained over the years. John wasn't expecting support of me from so lofty a quarter. Nor was I. It reminded me that I had once briefly considered William Buckland as a potential suitor. While Colonel Birch brought pain, the thought of William Buckland as a husband now made me want to chuckle.

"It seems the whole of the scientific world is gathering for this auction," Mr Buckland continued. "c.u.mberland is here, and Sowerby, and Greenough, and your own Henry De la Beche. And did you ever meet Reverend Conybeare when he visited Lyme?" He indicated a man standing at his elbow. "He wants to make a study of the ichthyosaurus and present his findings to the Geological Society."

Reverend Conybeare bowed. He had a severe, knowing face, with a long nose that seemed to point like a finger at me.

William Buckland lowered his voice. "I myself have been commissioned by Baron Cuvier to bid on a number of specimens. In particular, he wants an ichthyosaurus skull for his museum in Paris. I have my eye on one. Shall I show you?"

As he spoke I spied Colonel Birch across the room, holding up a jawbone for a group of men gathered around him. I shuddered with the pain of seeing him.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" my brother asked.

"Fine." Before I could step sideways to escape Colonel Birch's eyes, he looked past the jawbone he held and saw me. "Miss Philpot!" he called. Setting down the jawbone, he began to push his way through the crowd.

"Do you know, John," I said, "I am feeling faint. There are so many people here and it is warm. Could we step outside for some air?" Without awaiting an answer I hurried towards the door. Luckily a wall of visitors separated me from Colonel Birch, and I was able to escape before he could get to me. On the street I turned down a rubbish-strewn pa.s.sage that would normally have terrified me, preferring it to having to speak civilly to the man who both repelled and attracted me.

When we emerged onto Jermyn Street next to a shop where John usually bought his shirts, he took my hand and threaded it through his elbow. "You are a funny little thing, Elizabeth."

"I expect I am."

John said no more, but found a cab to take us back to Montague Street, discussing business and not mentioning where we had been. For once I was pleased my brother took little interest in the drama of human emotion.

At breakfast the next morning, however, I was looking at a paper William Buckland had sent over to me called "The Connection between Geology and Religion Explained" when John casually tucked inside it a catalogue for the auction listing all the specimens Colonel Birch intended to sell. I pored over it while pretending to read Mr Buckland's article.

Going to Bullock's that once should have been enough to satisfy my curiosity about the auction. I did not need to see the fossils again, or the excited buyers. I certainly did not need to see Colonel Birch and have to hear his justi?cation for his actions. I did not want to hear it.

On the morning of the auction I woke early. If we had been in Lyme I would have got up and sat at the window with the view towards Golden Cap, but in London I did not feel comfortable prowling about early in my brother's house. And so I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake Louise with my fidgeting.

Later I sat in the drawing room with my sisters, going over a list of purchases we had made and what was still needed, for we were returning home later that week. We always shopped in London for things we couldn't get in Lyme: good gloves and hats, well-made boots, books, art supplies, quality paper. I was twitchy and nervous, as if waiting for guests to arrive. My niece and nephews were with us, and their childish games grated on my nerves, until I snapped at Francis for laughing loudly. Everyone looked at me. "Are you feeling unwell?" my sister-in-law asked.

"I have a headache. I think I will go and rest." I stood up, ignoring concerned murmurs. "I'll be fine with a bit of sleep. Please don't wake me for dinner or if you go out. I will come down later."

Upstairs in my room I sat for a few minutes, allowing my head to catch up with what my heart had already decided. Then I drew the curtains to dim the room, and arranged cushions under my bedclothes so that anyone peeking in would think they were seeing my sleeping form. I doubted sharp-eyed Louise would be fooled, but she might take pity on me and say nothing.

I fastened my bonnet and cloak, then crept downstairs to the ground floor. I could hear the banging of pots and the cook's voice from the kitchen below, and the children's laughter above, and felt guilty-as well as a little silly-for stealing away. I had never done such a thing in my life, and it seemed ludicrous to do so now, at the age of forty-one. I should have simply announced that I was going to the auction, arranging for an appropriate chaperone such as Henry De La Beche. But I could not face the questions, the explanations and justifications I would have to give. I was not sure I could explain why I had to attend the auction. I was not planning to bid on any specimens-the few fossil fish Colonel Birch had managed to collect were inferior to mine-and it was sure to upset me to see Mary's hard work callously distributed. Yet I felt I had to witness this momentous event. After all, it seemed even the great Cuvier might soon own one of Mary's specimens, even if he did not know she found it. For Mary's sake, I had to be there.

As I pulled open the heavy front door, I heard a sound behind me and froze. Having created such a clear excuse as a headache, what could I say to the servants or my sisters if they caught me now?

My nephew Johnny was staring at me from the stairs. After a moment I raised a finger to my lips. Johnny's eyes widened, but he nodded. He crept down the rest of the stairs. "Where are you going, Auntie Elizabeth?" he whispered.

"I have an errand to run. A secret one. I will tell you about it later, Johnny. I promise to, as long as you promise not to tell the others I have gone out. Will you keep our secret?"

Johnny nodded.

"Good. Now, what are you doing down here?"

"I'm to give cook a message about the soup."

"Go, then, and I'll see you later."

Johnny went to the stairs leading down to the kitchen, then stopped and watched as I slipped through the front door. I was not sure if he could keep the secret, but I would have to trust him.

I clicked the door shut behind me, tapped down the steps, and hurried away without looking back to see if anyone was at one of the windows. I did not slow down until I had turned the corner and my brother's house was out of sight. Then I stopped, pressed my handkerchief to my mouth and took a deep breath. I was free.

Or so I thought. As I started along Great Russell Street past the British Museum, I became aware of other women walking in clumps, in couples or groups, with maids or husbands or fathers or friends. Except for the occasional servant, only men walked on their own. While I did so often enough in Lyme, I had never actually walked down a London street alone; I had always been with my sisters or brother or friends or a servant. In Lyme there was less concern over such conventions, but here a lady of my station was expected to be accompanied. I found myself being stared at by men and women alike, as the odd one out. Suddenly I felt exposed, the air around me cold and still and empty, as if I were walking with my eyes shut and might b.u.mp into something. I pa.s.sed a man who looked at me with glittering black eyes, and another who appeared eager to bid me good day until he saw my plain, middleaged face and backed away.

I had intended to walk to Bullock's, but it became clear from the reception I received on a reasonably tame, familiar road such as Great Russell Street that I could not walk through Soho to Piccadilly on my own. I looked around for a pa.s.sing cab, but there were none, or none stopped when I raised my hand. Perhaps they were not looking out for a lady to do such a thing.

I considered asking a man for help, but they all stared so much that I was put off. Finally I stopped a boy running along behind horses to pick up the dung, and promised him a penny to find me a cab. Waiting for him was almost worse than walking, though, for I drew even more attention by standing still. Men sidled past, eyeing me and whispering. One man asked if I were lost; another offered to share a carriage with me. Both may have genuinely meant to help, but by then they all seemed sinister. I have never hated being a lady and yet at the same time hated men as much as I did during those minutes alone on the London streets.

The boy returned at last with a cab, and I was so relieved I gave him two pennies. Inside it was stuffy and smelly, but it was also dark and quiet and empty; I sat back and closed my eyes. Now I really did have a headache.

What with my late decision to go out and the delay in finding a cab, when I arrived at Bullock's the auction was well under way. The room was packed, with all the seats taken and people standing two deep at the back. Now I benefitted from my s.e.x, for no man would sit and leave a lady standing. I was offered several seats, and took one in the back row. The man I sat next to nodded at me congenially, acknowledging a shared interest. Though alone this time rather than accompanied by my brother, I felt less conspicuous, for everyone was intent on the front of the room, where the sale was taking place.

Mr Bullock, a stocky man with a broad neck, stood at a lectern. He played the part of auctioneer as if it were a role on a stage, drawing out his words and accompanying them with theatrical flourishes of his arms. He stoked up the excitement in the room, even for Colonel Birch's endless supply of pentacrinites. I had been surprised to see so many of them listed in the catalogue, for I knew Colonel Birch was keen on them. He must truly be deep in debt to part with them, as well as with the ichthyosaurus.

"You thought the last specimen was fine?" Mr Bullock cried, holding up another pentacrinite. "Well, then, have a look at this beauty. See? Not a crack or chip anywhere, the form in all its mysterious perfection. Who can resist its feminine charms? Not I, ladies and gentlemen, not I. Indeed, I am going to do something highly unusual and start the bidding myself, at two guineas. For what is two guineas if I can give my wife and myself such a fine example of the beauty of nature? Will anyone deprive me of my beauty? What? You will, sir? How dare you! It will have to be for two pounds ten shillings, sir. It is? And yours is three pounds, sir? So be it. I cannot compete for such beauty as these gentlemen can. I can only hope my wife forgives me. At least we know it is for a worthy cause. Let us not forget why we are here."

His auctioning approach was irregular-I was used to the smoother, quieter, understated tone of the auctioneers who came to sell the contents of Lyme houses. But then, they were auctioning off china plates and mahogany side tables, not the bones of ancient animals. Perhaps a different tone was necessary. And his style worked. Mr Bullock sold every pentacrinite, every shark's tooth, every ammonite, for more than I expected. Indeed, bidders were surprisingly generous, especially when ichthyosaurus parts began to be sold-jaws, snouts, vertebrae. It was then that men I knew joined the bidding. Reverend Conybeare bought four large fused vertebrae. Charles Konig bought a jaw for the British Museum. William Buckland fulfilled his mission and bought part of an ichthyosaurus skull for Baron Cuvier's collection at the Natural History Museum in Paris, as well as a femur. And the prices were quite high-two guineas, five guineas, ten pounds.

Twice more Mr Bullock drew attention to the worthiness of the auction, making me shift in my seat. To call Colonel Birch's pocket a worthy cause infuriated me, and the high regard in which he was held made me want to flee. However, standing up and pushing through the wall of men behind would have brought more attention than I could withstand, and it had taken so much effort to get here that I remained seated, and fumed.

"Quite remarkable what Colonel Birch has done," the man next to me whispered when there was a pause in the proceedings.

I nodded. Though I did not share his admiration, I did not want to argue with a stranger over Colonel Birch's character.

"So generous of him," the man continued.

"What do you mean, sir?" I asked, but my words were lost as Mr Bullock bellowed like a circus ringmaster, "And now, the finest and most unusual specimen in all of Colonel Birch's collection. A most mysterious animal has arrived at Bullock's. Indeed, its brother graced Bullock's Museum for several years to an enormous admiring audience. Then we called it a crocodile, but some of the finest British minds have studied it carefully and confirmed it is a different animal, not yet found in the world. You have already seen parts of it sold today-vertebrae, ribs, jaws, skulls. Now you will see how all of those parts fit together, in one complete, perfect, glorious specimen. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the Birch ichthyosaurus!"

The crowd rose to its feet as the mounted specimen was carried in. Even I stood and craned my neck to look, though I had already thoroughly studied it in the Anning workshop. Such was the power of Mr Bullock's flagrant, effective showmanship. It was not just me. William Buckland craned his neck too, as did Charles Konig and Henry De La Beche and Reverend Conybeare. We were all drawn in by the spell the beast cast.

It did look very fine. As with the other specimens sold, the artificial London setting, in a brightly painted, finely furnished room so different from Lyme's raw sea air and natural rough tones, made the ichthyosaurus look even odder and more out of place, as if from another world altogether-older and harsher and more alien. It was difficult to imagine such a creature ever having lived in the world of people, or taking a place in Aristotle's Great Chain of Being.

Bidding was brisk, and resulted in the Royal College of Surgeons buying it for one hundred pounds. Mary would be pleased, I thought, if she weren't more likely to be furious at being robbed of such a fee.

The ichthyosaurus was the final lot of the sale. I had been missing from Montague Street for an hour and a half; if I got a cab quickly I might yet manage to get back to my bedroom without anyone noticing my absence. I stood, preparing to slip out so that the men I knew in the room wouldn't see me. It was at that moment, however, that Colonel Birch chose also to detach himself from the front row. He moved to the lectern and called out over the hubbub, "Gentlemen! Gentlemen-and ladies," for he had spied me. I froze.

"I am overwhelmed by your interest and by your generosity. As I announced earlier," he continued, his eyes reaching out and pinning me to my place so that I would at last listen to what he had to say, "I have auctioned off my collection to raise money for a very worthy Lyme family-the Annings."

I shied like a nervous horse, but managed not to gasp.

"You have kindly responded in a most generous fashion." Colonel Birch kept his eyes on my face, as if to calm me. "What I did not tell you before, ladies and gentlemen, is that it was the daughter of this family-Mary Anning-who discovered the majority of the specimens that make up my collection, including the fine ichthyosaurus just sold. She is-" he paused "-possibly the most remarkable young woman I have had the privilege to meet in the fossil world. She has helped me, and she may well help you in future. When you admire the specimens you have bought today, remember it was she who found them. Thank you."

As a wave of murmurs swept the room, Colonel Birch nodded at me, then stepped aside and was engulfed by a mob of coats and top hats. I began to push my way towards the exit. All about me men were looking me over-not as they had done on the street, but with a more cerebral curiosity. "Pardon me, are you Miss Anning?" asked one.

"Oh no, no." I shook my head vigorously. "I'm not." He looked disappointed, and I felt a thread of anger tug at me. "I am Elizabeth Philpot," I declared, "and I collect fossil fish."

Not everyone heard my answer, for there were murmurs of "Mary Anning" all around me. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I did not turn, but shoved my way between the men in front of me until I reached the street. I managed to control myself until I was safe inside a cab heading up Piccadilly and no one could see me. Then I-who never cry-began to weep. Not for Mary, but for myself.

Like the tide making its