"It's shaped like a star, sir," Mary explained. "The centre is marked with the outline of a flower with five petals, and a long, wavy leg extends off each petal. It's hard to find one with all five legs intact. I've had a collector ask specially for one that's not broken. That's why we've come this far. Normally I stay between Lyme and Charmouth, by Black Ven and off the ledges by town."

"Is that where you have found the ichthyosauri?"

"There, and one along Monmouth Beach, just to the west of Lyme. But there might be some along here. I just haven't looked here for them. Have you seen an ichthyosaurus, sir?"

"No, but I've read about them, and seen drawings."

I snorted.

"I am here for the summer to expand my fossil collection, Mary, and I hope you will be able to help-There!" Colonel Birch stopped. I turned to look. He reached down and picked up a bit of crinoid.

"Very good, sir," Mary said. "I was just going to have a look at that, but you beat me to it."

He held it out to her. "It is for you, Mary. I would not deprive you of such a lovely specimen. It is my gift to you."

It was indeed a fine specimen, fanning out like the lily it was named for. "Oh no, sir, it's yours," Mary said. "You found it. I could never take it from you."

Colonel Birch took her hand, laid the crinoid in it and closed her fingers around it. "I insist, Mary." He held his hand over her fist and looked at her. "Did you know crinoids are not plants as they appear, but creatures?"

"Really, sir?" Mary was staring into his eyes. Of course she knew about crinoids. I had taught her.

I stepped forward. "Colonel Birch, I must ask you to show proper respect or I shall require that you leave us."

Colonel Birch dropped his hand. "My apologies, Miss Philpot. The discovery of fossils excites me in ways I find hard to control."

"Control it you must, sir, or you will lose the privileges you seek."

He nodded and fell back to a respectful distance. We walked in silence for a time. But Colonel Birch could not be quiet for long, and soon he and Mary were lagging behind while he asked her about the fossils she preferred, her method of hunting, even her thoughts on what the ichthyosaurus was. "I don't know, sir," she said of her most spectacular find. "It seems the ichie's got a bit of crocodile in it, some lizard, some fish. And a bit of something all its own. That's what's difficult, that bit. How it fits in."

"Oh, I expect your ichthyosaurus has a place in Aristotle's Great Chain of Being," Colonel Birch said.

"What's that, sir?"

I tutted. She didn't need him to explain it, for I had described the theory to Mary myself. She was flirting with him. Of course he loved telling her what he knew. Men do.

"The Greek philosopher Aristotle suggested that all creatures could be placed along a scale, from the lowest plants up to the perfection that is man, in a chain of creation. So your ichthyosaurus may fall between a lizard and a crocodile in the chain, for instance."

"That is very interesting, sir." Mary paused. "But that don't explain about the bit of the ichie that's like nothing else, that don't fit in with the categories. Where does that fit in the chain, if it's different from everything else?"

Colonel Birch suddenly stopped, squatted and picked up a stone. "Is this-Oh, no, it's not. My mistake." He threw the stone into the water.

I smiled. He might dazzle with his handsome head of hair, but his grasp of knowledge was superficial, and Mary had picked it apart.

"What about you, Miss Philpot? What do you like to collect?" In two lively steps Colonel Birch had caught up with me, escaping Mary's awkward question. I did not want his attention, for I was not sure I could bear it, but I could not be impolite.

"Fish," I answered as briefly as I could.

"Fish?"

Though I did not want to converse with him, I could not help showing off a bit of my knowledge. "Primarily Eugnathus, Pholidophorus, Dapedius, and Hybodus-the last is an ancient shark," I added as his face went blank at the Latin. "Those are the genus names, of course. The different species have not yet been identified."

"Miss Philpot has a big collection of fossil fish at her home," Mary put in. "People come and look all the time, don't they, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Really? Fascinating," Colonel Birch murmured. "I shall be sure to visit as well and see your fish."

He was careful, so I could never accuse him of rudeness, but his tone bore a trace of sarcasm. He preferred the bold ichthyosaurus to the quiet fish. But then, most do. They do not understand that the clear shape and texture of a fish, with its overlapping scales, its dimpled skin, and its shapely fins, all make up a specimen of great beauty-beautiful because it is plain and definite. With his gleaming b.u.t.tons and thrusting hair, Colonel Birch could never comprehend such subtlety.

"You'd best move along," I snapped, "else the tide will catch us out before we reach Seatown. Mary, if you don't stop talking you'll never find a brittle star for your collector."

Mary scowled, but I was done tolerating Colonel Birch. I turned and strode towards Seatown, blind to any fossils underfoot.

Colonel Birch was to stay for several weeks to build up his collection, taking rooms in Charmouth but coming to Lyme daily. His claim on Mary's time was sudden and absolute. She went out with him every day. To start with I accompanied them, for even if Mary didn't, I worried what the town would think. When we three were together I tried to find the comfortable rhythm I had when I was out only with Mary, where we each concentrated on our own hunting and yet felt the rea.s.suring presence of a companion close by. That rhythm was ruined by Colonel Birch, who liked to remain with Mary and talk. It is a testament to her hunting skills that she was able to find anything at all that summer with him babbling at her side. Yet she toler-?flated him. More than tolerated-she doted on him. There was no place for me on the beach with them. I might as well have been an empty crab sh.e.l.l. I went out three times with them, and that was enough.

For Colonel Birch was a fraud. To be accurate, I should say, Lieutenant Colonel Birch was a fraud. That was one of his many petty ruses-leaving off the "Lieutenant" to promote himself higher than he was. Nor did he offer up that he was long retired from the Life Guards, though anyone who knew a bit about them could see he wore the old uniform of long coat and leather breeches rather than the shorter coat and blue-grey pantaloons of the current soldiers. He was happy to bask in the Life Guards' glory at Waterloo, without having taken part.

Worse, I discovered from those three days on the beach with him that he did not find fossils himself. He did not keep his eyes on the ground as Mary and I did, but searched our faces and followed our gazes so that as we stopped and leaned over, he reached out and picked up what we were looking at before we had time to do so ourselves. He only tried this method with me once before my glare stopped him. Mary was more tolerant, or blinded by her feelings, and let him rob her of many specimens and call them his own finds.

Colonel Birch's amateurism appalled me. For all his professed interest in fossils, and his supposedly robust military const.i.tution ready for all hardships, he was not a scrabbler in the mud in search of specimens. He found his through his wallet, or his charm, or by picking them off others. He had a fine collection by the end of the summer, but Mary had found and given them to him, or nudged him towards those she had spotted. Like Lord Henley and other men who came to Lyme, he was a collector rather than a hunter, buying his knowledge rather than seeking it with his own eyes and hands. I could not understand how Mary would find him appealing.

Yes, I could. I was a little in love with him myself. For all my complaints, I found him very attractive: not only physically, though there was that, but because his interest in fossils seemed genuine and penetrating. When he was not flirting with Mary, he was capable-and keen-to discuss the origins of the ichthyosaurus, and what it meant to be extinct. He was also clear about G.o.d's role, without seeming disrespectful or blasphemous. "I am sure G.o.d has better things to do than watch over every living creature on this earth," he said once when we were walking back to Lyme along the cliff path, the tide having cut us off. "He has done such amazing work to create what He has; surely now He needn't follow the progress of every worm and shark. His concern is with us, and He showed that by making us in His image and sending us His son." Colonel Birch made it sound so clear and sensible that I wished Reverend Jones could hear him.

Here, then, was a man who thought and talked about fossils, who encouraged us women to look for them, who would not mind that I regularly ruined my gloves. My anger at him stemmed not so much from irritation at his inability to be a hunter rather than a collector, but from indignation that he never for a moment considered me-closer to his age and of a similar cla.s.s-as a lady he might court.

Whatever I thought of him, it was not for me to decide what Mary did or did not do with Colonel Birch. That was for Molly Anning to sort out. Over the years Molly and I had grown to understand each other, so that she was less suspicious and I less intimidated. While she had little education, and saw neither poetry nor philosophy in our discoveries, she accepted their importance to me and to others. That importance may have been measured in coins that kept her family fed, clothed and sheltered, but she did not ridicule their value. Fossils became an item to be sold, as significant as b.u.t.tons or carrots or barrels or nails. If she thought it peculiar that I did not sell the specimens I found, she did not show it. After all, in her eyes I did not need to. Louise, Margaret and I could not be extravagant, but we were never fearful of the bailiff or the workhouse. The Annings, however, lived on the edge of starvation, and that can sharpen a mind. Molly Anning became quite a shrewd saleswoman, squeezing out extra shillings and pennies here and there.

She envied me my income and my position in society-what society there was in Lyme-but she pitied me too, for I had never known a man, never felt the security of marriage or the love of a baby in my arms. That rather balanced out the envy, and left her neutral and reasonably tolerant towards me. As for me, I admired her business sense and her ability to find her way through difficult circ.u.mstances. She did not complain much even though she had a right to, given her hard life.

Unfortunately, Molly Anning allowed herself to be carried away by Colonel Birch's charm almost as much as her daughter was. I had always thought she was a good judge of character, and would have thought she'd see Birch as the greedy schemer he was. Perhaps like Mary she sensed he was the first real-and possibly the only-opportunity her daughter had to be lifted from the hard life of her own cla.s.s into a kinder, more prosperous world.

I do not think Colonel Birch originally intended to court Mary. He was drawn to Lyme by a fever many have felt for finding treasure on the beach, where old bones with their hints of earlier worlds become as precious as silver. It is hard to stop looking once you have become infected. However, Colonel Birch was also presented with the unusual opportunity of pa.s.sing whole days with an unaccompanied woman, and could not resist.

First, though, he had to win over her mother. He did so by flirting shamelessly with her, and for perhaps the only time in her life, Molly Anning lost her head. Ground down by poverty and loss, Molly had enjoyed little happiness in the years since Richard Anning's death, but suffered constant worry over money and fear of the prospect of being sent to the workhouse. Now a handsome retired soldier in a smart uniform was kissing her hand and complimenting her housekeeping and asking her leave to go along the beach with her daughter. She who had been so indignant at William Buckland innocently taking Mary out now threw away her caution for the price of a kiss on the hand and a kind word or two. Perhaps she was simply tired of saying no.

The shop where Molly Anning sold fossils to visitors began to run low on even basic specimens such as ammonites and belemnites, for Mary had stopped picking up other fossils, leaving nodules for others to break open, ignoring requests by other collectors for sea urchins or gryphaea or brittle stars. The good specimens she found she gave to Colonel Birch, or encouraged him to pick up himself. Molly did not complain to her daughter, however. I helped as best I could by donating what I found, for I primarily hunted for fossil fish and left other specimens to others. But the Annings were low on funds and running debts with the baker and the butcher, and would soon with the coal merchant once it grew cold. Still Molly Anning said nothing-perhaps seeing Mary's time with Colonel Birch as a future investment.

Since her mother wouldn't, I tried to talk to Mary about Colonel Birch. When the tide was high they could not go out, and he would stop in at the Three Cups, or attend the a.s.sembly Rooms, where of course Mary did not go. Then she would help her mother, or clean Colonel Birch's specimens for him, or simply wander about Lyme in a daze. One day I met her as I was coming up Sherborne Lane, a small pa.s.sage that led to Silver Street from the centre of town. I used it when I was not feeling sociable enough to greet everyone walking along Broad Street. Mary was drifting down the lane, her eyes on Golden Cap, a smile on her face, which shone with an appealing inner joy. For a moment I could almost believe Colonel Birch might seriously court her.

Seeing her so happy twisted my jealous heart, so that when she greeted me I did not restrain myself. "Mary," I said abruptly, without the small talk that eases such conversation, "is Colonel Birch paying you for your time?"

Mary gave her head a shake, as if trying to rouse herself, and met my eyes with all of her attention. "What do you mean?"

I shifted the basket I was carrying from one arm to the other. "He is taking up all of your hunting time. Is he paying you for it, or at least for the fossils you find him?"

Mary narrowed her eyes. "You never asked me that about Mr Buckland, or Henry De La Beche, or any of the other gentlemen I've taken out. Is Colonel Birch any different?"

"You know he is. For one thing, the others found their own fossils, or paid you for those you found for them. Is Colonel Birch paying you?"

Mary's eyes registered a flicker of doubt, which she covered up with scorn. "He finds his own curies. He don't need to pay me."

"Oh? And what have you found to sell, then?" When Mary didn't answer, I added, "I've seen your mother's cury table in c.o.c.kmoile Square, Mary. There is little on it. She's selling broken ammonites you would have thrown back into the sea once."

Mary's elation had entirely disappeared. If that was my intention, I had been successful. "I'm helping Colonel Birch," she declared. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"And he should be paying you for it. Otherwise he is using you for his own gain and leaving you and your family the poorer." I should have left it there, where my words might have had a positive effect. But I could not resist pressing harder. "His behaviour does not speak well of his character, Mary. You would do better not to a.s.sociate with such a man, for it will hurt you in the end. Already the town is talking, and it is worse than when you attended William Buckland."

Mary glared at me. "That's nonsense. You don't know him at all, not like I do. You'd do better to stop listening to gossip, or you'll become a gossip yourself!" Pushing past me, she hurried down Sherborne Lane. Mary had never before been so rude to me. It was as if she had taken a great leap from deferring to me as a working girl to acting as my equal.

Afterwards I felt bad about what I had said and how I had said it, and decided as penance I would force myself to go out with Mary and Colonel Birch again, to blunt the sharp tongues of Lyme. Mary accepted my gesture easily, for love made her forgiving.

That was why I was with them out by Black Ven when they at last found the ichthyosaurus Colonel Birch was so keen to add to his collection. I was finding very little that day, for I was distracted by the behaviour of Mary and Colonel Birch, who were more openly affectionate than they had been weeks before: touching an arm to get the other's attention, whispering together, smiling at each other. For an awful moment I wondered if Mary had succ.u.mbed completely to him. But then I reasoned that if she had, she would not go to such lengths to seem accidentally to touch his arm. I did not know of married couples who caressed each other so eagerly. They did not need to.

I was pondering this when I saw Mary pause on a ledge and look down, the way I'd seen her do hundreds of times. It was the quality of her stillness that told me she'd found something.

Colonel Birch went on a few paces, then stopped himself and came back. "What is it, Mary? Have you seen something?"

Mary hesitated. Perhaps if she'd realised I was watching she wouldn't have done what she did next. "No, sir," she said. "Nothing. I just-" She let slip her hammer, which fell with a clang to rest. "Sorry, sir, I've come over a little dizzy. It must be the sun. Could you fetch my hammer for me?"

"Of course." Colonel Birch bent to pick it up, froze, then dropped to his knees. He glanced up at Mary, as if trying to read her face.

"Have you found something, sir?"

"Do you know, I think I have, Mary!"

"That's a dorsal vertebra, isn't it? See, sir, if you measure it you can tell how long your creature is. For every inch in diameter the ichie is five feet in length. This is about an inch and a half in diameter, so the creature would be about eight feet long. Look round and see if you can uncover other parts of it in the ledge. Here, use my hammer."

She was giving the ichthyosaurus to him, and he knew it. I turned away, disgusted. While they excitedly traced the outline of the creature in the ledge, I busied myself knocking open random rocks, just to keep myself busy, until they called to me to come and see Colonel Birch's find. I could barely look at it, which was a shame, for it was perhaps the finest ichthyosaurus Mary ever found, and it is always an impressive sight to see one embedded in its natural environment before it is cut out of the stone. However, I had to put on a civil face and congratulate him. "Well done, Colonel Birch," I said. "It will make a fascinating addition to your collection." I allowed the slightest hint of sarcasm into my voice, but it was lost on them both, for Colonel Birch had taken Mary into his arms and was swinging her about as if they were at an a.s.sembly Rooms ball.

They spent the next two weeks having the Day brothers dig out the ichthyosaurus, and cleaning it back at the workshop, with Mary doing the delicate work to make it presentable. She worked so hard on it her eyes went red. I did not visit while she prepared it, for I did not want to be caught in the close quarters of the workshop with Colonel Birch. Indeed, I avoided him as best I could. Not well enough, however.

One afternoon Margaret convinced me to play cards at the a.s.sembly Rooms. I did not go often, for it was full of young ladies and men courting, and mothers watching the proceedings. The select friends I had made in Lyme were of a more cerebral nature, like young Henry De La Beche or Doctor Carpenter and his wife. We usually met at one another's houses rather than at the a.s.sembly Rooms. But Margaret wanted a partner, and insisted.

In the middle of a game Colonel Birch walked in. Of course I noticed him immediately, and he me-he caught my eye before I could look away, and came straight over. Trapped by my cards, I responded to his greeting with as little expression as possible, though that did not stop him from standing over me and chatting with onlookers. The other players looked at me with amused surprise, and I began to play badly. As soon as I was able I feigned a headache and got up from the table. I had hoped Colonel Birch would take my place, but instead he followed me to the bay window, where we both looked out to sea. A ship was sailing past, about to dock at the Cobb.

"That is the Unity," Colonel Birch said. "I am having the ichthyosaurus shipped on it to London when it leaves tomorrow."

Despite not wanting to engage in conversation, I could not help myself. "Has Mary done with her work on the specimen, then?"

"It's set in its frame, and just this afternoon she put a plaster skim around it to finish it. It should be dry later, and she'll pack it up."

"But you are not going on the Unity yourself?" I was not sure if I wanted him to stay or go, but I had to know.

"I will go up by coach, stopping first at Bath and Oxford to see friends."

"Now that you have what you came for, I suppose there is no reason to stay on." Hard as I tried to keep it steady, my voice wavered. I did not add that his haste to depart after securing his treasure was in poor taste. Instead I kept my eyes on the waves that chopped and swayed under the window, for the tide was high. I could feel Colonel Birch's eyes on me, but I did not turn to face him. My cheeks were flushed.

"I have very much enjoyed our conversations, Miss Philpot," he said. "I shall miss them."

I turned then and looked at him direct.

"Your eyes are very dark today," he added. "Dark and honest."

"I am going to go home now," I replied, as if he had asked. "No, don't accompany me, Colonel Birch. I do not want you to." I turned. It seemed the entire room was watching us. I went over to fetch my sister, and was truly relieved that he did not follow.

I believe the months after Colonel Birch's departure were the hardest ever for the Annings-even harder than after Richard Anning died, for at least then they had the sympathy of the town. Now people simply thought they had brought on their misery.

I first truly understood how much damage Colonel Birch had done to Mary's reputation when, not long after, I heard for myself what people were saying. I went into the baker's one day-Bessy had forgotten to, but refused to go down the hill once more. As I entered I overheard the wife of the baker-who was an Anning himself, and a distant cousin of Mary's-say to a customer, "She spent every day on the beach with that gentleman. Let him take care of her." She chuckled crudely, but stopped when she saw me. Even though no names had been mentioned, I knew whom she was referring to: It was clear from the defiant tilt of her chin, as if she were daring me to chide her for being so judgemental and ungenerous.

I didn't rise to the challenge. It would have been like trying to d.a.m.n a flood. Instead I fingered a loaf of bread, raised my eyebrows, and said in a ringing voice, "I don't really need stale bread today. I'll come another day when I do." It gave me only momentary satisfaction, though-for Simeon Anning was the only baker in Lyme, and we would have to continue to buy from his wife if we wanted bread we could actually eat, as opposed to Bessy's brick-like attempts. Besides, my words were weak and petty, and did little to help Mary. I left the shop red-faced, and it was made worse by the laughter that followed me. I wondered if I would ever be able to speak up for myself without feeling an idiot.

While Molly and Joseph Anning suffered materially that winter, with many days of weak soup and weaker fires, Mary barely noticed how little she was eating or the chilblains on her hands and feet. She was suffering inside.

She still came to Morley Cottage, but preferred to visit Margaret, for my sister could provide her with the empathy that Louise and I lacked. We had not lost a man the way Mary and Margaret had, and it was not in our natures to dissemble. Not that Mary felt she had lost Colonel Birch at that point. For a long time she was hopeful, and simply missed him and the constant presence he had been in her life all summer. She wanted to talk about him with someone who knew him and approved of him, or at least didn't express the sour criticism of his character that I had. Margaret had met Colonel Birch several times at the a.s.sembly Rooms, had played cards with him and even danced with him twice. While I worked on my fossils at the dining room table, I could hear Mary with Margaret next door, making her describe again and again the dances, what Colonel Birch had worn, what his gait and touch had been like, what they had chatted about as they went through their motions. Then she wanted to know about the cards, what they had played and whether he won or lost, and what he had said. Margaret had not noticed such details, for Colonel Birch had not been a memorable companion to her. His vanity and confidence were too much even for Margaret. However, for Mary she made up details to add to the little she did remember, until a fulsome picture emerged of Colonel Birch in his leisure moments. Mary drank in every detail, to store and pore over later.

I wanted to order Margaret to stop, for the pathos of a girl feeding on another's sc.r.a.ps of polite dances and indifferent card games upset me, bringing to mind an image of Mary standing outside the a.s.sembly Rooms and pressing her face to the cold gla.s.s to watch the dancers. Though I had never seen her do so, I would not have been surprised to learn that she had. I held my tongue, however, for I knew Margaret meant well, and was providing the little comfort Mary had in her life at the time. I was grateful too that Margaret never told Mary I had briefly been with Colonel Birch at the a.s.sembly Rooms, for Mary would have wanted me to recall every detail of that afternoon.

Though it would not be proper to initiate correspondence herself, Mary hoped and expected to hear from Colonel Birch. She and Molly Anning occasionally received letters, from William Buckland asking after a specimen, or Henry De La Beche telling them where he was, or other collectors they'd met and who wanted something from them. Molly Anning was even corresponding with Charles Konig at the British Museum, who had bought Mary's first ichthyosaurus from William Bullock and was interested in buying others. All of these letters continued to arrive, but in amongst them there was never the flash of Colonel Birch's bold, scrawling hand. For I knew his hand.

I could not tell Mary that it was I who heard from Colonel Birch, a month after he'd left Lyme. Of course it was not a letter declaring himself, though as I opened it my hands trembled. Instead he asked if I would kindly look out for a dapedium specimen, of the sort I had donated to the British Museum, as he was hoping to add choice fossil fish to his collection. I read it out to Margaret and Louise. "The cheek of it!" I cried. "After his scorn of my fish, to go and ask me for one, and one so difficult to find!" As angry as I sounded, I was also secretly pleased that Colonel Birch had discovered the value of my fish enough to want one for himself.

Still, I made to throw the letter on the fire. Margaret stopped me. "Don't," she pleaded, reaching for it. "Are you sure there's nothing about Mary? No postscript, or a coded message to her or about her?" She looked over the letter but could find nothing. "At least keep it so that you'll know where he lives." As she said this Margaret was reading the address-a street in Chelsea-doubtless memorising it in case I burned the letter later.

"All right, I will put it away," I promised. "But I will not answer it. He doesn't deserve an answer. And he will never get his hands on any of my fish!"

We did not tell Mary Colonel Birch had written to me. It would have devastated her. I had never expected such a strong character as Mary's to be so fragile. But we are all vulnerable at times. So she continued to wait, and talk, and ask Margaret to describe Colonel Birch's conduct at the a.s.sembly Rooms, and Margaret did it, though it pained her to lie. And slowly the bloom left Mary's cheeks, the bright light in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders took on their habitual hunch, and her jaw hardened. It made me want to weep, to see her joining the ranks of us spinsters at such a young age.

One sunny winter day I had a surprise visitor to Silver Street. I was out in the garden with Louise, who missed working during the cold months and was looking for something she could do: spreading mulch around sleeping plants, checking on the bulbs she had planted, raking stray leaves that had blown into the garden, pruning back the rose bushes that persisted in growing. The cold did not bother us as it would have once, and in the sun it was surprisingly warm. I was finishing a watercolour of the view towards Golden Cap, which I had begun months before, but brought out again with the hope that the oblique winter sunlight might give the painting the magic quality it yet lacked.

I was adding a yellow wash to the clouds when Bessy appeared. "Someone to see you," she muttered. She stepped aside to reveal Molly Anning, who in the many years we'd lived there had never ventured up Silver Street.

Bessy's scorn vexed me. Despite my friendship with the Annings, Bessy all too readily took on the views of the rest of Lyme about the family, even when she had seen enough of Mary to form her own judgement. I punished her by standing and saying, "Bessy, bring out a chair for Mrs Anning, and one for Louise, and tea for all of us, please. You don't mind sitting outside, Molly? In the sun it's quite mild."

Molly Anning shrugged. She was not the sort to take pleasure in sitting in the sun, but she would not stop others doing it.

I raised my eyebrows at Bessy, who was lingering in the doorway, clearly livid at the thought of having to wait on someone she considered lower than herself. "Go on, Bessy. Do as I ask, please."

Bessy grunted. As she disappeared inside, I heard Louise chuckle. Bessy's moods were greatly entertaining to my sisters, though I still fretted that she might walk out on us, as her slumped shoulders often threatened. After all this time she persisted in making clear that our move to Lyme had been a disaster. For Bessy my relations with the Annings represented all that was jumbled and wrong about Lyme. Bessy's a social barometer was still set to London standards.

I didn't care, except that it might mean losing a servant. Nor did Louise. Margaret I suppose lived the most conventional life here, still occasionally attending the a.s.sembly Rooms, visiting other good Lyme families and doing charitable work for the poor. The salve she had created to soothe my chapped hands she took with her everywhere, distributing it to whoever needed it.

I gestured to my chair. "Do take a seat, Molly. Bessy will bring another."

Molly Anning shook her head, uneasy about sitting while I stood. "I'll wait." She seemed to understand Bessy's judgement that we should not have Annings as visitors; indeed, perhaps she agreed with her, and it was that rather than the climb up the hill that had kept her from Morley Cottage all this time. Now her eyes rested on my watercolour, and I found myself embarra.s.sed-not for the quality of the painting, which I already knew was not good, but because what had been a pleasure to me now seemed a frivolity. Molly Anning's day began early and ended late, and consisted of many hours of backbreaking work. She barely had time even to look at a view, much less to sit and paint it. Whether or not she felt that way, she showed nothing, but moved on to inspect Louise's pruning. This at least was less frivolous-though not much less so, for roses serve little purpose other than to dress a garden, and feed no one other than bees. Perhaps Louise felt similar to me, for she hurried to finish the bush she was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and laid down her pruning knife. "I'll help Bessy with the tray," she said.

As more chairs were brought out, and a small table on which to place the tray, and finally the tray itself-all accompanied by huffs and sighs from Bessy-I began to regret my suggestion to take tea outside. It too seemed frivolous, and I had not meant to cause such a fuss. Then as we sat, the sun went behind a cloud and it instantly grew chilly. I felt an idiot, but would have even more so if I then said we ought to troop back inside, reversing the move of furniture and tea. I clung to my shawl and cup of tea to warm me.

Molly sat pa.s.sively, allowing the bustle of cups and saucers and chairs and shawls to take place around her without comment. I rattled on about the unusually clement weather, and the letter I'd had from William Buckland saying he'd be down in a few weeks, and how Margaret couldn't join us because she was taking some of her salve to a new mother sore from nursing. "Useful, that salve," was Molly's only comment.

When I asked how they fared, she revealed why she had come to see us. "Mary ain't right," she said. "She ain't been right since the Colonel left. I want you to help me fix it."