Tracy Chevalier - Remarkable Creatures

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Colonel Birch had entered by the far door, dressed as usual in his outdated red soldier’s coat, while a lady a bit older than I held his arm and walked alongside.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 sombre 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 to mine?” he declared. “How the vertebrae and ribs have been squeezed into a mass? And how incomplete it is? Look, do you see the discoloured 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 6000 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 good will 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 grey light over us. He was no longer looking neutral, but concerned and a little annoyed. “Well, Miss Philpot.”