Tracy Chevalier - Remarkable Creatures

“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 behaviour rather than his. His tactics were low, and angered me, so that my response was 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. They were new, from a haberdasher’s in Soho. By the end of the year they too would be ruined by Lyme clay and sea water.

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 realise 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 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 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 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. 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 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 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 Essex 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.