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.
'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 advertisement 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
