after?' Post-church gossip amongst servants was lively, I had noticed.
I could see Bessy was tempted, but her natural suspicion made her study me with narrowed eyes. 'You ain't going out on the beach, are you, Miss Elizabeth? I won't allow it, not after your cold. And it's Sunday!'
'Of course not. The tide is high.' I had no idea what the tide was doing.
'Oh.' Although she had now lived in Lyme almost twenty years, Bessy still had little sense of the tides. With a few more words of encouragement, I convinced her to return to the church.
Cockmoile Square and Bridge Street were deserted, as most of the town was at church or asleep. I could not hesitate or I would be caught or lose my nerve. Hurrying down the steps to Mary's workshop, I got out the spare key I had seen Molly Anning hide under a loose stone, unlocked the door and let myself in. I knew I should not do it, that it was far worse than my sneaking out to the auction at Bullock's in London. But I could not help it.
There was a whining, and Tray came up to me, sniffing my feet and wagging his tail. I hesitated, then reached down and petted him. His fur was coarse like coir, and he was covered in Blue Lias dust, a true Anning dog.
I stepped around him to look at the plesiosaurus laid out in slabs on the floor. It was about nine feet long, and half that width, which accommodated the span of its massive diamond-shaped paddles. Much of its length was made up of its swan-like neck, and at the end was a surprisingly small skull perhaps five inches long. The neck was so very long it didn't make sense. Could an animal have a neck longer than the rest of its body? I wished I had my Cuvier volume on anatomy with me. The body was a barrel-shaped mass of ribs, completed by a tail far shorter than the neck. All in all it was as unlikely looking as the ichthyosaurus with its enormous eye had been. It made me shiver and smile all at once. It also made me enormously proud of Mary. Whatever anger there was between us, I was delighted that she had found something no one ever had before.
I walked around it, looking and looking, getting my fill, for I was unlikely to see it again. Then I looked around the workshop, which I had once spent so much time in and now hadn't seen in a few years. It hadn't changed. There was still little furniture, a great deal of dust, and crates overflowing with fossils that awaited attention. On top of one such pile there was a sheaf of papers in Mary's hand. I glanced at the top sheet, then picked up the bundle and leafed through it. It was a copy of an article Reverend Conybeare had written for the Geological Society about Mary's beasts. There were twenty-nine pages of text, as well as eight pages of illustrations, all of which Mary had painstakingly copied out. She must have spent weeks doing this, night after night. I myself had not seen the article, and found myself drawn in to reading parts of it and wishing I could borrow the copy from her.
I could not stand in the workshop all day reading it, however. I flipped to the end to read the conclusion, and there discovered a note in small writing at the bottom of the last page. It read: 'When I write a paper there shall not be but one preface.'
It appeared Mary felt confident enough to criticise Reverend Conybeare's wordiness. Moreover, she had plans to write her own scientific paper. Her boldness made me smile.
Then Tray yipped, and the door opened, and Joseph Anning stood in the entrance.
It could have been worse. It could have been Molly Anning, whose initial suspicion of me would have been revived. Of course it could have been Mary, and I would never have been able to justify such an intrusion to her.
It was still terrible, however. People do not enter others' homes unless they are thieves. Not even a harmless spinster can do such a thing. 'Joseph, I--I--I am so sorry,' I stammered. 'I wanted to see what Mary found. I knew I could not come when she was here--it would be too awkward for us both. But I should never have let myself in. It is unforgivable, and I am sorry.' I would have rushed out, but he was blocking the doorway, the light behind him throwing his face in shadow so that I could not see his expression--if he had one. Joseph Anning was not known for showing emotion.
He stood very still for a time. When he finally stepped forward he was not frowning or scowling, as one might have expected. Nor was he smiling. However, he was polite. 'I've come back for another shawl for Mam. 'Tis cold at Chapel.' How strange that Joseph should feel he owed me an explanation for being there. 'What do you think of it, then, Miss Philpot?' he added, nodding at the plesiosaurus.
I had not expected him to be so reasonable. 'It is truly extraordinary.'
'I hate it. It's not natural. I'll be glad when it's gone.' That was Joseph through and through.
'Mr Buckland told me he has been in touch with the Duke of Buckingham, who wants to buy it.'
'Maybe. Mary has other ideas.'
I cleared my throat. 'Not--Colonel Birch?' I couldn't bear the answer.
But Joseph surprised me. 'No, not him. Mary's let that go- she knows he'll never marry her.'
'Oh.' I was so relieved I almost laughed. 'Who, then?'
'She won't say, not even to Mam. Mary's got a swollen head these days.' Joseph shook his head, clearly disapproving. 'She sent off a letter and said we've to wait for the answer before we tell Mr Buckland.'
