said, and shut the door in our faces. Clearly my success was limited, for it did not overcome the rule that women were not allowed inside, but must stand out in the cold. As we waited, snowflakes dusted my hat and cloak.
A few minutes later we heard footsteps clattering down the stairs, and the door opened to reveal the excited faces of Mr Buckland and Reverend Conybeare. I was disappointed to see the latter; Reverend Conybeare was not nearly as easy and welcoming as Mr Buckland.
I think they were a little disappointed to see us as well. 'Miss Philpot!' Mr Buckland cried. 'What a surprise. I did not know you were in town.'
'I only arrived two days ago, Mr Buckland. Reverend Conybeare.' I nodded at them both. 'This is my nephew, John. May we come in? It is very cold outside.'
'Of course, of course!' As Mr Buckland ushered us in, Reverend Conybeare pursed his lips, clearly unhappy that a lady was being allowed across the threshold of the Geological Society. But he was not President--Mr Buckland would become so in a moment--and so he said nothing, but bowed to us both. His long narrow nose was red, whether from wine, a seat close to the fire, or temper, I couldn't guess.
The entrance to the house was simple, with an elegant black-and-white tiled floor and solemn portraits hanging of George Greenough, John MacCulloch, and other Society Presidents. Soon a portrait of William Babington, the retiring President, would join the others. I expected to see something displayed that would indicate the Society's interest: fossils, of course, or rocks. But there was nothing. The interesting things were hidden away.
'Tell me, Miss Philpot, do you have news of the plesiosaurus?' Reverend Conybeare asked. 'The doorman said you might. Will its presence yet grace our meeting?'
Now I understood their excitement: it was not the Philpot name but mention of the missing specimen that had brought them racing down the stairs.
'I passed the grounded
'Its cargo is now being brought by land, and will arrive as quickly as the roads allow.'
Both men looked discouraged at hearing what was not news to them. 'Why, then, Miss Philpot, are you here?' Reverend Conybeare said. For a vicar he was quite tart.
I drew myself up straight and tried to look them in the eye as confidently as I had the clerk at the wharf and the Geological Society's doorman. It was more difficult, however, as there were two of them gazing at me--and Johnny too. Then, too, they were more learned, and con?dent. I might hold some power over a clerk and a doorman, but not over one of my own class. Instead of fixing my attention on Mr Buckland--who as future President of the Society was the more important of the two--I stupidly looked at my nephew as I said, 'I wanted to discuss Miss Anning with you.'
'Has something happened to Mary?' William Buckland asked.
'No, no, she is well.'
Reverend Conybeare frowned, and even Mr Buckland, who was not a frowner, wrinkled his brow. 'Miss Philpot,' Reverend Conybeare began, 'we are about to hold our meeting at which both Mr Buckland and I will be giving important--nay, even history-making--addresses to the Society. Surely your query about Miss Anning can wait until another day while we concentrate on these more pressing matters. Now, if you will excuse me, I am just going to review my notes.' Without waiting to hear my response, he turned and padded up the carpeted stairs.
Mr Buckland looked as if he might do the same, but he was slower and kinder, and he took a moment to say, 'I should be delighted to talk with you another time, Miss Philpot. Perhaps I could call around one day next week?'
'But sir,' Johnny broke in, 'Monsieur Cuvier thinks the plesiosaurus is a fake!'
That stopped Reverend Conybeare's retreating back. He turned on the stairs.
'What did you say?'
Johnny, the clever boy, had said just the right thing. Of course the men did not want to hear about Mary. It was Cuvier's opinion of the plesiosaurus that would concern them.
'Baron Cuvier believes that the plesiosaurus Mary found cannot be real,' I explained as Reverend Conybeare descended the stairs and rejoined us, his face grim.
'The neck has too many vertebrae, and he believes it violates the fundamental laws that govern the anatomy of vertebrates.'
Reverend Conybeare and Mr Buckland exchanged glances.
'Cuvier has suggested the Annings created a false animal by adding a sea serpent's skull to the body of an ichthyosaurus. He claims they are forgers,' I added, bringing the discussion to what concerned me most.
