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.”

“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.”