Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Her husband waved away the footman and opened the carriage door, flipped down the steps, and assisted Katie and a pleased but flustered Becky down from the carriage.
“I have business that will keep me for several hours, but I have reserved the inn’s private parlor for the afternoon so that you may return here at any time to rest. I will be back at two o’clock if you wish to share a meal.”
Katie was nonplussed at the unprecedented offer of his company.
Becky poked her in the back when she didn’t respond.
“Er, yes,” Katie mumbled. “That would be pleasant.”
He inclined his head, pivoted on his heel, and marched off with one of his red-headed footmen sprinting after him, lugging a heavy satchel of some sort.
“Wasn’t that nice?” Becky asked.
Katie grunted.
Becky sighed at her lack of enthusiasm and pulled a folded piece of paper from her oversized reticule. “I have a few things I need.”
“I am at your service,” Katie said, her gaze lingering on the only reason she had come to town before he disappeared around a corner. She turned to her friend and forced a smile. “Let us see what delights Lyme has to offer.”
It turned out that Lyme had a number of stylish dress shops as well as an entire lane filled with the sort of vendors one found at the Western Exchange in London.
Becky was in her element, and Katie soon realized they would spend the entire day on clothing, hats, and other frippery if her maid had her way.
“I want to pop into that bookshop we passed on the last street,” she said as Becky gazed at a number of muslin samples that all looked the same to Katie.
“Oh.” Becky frowned. “I suppose I could—”
“I can go on my own. You here stay and finish whatever you are doing,” she added when the other woman looked ready to argue.
Becky—as much as Katie loved her—was not bookish in the least and always made Katie feel like she had to rush whenever they were in a bookshop.
“I will be fine walking one street over. I’m not an infant, Becky. ”
Becky gave her an agonized look. “If His Grace heard that I left you alone he’d be beside himself.”
Katie doubted that. But she said, “He’ll never know.”
Before Becky could assemble any more arguments, Katie strode off in the direction of the bookshop.
Although she had two entire trunks filled with new books, one could, in her opinion, never have too many.
But before she reached the bookstore another shop caught her attention.
A plain black and white sign saying only, Fossils, hung over the door.
A young woman sat in the narrow bow window and appeared to be working on something.
Behind her were several other people milling around.
Katie told herself that she wasn’t interested just because Dulverton was mad for fossils. Fossil hunting was currently all the rage not only in Lyme, but all over Britain. Why shouldn’t she have a look?
The shop was even smaller than it appeared from the outside. Shelves lined walls and shrank the space even more. Six people, four men and two women, were chatting with an older woman—who must be the proprietress—near the back.
“Is there something I can assist you with?” the woman seated at the table asked.
“I was just curious about what has drawn so many people.”
The other woman was perhaps a few years older than Katie and dressed in a serviceable gray gown that had obviously been made for utility rather than fashion. She set down the tool she was using and gestured to what she had been working on. “Have you seen one of these?”
Katie approached the table. “Yes, as a matter of fact. My husband has dozens and dozens of them in shadow boxes in his library.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, then you are married to a collector.”
Katie opened her mouth to say she did not know what she was married to but thought better of it. Instead, she said, “We are very newly married, and I have yet to learn much about his interest in fossils.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Er, newly married? Would it be—is it too bold to ask if you are the new Duchess of Dulverton?”
“How did you guess? Are newlyweds so rare in Lyme?”
“Well, there is only one man hereabouts who possesses a collection of dozens of ammonites arranged as you’ve described.” She smiled shyly. “If you will forgive my impertinence, I was the one who assisted His Grace in finding a framer for his collection.”
“Ah, I see.” Katie said, more than a little irked that here was yet another stranger who appeared to know more about her husband than she did.
And whose fault is that? a voice in her head that sounded a great deal like Becky asked.
“I’m afraid I do not know your name,” Katie said.
“Mary Anning, Your Grace.” She dipped a curtsey.
“Is this your shop?”
“It was my father’s, but he passed on and now my mother, brother, and I operate it.”
Katie gestured to the shelves. “And you have found all of these on the beach? Or do you possess a parcel of land where you er, harvest the fossils?”
“We have been fortunate to fill our shelves with the shoreline’s bounty.”
“What were you doing to that piece on the table?”
“I was preparing it for sale.” She gestured to the tool with a flat scraper end and a pointy end. “I use that to clean away the debris.”
Katie lightly stroked the spiral-shaped fossil with one gloved finger. “What a curious creature.”
“Indeed, ammonites are fascinating.”
Ammonites. Katie stored that word away for later. “Have your finds diminished now that so many tourists come to comb the shore?”
“Most of them will only find what washes up. You have to look a bit to find the truly good specimens.” She touched the side of her nose with her finger. “But I cannot share all my secrets, Your Grace.”
Katie laughed. “No, I suppose not.” She turned to look at the shelf closest to her, which held more of the same circular animal as well as something that was long and pointed on both ends.
“Are you curious to try hunting for fossils?” Miss Anning asked.
“I’m curious as to why it has captured so many people’s imagination.” Not to mention her husband’s attention, which seemed to have only enough space in it for these dead creatures. Oh, and chess. “Perhaps I will have to come down one morning and see what is what,” she said, smiling.
“Have you gone to your husband’s dig?”
“I have not.”
“You would be far more likely to find something interesting there,” she said, a bit of envy coloring her tone.
Katie had no interest in discussing her husband’s dig or his unwillingness to share anything about it. “What is this thing?” She pointed to a large fossil that looked to have a round body, head, four legs, and stub of a tail.
“A sea tortoise.”
“Is it?” Katie murmured, leaning closer. “It does not look like any tortoise I have seen.”
“No, this one is different to the ones alive now.”
“Different how?”
Miss Anning glanced around, an almost furtive expression on her face. “Normally I would not say this, but I know His Grace subscribes to the scientific perspective. But none of these creatures”—she waved a hand at the walls of fossils around them— “exist today.”
“What happened to them?”
Miss Anning shook her head. “That is a conversation I’m ill-equipped to have, although I do possess my theories, not that I have any proof, mind.”
“What are your theories?”
Again, the other woman looked about her before leaning closer.
“I think these were animals that could no longer survive, for one reason or another.” She shrugged.
“Perhaps some other creature came into their realm and provided too much competition. Or maybe the ocean receded and left them on dry land. If you went to your husband’s dig you would see how the different layers of earth yield up different finds.
” She shrugged again. “I am sure His Grace, who has been to Oxford and is a member of the Royal Society, could give you a more cogent explanation.”
Andrew had mentioned something about Dulverton going to university at a young age, but she had no idea he belonged to an esteemed club like the Royal Society.
The little bell over the door tinkled and when Katie looked up, she saw Becky wearing a frown and hurrying toward her.
“You were not at the bookshop like you said you would be! Fortunately, I saw your emerald silk in the window,” Becky said, belatedly adding, “Your Grace,” when she saw that Miss Anning was watching them with interest.
“I was on my way to the bookshop but was distracted,” Katie said, amused when Miss Anning’s eyes bulged to hear a duchess explain herself to a servant.
“We will be late to meet His Grace if we do not make haste.” Becky glanced around the somewhat dusty shop with a disapproving look.
Katie turned to Miss Anning. “I very much enjoyed speaking with you.”
The other woman’s face flushed, and she dipped a low curtsey. “It was an honor, Your Grace. And—and if you should ever wish to accompany me, please let me know.”
“Thank you, that is very kind. I will certainly keep your generous offer in mind.” She inclined her head and walked to where Becky was already holding open the door.
“What on earth were you doing in that dusty, dirty place?” Becky demanded the instant they were out on the street.
“Looking at fossils.”
“I should think you’d get enough of those at home.”
“One would think,” Katie agreed mildly.
Becky cut her a suspicious look. “What are you scheming about now?”
“Nothing.” Katie laughed and bumped Becky’s shoulder with her own, although she had to lean down to do so.
“Your Grace!” Becky hissed. “People will see.”
Katie just smiled.
Becky chattered on about her purchases as they walked the five minutes to the Red Lion. “I need to find Jeremy and have him go fetch the parcels from the drapery warehouse,” Becky said, glancing around the foyer as if the footman might be lurking there.
The innkeeper Katie had seen earlier hurried toward them. “Ah, Your Grace—your parlor awaits.”