Chapter 11
Chapter
“Now, Miss Anning,” Buckland said, pulling out a file of papers from his satchel. “Shall we turn to the rest of our business?”
I smiled. Miss Anning, was it? I leaned forward and tented my fingers on the tabletop, then blushed a little when Buckland chuckled fondly at the motion.
Damn him, it did undercut the image of a cutthroat businesswoman when he smiled at me like I was a ten-year-old asking for a sweet.
“Perhaps we need not consider this a negotiation at all,” Buckland said pleasantly. “But rather, an agreement between friends.” His blue eyes sparkled.
I snorted. I was ten years old when I first sold William Buckland a fossil: a trilobite from the Blue Lias.
My father was dead by then, and Mother already staring at the wall. We were surviving on parish relief, Mother and I splitting a crust of bread a day as our evening meal and taking turns to visit the slicks.
I was still gathering fossils each morning, though. Partly because I enjoyed it. Partly because I had nothing better to fill my days. Partly because I could usually find a thing or two to sell, and help keep us from the slicks for a day or two.
But mostly because I missed Father, and it felt a little like he was there with me when I was on the beach.
Then I would brush my wild black hair, put on my least-ripped frock, stand outside The Three Crowns, and thrust a tray of fossils toward tourists as they walked to the beach.
“Fossils and curios from the cliffs!” I sounded desperate, and I hated it. I couldn’t help it. I was desperate.
A few bought my wares. Most ignored me.
But William Buckland bent and studied each carefully. His wife, Catherine—they were on honeymoon, surveying geomagical sites—stood back, smiling kindly. She was wearing a yellow-lace dress and looked to me like the stained-glass angels in the parish church.
“You’re Richard Anning’s girl,” Buckland said, and a lump rose in my throat. I could only nod. “I dealt with him a few times. I was very sorry to hear of his death. He was an excellent collector. You have his eye for quality.”
He fingered the trilobite and then turned it over in his palm to see the articulated legs.
“How much would you ask for this?”
“Only a pence, sir,” I said eagerly. One pence would buy the night’s bread, and another day’s.
Buckland shook his head, though. “Oh, no. No, no. This is a fine specimen you have here. You must always know the true worth of what you have, Miss Anning. Tell me, what do you think this is worth, to someone who would cherish it? Who would recognize it for what it is? What would you charge then?”
It was the first lesson he taught me.
I grinned. “Alas, I know the worth of what I found.”
“Yes. I was afraid you would,” Buckland said, and chuckled ruefully.
“But”—I raised a finger—“precisely because we are friends, I have not yet reached out to any other geomagicians. I wanted to offer you the chance to procure them first.”
Buckland’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He’d wondered, but was too polite to ask.
“However,” I continued, “if we cannot come to an agreement, I won’t hesitate to enter negotiations elsewhere. Including abroad.”
He bristled. “You can’t possibly mean the French.”
“I will consider all offers,” I teased. “Including any from the Société Géologique.”
One of Buckland’s regular rants was about the travesty of British fossil finds making their way abroad to France.
“If I may interject. What precisely,” Henry said smoothly as Buckland grumbled, “are we negotiating?”
“Is that not obvious?” I scoffed and gestured at the pterodactyl.
“For sale, then? Or on loan?” Henry asked.
Buckland’s brow wrinkled. “But—you are offering him for sale, aren’t you, Mary?”
I swallowed. That’s what I’d said in my letter. That’s what I’d meant to do. I found things, and I sold them to Buckland. That’s how it had always been.
And this sale would pay my rent and my debts. Cover Mother’s care.
Besides, what else would I do with him? Keep the thing as a pet, like Achilles? I couldn’t do that even if I wanted. Ajax looked like a demon flown straight off the margins of an illuminated Bible.
He wasn’t, of course. He was a prehistoric creature of Earth, not Hell, which seemed rather a significant difference.
But not everyone would agree. There were still good odds I’d find my skirts singed if I went around with the creature squawking on my shoulder.
It would take more power than mine to convince the good people of Lyme Regis that Ajax wasn’t a demon. Power like that of the Geomagical Society and the Church of England. And Buckland, as both a geomagician and minister of the Church, was far better positioned than I in that regard.
He is a specimen, I told myself firmly. I wouldn’t look at Ajax. Not a pet. This was always the plan.
“Yes. I intend to sell him.”
A strange expression flickered over Henry’s face, but Buckland sagged in relief. “Excellent. Most excellent. And I can assure you, we will give you the credit for the discovery. As I always have, for all your excellent finds.”
Credit. A brief mention of my name in the speech when he and Henry took the praise.
“Now,” Buckland said, “how much do you want for them? The beast and the skeleton together?”
I told him. He sputtered, but I knew it was an act. We’d danced this dance before.
“Six hundred pounds? Six hundred pounds? You would bankrupt the whole Society!”
I raised a brow. He’d told me stories of their parties. “I doubt that. And again, I know what this is worth. The plesiosaur skeleton sold for two hundred only two years ago. The mother’s skeleton alone is worth three.”
“The most we can offer you is four hundred,” Henry said.
I tapped my chin. “That’s a shame. And a good thing the French are more generous.”
“Gah,” Buckland said. “Four twenty-five.”
“Six hundred.”
Lucy brewed another pot of tea and watched us with amusement.
After this second round of tea was gone, Henry cleared his throat. “If I might suggest—”
“No,” Buckland and I both said in unison.
Henry put his hands up, leaning back in amusement. But Buckland was beginning to look troubled.
I’d refused to drop below six hundred pounds. I’d started at six hundred with every intention of negotiating in good faith, to find a price at which we both felt satisfied. Except I hadn’t counter-offered once.
I knew I was being difficult. I just wasn’t sure why.
“Five hundred thirty pounds,” Henry said softly, interrupting my back-and-forth with Buckland. “That’s the highest I can go. Or, frankly, the professor and I will both be expelled from the Society.”
“That would already be twice the highest purchase the Society has ever made,” Buckland added.
They were telling the truth. I knew it. Five hundred and thirty pounds would be enough for my debts. Enough for years of my rent and expenses. It was all I’d wanted, and more than I’d hoped.
So why was I resisting?
Behind me, the pterodactyl cooed, its claws clicking against the wooden perch.
I held out my forearm without really thinking, and the pterodactyl sailed to my shoulder. Buckland yelped at the rush of leathery wings, and Lucy laughed, but Henry only watched with curious, if wary eyes.
Ajax pressed his toothy beak against my cheekbone, and I ran a knuckle along the soft down of his chest, my swirl of thoughts crystallizing into clarity: This is my chance.
“I need to speak a moment with Buckland,” I said, looking at Henry and Lucy. “Alone.”
Once Buckland and I were alone, I sighed. “You know what else I want.”
He closed his eyes and scrubbed at his chin. “I do.”
“I want you to put my name forward. I want to be nominated.”
“Mary, I—”
“You think I am unworthy?” My voice cracked. “Is that it?”
“On the contrary,” Buckland said. He frowned as he shook his head.
“Then why won’t you even try?” I’d shed very few tears since my father died—that day wrung them all out of me—but I felt them pricking now.
“It isn’t that simple. No woman—”
I bit my lip, shook my head. I was afraid. Everything could very well crumble away. But I had to try. I would never have a stronger case for membership. I would never have better leverage.
“I won’t sell,” I said, fighting through my panic. I had to hold strong. “Unless you promise to nominate me. At the next meeting.”
Buckland looked stricken. It broke my heart. Whatever he says, he doesn’t really think I deserve it.
For a very long moment, I was afraid he would refuse. Then I really would be forced to write to the Société Géologique.
Buckland reached over and took my hands. His were sun-spotted and wrinkled. Mine were cracked, nails chipped.
“You’re right,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “Of course you’re right. Yes. I will nominate you, Mary.”
There was a catch in my chest as I breathed, as hope hooked on fear. It was finally happening.
If the Society elected me—and they better—I would be a geomagician.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice choked on emotion. He squeezed my hands, his eyes warm and wide.
“I will do everything I can to see you join our ranks, Mary.”
I swallowed, overcome. Buckland looked away, to preserve my dignity, and I was grateful.
“There is one thing, though.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll need to trust me, Mary. For this to work, I will need to campaign quietly, and win your allies carefully, lest we find ourselves derailed.”
“Understood.”
He did look at me then, eyes brittle. “In other words, dear. Don’t tell Stanton.”
Henry drew up the contract, and we signed. I sold the pterodactyl skeleton and Ajax—the live specimen, rather—to the Geomagical Society of London, care of William Buckland, for five hundred thirty pounds.
Henry blew on the ink to help it dry, and Lucy rose, bustling around the cottage and humming. I didn’t pay much attention—Lucy was often bustling and humming—until Buckland pursed his lips.
“Are you traveling somewhere, Miss Murray?”
I saw now what Lucy was diligently filling. A fine leather travel satchel.
She frowned. “I assumed we’d be departing for London today. Or did you plan to stay in town awhile first?”
Buckland blinked, struck silent. Apparently, Lucy was planning to travel back to London with the geomagicians. I felt a twinge of jealousy, and then chided myself. I had what I wanted. I had the nomination.
But Henry laughed, suddenly, a burst of amusement. “Ah, that’s what clinched the bargain, then? Mary comes along to present Ajax to the society?” He clapped, and my gaze whipped around in time to catch Buckland’s wince.
“I—” I started, but Henry interrupted.
“Well, I think it’s an excellent idea. You are, of course, very welcome to stay at my home. You too, Luce.” Henry’s eyes sparkled. “There’s plenty of room for all.”
I was as tongue-tied as Buckland. Me? Go to London? To the Society? I had the promise of nomination. It was enough.
Wasn’t it?
Buckland muttered something, but I was looking past him. To Ajax. The pterodactyl perched contentedly, scratching at his soft brown chest with that orange beak.
He wasn’t mine. I’d just signed the paperwork saying as much.
And yet. And yet, he was.
I’d thought I would be satisfied with a little money and credit. Just a bit of recognition, and the nomination. But, really, that was only a fraction of the respect I was owed.
The truth—and I felt it now, hot and golden—was that I wanted more. Maybe I had for a long time, only I’d been too afraid to admit it.
But now the idea of staying here as Henry, and Buckland, and Ajax went off to London and flipped the world on its head? The idea made my stomach twinge and twist with jealousy.
The geomagicians were going to make history. And I wanted to be part of it. All of it.
“Yes,” I declared. “I am coming to London. That was the bargain.”
Buckland arched a brow, but what could he say? He was the one who insisted we keep our deal secret in the first place.
“Yes”—Buckland exhaled—“but, as I already said, Mary, you will face a great deal of scrutiny in London. Frankly, your…reputation may be better served by distance.”
Reputation, Buckland said aloud, but he meant nomination.
He was suggesting I might be more likely to be elected in absentia. That the idea of me—the odd fossil woman from Lyme Regis—might be more palatable than the truth of me, in the flesh.
I bit the inside of my cheek. The worst of it was I couldn’t even say he was wrong. I wasn’t one of them. Not a scholar. Not a man. Not wealthy. Not even educated.
“For all your many charms, Mary, I am not sure you are prepared for the scrutiny you will face.”
God, it hurt. It stung, nettle-sharp. I had thick skin, truly I did. But that cut through.
“But I am,” Lucy said, walking over to put a hand on my shoulder. Her fingers curled like Ajax’s claws. “It has been a while, yes, but I know well how to move in these circles. I can help Mary.”
I looked up at her gratefully and then at Buckland.
“I understand. If they…dislike me, they dislike me. It won’t be on you, Buckland. It’ll be my own damn fault. I won’t blame you. I swear it.”
My old friend’s face softened, cheeks plumping in a warm smile. “Mary, dear. As you said, the bargain was already struck. You don’t need to convince me further. If you want to come to London, then of course you shall.”
Buckland sniffed, pointedly looking away from Henry. “But you and Miss Murray will stay at my home, yes? As previously discussed?”
My lip twitched in a smile. “Of course. As previously discussed.”