Chapter 40
Chapter
Well, no one could say I didn’t try. Mantell and I were assigned morning shift next day, and he awkwardly tried to bring it up as we chipped slowly around the tusks.
“If mankind—”
“We don’t have to do this,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to upend geomagical philosophy. I just thought it might be a reliq.”
“It could still be,” he said gently. “Even Buckland said as much.”
Buckland had dismissed the idea of a burial site without comment—as if it were so foolish, it wasn’t even worth a denial. But he’d agreed my shell could very well be an old reliq.
“Certainly possible,” he said in a patronizing tone that made me wince. “We know the cave was used as a hideout. Someone easily could have dropped it.”
It was almost a relief. I didn’t need to meddle any more in faith and science. I’d presented my theory, and clearly, I was wrong. No harm done.
Elizabeth was waiting when Mantell and I emerged into blue sunlight. She handed us each a rag, and I wiped sweat and mud from my brow.
Ajax hooted and hopped around my boots until I knelt to scoop him onto my shoulder. He poked incessantly at my ear until Elizabeth fed him a strip of jerky.
“He’s a menace.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t eat a bite while you were inside, now acts like I tried to starve him.”
Conybeare and Goldsmild joined us a few moments later; their shift was next.
“Stanton wants to speak with you, Mary,” Goldsmild said. “He’s in the map tent.”
“Thank you for telling me.” I started to walk up the hill to camp, but Elizabeth caught my elbow.
“Wait,” she said softly. “Could we speak privately, first?”
I nodded, and Ajax trotted at our heels as Elizabeth led me away from the camp. We walked toward a small wood at the edge of the meadow.
Elizabeth didn’t speak, and I started to get nervous—did she suspect what I’d told her father? We were nearly to the trees when she whirled toward me.
“Lucy has been acting strange.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Distant.”
“Oh!” That was a relief; whatever this was, it wasn’t about her father, or anything I may or may not have told him.
“Has she said anything to you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry.”
She hung her head, and I patted her stiffly on the shoulder. I never quite knew what to do when people cried.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she said. “It’s just that—well—no one else knows. About me. Us.”
Her eyes darted to mine.
“Your secret is safe with me, I promise.” I smiled. “And for what it’s worth, I can tell Lucy is very fond of you.”
I thought for sure it was the right thing to say, so I was surprised when Elizabeth gave a choked sob. “Fond of. What a fool I’ve been.”
I tried to explain. “I’m sure it’s just that she’s distracted with Promethean…stuff. And the protests. She does really like you.”
I was wildly out of my element. I wished I was back in the cave instead.
Elizabeth sniffled, looking up. “You really think?”
“Yes!” I said, eager for this conversation to end. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s annoyed with me, and not you at all.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “You? Why would she be angry with you?”
“Because I strong-armed her into coming along, when I know she would rather have stayed in London.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth flushed. Her voice was very thin. “I thought she came because she didn’t want to be apart from me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. There was nothing you could say to ease that kind of anguish. Poor girl. I wasn’t lying; I could tell that Lucy was fond of Elizabeth. But I wasn’t sure it was love.
I thought, with some pain, of how I’d once loved Henry. And how it had broken me when love wasn’t enough.
I bent down to pick up Ajax to give Elizabeth a minute to compose herself. He only protested a little as I put him on my shoulder.
“It may be more than fondness,” I said, very carefully, still not looking at the younger girl. “Lucy might even love you. But I am not certain there is room in her head or heart for much beyond the Prometheans these days.”
Elizabeth laughed, a cold cracking sound. “I should’ve known it was pointless to ask you.”
I looked up in surprise.
“I try, and try, and try. But you just have to have everything, don’t you? I should’ve known that meant Lucy, too.”
Elizabeth was walking away, shoulders hunched.
“What?” I was frozen, trying to figure out what had just happened.
“Don’t worry. You needn’t be jealous,” Elizabeth snarled. “They would all choose the brilliant Miss Anning if they had a choice.”
I jogged after her, Ajax digging his claws painfully into my shoulder.
“Wait, please! I don’t understand. I only meant that Lucy is so often preoccupied with her reform causes, and trust me, I understand how annoying that can be, I—”
“Annoying?” Her eyes were ice. “Lucy is fighting for what she believes in. She’s fighting for all of us. God, she’s fighting most of all for you! Always for you!”
Elizabeth jabbed a finger at the center of my chest, and I stepped back in shock.
“But of course you have no idea what that means. What it means to fight.”
I caught my breath as I narrowed my own eyes. How dare she? I’d been patient, and kind. I’d tried to be a friend. But Elizabeth had been born into luck and luxury, and she had no right to speak a word about fighting.
“I have fought every day of my life,” I said, heat in my voice. “Any respect I have earned, I have claimed with my own blood and sweat. So don’t you dare say I know nothing of fighting.”
“And what have you gained for others?” Elizabeth shot back. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she shook her head so they scattered. “Nothing. I may not be the daughter my father always dreamed of—not clever and cunning like his beloved Mary—but at least I won’t be a coward, either.”
I gasped as she stormed away, the blow of her words like a physical weight as it struck.
Ajax chirped, and I stroked his belly, trying to steady my breathing. “Well,” I said aloud. “Well. That was certainly something.”
Had she hated me so much, all this time? I had my flaws, but I certainly hadn’t deserved that vitriol. A coward! She’d called me a coward! I honestly couldn’t believe the absolute gall.
I was still stewing as I walked back across the rolling meadow toward camp. I squinted. That was odd. Henry was running toward me, through the yellow wildflowers. My heart skipped a bit.
I crossed my arms. “There’s no need to run. I was on my way to meet you already.”
“Mary.” He was panting as he drew up before me. The wind bounced his dark curls fetchingly. “Come quickly. Goldsmild found a skeleton.”
“Part of the mammoths?”
“No.” He grinned. “Human.”