Chapter Twelve
“I don’t think I know anything,” she smiled at him. “Not about what happens in town. All I have ever tried to care about is this.” She gestured toward the landslip that had almost killed her yesterday.
He studied her with an intensity as she looked back at him guilelessly. Bessie the maid might be right, but he believed her—this was the thing she was passionate about, wholeheartedly.
Abigail said, “Please.” Abigail’s tone shifted as she turned on her heel. “I do very much wish to explore the site today, especially before more treasure seekers arrive. Can we walk over there now?”
Falling into step next to her, Robert kept his eyes on the sea. The light rain had eased a little. The clouds had started to recede somewhat, and there was a soft cheerful breeze that whispered of the coming summer.
Abigail moved with as much grace as she could, side stepping over rock pools and mounds, kneeling here and there to study a sight of interest before moving on.
She did not move too far though, her hands feeling through the earth, and debris, before pausing to look up at the sky.
She lowered her head down suddenly amongst the spreading rubble of Blue Lias, her eyes bright as she looked around herself with satisfaction.
“Excellent. I will begin here.” Abigail gave him a smile, which spoke of an inner knowledge she had of this area that he was sadly ignorant of. “It had better not rain again.” She sank down lower, so she was crouching, close to the ground. One hand darted into the dirt, feeling her way around.
“You command it, and it must be so,” Robert said. Trust Abigail to believe so greatly in her own powers as to have her wishes granted so immediately.
“No,” she said. “I think I have something of great interest, and if it rains…” She looked over her shoulder, out across the beach before turning her face to Robert’s. “I don’t want anyone else coming along and stealing it.”
The beach was quiet, the cliffs’ white surfaces gleaming in the faint light. Interlocking hills, played and cut into the large white cliff surface, encircling them in the bay.
It was early still. Distantly on the pathways leading out of Lyme Regis, Robert could make out several workmen heading toward the fields, and likewise there was the occasional sound or shape of a horse and cart, but otherwise the only constant was the noise of the sea.
If it weren’t for the bounding of his own professional pressure, it would be the most soothing of settings.
Abigail set to work searching through the overflowing landslide. She was meticulous as she picked through the rubble, careful to pause and search.
Hours ticked by, with her occasional question or remark thrown his way. Despite himself, Robert found it companionable. Besides, it was fascinating watching her work.
“Is anyone else coming?”
Robert placed his glasses on and strained his eyes. There was a sheen, a smudge of sunshine warming up the background of his sight, but he could see no one approaching. “I cannot see anyone likely to be along here right now.”
“Good, then come help me,” Abigail said.
The tone of her voice drew his attention.
“I don’t think this is one of the normal finds.
We might have got lucky. Just as I’d hoped.
” There was such a gleaming beacon of excitement to her voice that Robert had not heard before.
It was childish excitement. Adult joy. Bundled together in a package that was uniquely Abigail.
“Thank heaven. I really do think I have found something magnificent.”
Robert dutifully scrambled up over the dirt to join Abigail in her natural setting. Briefly, he wondered if Montacute might have him executed for failing in his mission, and then he saw Abigail’s welcoming grin, and the memory of his work slipped from his mind.
“Yes, yes,” she said, her hands running in and out of the dry dirt. “I remember when my pa found his treasure, his sea monster that’s what we called it then…oh, it was just like one of these days. You can taste it in the air.”
Robert found himself smiling, hoping she would find precisely what she was seeking so urgently. He watched her as she drew along the rod she’d used to walk with this morning, and started to push and shove the dirt out of the way. She moved with such deftness. It was like watching an artist work.
When her hands dived in there, into the muddy cauldron, she made a triumphant noise. “I can feel him. It’s something special—”
Shifting on his feet, Robert was surprised when Abigail held up a dirty hand to him, eager to stop his moving.
“We need to extract the blighter. That’s the trick.
That’s what’s considered a true achievement.
My father managed it, and it sold for a great deal of money.
” Abigail smiled then, the grin lighting up her whole face, with the sort of impish wonder that he loved about her.
“His discovery was taken to London, and my father’s name displayed for all to see,” she recalled before adding, “We need to move delicately.”
Moving with as much consideration as he could Robert neared the site, there was dirt and rubble all around them, but Abigail was crouched close to the ground.
“Where is it?” He had no idea how she knew this particular one was precious, but he was wiser now having seen Abigail spot the perfect curios across the wide stretching beach.
She knew the difference between sea lilies and urchins, bezoars and Devil’s toenails, and what each should fetch when sold, on these matters he trusted her entirely.
“Here.” She snatched up his hand and pulled him down, so he was crouching close to her.
“Feel.” She pushed his fingers into the dirt up against the rock, and Robert tried his best to feel for what she had mentioned.
It was a strangely cold shape, what felt like a skull, but longer and oddly rough. It felt monotonous beneath his fingers.
“It’s the creature’s head. A skull. It feels almost like a crocodile. Or how I would imagine one.”
Sliding her fingers over his, she guided his hand along the skull, all the while watching his face.
Gulping, Robert realized the intimacy of such an action, whilst his gaze was rooted on her face.
He could not look away, away from the quick of her eyebrows, or the twisting smile of her delicious mouth, or the faded cake crumble decoration of freckles over her nose.
“There,” she said with pleasure. Robert felt it too, a change beneath his fingers—her hand forced his fingers to feel the space where the creature’s eyes must have been—it was different, an alien experience.
Unbidden, a little gasp slipped out of his mouth. Abigail laughed.
“He’s ours,” she said. Robert felt a surge of ownership, but he was not sure it was toward the object in the ground. Or toward her. “We have no time to waste. He needs to be extracted safely. Men should be hired to help carry him. His body must be at least six feet…”
Together with Robert holding the strangely shaped skull steady, Abigail shifted and worked around the discovery, until the dirt, grit and grey clay were scraped back, and the ancient skull could be eased up and out.
She used both her hammer and the knife, moving as if she had no injury whatsoever.
Ever so slowly, the skull eased away from its ancient home.
Back into darkness and shale, Blue Lias, stone and clay, lay the rest of its body.
Both Robert and Abigail stared at the strange creature in their laps.
Its resemblance was indeed to a strangely drawn crocodile.
It was at least four feet, with the longest snout or mouth Robert had ever seen.
Dozens and dozens of teeth lined the mouth and the eye socket was at least twice the size of a human’s.
The sockets were oddly reminiscent of great round wheels of pineapples, which Robert had eaten only once.
“It is the stuff of nightmares,” Robert said.
Abigail laughed. “Strange. I have been dreaming of finding such a creature for years. His body is close by, but we’ll need help to pull it out.”
“What do you think his name is?”
“Someone at the museum will name him. It’ll be a grand Latin name, no doubt,” Abigail said, “but to us, he can be the sea lizard. Cuvier has a similar looking discovery, although his sketch is a little varied. The eyeball, or where it must have been, is rather stark—”
“Well done,” Robert said, and was pleased to see the pleasure of achievement bloom over Abigail’s face. “You found him.”
“You do a great deal of your business in London, yes?” she asked him suddenly.
“Yes,” he lied easily enough. After all, that was the tale he had told through Lyme.
“It would not be the height of the beau monde, much more focused on the scholars, the people of real importance, who I wish to be connected with. Men who know about the ancient world. Those who write the greatest discoveries of the age. A great many of them live and work in London. I would ideally be able to interact with them, but I do know if I would have a great deal of success,” Abigail said as she moved closer.
Instinctively, Robert put his hand out to help her up.
Their fingers interlocked once more, hers a little damp from the wet sand and mud, but warm and strong. It was far too easy to visualize how they would feel on his body. Stroking over his bare skin. Fondling. Cupping. Scraping her nails over his bare skin…