by Georgie Lee
‘If I’m to keep everything, what do you hope to get out of this arrangement?’
‘You.’ He brushed her lightly under the chin, the same self-satisfied smile he’d worn the first time he’d stolen a kiss from her in the study drawing up the corners of his wide mouth. ‘I’ll have Mr Peet bring the crate to the conservatory. I expect your work to be very interesting and revealing.’
Before she could tell him what to do with his expectations he slipped into the stable, his muffled instructions to Mr Peet carrying over the shift and whinny of the horses.
Katie slammed the top of the crate with her palm, dislodging the lid. It fell into the dirt, revealing the creature’s menacing smile. Her weakness and Conrad’s glib determination frustrated her. She shouldn’t remain here and torture herself with what couldn’t be or give Conrad false hope for reconciliation, but she couldn’t give up this specimen either.
Motion near the house caught her attention and she looked up to meet Miss Linton’s pinched scowl. Worry slid through Katie like it had the day she’d narrowly missed being hit by a rock falling from the side of a slate mine. She and Conrad had always been careful when Katie had been here before, only intimate with one another late at night or far from the house. She wondered how much Miss Linton had seen of her and Conrad’s embrace. It’d been innocent enough, but Miss Linton wasn’t likely to view it in such a way and it wouldn’t be long before the spinster was adding yet another nasty rumour to those already circulating. Once again Katie would be judged for something she didn’t do instead of on the merit of her work.
Katie picked up the crate lid and set it back over the animal. Tracing the words burned into the wood, she wondered if there was something more for her in life than fossils and research. Her father had never given her the chance to discover it and necessity had forced her to keep on with his work.
Katie made for the house, determined not to endure the spinster’s disapproving scowl or entertain her own doubts a moment longer. This was her calling, as much as it’d been her father’s, and she would use it to make her way and prove everyone like Miss Linton wrong. They might scoff at her in England, but in America there were many she corresponded with, their eagerness to acquire the specimens she unearthed matched by their enthusiasm to exchange ideas, illustrations and knowledge with her. They cared nothing for her gender or the rumours circulating in London and their admiration was such that Mr Lesueur had invited her to join him as an illustrator on his next expedition West. She hadn’t turned down his generous offer, but she hadn’t accepted it either. There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving England; now it was more tempting than ever. With the money from Conrad, she could afford passage, if she wanted it.
She paused outside the conservatory door, uncertain if she should leave, or if there was anything left in England to keep her here. She’d soon find out. Where Lord Helton and his vicious stories had lowered her, the bones could raise her up. If this animal was as rare as she believed, any paper she published about it would be the making of her. It had to be, she possessed little else to believe in.
Chapter Four
The late-afternoon sun fell through the high glass walls of the conservatory, warming it and making candles unnecessary. Katie had been hard at work piecing the creature together since yesterday, staying up late into the night, then rising early that morning to continue. Conrad had left her in solitude, but she’d caught his influence in the meals delivered to her and the supply of paper and pencils laid out by the footman. She’d tried not to allow all these small gestures to affect her, but it was difficult when tasting the cold chicken and warm bread not to think of him. She’d missed these little kindnesses when he’d sailed away, and would again when her work was complete and they parted once more.
Katie reached out and adjusted the creature’s vertebrae so she could better see the details as she drew it, determined to remain focused on her work and not think about Conrad. The dark bones stood in sharp contrast to the white-marble table top and the creamy parchment on which she struggled to render the creature as beautiful and elegant as it was in life. She’d arranged the bones more from instinct than from the memory of any species she’d seen in the books of the Naturalist Society library. She’d visited the impressive collection many times with her father, the two of them spending hours perusing the massive works of geology and biology. The Naturalist Society stood alone in its admittance of women to its hallowed halls and collections, both of which were the envy of even the Royal Society. Sadly, she would need access to the tomes again, especially once she began writing her paper. Conrad could sponsor her, and he would if she requested it, but she was reluctant to ask.
Katie picked up a knife and sharpened her pencil. The idea of facing the members who’d attacked her and her father was as disturbing as the steady sound of Conrad’s boots crushing the leaves in the yard as he approached. She didn’t want to rely on him any more than necessary, or return to London.
She set the knife down and returned to her sketch, filling in the dark areas around the creature’s eyes when a new sensation swept over her. It wasn’t the stiffness in her back and neck, but a charged awareness as Conrad’s shadow filled the door.
‘You’ve made good progress,’ he remarked as he came to stand at the opposite end of the table, his tone as open and welcoming as when he used to interrupt her and her father’s work.
She gripped the sides of the sketchbook to steady herself against his presence and the hundreds of memories it brought back. He no longer wore his uniform, but tan breeches tucked into high boots and paired with a crisp white shirt beneath a worn riding coat. The sweat from his day riding to oversee his lands wetted his forehead beneath his light hair, making a few small strands stick to his skin. It was the way he used to look whenever she and her father had been here before and for a moment, she could almost feel his strong hand in hers as he led her over the Downs.
Sadly, those times were gone.
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ she croaked before regaining control of herself and her voice. ‘The skeleton is much like a bird’s, but at the same time different. The pits along the nose remind me of those on a crocodile’s snout.’
‘A reptile couldn’t survive in the cold of the north. Little does.’
‘That’s why I don’t think it’s a reptile.’ She picked up a flat, arch-like bone, struggling to keep the spicy scent of man, leather and sandalwood gracing Conrad’s skin from befuddling her as she handed it to him. ‘Look at this furcula. It’s curved like a peregrine falcon’s, but not as tight.’
‘You think this is some kind of bird?’ He set the bone back down where she’d arranged it between the ribs.
‘It’s possible.’
‘Birds don’t have teeth,’ he politely challenged, tapping the table top with his fingertips as he made his way to her side, creeping up on her like the tabby cat behind the house did when stalking a mouse.
‘They don’t have forearms instead of wings either.’ Her mouth went dry as she slid around to the opposite side, moving slowly so as not to appear as if she was running away, though she wanted to, swift and fast out of the door and away from the draw of his presence. ‘But look at the feet and the position of the legs in the hips.’
Mercifully, his focus dropped to the creature. ‘They certainly appear bird-like. Perhaps it’s a species which no longer exists.’
‘I could make a strong case for such an argument if I could compare this beast to one of the larger species of birds.’
‘Such as an ostrich?’
‘Exactly.’ Katie met his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t laughing at her, but encouraging her, like he always used to. It was the first time since he’d sailed away that she’d enjoyed such support. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like.
‘Come with me.’ He reached across the table and took her hand,
drawing her around it to the door leading to the hallway.
She barely had time to set the sketchbook and pencil down as he led her into the narrow, wood-panelled passage, his grip as startling as his speed. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I’ve thought of something else which might help you.’ He pulled her along the shadowed hallway towards his study.
She hurried to keep up with his long strides, holding tight to his hand, giddy and terrified at the same time. This was how it’d been before, when they would come home from searching for fossils, then seclude themselves in his study to pour over books and identify what they’d discovered.
Inside the study, he released her hand and made for a bookshelf. ‘There’s a bird in Australia, similar in shape and size to the ostrich. I made a sketch of it when I was there.’
Conrad knelt down before the bottom shelf and plucked out a book. His back arched gracefully beneath his coat as he bent over one of his old journals, the back of his neck just visible above his collar beneath his neatly trimmed hair. He rose and handed her the open journal, revealing a poorly drawn bird similar to an ostrich. ‘If you can find a better illustration of this animal and its bones, and include it in your paper, it could bolster your case for the creature being some type of bird.’
He moved to stand behind her and look over her shoulder at the drawing. The heat of his cheek was so close to hers it nearly made her drop the book. It was too much like the last time they’d been in here two years ago, when he’d showed her the maps of the Arctic and the route he intended to take. The map she’d drawn from his description was still tucked in her old sketchbook, the timeline faithfully followed by her while he was gone, then worried and fretted over when he hadn’t returned, until so much time had passed, she couldn’t bear to look at it any more.
Yet he was here, close and as enthusiastic as ever about one of her ideas. The faint spark of hope she’d experienced when he’d climbed the hill yesterday rose up again, sending a more powerful thrill through her than any unknown creature could ever create. ‘What if an animal like the one you purchased still exists and lives secluded in the north?’
‘I don’t believe they do.’ He waved her over to the globe near the wall. He spun it around to show North America.
‘I’ve been this far and two others have been here.’ He laid his finger near the top. ‘There’s nothing there but ice. Captain Ross saw evidence of caribou, but only up until this point. None of the Inuit I’ve spoken with have ever mentioned an animal like the one in the conservatory.’
‘I’ll need more proof than hearsay.’
Conrad stared at the globe as though it were a nautical chart on which he was plotting his course. In the look, she glimpsed something of the optimistic man who’d escorted her over Gorgon’s deck, describing in detail his plans for the coming adventure, not the despairing and acerbic man who’d faced her in here the other night.
‘Etienne Brule explored Canada for years. If something like the creature still roamed the north, he, or the natives he lived with, would have noted it. The Naturalist Society library contains an impressive collection of his works. If we left for London in the morning, we could be there by the afternoon.’
Her eagerness to prove the creature didn’t still live, and was in some way related to birds, paled under the reality of stepping back through the Naturalist Society’s grand front entrance. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to return so soon.’
‘Yes, you are.’ He wrapped his solid fingers around hers. ‘I know it.’
She squeezed his hand and a faint whisper of the elation she’d once experienced with him on the Downs passed between them. All she needed to do was follow him, just like before, and she wanted to. It was a prospect as alarming as descending into a very deep mine to dig for fossils, but strangely enough, with him, she wasn’t afraid of the danger. ‘Yes, we’ll leave in the morning.’
‘Good girl.’ He slid one arm around her waist, resting it on the small of her back as he drew her closer. She slipped the journal out from between them, allowing it to dangle from her hand as she relaxed against him, tilting her face up to his. The desire burning in his brown eyes proved as mesmerising now as the first time they’d kissed. She wanted to believe in him and their love and everything he promised, just as she had during all the lonely nights when she’d cried herself to sleep with grief. Only he wasn’t dead, he was here, alive, warm and so achingly close.
He leaned in closer until the faint ring of gold in the centre of his eyes became clear. The journal dropped to the floor with a thud at Katie’s feet as all resistance to him faded with the subtle pressure of his fingers against her back. She laid her hand on his shoulder, forgetting everything except the shift of his hips against hers and the flex of his muscles beneath her palm.
A soft knock on the wall near the door echoed through the room. Both of them turned to see Mr Turner, the mine foreman, standing there, hat in his hand, his eyes focused on the floor as though it were embedded with gold coins.
Conrad let go of Katie and she stepped back, her heart racing as much from the near kiss as being discovered by someone in such a compromising position.
‘Yes, Mr Turner?’ Conrad asked, no hint of embarrassment colouring his words.
Of course he didn’t need to worry, he was a man. Little could touch him while the slightest whisper might further damage her already tarnished reputation, and no amount of support from Conrad or the scientific community could salvage it. Katie picked up the journal, her confidence and faith in Conrad wavering. It’d been wrong to be intimate in a place where anyone could stumble upon them. Mr Turner might be a simple foreman, but Katie knew how little time it took for stories from the common man to find their way into the drawing rooms of polite society.
‘Captain Essington, we found something in the mine,’ the thick-necked foreman explained. ‘Miss Linton wasn’t interested in seeing such things while you were away. Now you’ve returned, I must know if we should dig it out and bring it to you or leave it where it is.’
Katie clutched the journal to her chest, trilling her fingers as though the foreman had brought the artefact for her to feel. After her father’s death, the Whitemans Green foreman had barred her from the pit, afraid she might meet with an accident, too. It’d left her with only the Downs to scour for fossils, but, while she’d collected some interesting pieces, none could match those entombed in the slate.
Conrad cocked a smile at her as a thrill crackled between them. ‘Shall we go and see it?’
‘We shall.’
* * *
Conrad guided the gig over the bumpy road leading from Heims Hall to the mine. He slid a sideways glance at Katie who sat beside him in the high seat. The deep green of her sturdy walking dress highlighted the apples of her cheeks, which glowed pink with the cool air. Her aqua eyes shone bright with the same excitement which had graced her beautiful face before they’d been interrupted in his study.
He flicked the reins over the horse’s back, making the beast increase its pace. It heartened him to think he could draw from her as much emotion as the bones, though he envied the old creatures for the current smile decorating her full lips. It was only the second time he’d enjoyed the simple pleasure of seeing her happy since coming home.
They came around a sharp bend in the road and the gig tilted to one side as they made the turn. Katie leaned hard against Conrad’s arm to keep from tumbling out until the vehicle rocked back upright.
‘The bone has been buried for ages, we needn’t risk our lives rushing to see it,’ Katie chided with a half-laugh.
The wheel struck a small rut and her hand shot out to grasp his thigh.
‘I wouldn’t call it a risk.’ He flung her a teasing smile. She pulled her hand away and grasped the edge of the leather seat. ‘And if we don’t hurry, we’ll lose the daylight.’
The October sun
was already low along the horizon, stretching out the shadows of trees to cover the road and fields. In the steady pulse of the horse’s hooves and the sharp scent of dry earth and grass, Conrad felt something of his old self, the one who still believed he could and would accomplish anything he set his mind to. It was as big a comfort as Katie’s unconscious decision to grasp him for support and their near kiss. It meant everything he’d been through hadn’t buried the best parts of him. It offered a glimmer of hope for his future and Katie’s.
Her willingness to come to London with him was another. He couldn’t dally here in the country much longer and hope to keep Mr Barrow’s support, assuming he still possessed it. If Mr Barrow set his mind on Conrad’s ruin, as he had with Captain Ross, then all Conrad’s influence with the Naturalist Society would vanish and with it Katie’s hopes. Conrad shifted his feet on the boards, tugging one rein to guide the horse down the right path. His decisions had broken and maimed enough men already, he hated to think they might do more damage to Katie.
The horse began to slow and Conrad snapped the reins, urging the animal on faster, feeling like a fraud for entertaining his fears while he insisted Katie fight hers. Nothing with Mr Barrow had happened yet and he refused to let his worries undermine him or her. Whatever waited for him in London, he would face it as he did all his challenges and with Katie by his side.
They crested the hill and the narrow buildings of the mine came into view. Conrad tugged on the reins and slowed the horse as it trotted over the long drive leading to the open hole in the earth. The men were leaving for the day, making their way down the short hill towards the now-quiet chimneys where the cartfuls of slate were crushed and burned to create the lime needed for construction in London.
Mr Turner and a few of his men waited beside a tall ladder leading down into the pit. They removed their hats as Conrad pulled the gig to a stop in front of them. He jumped out, but before he could help Katie down, she was already on her feet and coming to join him in front of the men. One miner raised a curious eyebrow at this blatant display of female independence, but he was deferential enough to Conrad’s position as lord of the manor and his employer to remain silent.
