for her reputation was already much compromised by her time with Mr Buckland, even with the ill-fated Fanny as companion The landslip accident might normally have brought Mary some sympathy, but Fanny’s injuries caused much indignation amongst working people, creating sides that cast Mary as the villain If she was trying to soften her elbows and tame her hair, it could not be for any Lyme man she fancied she could snare She had too openly flouted the rules of what was expected from a girl in her position Now that it had tangible consequences in the form of Fanny’s broken gait, vague impressions hardened into harsh opinions Mary paid little attention to what others said about her, a trait in her I both admired and despaired of Perhaps I was a little jealous that she could be so free with her contempt for society’s workings in a way that a woman of my class could not Even in a place as independent-minded as Lyme, I was all too aware of the judgements made if one stepped too far out of place Perhaps Mary did not care for the sort of life Lyme had decided for her She had spent a great deal of time with people above her station—me most of all, but also William Buckland, and various gentlemen who made their way to Lyme, having heard of or seen the creatures Mary had found It rather turned her head, and raised her hopes that she might be able to move up in the world I not think she ever seriously considered any of the men as potential suitors: most gentlemen viewed her as little more than a knowledgeable servant William Buckland was more appreciative of her talent, but was too caught up in his own head to notice her as a woman Such a man would be deeply frustrating, as I briefly allowed myself to discover For Mary’s interest in men piqued my own, which I had thought dead but discovered was merely dormant, a rosebush that needed but a little attention to attempt to flower Once I invited William Buckland to dine with us at Morley Cottage so that he might look at my specimen collection He accepted with an enthusiasm I suspected was for my fossils, yet I allowed myself to think might be directed towards me as well For a match between him and me was not such a mad idea Granted I was several years older than him, and too old to have many children But it was not impossible Molly Anning had borne her last child at the age of forty-six William Buckland and I were of similar social standing, and intellectually suited Of course I was not educated to his degree, but I read widely I knew enough about geology and fossils to be a supportive wife to him in his profession Margaret, always quick to spot romantic potential even for an aging spinster, encouraged these thoughts by going on about Mr Buckland’s vivid eyes, and nagging me about what I would wear to dinner What began as genial