Baby (14, almost done)

Summary: Henry goes west to the dig site.

14. Exiled to a Distant Land

After being fired in spectacular fashion and being told that everyone employed at the dig site was also terminated “effective immediately”, Henry had the dubious honor of explaining to the director and the board that the dig out west was paid in advance through the end of the quarter. The team would likely need the next two months to clean up the site or else the museum would be liable for financial penalties. This didn't include the harm to the museum's reputation for leaving a priceless source of prehistory in disarray. Errol Tilney was furious but the board members saw sense. They took their satisfaction in firing their head of paleontology without notice and then followed a more moderate timeline for getting out of the contract with Professor Ashley in Wyoming.

Having done all he could in New York, Henry boxed up his belongings, turned in his keys to his landlady, and went out west to see his sister. He had given up on finding gainful employment in New England and was quite doubtful about the rest of the eastern half of the country, believing his uncle to have poisoned as many wells as he could reach from his downtown office.

Henry and his brother-in-law spent all their freetime sending letters to universities and museums out west in the hope of hearing about an opportunity before their lease on the site ran out while Eleanor finished drafting research papers and they all prepared to close the site.

It took him very little time to realize that he didn't enjoy this type of work. He enjoyed his sister's stories of her rough and rugged life, and he loved pouring over the fossils found there, but the manual labor of gently coaxing the fossils from the earth was too tedious for his tastes.

It was nothing like the digging in the stream that has caused him to fall in love with paleontology as a child. When he was young, he'd spend an afternoon getting pleasantly soaked, splashing in the water, then go home covered in mud and with his pockets full of shells and pretty rocks. His mother would draw him a hot bath, then serve him a warm supper, then tuck him into his cozy bed.

But this little corner of Wyoming was nothing like his childhood. It didn't have cool streams or hot baths. It didn't have a designated cook, or if it did, they were still horrible at it. And instead of a comfortable bed in a room full of his favorite things, he had a lumpy cot in a bare, drafty cabin where he hadn't bothered to unpack anything but the most essential items.

To add insult to injury, there was no morning paper; any mail was left in a post office box in Rock River, the nearest town where it remained until someone from the site went to collect it. There was also no coffee worth drinking, no clean laundry without taking his filthy clothes into town, no radio programs worth listening to, no movie theaters, no leopards, and no Catherine Morland.

He had already arrived at the site feeling sorry for himself. While he was happy to see his sister again -- and happy to see her so happy -- weeks had passed and his mood had not improved. He wanted to go home, whatever that meant, and it was getting harder to hide that fact. It was not how Henry had hoped his visit to his sister would go, but they still planned on having that belated wedding reception in the nearest town tomorrow and Henry was determined to at least act as if he was keeping his spirits up.

Howard had taken the pickup truck into Rock River earlier to grab supplies and check the post office box they rented. It was probably too early to expect a welcome response to their letters but it was also growing too late to expect a seamless transition from one sponsor to the next. Still, they were determined to act with optimism and industry even when it felt wasted so that the other men employed at the site wouldn't lose hope.

Howard let the others unload the truck while he gave his wife a peck on the cheek and a parcel wrapped in brown paper. His look was openly curious but Eleanor only read the return address and excused herself, hiding away for an hour until at last she asked Henry and Howard to join her for some private news.

“What's all the secrecy, Eleanor?” Henry asked as they settled themselves inside the Ashleys' cabin.

“You remember Miss Morland, don't you?” she asked.

As if Henry could forget! He had described her to Eleanor and Howard when he explained the circumstances under which he had been fired, and had answered questions about her from Eleanor’s prompting in the weeks that followed, but had not trusted himself to speak of her objectively on his own. The apparent innocence of the question put him on guard.

“The young woman with the leopard,” said Howard, distilling Catherine down to something unrecognizable.

“Yes, exactly,” Eleanor smiled at her husband. “Well, I've sort of become friends with her --”

“But that's impossible!” Henry interjected. “You two have never met.”

“I never told you but after you were fired,” she explained, “Miss Morland called the museum. They wouldn't admit that you had ever worked there but they did finally tell her how to get in contact with me here. She telegramed and I telegramed back, and then I took the truck into town and she called me at the post office and we talked for a bit. And we started writing. She told me all about her brother's leopard and her efforts to find the clavicle.”

“But why didn't you say anything before now,” Henry frowned. It cast all of Eleanor's questions about Miss Morland in a new light. “Did you know about this?” he shot accusingly at his brother-in-law.

Howard threw his hands up in a display of cluelessness as Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was married, yes, but that didn't mean she told her husband everything.

“You were rather down when you came to stay with us,” Eleanor stated the obvious, “which was perfectly understandable given the circumstances. And Miss Morland felt terribly guilty about it on the phone, so I thought to keep mum so as not to rub salt in any wounds. And quite frankly, you getting worked up about it now makes me think I did the right thing in hiding it from you earlier,” she added with a gentle scold. “But the time for secrets is past! Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the great news first?”

The two men frowned at Eleanor's excitement as she danced over her box of treats. They were familiar with good news/bad news situations but never with great news thrown in.

“What's the good news?” Howard asked, starting with the familiar.

“She found the intercostal clavicle!” Eleanor practically squealed. At this point, she dug into the cardboard box and pulled out a familiarly shaped piece of plaster. It had obviously been covered in dirt and then scrubbed mostly clean before it had been packed and shipped.

Henry took it from her reverently and fought the urge to cradle it to his chest. “She found it,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“Well, technically the dog found it,” Eleanor said, “but Catherine is the one who returned it to us.”

Howard chuckled to himself. “That poor fossil! We sent it to New York only for Henry to lose it in Connecticut and now it's back. Oh, why didn't Miss Morland just give it to the museum? She has to know that's where it's going to end up.”

Henry wondered that as well but maybe he'd take this as the impetus to finally write to her. If nothing else, he could thank her for babysitting that dog until it unearthed the clavicle.

“That's a segue to the bad news: we need to successfully complete our contractual obligations with the museum,” Eleanor announced. “We've already been working on this, but we expected this to be a pointless exercise so long as Uncle Errol can hold a grudge, which we suspect is limitless although it has yet to be scientifically proven. But now that we're able to offer the intercostal clavicle in exchange for recognizing all the other work we've done, I think we have a decent chance with the museum's board even if Uncle Errol is still sore.”

“That sounds like bribery,” said Howard. He did not give the impression of one who minded very much in this instance.

“That's quid pro quo,” Eleanor corrected him. Professor Ashley should have known that everything sounded better in Latin. “And once we are no longer beholden to the museum, you're ready to hear the great news.”

The two men shared a look, trying to guess where this was going and failing utterly. “What's the great news?” Howard asked his wife.

Eleanor pulled a stack of papers out of the box and held it up like a trophy. “The Allen Foundation is offering to sponsor us!”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then Henry and Howard were tripping over each other, trying to snatch the contract out of Eleanor's hands to read it for themselves. She shrieked happily and retreated behind the table to protect the papers from any harm.

“Boys, please!” she chided them as she clutched the contract protectively to her chest. “I've spent the last hour pouring over it, and I can tell you that it's no more or less than what we'd expect from another museum or university as far as funding and autonomy go. Howard will continue to manage the site. The foundation will appoint an on-site auditor to keep an independent eye on things, and we'll need to go east twice a year to give a report on our progress. But as long as they're happy with our work and as long as we're happy with their oversight, we're saved.”

Howard finally plucked the contract from his wife's grasp and began to read through it. He trusted Eleanor to know what she had read but he needed to see it for himself, or maybe have someone pinch him to prove he wasn't dreaming. Henry leaned over his shoulder, reading silently along. One or the other would periodically point something out and the three of them would discuss it.

The sun had already set before they finished their discussion, but they were determined to accept the offer. The odds of receiving a substantially better deal were too low to bother calculating. It was in many ways above what they had conditioned themselves to expect.

“This calls for a celebration,” Howard said, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the bottom of a trunk. “I want to announce it to the whole team but I think I'll save it for tomorrow during our little wedding reception.”

Eleanor just laughed and set out three glasses. “I'll drink to that, and to Miss Catherine Morland, the sweetest girl I've never met.”

Howard poured with efficiency and they held their glasses aloft.

“To Miss Morland,” Howard toasted.

“To the Allen Foundation,” Henry added, determined not to play favorites.

“To us!” Eleanor cried.

They clinked their glasses together and then took a drink.

“I wonder if we should hand-deliver our acceptance, or send it by a special courier,” Howard mused aloud as he cast a glance at the signature page. “We'll probably need to go just to tidy things up with the Museum of Natural Sciences and History. Maybe we should also send flowers to your friend, Eleanor. She really went out of her way for us.”

“Miss Morland is an absolute darling,” she agreed. “I'm jealous of you, Henry, that you got to meet her in person. She even invited us out for Thanksgiving in her letter. Of course Howard and I are going to see Mother and Father Ashley, but --”

“I'll go,” volunteered Henry. If nothing else, he could get away from the wilds and enjoy real civilization for a bit. And he would get to see Catherine.

Eleanor's smile was just a bit smug. “I had a feeling you would.”

---

Note: Let me insincerely apologize for posting this chapter on an off day but there's only one more chapter until THE END and I want to finish by this coming Wednesday for mysterious reasons of my own.

At this point, the story doesn't much resemble the movie, but General Tilney still gets credit for separating H & C abruptly.