“Indeed,” said Whitson. “But that is sometimes out of our hands.”
“Do you think there are species we don’t know about?” asked Fletcher. “That is, this dodo bird went extinct a hundred years ago, you said? We know about it because one hundred years is a long time ago, but not so long in the scheme of things. My ancestral home in Cornwall is older than that, for example. Had a dodo been in England, my great-grandfather might have seen it. That is not so far removed from us that people could not easily pass down information. But what if a species of bird died in, say, the time of William the Conqueror. Or further back during Julius Caesar or Jesus Christ. Do you suppose there are species of bird or any animal that went extinct without our knowing about it? Especially if it happened in, say, the Americas before humans knew the Americas were there?”
“That is definitely possible,” said Whitson. “Likely, even. All animals were rescued in the Flood, but it is logical for some of those animals not to have persisted long after that.”
Louisa was not certain there actually was a flood for Noah to sail his ark through, that it was just a parable and not an actually recorded historical event, but she decided not to voicesuch a concern aloud. She expected Daniel might not appreciate such a blasphemy.
“Greystone, right?” said Whitson. “I thought you were older.”
Fletcher kept his expression placid. “You must be thinking of my father. He passed about eight months ago.”
“Ah, yes. I met him once, years ago. He donated some money to Oxford.”
“Likely to smooth my way there. But alas, I studied literature, not science.”
“I will try not to hold that against you.” Whitson sounded like he meant it.
A few minutes later, once the discussion of birds got rolling again. Louisa made meaningful eye contact with Fletcher, and he took the hint and offered to get her a lemonade. She followed him over to the refreshment table.
“I don’t want to hear one more thing about beak shape,” she said.
“This is what your dinner parties will be like. ‘Oh, my lady, this chicken is delicious. Did you know that chickensdosometimes fly?’”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t know that about chickens, or no, you do not accept that is your fate.”
“Both.”
“Good luck explaining that to the Duke of Ornithology.”
Louisa let out a huff. “Maybe I can conveniently have other plans whenever the scientists come to call.”
Fletcher just raised an eyebrow at her as he poured her some lemonade.
“Is it wrong that I find him boring?”
“Heisboring.”
Louisa was startled by that reaction. Fletcher was supposed to reassure her. “Oh,” she said.
Fletcher frowned. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. And maybe it doesn’t matter. Once you’re married, you’ll be in your own sphere with him, I suppose. You’ll talk about household matters and your children. If his great passion is birds, and you care little for birds, he will find other people to discuss birds with.”
Louisa sighed.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Fletcher asked.
“I cannot discuss this here.”
His eyebrows shot up. “So you are.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Fletcher poured himself some lemonade. After he sipped, he said, “There are worse things in the world than a boring husband.”
“But there are better things, too, no?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I would guess yes.” Fletcher frowned. He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “I’ll need to depart soon. I have another engagement.”
