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And night after night, her frustrations grew.

Yorkshire – April 19, 1817

When Saturday arrived, the party ventured forth once more toward the sheep farm in a final effort to spot the elusive redstart, which they still had yet to find.

Lark shored up her defenses to ride in the carriage with Mr. Branok, but it was to no avail, for when she joined the others near the coaches, she was approached by Uncle, who told her that he and Aunt Harriet would not be joining them.

“These roads are simply too much for your aunt, I’m afraid,” Uncle said regrettably, but Lark was not surprised.

Each day they’d traversed the winding journey to the farm, Aunt had spent the rest of the full day recuperating in bed while Uncle attended to her and Lark aimlessly wandered the grounds alone until dinner where only Uncle joined her.

“If we both do not go this evening,” Uncle continued, “I believe your aunt will finally feel up to joining us for dinner.”

Lark agreed at once, for Aunt Harriet had taken her meals so often in her room, the others were beginning to worry for her sake.

“Send her my love,” Lark said. “I will update you on what I find today.”

Uncle expressed his appreciation, then waved goodbye from the top step as Lark entered the coach behind Mrs. Chumley and Mrs. Shepherd—their husbands joining Mr. Branok in the final carriage behind them.

Lark spent the short drive thumbing through the pages of her field journal as Mrs. Shepherd and Mrs. Chumley expressed approval of her sketches and the information she shared about each new bird seen. They marveled at the charming lapwing with its shining green plume atop its head like a feathered cap, and the fluffy, brown common chiffchaff with its twittering song Lark mimicked with a little whistle.

Seeing such birds and speaking with the women was a living dream come true after so many years, and while invigorated by her growing list, there also came the sense of frustration, for each time she added a new bird, she was once again reminded of her competition with Mr. Branok, which in turn frustrated her that she’d agreed to the challenge at all.

But the document they’d signed had been binding. So she would continue adding to her list, if only to prove to him that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Mrs. Chumley and Mrs. Shepherd continued with their admiration of the journal the entire journey to the farm, and while Lark knew they were simply being kind, she appreciated the gesture more than they would ever know.

“You must tell us if you spot this redstart we’ve heard so much about,” Mrs. Chumley said as they rolled down the road. “For if anyone has the ability and skill to spot it, it is surely you.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Shepherd agreed. “And you must point it out to our untrained eyes. I’m keen to see it.”

“You are both too kind,” Lark responded, though their generosity lit a brighter fire beneath her to find the bird—if only to return the gesture of kindness.

While she was looking forward to spending the next week on the east coast observing gulls, curlews, and especially the puffins, she was desperate to add that redstart to her list.

However, any hope she might have had to find the bird vanished as the morning wore on—and as the others in the party grew impatient. Mr. Gibbon and the Kay brothers wandered toward the nearby forest instead, trying their luck for more birds within the trees, and Mrs. Shepherd and Mrs. Chumley lingered back by the carriage so they might speak more openly without fear of frightening off any creatures.

Mr. Dunn remained near the farm, as did Mr. Shepherd. Both stood a dozen or so feet away from Lark, hunched down and hidden behind the stone wall perpendicular to the nest to keep their presence to a minimum—though Lark believed Mr. Dunn’s balding head glinting in the sunshine might have been the very thing preventing the redstarts returning to their home.

That…and Mr. Branok and Mr. Chumley’s conversation directly to her right.

She stifled a sigh of long-suffering as their whispers trailed toward her on the wind.

“The excursions are paid for in full by my benefactor,” Mr. Branok was saying. “I am very fortunate to have fallen into it.”

“Fortunate, indeed,” Mr. Chumley said. “Traveling to Europe is one thing, but going to other countries is another ordeal entirely, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Branok agreed. “Most people come away with only a handful of birds unless they have proper guides. I looked into establishing an excursion outside of England a few years ago, but the costs were extortionate. Doing so without a benefactor isn’t worth the money, time, or effort.”

Lark’s chest tightened as she thought back to the last conversation she’d had with Mr. Branok about the cost of excursions. To give up on her dream now would be the ultimate blow to her spirits, so she flicked the feeling aside.

She didn’t care how much of her money she’d have to spend to see the world. She wasn’t a miser like these gentlemen. She would not give up for anything.

Mr. Chumley cleared his throat behind her. “Any chance you might recommend my name to join you on your next excursion, Branok?”

Lark held back a scoff. Had the man no shame? Couldn’t join an expedition based off his own merit, so he had to rely on a famed naturalist to bring him aboard?

“Oh, I…” Mr. Branok hesitated, and Lark fought the urge to look over at him. “I suppose I could if you truly wish me to do so, but I must be clear, Lord Blackstone does not allow married individuals to join the expeditions. At least not on his expense.”