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And what of forgiveness?

She stifled a sigh. When would her conscience give her a moment’s respite?

“I must apologize, Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley whispered. “She does not know…”

But his words faded away as Lark caught Mr. Branok shaking his head. “No, Miss Fernside is right. I confused the birds. I also have not seen a Redstart, so I am more apt to believe her research than my own memory.”

A fresh wave of guilt rushed over her, threatening to drown her entirely after correcting him unceremoniously. Mr. Branok was so humble, even though he had every right to be anything but.

She pressed a hand to her brow that pinched with regret, her ears beginning to ring.

Then she paused. That was not ringing.

That was a bird’s song.

The others must have heard it too, for silence marked the air for the first time that morning before the jovial twittering continued.

Lark snapped her attention toward the sky, and sure enough, the bird they’d awaited days for swooped into view. Bounding through the air in flight, his orange, flaming tail sprawled out behind him in all its glory. Lark observed it through the gap as the redstart hovered just above his nest, then flapped toward his home with a spare bit of moss in his beak.

Lark could hardly believe it. The redstart had finally appeared—and not a moment too late. She watched in silence, marveling at his movements and his brown, white, and orange feathers, attempting to memorize every detail as she slowly retrieved her journal and began sketching and writing feverishly before he would inevitably depart.

After a few moments, movement occurred behind her, and she managed to tear her gaze away to find Mrs. Chumley and Mrs. Shepherd creep up behind her.

“Is it the redstart?” they mouthed out in sensible silence.

Lark nodded with a grin. They tried to peer over the wall, awkwardly crouching down in the grass, but Lark motioned them toward the crack, standing off to the side so they might have a better view.

They gasped and grinned, which made Lark all the happier. This was what it was all about. Bringing others to find the joy in bird observing.

The women remained there, but Lark was not finished with her own observations. She eyed the space to her right, but the men had drawn closer to see the redstart for themselves. If she joined them, she would have to stand directly beside Mr. Branok, and that was simply not an option.

There was plenty of space to her left, however, so she backed away slowly, keeping her eye on the nest so she did not miss a single moment of observing the bird.

Her skirts snagged onto a bramble, so she raised her hem, but just as she did so, her half-boot caught onto a hidden rock protruding from the grass, and she fell forward with a sharp inhale, catching herself with her hands in the grass just before she might have fallen on her face.

Her first thought was to keep quiet, praying the redstart hadn’t been scared off, but when her hands, arms, legs, and cheeks began to sting with unbearable pain, she gasped again, then again.

She scrambled back, still on her hands and knees, desperate to escape whatever insect was biting her over and over again, but in her panic, she finally caught sight of where she was.

Somehow, like a fool, she’d wandered and fallen directly into the patch of stinging nettle.

She could no longer hold it in, the pain far too acute, and a yelp escaped her lips, scaring off the redstart and alerting the others to her agony.

Chapter 18

“Miss Fernside!” Mrs. Chumley cried out, but Lark hardly heard a sound.

Pain seared throughout her body, inside and out. She could hardly think. She could hardly breathe. Her only instinct was to flee from the nettle as swiftly as possible.

She tried to stand, but her boots continually stepped on her hem, pulling her back down as the stinging became worse, her palms pressing further into the nettles.

Her whole body was aflame, the plants pressing their needled leaves past her stockings, gown, and long sleeves.

“Help her!” cried out another voice.

Lark winced again, another involuntary whimper escaping her lips as the flames spread down her neck, tears streaming down her burning cheeks.

She once again tried to stand, her breathing coming in shuddered waves, but her breath stopped altogether when strong hands encircled her waist and hoisted her to a standing position.