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Another look between her aunt and uncle was shared, then Aunt reached for Lark’s hand and led her to sit on the bed beside her, Uncle remaining standing before them.

“I am glad you say you are well,” Aunt began gingerly, “but your Uncle and I cannot help but notice that you do not seem so very well. Nor have you the last few days—particularly during the journey here.”

Lark didn’t know what to say. She knew she hadn’t been hiding her moodiness very well, but she hadn’t wished for her aunt and uncle to confront her about it.

“I’ve been a little out of sorts, it is true,” she began. “I admit, my pride has been rattled to a degree after falling into the nettles. And then there was the matter of scaring off a number of birds in the days after that.”

“Any person would be a little unsettled after those experiences,” Uncle reassured her. “But if I may be so bold…?”

He hesitated, pausing until Lark motioned for him to continue.

“You have dealt with far more painful experiences,” he began, “and prevailed each and every time. You must allow yourself the opportunity to do so again.”

His words spoke a comfort to Lark she wasn’t aware she needed. Comfort and encouragement.

She felt the weight shifting around her shoulders, though it did not remove entirely.

“Talk to us, my dear,” Aunt gently coaxed, resting a hand on Lark’s in her lap. “We are here for you. Always.”

Lark drew a settling breath. Aunt Harriet was right. They were there for Lark. Not only emotionally, but physically in the Lake District. They had literally come on the excursion for her. The least she could do was talk to them, help them understand what she’d been experiencing of late.

“I cannot thank you both enough for being so aware of me and my needs,” she began. “And I must admit, I have not been feeling myself lately. This excursion, the entire experience…It has been more difficult than I anticipated.”

“In what way?” Aunt asked.

Lark wasn’t about to admit the fact that she may or may not have found herself in a compromising situation with a gentleman which led to a desire to kiss him. They would no doubt worry over her as they had with Mr. Yates.

Granted, with Mr. Yates, they had the right to be concerned. But Mr. Branok was no threat. Not anymore.

“I suppose I’m finding it difficult to…to find my place,” she stated instead. “I am either too distracting, too knowledgeable, too honest, or too loud. I cannot seem to fit in with anyone—even with like-minded bird observers. I’m too strange wherever I go. I must accept that again.”

Aunt squeezed her hand tighter. “My dear, you put far too much pressure on yourself to fit in when you were never meant to.”

“But everyone else seems to,” Lark continued. “They all have friends and significant others who share their love of observing birds. They all seem to make friends so swiftly, whereas I…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I only wish I could find someone like me with whom to be friends.”

Aunt was silent for a moment. “Were you not satisfied with the friendship Mr. Branok offered?”

There it was. The question Lark had been dreading. “No, of course I was grateful for that. But you know full well, a single female cannot be simply friends with a single male, no matter that both of us have decided against matrimony. At any rate, he is far too close with Mr. Chumley, and any gentleman who could befriend such a man could never be a friend of my own.”

Uncle seemed to accept her excuse, nodding in agreement. He’d always been protective of Lark due to the gentlemen who mistreated her. He’d taken an instant dislike to Mr. Yates for that reason.

But Aunt hardly seemed convinced with the answer, her eyes studying Lark in silence.

Lark was finished with the conversation, though, so she straightened on her bed and pulled on a smile. “I suppose, if I desire friends, I have to leave my room to find those friends. Mrs. Shepherd and Mrs. Chumley have been generous and kind. Perhaps I can speak with them more at dinner this evening.”

“That’s my girl,” Uncle said with a wink. “Darling?” He offered his hand to Aunt, which she accepted.

“We shall see you downstairs?” Uncle asked.

“Certainly,” Lark said, smoothing her dress. “I shall call for Penelope presently.”

Uncle nodded, then shuffled down the corridor. Aunt, however, lingered behind. “I’ll be just a moment, Francis,” she called out, then she turned back to Lark.

“What is it?” Lark asked, feigning curiosity, though dread filled her.

Aunt hesitated again, her eyes narrowed as she lowered her voice. “Forgive me for asking, but…is there anything going on between you and Mr. Branok?”

Lark’s cheeks warmed. “Between me and Mr. Branok? Heavens, no. Why do you ask?”