Chapter Eight #2
“I shall spend the next several minutes thinking of better uses for these cakes. Perhaps as some sort of building material. Maybe I can build your fiancé a very pink birdhouse.”
“Well, while you do that, I am going to subject myself to some very dull conversations.”
* * *
Louisa sat in a profoundly uncomfortable chair and listened as Daniel regaled several other gentlemen with tales of his exploits birdwatching in the country.
Louisa liked birds, but not to this level. She liked waking up to birdsong or spotting a little group of sparrows hopping around in the park, but as Daniel explained his hunt for some rare bird that was not commonly spotted in England anymore, Louisa found her attention waning.
“One of my colleagues at Oxford has acquired a rare dodo bird skeleton,” said one of the gents.
“This animal has been extinct for at least one hundred years and was only found on one island off the coast of Africa, but it is a marvelously odd-looking creature. Larger than a swan, physiologically closer to a pigeon, with a very odd beak.”
And so on.
She watched Fletcher idly build a tower out of the little pink cakes, which a Buckingham servant quickly disposed of, and then circle back to Eliza Harding, hand her a glass of lemonade, and engage in conversation.
Louisa didn’t bother to hide that she was staring at him, and after a few minutes, he seemed to notice and looked her way.
He finished what he was saying to Eliza, kissed her knuckles, and then proceeded across the garden to Louisa.
That hadn’t been her intent, but if he wanted to come speak with this lot of dullards and not Eliza, that was fine with Louisa.
Fletcher said, “May I sit?” gesturing at the chair next to Louisa.
“Please do.”
Fletcher sat and then leaned toward Daniel. “What are we discussing?”
“Rare bird skeletons held in various collections around England,” said Daniel. He turned back to the group. “I had heard a rumor there was a taxidermy dodo held by an ornithologist in London, but I suppose that is too much to wish for.”
“Rare bird skeletons?” Fletcher said under his breath to Louisa.
She shrugged.
“Tell me, Greystone, what do you think of all this?”
“About rare bird skeletons?”
“Sure,” said Daniel. “Or collecting specimens. Scientific study. Any of that.”
“Well,” Fletcher said, sitting up a bit straighter.
He paused, probably trying to formulate a response.
“’Tis a shame that the rare birds are mostly confined to private collections.
Should not some of these specimens be available for the general public to look at and learn from?
For example, the British Museum displays antiquities that have been collected over the years, so could they not also display scientific specimens? ”
“An interesting idea,” said Whitson, the Oxford professor.
“I’m of two minds because I like having specimens on-hand when I teach, but it might be useful to have a broader catalogue of specimens all in one place.
I am especially interested in extinct species, and since those are no longer available to us to see in the wild, it might be useful to have a place to display them for the public. ”
“Indeed,” said Fletcher. “I’m no expert on ornithology, but I have a lot of interests, and I like to read. Sometimes books just cannot do justice to a thing, and it is helpful to see it with your own eyes.”
“Indeed,” said Whitson. “For example, there is a species of blue pigeon in Africa that I would very much like to get my hands on. There is some speculation that last year’s volcanic eruption disrupted its mating journey, and few have been seen this year, and I’d like to see one before it is gone.”
“Does the extinction of bird species not bother you?” Louisa asks.
“It bothers me immensely. But it is the circle of life.”
“Is it? Why did the dodo go extinct?”
The men all glanced at each other. Louisa took this to mean she had overstepped.
Daniel said, “We don’t know exactly. The dodo was isolated to a specific part of the world.
It could be that, once sailors stumbled upon their habitat and took a few back to Europe, this depleted the population enough to limit the number of available mates.
It could be a weather-related phenomenon, like last year’s volcanic eruption.
And I’ll remind you, that occurred thousands of miles away, but we still felt it here in that it never grew hot last summer because there was too much ash in the air to let the sunlight through.
A much smaller disruption could have ended the dodos. A flood or a fire or something.”
“All right.” Louisa regretted she’d asked.
“There is a lot in nature that we do not know or understand, which is why scientists continue to study it all,” said another gent, whom Louisa did not know.
“Understood,” said Louisa. “I was just curious. Especially since, if there is a species of bird you are interested in, would you not also be interested in making sure it does not go extinct?”
“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 voice such 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 chickens do sometimes 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?”
“He is boring.”
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.”
“A romantic assignation?”
Fletcher choked on his lemonade. “No! I have a business meeting and then I’m having dinner with my mother. Nothing scandalous.”
“I suppose I shall rejoin my future husband and pretend I know the difference between a goldfinch and a parakeet.” The prospect did not excite her.
“Chin up, my friend. And goldfinches are the yellow ones, I think.”
“Hmm.”
He smiled and patted her arm. “I do need to leave, but we shall talk soon.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“You could also…” But he shook his head.
“What were you going to say?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Fletcher.”
He sighed. “If you don’t like him, well, you aren’t married yet.”
And with that, he handed his glass to a server, kissed her cheek, and walked away, leaving Louisa to wonder what, exactly, he meant.