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L ark was eager to see the last of Yorkshire.

The day after observing the puffins, her final day on the coast had been an utter failure. She had become obsessively preoccupied with avoiding Mr. Branok, so much so that she’d wandered away from the group and drew closer to an unsuspecting wave that had managed to catch her up to her knees.

She’d yelped in surprise with the cold water and subsequently frightened away the gulls that the party had been observing nearby. Shortly after, a gust of wind sailed toward the beach, blasting sand toward her and causing her eyes and nose to be filled with grit.

Not only could she not see properly, but a fit of sneezing had overcome her to the point that every bird they attempted to approach afterward was promptly scared off.

Aunt Harriet had insisted they return home for Lark to change so she would not catch a cold, and Lark did not protest. While she may not have cared any longer about upsetting Mr. Chumley, she truly did not wish to disturb the observations of the others, and at that rate, she most assuredly had been.

Fortunately, as they were traveling to the Lake District come morning, Lark had made the excuse of remaining in her room to prepare for the journey, even though, once again, she was merely avoiding others.

The morning of their departure ultimately arrived, and Lark joined the group on the gravel drive outside the house.

She cast one final glance at the grandiose structure that had once held so much promise for the excursion—but had ultimately turned into a contemptuous representation of the failure that was this journey.

She could only pray the Lake District held more for her.

And yet, as they ventured forth, her fortunes did not change, for Mr. Branok still attempted to speak with her, and her aunt and uncle cast more and more concerned glances in her direction.

Lark ultimately feigned sleep to avoid such stares and conversation, though she remained wide awake, her mind abuzz as she listened to them chatter about birds, travels, and the countryside.

The one positive throughout the journey was Aunt and Uncle’s improved health. When the doctor had come to prescribe Lark a salve for her nettle, he’d overheard Uncle speaking of Aunt’s carriage illness. The day after, the physician returned with a tonic to soothe any future head pains or nausea.

Lark hadn’t the faintest idea what was in the draught, but it had put both Aunt and Uncle in decidedly jovial moods, which at least proved to soothe Lark’s concern for them.

She was also happy that their wellness allowed them to capture Mr. Branok’s attention entirely, for she had been serious in her words with him before.

They were to be acquaintances. Nothing more, nothing less.

No more private chatting. No more flirtatious smiles or glances. And certainly no more whispering.

While she was still coming to terms with the decision and all that it entailed—including losing out on a friendship with the first gentleman who seemed to understand her and accept her for who she was—she was determined to keep her distance from him.

So, when their day-long journey from Yorkshire to Cumbria drew to a close, and the house came into view, Lark blew out a silent breath of relief. That is, until she took in the sight before her.

Greygrove Manor, with its moody exterior and gloomy turrets, was the perfect reflection of her mood—and no doubt a prediction for what was to come over the next fortnight.

She thought perhaps the grey, gothic home was half-hidden by the thick shrouds of dark trees surrounding the property, but as they drew nearer, she realized the manor was truly that much smaller than Dreyton Park.

Which meant she would have that much more difficulty avoiding Mr. Branok.

Still, the view of Lake Windermere from the entrance of the house was unmatched.

As she stretched her limbs from their tightness, she admired the calm, bluish-grey water in the placid aura of the early evening.

She hoped to be able to see the water from her bedchamber, but as she was led to where she would reside for the coming fortnight, she soon discovered her only view was of the dense trees at the back of the house—trees that were far too thick to even see a foot within.

She plopped down onto her bed, her shoulders slumped forward as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She may have pretended to rest the entire journey, but she hadn’t managed a wink in between all the talking of the others.

Perhaps she could take advantage of that now and sleep until morning. It would be a fine excuse not to join the others for dinner tonight. Or maybe she could get by with feigning sleep for the next fortnight so that she might flee to London without another sight of Mr. Branok.

Then again, their convalescence in Town hardly sounded restful with the balls and dinner parties Mother no doubt had lined up for Lark each night.

The two-week rest they had from the excursion would absolutely be another strain on her will to survive before they picked back up again and finished the expedition in Cornwall.

A sigh escaped her lips, and tears pricked her eyes at the feeling of confinement now pressing down on her. She just needed to rest. That was all. Tomorrow would not seem so bleak if she simply slept.

But then, what if nothing improved? What if the entire expedition was as disappointing and unbearable as her last week in Yorkshire had been?

A tapping on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked over her shoulder at the closed entryway.

“Come in,” she called, ready to tell Penelope she would need help to dress down instead of up that evening.

But when Aunt and Uncle appeared instead, she stood to face them with a look of surprise. “Oh, I did not expect you both this evening.”

They closed the door behind them, then faced Lark in unison with pleasant smiles, albeit worried brows.

“Is everything all right? You’re both feeling well?” she asked.

Aunt and Uncle exchanged glances of concern, then nodded in unison.

“We are both well, dear Lark,” Aunt Harriet replied. “But…are you?”

“Why, of course I am,” Lark lied.

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?”

“I used to see certain looks pass between you two during dinner and throughout his classes,” she began. “But now, you hardly speak with him. I could not help but wonder if something occurred between the two of you to cause the change in your relationship.”

Lark drew steadying breaths. “I assure you, there is no relationship between us, nor shall there ever be one. We are similar in some regards, which can lead to disagreements, but we are acquaintances and always will be.”

She spoke so assuredly that Aunt seemed to accept her words. “Very well,” she said. “I must have imagined matters. I am wont to do such things, Francis tells me. Well, I shall see you for dinner, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Will you not wear the blue gown once again? I did not get to enjoy seeing you in it the other evening, and Mrs. Chumley went on and on about how beautiful you were.”

Lark smiled to hide her grimace. She would never wear that gown again. “I think I would prefer a different color this evening.”

“Very well,” Aunt shrugged off. “You look lovely in any color.”

She bade Lark farewell, then disappeared down the corridor as Lark shut the door behind her.

She shouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner. She should have hidden her true feelings, blamed her lack of enthusiasm on being excessively tired.

Because now, she was excessively tired, if only due to the very notion of having to play the part of the amiable, approachable Miss Fernside when all she wanted to be was sulky, jaded Lark.

Unfortunately, the only person who accepted her as both was the only person she’d sworn to never be around again.