Page 54 of Birds of a Feather

Another successful mode of procuring specimens, is by wearing a tail of a full-plumaged male in the hat, keeping constantly in motion and concealing the person among the bushes.

Elise chuckled. ‘Imagine someone crawling around in the bush with a hat full of lyrebird feathers.’

As she moved through the pages, she was able to distinguish Elizabeth Gould’s illustrations from Richter’s without needing to look at the credit.

‘Look at the way her strokes are finer,’ Elise said. ‘And the detail she’s applied to the background. It’s no wonder John Gould grieved her death so deeply. He didn’t just lose his wife, and the mother of his children, he lost a bloody good professional collaborator too.’

The birds were grouped in species, and when Elise reached the illustration of the first of the finches she smiled. She knew there was a reason she was looking through the third of seven volumes.

Page after page, beautiful little finches were depicted perched upon plants or feeding their young. Elise admired them all, but with every page she turned, she felt the suspense build for what she knew was coming.

Eventually, she turned the page to find the original version of the painting that had hung on her wall since Gerry left. The painting of the Amadina gouldiae, known commonly as the Gouldian finch.

‘Look how vibrant the colours are,’ she marvelled. ‘My version has certainly faded over the years.’

‘Haven’t we all,’ Gerry said with a smirk.

Elise swatted away her self-deprecation and began reading the text aloud.

It is in fact beyond the power of my pen to describe or my pencil to portray anything like the splendour of the changeable hues of the lilac band which crosses the breast of this little gem, or the scarcely less beautiful green of the neck and golden-yellow of the breast.

It is therefore with feelings of no ordinary nature that I have ventured to dedicate this new and lovely little bird to the memory of her, who in addition to being a most affectionate wife, for a number of years laboured so hard and so zealously assisted me with her pencil in my various works, but who, after having made a circuit of the globe with me, and braved many dangers with a courage only equalled by her virtues, and while cheerfully engaged in illustrating the present work, was by the Divine will of her Maker suddenly called from this to a brighter and better world; and I feel assured that in dedicating this bird to the memory of Mrs Gould, I shall have the full sanction of all who were personally acquainted with her, as well as of those who only knew her by her delicate works as an artist.

The tears that had gathered in Elise’s eyes breached her lower lids and tumbled down her cheeks.

She fished around inside her sleeve to find a tissue; she would have been mortified to spill tears all over the invaluable tome.

‘It’s not often that scientific reference books contain touching love stories,’ Gerry said, handing her a tissue from her bag. ‘And who said the English couldn’t be romantic?’

‘Do you mean you, or John Gould? Because today … all of this …’ Elise gestured at the book, ‘has been wonderful.’

Gerry smiled warmly.

‘I think you’ve got corny in your old age,’ Elise joshed.

‘Maybe you just bring it out in me,’ Gerry replied.

Before Elise knew what she was doing, she took Gerry’s hands in hers and brought them to her face and kissed them. Sixty years ago, she would have recoiled from such a public display of affection, and she would never have dared initiate it, especially with Charles Darwin’s ghost and a grumpy old codger next to them watching on.

‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she said urgently, and a little too loudly. ‘I don’t want to look back on this second chance at happiness with you and regret not taking full advantage of it.’ The older man looked up again. Elise felt her ears redden but she was compelled to go on.

‘When we were growing up, there were so many expectations about who we’d be and how we’d live,’ she continued, her voice hushed. ‘For the most part, I followed those conventions to the letter. I got married. I had a family. I had a happy life, a loving marriage and I adore Rosie and the kids. I felt I never had any right to complain about my life.

‘Somewhere along the line,’ she continued, ‘the conventions I measured myself against stopped being set in stone, and the people who enforced them were no longer around. I watched as other people felt free to live how they wanted to live, and love who they wanted to love. But I didn’t feel like that applied to me. I suppose I felt like I was touring this whole new world with a set of old visa conditions. Until now. Until this trip. I’m not ready to give this … to give you … up again.

‘But all of this depends on what you want too, of course,’ she added hurriedly.

‘Well … about that.’ Gerry leaned in. ‘What about if I travel back with you to Australia?’

‘Really?’ Elise replied excitedly, not caring who heard her.

‘Yes,’ Gerry answered enthusiastically. ‘I’ve got a few bits and pieces on the go here, but nothing I can’t defer for a little while. The university is always nagging me to take some annual leave. And I haven’t been to Australia for so long; it will be lovely to spend some time there again.’

‘Oh, Gerry,’ Elise exhaled. ‘That would be bloody marvellous.’

Chapter 25

Beth

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