Joel Wainwright did exist, and I have used his exact words. I am not sure he ever gave lectures at his house - but having found the description of his house when it was being sold 10 years ago for £275,000 - I thought it would be fun to include it.

All the other characters did exist too, but the story is fiction. When I publish it properly, I will change all the main characters' names.

It's a bit long this chapter - but I didn't want to cut any of the nighingale story out.

Hannah -
August

I grew more interested and excited as the time came closer for the ornithology meeting at Mr. Wainwright’s house. I had engaged Florence again to stay with Annie. I had been boning up on the bird books that I had been given - and felt that I was reasonably prepared to make my contribution in terms of conversation.

Fred had come round earlier in the week to say that he wouldn’t be available, as he and Blanche, who had the day off, as Mr. Whittington was spending the weekend with his family in Prestwich, were intending to go on a train ride to Buxton.

“She’s never wanted to go so far away on her day off before, but she seemed most insistent, and I couldn’t let her go on her own. I don’t know what time we will be back, as the trains on Sundays are often much less frequent. I don’t feel I can reasonably commit myself to taking you to Mr. Wainwright’s house. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course I don’t mind, Fred,” I said. "And it is still very light at that time of night so I can hardly worry about going there on my own. Hopefully there will be somebody at the meeting to walk back up the road with me.” I didn’t mention who I hoped the someone would be, but I was sure that wherever Horatio had spent his weekend, he would make sure he was back in time for the meeting tonight.

I wore my lavender linen dress again, wishing I had more in the way of fashion clothing, but it has been such a long time that I have had occasion to wear posh frocks, and now here I am with three outings in a short space of time.

It was quite a walk to the house, but along a familiar trail as far as Lane Ends. Then I had to continue down the steep slope of Glossop Road. I saw the name, Finchwood, outside the door of this mansion, so I knew I had come to the right place, but I had never dreamed it would be a house such as this.

The door was opened by the housekeeper, who said she was Mrs. Earle, and she ushered me into the lounge - which was huge, perhaps 10 feet by 14 feet and going into a large bay window. There were half a dozen others in the room, and I smiled shyly at them, and just then Mr. Wainwright reentered the room, and introduced us to each other.

“So pleased to see you Mrs. Harrison. And is Mr. Hodgkinson not with you?”

“No, he has family commitments, and sends his apologies.”

“Well, I don’t suppose you will know these people, but let me introduce them to you. This is Mr. Mark Stirrup, and his wife, Jane and Mr. Charles Bailey and his wife, Mary. Mark and Charles are involved in the Manchester Field Club. Next to them we have   (there was a knock on the door) please excuse me.”

Mrs. Bailey invited me to sit on the ottoman, next to her, so I took my seat, and was just about to make conversation with her when Mr. Wainwright ushered Horatio in to the room.

“Now, Horatio, which of these people do you know, and whom shall I introduce you to?”

“I know Mrs. Harrison of course, lovely to see you again. And I know Mr. Ogden and Mr. Bailey, but I don’t think I have met the other gentleman, or the charming ladies.”

“The other gentleman is Mark Stirrup with his wife Jane. They are from Altrincham. And the ladies are Mrs. May Bailey, Mrs. Margaret Ogden, and my sister-in law - Miss Sarah Winterbottom.”

“Charmed to meet you I am sure,” said Horatio as he bent over to take and then kiss the hand of each lady in turn, including me, but when he took my hand, he also gave it a warm squeeze.

“For those of you who don’t know him, Mr. Whittington is the manager of an import-export business in Manchester, and Mrs. Hannah Harrison is a very pleasant neighbour who was kind enough to accept an offer from me to see my house and hear me prattle on about birds.”

“What a charming house, Mr. Wainwright,” said Horatio. “Please can you give us some of the background and detail of this room, for instance?”

“I would be delighted to. I am always pleased to show off my house and will give you a tour of all the interesting spots before we begin tonight’s main talk. First of all in here, can I call your attention to the window seat? Much of the wood in the house is hand crafted as this is, and I have had inscriptions and pictures of birds carved in many areas. Notice the stained glass windows - with the birds and flowers featured. Can you read the inscription? Well, I will read it for you. ‘My pretty window that commands those meadows green and wooded lands so sunny that the last ray its pains receive of parting day.’ And of course this is where the sunset is the most glorious.”

“That is so poetic,” said Mrs. Bailey. “Did you write the words yourself, Mr. Wainwright.”

“Indeed I did, as I enjoy playing with words. Now if you look at the fireplace with its ornate brass canopy. By the way, did you notice as you were coming into the entrance hall, the carving there? No? Well it says, “There is an eminence of these our hills. The last that parlays with the setting sun.’ There are bird scenes in stained glass in all the downstairs windows.”

“It you would care to come with me into my office, I will show you the carved archway over my bookshelf - it says, ‘The pen rules the world.’ and how true that is.

“On the landing there is a Georgian style window, again with a bird feature in the stained glass. And you can see the name of my house picked out, FINCHWOOD - and also the four seasons are portrayed there.

“Now if we got into the morning room, you can see the door there that leads to the servants’ part of the house. They saying there is, ‘Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.’

“I won’t take you to see the references to ornithology in other parts of the house, but take it from me, there are many of them, not the least of which are in my summer house. There again the stained glass picks out the four seasons.”

“Truely remarkable,” said Mrs. Stirrup. “What a joy it must be to live in a house like this.”

“I agree with your sentiments entirely, don’t you, Sarah?”

“Yes, of course, Joel,” said the rather shy Miss Winterbottom.

We settled back down in the lounge and Mr. Wainwright started his lecture on the Nighingale.

THE STRINES NIGHINGALE
I will start with a quote from Coleridge.

“No greater sensation was ever created by a little thing than was caused by the arrival of the Strines Nightingale on the 3rd of May, 1862. I was the first to hear it, as it selected for its preliminary song, a bush at the bottom of my garden at "Whitecroft".

"That garden with its neat little shrubbery lawn,
"From the noise and dust of the highway,
"A furlong perchance withdrawn."

“Excuse me, Mr. Wainwright, but I don’t recognise that quotation. Who wrote it?”

“I did, Mr. Whittington, I did. But now to get on with my talk.

“In fact during its carols it was never at any time more than an arrow's flight from my home. It began its song, now plaintive, now joyous, at ten o'clock every night, and continued almost without interruption until three o’ clock in the morning. I sent word to Mr. Sidebotham on the following day, and he came to hear it at night. On the third evening he brought down Professor Williamson who was perfectly familiar with its beautiful notes. He pronounced it next day in the Manchester papers the veritable nightingale, and thousands of people from all parts of the country came to be charmed with its exquisite melody.

 “No one who has ever heard the nightingale properly in the still calm night could ever mistake its notes for those of any other bird.

“I had a busy and happy time while this distinguished visitor remained with us, resulting in a great number of other visitors who compelled us, not unwillingly, to keep "open house" for a fortnight, often finding ourselves having tea parties at one or two o’ clock in the morning; after which our friends had many miles to walk home.

“Here is a good account of the treat they received written by Mr. Heys and Mr. Watson, two ornithological members of the Manchester Field Naturalists' Society.

“In consequence of information received that there was a nightingale, which could be heard in the woods near the Strines Printworks, we decided upon a visit to that locality, and invited a friend who is familiar with the nightingale's song, to accompany us. Our first visit was between the hours of eleven and one at mid-day on Thursday, the 15th inst., and our object was chiefly to learn what we could as to the locality selected and the hour at which the bird might be expected to commence.

Accompanied by the very intelligent and courteous manager of the Strines Printworks, Mr. Wainwright, we soon found ourselves in the immediate neighbourhood of the oak tree, not yet in full leaf, which has been selected and where we were informed the songster sits night after night, from the hour of ten until long after midnight, delighting with his melody the hundreds who assemble in the fields and lanes around. The spot selected seems singularly inappropriate, for the "navvies" are busily at work on the new line of railway which is being made from Hyde to New Mills, and there is a considerable embankment being raised just opposite, and only a very short distance lower down the side of the hill, where the men are busily employed at work all day "tipping" loads of stone and earth. It might have been expected that the noise caused by a body of men in such near neighbourboods would have scared all birds from the place. Such, however, is not the fact.

“Having satisfied ourselves that there would be little danger of disappointment, it was decided that we should visit the place about ten p.m. on the following night. We did so, and were delighted to find ourselves on the ground just in time to hear the first twittering notes. The manner in which the bird seemed to trifle with the notes and try various scraps of song, reminded one of the performers in the orchestra, who run over scraps of melody just before a concert commences, trying their instruments again and again.

After a few minutes spent in this sort of dalliance, the song gradually became fuller and stronger, and there was a more connected strain. The song is certainly very peculiar and such as would not be likely, after having once been heard, to be ever mistaken for any other. It has often been stated that the song of the nightingale is sad, but we are inclined to the opinion that such sadness ought rather to be considered as the state of mind most probable in one who may be wandering through solitary woods during the quiet hours of night. At all events, the song we heard certainly was not sad, though soft and tender. Sometimes there is a repetition of the same note for some fifteen or twenty times, the effect of which is very singular; and this repetition is always given with a gradual crescendo and very often terminates the song abruptly - indeed the bird seems to delight in leading you on through a delicious strain and then suddenly balking you by an abrupt pause; then he recommences with a totally different song, often introducing a long warble, interrupted by a rapid utterance of "chug, chug, chug, chug, chug," which is different from anything we ever heard before.

“Although there would be several hundred people together, laughing and chatting; now and then a blaze flaring up as some one struck a match to light his pipe; or a crash amongst the underwood as a sturdy club was broken away for protection during the midnight journey homeward; yet, amid all this noise and light, the bird continued singing, with only such pauses as are peculiar to its song. We remained at the place until near midnight, and could hear the song in the distance long after having started on our return home.

“The nightingale is the Motacilla Luscinia of Linnreus; it is a small bird about six inches in length; it is migratory, and the cock bird usually precedes the hen by ten days or a fortnight, probably for the purpose of selecting the most favourable place for building the nest. It has been stated that the nightingale has a special fondness for districts where the cowslip grows abundantly, and this may very probably be the case, as this flower may afford food to some particular larva which may form the most dainty part of the nightingale's dinner. May we not have a clue to this selection of the cowslip in the fact that, it is one of the few spring flowers which are in bloom so early in the spring time as when the nightingale arrives in this country (about the middle of April). The nest is usually built at the bottom of thick, inaccessible hedges, where the keenest-sighted truant boy would hardly be likely to penetrate. The bird is very quiet and boobyish, and would not easily be disturbed from her nest. She has also another protection in the song of her lord, who takes up his position in a bush or tree far away from the nest, but still within hearing; thus preventing any clue to the exact spot.

“It has frequently been observed that the nightingale owes much of its high reputation to the fact that it is heard when other songsters are silent. This is quite correct, but only in the way in which we should speak of the song of Jenny Lind or Clara Novello; that is, we can listen to and appreciate their peculiar excellence best when all others are silent. Neither should we be supposed to be insensible to the songs of our day birds whilst praising the serenader. What says the poet Montgomery

The bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade when all things rest:
In lark and nightingale we see
What honour hath humility."

“That is the end of the letter. Now here are some more appropriate lines by Coleridge

“Farewell, O warbler! till to-morrow eve,
And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell!
We have been loitering long and pleasantly,
And now for our dear homes.-That strain again!
Full fain it would delay me! "

“It is worthy of remark, that though I often listened, I never could satisfy myself that I heard its famous song in the day time. Without doubt it does sing then, but I could never distinguish it clearly from the other songsters. Curiously enough, indeed with almost ridiculous punctuality, it commenced its evensong at ten o'clock. On one memorable night we were waiting for the start; the party were incredulous as to exact time of tuning up, and to while away five minutes, I was urged to recite Cowper's well known poem "The Nightingale and the Glow-worm," which was no sooner finished than the clock struck ten, and the bird struck its key note at the same instant. It was close by this spot that glow-worms were so plentiful; I have frequently seen the bank literally studded with their living emeralds on a dark night.

 “The following letter which I wrote to Mr. Sidebotham was returned to me from among his old papers, and as it contains a description of this interesting period, so I quote it in full.

STRINES, May 19th, 1862.
Monday Morning.
JOSEPH SIDEBOTHAM, ESQ.
Dear Sir,

As the Nightingale sang at the "Tipping place" on Thursday and Friday nights I went there again on Saturday night so as to hear it commence. There could not have been less than a thousand people present and the uproar and tumult among some sections of the crowd were really abominable. They were actually braying in imitation of donkeys until I begun to despair of the bird singing at all. Presently a low "whirr" was heard and then another, and in an instant the most breathless silence prevailed in the whole multitude, and for about half an hour there was a treat for all, until at length they began to be so riotous that the bird ceased and did not commence again before 12 o'clock of my knowledge, but I am told it did begin a little after midnight and sang for several hours. A great number of persons stayed until daylight on Sunday morning and there was one continual uproar the whole night through. They were actually attempting to stupify it by burning sulphur under the bush and hoping to snare it by shaking the bush upon a net spread for the purpose.

I am truly thankful to say that they did not succeed in their wanton intentions, for last night (Sunday) we had the grandest treat of all.
I forgot to say that on Saturday night it began to sing punctually at about a quarter of a minute to ten; it had only got through a few notes before the Strines clock struck the hour.

I rejoice to say that last night it had returned to its old place. There were many listeners but the great bulk were highly respectable and the behaviour of all was everything that could be wished and they were amply rewarded, for it sang most beautifully, beginning at 10 o'clock and had not ceased at 1 o'clock of my knowledge.

It was in a hawthorn on a small mound at the foot of which there was a very orderly and respectable group, we could not have been more than four or five yards from the creature itself, and could hear every vibration and movement in its little throat. Occasionally we saw the flutter of its wings.

We had a misgiving that there was one knot of men in the crowd even last night who meant mischief, they were suspicious looking, and though very orderly then, they were close by for several hours and had a lantern with them, and I noticed a light under the bush from my house at 1-15. The bird was still singing.

I have troubled you with this long account so that should you be disappointed by its not singing to-night you may have some idea of the cause of its silence.

I remain,
Your most obedient servant,
(Signed) JOEL WAINWRIGHT.

“This was really the last occasion the bird was known to sing. The damage done to the crops and fences by the revelling crowds which came every night, began to be rather serious for the neighbouring farmer, and it was said that he shot the famous vocalist, but this was never proved.

“It is a very small bird, very difficult to distinguish even the daytime and still more difficult to see at night. More likely it was scared away by the great crowds of people. Anyhow, its serenade was only continued for a little over a fortnight.”

There was polite applause, and we passed around the picture of the nightingale. But I had come prepared with my copy of Lloyd’s Natural History, British Birds, Vol. 1, so I also was able to pass around my book as well, with its very fine hand painted pictures of birds, including the nightingale.

“I am very impressed, Mrs. Harrison, to see you have this fine book. Do you also have the other books from the series?”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Stirrup and they were given to me by my late husband for Christmas in the year before he died, so I value them very highly.”

“And did you read the entry for the nightingale before you came?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Wainwright, and I found your account of it very fascinating - and made the words on the page much more meaningful having heard of your personal experience.”

“Can you add anything from your reading to enlighten us further?”

“Well, I could hardly do that, as you are the experts in the field and I am only a dabbler and most amateur in my interest.”

“What does the book say?”

“It mentions that the male and female are very alike in colouring, with the male being perhaps ½ inch larger. The young are a duller brown than the parents and mottled with markings near the tips of the feathers, with the under body dingy white. It also says that it is found seldom in the north, possibly in Yorkshire and occasionally in Cheshire, but they doubt its occurrence in Lancashire and it is unrecorded in Scotland. In winter it visits North-eastern Africa.

“When they arrive, the males preceding the females by a few days, as Mr. Wainwright said in his talk, they settle in woods and thickets and the males are heard singing in the same wood, as if to answer one another throughout the day. But when the hen birds arrive, the singing from the males is mostly at nightfall, and continues throughout the night if the weather is fine.

“It is a ground feeder, and picks up worms, ants and other insects and larvae, while the young are said to be fed entirely on caterpillars. In autumn it feeds on fruit and berries like the warblers. The nest is formed of dead leaves and grass, with a somewhat ragged appearance, but the inside is finished off and rather deep and lined with rootlets and occasionally with horsehair. There are usually 4 or 5 eggs of olive-green or dull bluefish green.”

Horatio then said, “I have never heard a nightingale, but your talk, Mr. Wainwright makes me determined to do all that I can to have that experience. I suppose I shall have to wait now until next spring. I wonder how many of you here tonight, have heard this bird sing.”

They all seemed to indicate that they had, except for me.

“What a treat you have all had. I can only hope that Mrs. Harrison and I may be privileged enough to be able to say that we have by this time next year. Thank you so much, Mr. Wainwright, for your generous hospitality.”

Then turning to me, he said in a soft voice, “May I see you home, Mrs. Harrison?”
“Oh, but it is far out of your way.”

“But I couldn’t possibly allow you to travel the distance in the dark on your own. I would be most pleased to take you to your door.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Whittington. I do accept your offer.”

And so we, as well as the other assembled, left Mr. Wainwright’s home. Some had come by their own carriages which were parked behind this huge and luxurious house. Others were staying with friends in Marple Bridge, and started off walking down the road, while we were making our way up.

“What a wonderful evening that was, do you not agree, Hannah?”

“Oh yes, I am so pleased I came. And I hope he will invite me to more of his meetings. He did say something before about research he is doing into Morris Dancing. I expect he will do a lecture on that one day.”

“Yes, he said his work was being written up in the Manchester City News - called On Morris and Rush Carts, and he hoped it would be in print by November. What a multi-faceted individual he is. And his friends seemed very pleasant, did you not think?”

“Certainly they did, but much more cultured and learned than the likes of me. I felt quite out of place, although they did make a great effort to include me in the gathering.”

“I was very proud of you, the way you showed you had learned a thing or two about nightingales yourself. How did you happen to be so well prepared?”
“Mr. Wainwright mentioned that the topic for the evening would be nightingales, so I thought I had better to some research so as not to appear too thick. And luckily I have these wonderful books to refer to.”

“Was your husband an ornithologist, then?”

“Oh, no, my husband was a farmer - and that was the sum total of his interests. But if I expressed an interest in something, he always tried to buy me a book on the subject. He was very generous with his money.”

“Yes, how very fortunate that you have been left with sufficient money for you to not have to work.”

“And tell me Mr. Whittington, have you got any farther in your negotiations with Lord Howard on our association’s behalf?”

“Please call me Horatio. You must have noticed that I have been calling you Hannah all evening. You don’t object to that, do you?”

“No, of course not, as long as we are in private. But when we are in public, I think it might be more sensible for you to address me as Mrs. Harrison. We don’t want people to get the wrong idea about our friendship.”

“No indeed  Hannah, but I would be less than honest if I didn’t tell you that I was so greatly looking forward to coming tonight, not because of the birds or the house or the man himself, but because I knew you would be there.”

“Oh, Horatio. You mustn’t say things like that.”

“Did you not anticipate seeing me there then? Would you prefer to be walking home in the company of the very dull Mr. Hodgkinson?”

“Don’t be unkind. Fred is a very pleasant young man. He does not have your education or your gift of speech, but his heart is in the right place.”

“But you didn’t answer my question, Hannah.” He took my hand in his when he said this. “Would you have preferred to be there tonight with him or with me?”

I didn’t know what to say. I’m sure I was blushing, but luckily it was too dark by that time for him to make it out. “With you,” I said softly. He gripped my hand tighter.

“So we are thinking alike in this matter, Hannah. And if there are other opportunities for us to be together like this, will you be willing to be seen with me again?”

“You are a married man, Horatio. What would you wife think? What would she say if she knew?”

“My wife bores me. You thrill me. I dream of you, not her. I am so pleased that she is 20 miles away at the moment and I don’t have to go back to see and hear her harp on at me.”

“She is a beautiful woman. Surely you must love her.”

“I think I did once. I very much doubt that I could say I feel much of anything for her at the moment. And I find the presence of her mother in my house a constant irritant. That is why, when the occasion arises for me to spend my time with someone I truly care about, like you, I treasure every moment.”

At this, he stopped under a tree, and gently kissed me. I pulled away with the shock of it, but couldn’t help be pleased by it all the same.

“Do forgive me. Did I offend you? I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh Horatio, how I wish it could be different, and we didn’t have to sneak around and pretend. But I cannot openly be seen to be spending time with you. If you can find someway where we can be alone without your wife knowing, well then, just perhaps, we can see if our friendship can develop, but for tonight, I think we had better pretend that we are just good friends.”

We had by this time reached my front doorstep, and I asked Horatio if he would mind escourting Florence down the road to her house. He kissed my hand gently and then let it go, and agreed