The Cottage in the Woods (14 page)

Eventually, the surgeon came and bled him, after which he seemed weak and debilitated. On through the afternoon I alternately tended him, or sang, or read to myself. The time crept by, but after several hours Reverend Snover came to relieve me. As I prepared to make my departure, he apprised me in low tones that the story they were giving about was that Mr. Bentley had been called home on some urgent family business, and would be gone for some time. No one was to know his true whereabouts, lest word of his injury should get out and arouse the suspicions of the constabulary.

I assured him that no one would hear a word of the truth from me—an odd vow, I thought, to be making to a vicar. Promising to return the following afternoon when I was done with my duties, I took my departure.

The sun was leaning low in the sky as I started out on my way home. It had not entirely escaped my notice that I would now have to make the walk unaccompanied through the woods. I tried to be philosophical about it and tell myself that no one, after all, had done me any harm yet, despite my fears. Even so, when I came to the gatekeeper’s lodge, and through the gates
to the long, wooded drive, my senses became attuned to the slightest irregularity, and I proceeded with such excessive caution that even the birds were scarcely aware of my passing. After painstakingly tiptoeing partway down the drive, I perceived a motion a little distance away, keeping pace with me, just out of sight, but too loud and clumsy to be any forest creature. I thought of the terrible boy from town who had threatened me, and wondered if he could somehow have followed me. It occurred to me that even a good, loud scream would not help me if I were confronted out here in the middle of the woods. With that chilling thought, I lost my nerve and broke into a headlong run. Halfway down the drive, I was struggling for air and cursing the fashionable dictates that kept women so tightly bound in their corsets that it was impossible to breathe normally. I paused and prayed that dizziness would not overtake me. What would I do so far from the house without a fainting couch? I staggered on to the Cottage in the Woods with what speed I could muster. Once safely home, I collapsed on the carved bench inside the door and waited for my heart to stop hammering in my chest. I had hoped that no one would see me there, but Mrs. Gudge, the head housekeeper, happened into the entryway and observed my distress.

“Why, look at you, miss!” she exclaimed, seeming slightly scandalized. “You’re all done in! What’d you do? Run all the way from town?”

I was surprised by her question, as the servants seldom acknowledged my existence, let alone made inquiries into my well-being. “I did run a little way,” I said, fanning myself with my bonnet. “I thought it would do me good.”

Mrs. Gudge raised one eyebrow, seeing through my pathetic
attempt at dignity, and shook her head, chuckling to herself. She passed on down the corridor and out of sight, leaving me to wonder how the story would play in the servants’ quarters that night. Thoroughly mortified, I vowed that I would not be frightened into running down the drive another time, come what may.

That night I dreamed of the crying child; of searching and searching for it in labyrinthine passageways; of hearing its pitiful wail, but never coming closer; of losing myself in the same ominous mist. I awoke to darkness and silence, near tears at the loss of the dream child, and lay there in a welter of emotion for a long time before sleep came again.

It was a sleep that brought little refreshment. Morning found me droopy-eyed and gloomy in defiance of the bright new day. I arrived at the schoolroom hoping for something that would improve my mood, but it was not to be. Teddy and Nurse wandered in very late, Nurse offering no apology, and Teddy not speaking at all. I was compelled to wonder if he had been forbidden to do so. Not until we practiced some of the songs I had been teaching him did he open up and make any sound. By midmorning he seemed more himself, though he threw frequent glances at Nurse, measuring her reaction to his every word. It tore at my heart to see him, normally so full of life
and enthusiasm, made so constrained and intimidated. Still, he tried to please her, making a present to her of his best drawing, delivered with a kiss. Much to my astonishment, she responded to this with an appreciative word and an affectionate squeeze. Observe them as I might, their relationship defied my understanding.

By the time my teaching day was done, there was a steady rain coming down, but having a good, sturdy umbrella, I was not deterred from my planned trip to the vicarage. If there was any movement in the brush, the noise was masked by the soft percussion of the falling rain, and so I was able to convince myself that there was no one lurking in the forest that day.

At the vicarage things were much as I had left them. Mr. Bentley still ran a high fever, sometimes sleeping fitfully, and sometimes delirious. For a long while I tended him in silence, and read to myself from
Robinson Crusoe
, but then he began to toss and turn, and seemed in some danger of opening his wound again. I sought to soothe him, saying, “Hush, now, everything’s going to be all right.”

“Amy?” he moaned. “Am … y?”

Taking his paw, I said, “Yes. It’s Amy. Be calm now. You’re going to be fine. Go to sleep.”

With that, he quieted down, but he kept a grip on my paw for some time as he drifted off. I thought dispassionately, as I watched him lying there, that I had been wrong about his looks. He really was rather handsome, with a broad, even forehead, deep-set eyes, and glossy dark fur. Afraid that he might awaken and catch me staring at him, I returned to my book. Later, his eyes opened, and he saw me reading. “Read aloud,” he whispered. To humor him, I turned back and started at the beginning.

“ ‘I was born in the year 1632 in the city of York, of a good family,’ ” the story commenced. Now and then Mr. Bentley seemed to slip back into sleep, but if I stopped reading, he rallied and said, “Go on, go on,” and so I ended up reading until my voice gave out. By then he was sleeping quietly, and I took my leave. Mrs. Snover coaxed me to join them for supper, but, being anxious to get home before the light faded, I made my excuses and set off for the manor.

The rain had long since ceased, but there was a steady dripping of water off the trees, and everything was still quite wet. Mud splashed the hem of my skirts until they were soaked through at the bottom and dragging heavily. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as my raw nerves reacted to every sound. I came to a place where the drive curved around a dense thicket, so that it was impossible to see ahead, and my feet seemed to stop of their own accord, as if they knew something that I did not. I tried to reason with them. I had no evidence of anyone’s presence. The thicket lay downwind, so I could catch no scent, and even if there were someone there, I would certainly never get home unless I went forward.

Taking a deep breath, I managed to put one foot in front of the other until I was halfway around. Then I saw him, the leader of the gang who had beaten up the young bear in town. He was lounging against a tree trunk as bold-faced as if he owned the whole woods, casually slapping his long wooden truncheon into his open palm. He did not seem surprised to see me. His eyes looked me up and down with a gloating contempt, and he smiled in a sensual and disturbing way. I could not wait to get away from him. Indeed, my immediate instinct was to hurry past as if he were not there.

“Evenin’, miss!” he called out, lifting his hat to reveal a greasy clump of hair. He stepped out in front of me as if sensing my intention to ignore him, and leered. “Lovely weather, ain’t it, miss?”

I couldn’t imagine why he was trying to be pleasant, but it seemed to me more threatening than if he had been openly hostile. “What do you want?” I snapped, backing up to a good four yards away from him.

“Why, I’m just tryin’ to have a fren’ly little conversation now, miss. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, is there? A little parley between two of the squire’s hemployees? Mebbe we got off on the wrong foot the other day, eh? Mebbe we got some common hinterests to talk about. Y’never can tell. What’s a-goin’ on in the manor house these days, eh? What’s new?”

“I’m not in the habit of conversing with strangers. Please step aside.”

“Why, I hain’t no stranger, miss. Name’s Gabriel. Like the hangel. Jus’ call me Gabe. I works fer the gov’nor just like you. I’m the one what the master hired to keep a eye on the place—keep out trespassers and the like.” Here he slammed the truncheon on the side of the tree trunk, as if to demonstrate just how he would deal with such offenders. “So you and me are hequals, like.” He apparently expected some response to this, but I remained silent. “Well, if you don’t like conversin’, then just lissen,” he continued. “There ain’t no harm in that, is there, just lissenin’? See, I watches you an’ I says to meself, Now, that teacher’s a smart one. I can tell jus’ by the look of ’er. That’s one as knows how to turn things to ’er hadvantage. So I’ve got a little propisishun for ye, miss, an’ I’ll make it worth yer while too. I seen ye takin’ this route back and forth, back and forth. Now suppose next time ye
come this way, ye gives me a little report about who-all’s in the house and what they’re hup to. Such hinfermation would be very valuable to me, and me dear old mother. She’s got a hankerin’ to know how the rich folks live, see?” With this, he put his grimy hand into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a large, expensive-looking watch on a dirty string. As I was wondering how this individual came by such a treasure, he dug deeper and pulled out a coin. “See this?” He held up a shilling, then bit down on it to demonstrate its authenticity. “Hit’s fer you,” he said, tossing it to me with an air of great magnanimity. I recoiled and let it fall to the ground. “G’wan, take it!” he urged. “Mother’s been savin’ up, like. She’s got more where that come from!”

“Are you actually suggesting that I spy on the Vaughns for you—for money?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he answered, laying a finger beside his nose and winking. “We has scruples, eh? How much hextra are they a-goin’ to cost, eh?” He laughed unpleasantly. “What’s yer price?”

“I would certainly never do as you are suggesting at any price. Now let me pass!”

The boy’s expression hardened, the little malicious eyes squinting narrowly. “So ye think our money ain’t good enough for ye?” He seemed to tighten his grip on the truncheon.

The only answer I gave him was to hold my umbrella out in front of me like a lance and rush forward, thinking to drive him or push him out of my path. At the last moment he gave way and jumped aside, but just as I barreled past him, he grabbed my arm with a powerful grip and brought me up short. “Not so fast!” he growled. All pretense of pleasantness vanished in an instant, and indeed I recognized that same wild look of rage that I had seen
in him before. “I’ll lay it on the line fer you, Miss Priss. I want the rat, and I want ’er quick! You think about that; there’s good money I offered you on the one hand, or sufferin’ me mother’s displeasure on the other. Let me tell you, miss, she hain’t to be trifled with. And just you hunderstand that it’s best not to mention this ’ere conversation to them at the ’ouse. If anyone was to come after me, I’d know fer certain who set ’em onto me, see? And I know how to settle a score, I do. Me dear old mum taught me well.” He laughed hideously and his eyes dilated so that the whites showed all around his irises, then he shoved his pimply face closer to mine and I smelled his foul breath. “Ye’d have to come outside sooner or later, wouldn’t ye, miss, and when you did, I’d be waitin’! I knows my way around every hinch of this place, and I’d be waitin’!”

With a desperate twist I wrenched my arm from his grasp, and ran. Not daring to turn and see if he followed, I held up my soggy skirts and pumped my legs as fast as they would go. Even so, it seemed to me as if time itself congealed, and I was caught in it, the seconds stickily slowing to minutes as my limbs fought in vain to move faster. Finally, with my legs threatening to buckle beneath me, I reached the manor and dove in the door, breathing like a winded horse.

And there was Mrs. Gudge again. She looked up at me from her dusting, taking in the picture from the muddy skirts to the open, panting mouth, and responded with her usual aplomb. “Been taking your exercise again?” Her mouth twitched at the corner.

I nodded, too out of breath to speak, but striving for a look of nonchalance.

“Do you a sight more good to take the shortcut,” she said.
“Go out the door in the kitchen garden wall next time. The path takes you the back way through the pine grove. Comes out behind the churchyard. Save you ten minutes.” With that she turned and withdrew down the hall, shaking her head and chuckling.

I could have kissed her—or throttled her. Why couldn’t she have told me this yesterday? I was still trembling all over, trying to think what to do, trying to make sense of the ugly encounter with the horrid boy, but this piece of news offered me a way to evade him, at least temporarily. The brute had claimed to know every inch of the property, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. If I merely avoided him, what would he do? What was he up to? I could not guess the true motive of his clumsy attempt to buy information from me, or what his awful mother really wanted, and I could not fathom who or what “the rat” was, though I could be sure that his purpose was not honorable. Was it burglary he was planning? No sensible thief would have revealed himself so brazenly, and anyway, I knew of no way a thief could get into the house after it was locked up at night, unless he had help from a conspirator inside. But I reasoned that if he really had such a partner in crime, he would hardly have need of information from me. Whatever his designs, I had no doubt that he would make good on his threat if I gave him away. Everything in his appearance and manner indicated that he would be willing, if not eager, to engage in mayhem, and he hinted that his mother was even worse. Certainly what I had seen in town supported that claim. I came to the conclusion that it was not a risk I could take, and so I assumed the burden of keeping the whole story to myself. Surely that was nothing new. Nurse had blackmailed me to keep her drinking a secret.
Mrs. Vaughn asked me to keep the theft of my locket a secret. Teddy knew that his mother disappeared to some secret location every day. Mr. Vaughn wished me to keep his activities with the men’s choir to myself. What was one more secret in this house of secrets, after all?