The Cottage in the Woods (33 page)

“What is your opinion?” I asked Harry. “Is it safe to bring the children out here?”

“Safe enough, if we keep to the path, and away from the stream. A bit of mud never hurt, and they’ll have the two of us watching over ’em. Not like that band of dirty ragamuffins what runs loose all over these parts with nobody lookin’ after ’em at all. One of these days one of ’em will come to a bad end. See if they don’t!”

“Where are the parents? I wonder.”

“Eh, miss. From what I hear, these wild ’uns all come from one mother, and she’s enough to make yer blood run cold. Maybe they’re here in the woods hidin’ out from ’er.”

Back at the Cottage, Harry repeated his assessment of conditions to Mr. Vaughn, who encouraged us to resume the youngsters’ healthy outings, and instructed Harry to keep the unsupervised village children off the property for their own good. After that, Teddy, Goldilocks, Harry, and I continued our daily walks, doggedly venturing out in the dismal weather. Day after day, we trod carefully down the Giant’s Walk, determinedly searching
for hidden proofs of spring, as an incessant drizzle fell from the slate-gray sky above, and the brown mud beneath us sucked at our boots. The only colors to be seen were in the soft rose tint of Goldilocks’s cheeks, and the golden halo of her hair.

At about this time, I was invited to a family celebration held in Goldilocks’s honor. Sweetmeats and punch were being served in the back parlor, for Mr. Vaughn had chosen the moment to announce that Goldilocks was officially his legal ward. The child was given to understand that she was now part of the family. To demonstrate the fact, Mrs. Van Winkle had been retired with a handsome pension, and Goldilocks had been moved from her apartment up in the east wing to reside with Teddy in the nursery, a special treat for both the children. I had immediate misgivings about this, knowing what Nurse was, and what she was capable of, but the decision was not mine to make. I could only hope that Nurse would continue to regard Goldilocks as Teddy’s beloved plaything, and look after her accordingly. After recent developments with Teddy, I was all but convinced that Nurse’s better nature was on the ascendant, but alas, it was not to be.

The next afternoon, I lingered in the schoolroom after the children had gone to tea. I was putting things to rights and making notes for the next day’s instruction, as was my habit. I sometimes took my tea there if I had a lot to do. I had been sitting for some time in the empty room, reading, when I sensed a presence behind me. Startled, I turned about to behold Nurse lurking there, rubbing her paws together and looking unbearably smug.

“You,” I said, a little testily. “You startled me.”

“Oh, I just poked my head in and seen you sittin’ here all
alone,” she answered, suddenly bursting into inappropriate laughter, which faded off into periodic snickering.

“So you thought you’d keep me company? That’s very considerate of you.”

“Yes, company,” she agreed, “seein’ as how you’re all alone.”

“Well,” I said, wondering what she was up to, and struggling to maintain a light tone, “was there something you wished to talk to me about?”

She began tittering again. “Oh, I just been havin’ a little conversation down in the kitchen with Betsy and Cook.”

“Yes?” I said, with exaggerated patience. I had no interest in the kitchen gossip, if it was even offered to me, which was rare. However, it was clear Nurse was full of some news she wanted to tell me, and I only wanted to get it over with.

“Oh, I thought you might like to hear. It’s about a
friend
o’ yours.”

“Yes? Which friend?”

“Why, none other than your old
friend
Mr. Bentley!”

I should not have been surprised to hear her call Mr. Bentley my friend in such a suggestive way. From the time that we had begun my Latin lessons, the household gossips had linked us romantically. It would make the perfect excuse to torment me with news of him. Suddenly apprehensive, I asked, “Is he well?”

“Oh, he’s
more
than well, I’d say. It’s his brother, the viscount, that ain’t so fortunate. He’s the one what’s died, leaving the title and all to Mr. Bentley. That’s
Lord
Bentley now to the likes of you, eh, chickie?”

I paused for a moment, taking this in. “How very sad about his brother. I hope Mr. Bentley—”

“
Lord
Bentley!”

“Lord Bentley,” I echoed. I looked straight into her eyes and said, “I hope that he’ll be happy in his new life.”

She covered her mouth with her paw and snickered convulsively.

“Surely you don’t find his brother’s death so comical?”

“Oh no, chickie. You ain’t heard it all.”

“Yes?”

“Oh, I hate to say, miss, you bein’ such good
friends
with him an’ all. I’d hate to think I might
upset
you.”

“You positively concern me. Pray give me the news and be done with it.”

“We-e-ell,” she drawled. “It seems Lord Bentley is engaged! To his cousin! Has been since he was a cub!”

“Yes, I know,” I responded without emotion, wondering if Mr. Bentley’s engagement was now household gossip.

Far from discouraging her, this seemed to propel her onward. She leered evilly for a moment, literally hugging herself with delight. “Well, it seems they’re plannin’ a big bust-up of a weddin’. The invitations are goin’ out to all the gentry. Imagine! All the finest people will be there to see them married, includin’ the Vaughns. And then his cousin, Miss Wallingsford, will be
Lady
Bentley.”

I struggled to keep my expression impassive as her beady little eyes nearly scorched my face, searching for a reaction, some telltale sign of anguish she could savor ever afterward, and report gleefully to the others. I stared dispassionately back, pretending to myself that she was speaking of someone else, refusing to think about it until I should be alone and able to allow myself to feel.

“ ’Course I don’t expect they’ll be sending an invitation to
the
governess
, but p’raps it would be just too awful for you anyways, eh, chickie?” Here she patted my back with one paw, in mock sympathy, while she sniggered into the other.

As the full effect of Nurse’s cruelty hit home, I pushed her away from me and rose from my seat, needing to be rid of her, but she clutched my paw in her own and stroked it, her manner fawning, intimate, and insufferable as she continued her cruel parody of concern.

“Oh, now don’t tell me I’ve upset you!” she lamented. “Oh, the poor dear! And here I thought you’d rather hear it from a
friend
.”

“That’s quite enough,” I asserted, withdrawing my paw from her grasp.

She pulled at my skirts instead. “Does chickie want to be left alone? Oh yes, we’ll leave her alone. All alone.” She treated me to a particularly poisonous glare, and ground out, “Better get used to it, poor thing!”

I stood there, riveted by her eyes, those eyes that held no ember of warmth, no glimmer of pity toward me. Blinking, I pulled myself loose of her grasp and walked out of the room, her malicious cackle echoing after me.

It seemed an eternity before I reached my own chamber door, and still I could hear her unholy laughter, though I refused to look round and see if she was actually following me. Closing the heavy door, I was finally blessed with silence.

I sank into a chair as the news hit home. Shaken as I was, I told myself that nothing had changed. Mr. Bentley was now Lord Bentley, making an impossible barrier between us. But it had already been impossible. Nurse had only made it a little more real. Alone, she had said, I would be all alone, and she was
right. All I could see ahead of me was a spinster’s life, caring for other people’s cubs, and eventually outliving my usefulness. And yet I could not let go of the thought of Mr. Bentley’s last words to me: that I would always have his heart. I could still hear his deep voice saying it. I could still feel his powerful arms around me. I knew that I should try to wipe it all from my memory, but I clung to it more selfishly than ever, loathing my own weakness.

A week ground slowly by. When I thought of Mr. Bentley, I took refuge in a kind of unreality, avoiding the painful facts until such a time as they might actually stare me in the face. Meanwhile, Nurse had pared her mockery down to its distilled essence—that is, her intolerable meaningful looks, and a chronic snickering at the sight of me.

Since Goldilocks had been moved to the nursery, I had been keenly alert for signs of trouble from Nurse. Now I redoubled my vigilance, afraid that the crueler side of Nurse’s nature, having been quiescent for so long, was once again on the rise. Yet it seemed from questioning Teddy that the worst she was guilty of in the nursery was frequently leaving the children to mind themselves while she napped. Under the circumstances, I could only be grateful that her malice was reserved for me.

The unnaturally cold and wet weather continued unabated, chilling the body and depressing the mind. In spite of this, another meeting of the men’s choir was to be held. Though they
would all meet afterward in Mr. Vaughn’s cellar to gather the week’s newspapers for delivery, Reverend Snover had pointed out that now that we had started the ruse of the men’s choir, we had better keep up with it for appearances’ sake. I heard Mrs. Snover say laughingly that many of the members had not set foot in the church for years before the invention of the men’s choir, and that Reverend Snover was taking advantage of a good thing while he had the chance. Whatever the rationale, I was called on once again to play through the hymnbook while the gentlemen talked and kept a lookout.

I listened to the menfolk with half an ear while I played. It seemed that last town meeting had nearly erupted into violence. The Enchanted had arrived at the town hall in great numbers before sunset in order to beat the curfew, and then, after a very contentious meeting, they had simply stayed the night in the town hall, frustrating the intentions of the City Council.

The first issues of the
Plain Truth
had also provoked much excitement. Subscriptions were already streaming into the Post Office from enthusiastic customers, but there had also been incidents where ruffians—Babcock’s men, no doubt—had chased away or beaten up those who tried to deliver the papers. Fairchild and others reported that the Anthropological Society was hopping mad about the new paper. They called it sedition, and fomentation, and vowed not to rest until they had found out who published it. I was alarmed to hear that there had even been talk of smashing the printing press.

Mr. Vaughn snorted at this. “They will have to find it first! This is precisely why we’ve kept the location a secret, but even if some of you are followed, and they find out where it is, they cannot get to it. There are still laws about private property.”

“Yes,” said Reverend Snover, “but they can make life very difficult for you, and for all of those who’ve volunteered to deliver the papers.” I couldn’t help but wonder just how the Anthropological Society would go about making life difficult for Mr. Vaughn. Though I admired his intrepidity, I was filled with a vague unease.

Mr. Vaughn suggested that our people go out in groups. He said to make sure there were some good fighters in each group, and to stick to the woods and the back ways as much as possible. His suggestion was accepted favorably. Reverend Snover led the gentlemen in a couple of hymns to sing for the following Sunday, and when the rehearsal was finished, they formed up in parties of three or four, a sturdy bear or scrappy badger with each, and made off into the night. I heard no more of the fate of the brave adventurers through that long weekend, and so hoped there was no more serious trouble.