The Cottage in the Woods (38 page)

Listening to her sing these words brought a lump to my throat, but I played on. Several verses later, we drew the performance to a close, amid enthusiastic applause. The merrymaking continued, though I thought I noticed a rather desperate edge to Mrs. Vaughn’s laughter. I knew very well that behind the bright smiles she was not forgetting about the upcoming court case, which could take away the little girl we all cherished. Watching Goldilocks, subdued and somber since the confrontation with Mother Shoe, I almost could imagine the child on her way to the gallows, so crushing would it be to her budding spirit to be given back to Mother Shoe and Gabriel, but the Vaughns had not told her of the situation as yet, and she sat by Teddy’s side, contentedly holding his paw, all unaware. When it was time for the children to retire, I volunteered to escort them up to bed. Upon reaching the nursery, I discovered Nurse, inebriated and reeking of strong spirits, muttering confusedly that
she
knew how to behave in fine company,
she
had been with the family since Teddy was born, and
she
should have been invited to the family party instead of me. I found that I actually had some sympathy for her, miserable and lonely as she was, and I ended by putting all three of them to bed.

Back in my own cozy chamber at last, I thought of Nurse, doomed to outgrow her usefulness. But then, so was I. Teddy and Goldilocks would not need a governess forever. When they were grown, I might, with luck, obtain a position with another
family, but eventually I would find myself alone, just as Nurse had taunted me. I had better get used to it, she said, and perhaps she was right. But I would always have my thoughts of Mr. Bentley. I could imagine seeing him again, watching the changes on his noble features, the quick intelligence and warmth of his eyes, the gentle strength of his bearing. It was like acid on my soul to tell myself that he belonged not to me, but to another. My mind began to work feverishly, asking questions I had asked so many times before. He had said that it would have been “unforgivable” to break off the betrothal. I knew that he had grown up with Amy, that both families had expected them to marry from the time they were small. Indeed, I began to see how breaking off an engagement with a lifelong playmate might seem unforgivable to an honorable and noble-hearted bear like Mr. Bentley. Against all logic, the possibility made me love him all the more, a thought that contained as much guilt as joy. Caught between my heart and my conscience, I prayed on my knees that night for some manner of relief, for a way out, for an answer.

Determined not to give in to despair, Mrs. Vaughn continued with her evening parties, though the festive mood seemed to vacillate and falter. The approaching trial hung over the household like a shroud, and we, the inmates, crept around silently as if afraid to disturb it. Only the children remained unaware of the gathering darkness. Even so, it was clear from her grave little face that Goldilocks sensed something. I felt strongly that the child must be told about the trial and what it might mean for her, and that Teddy must also be prepared, but the Vaughns wanted to maintain the children’s happy innocence for as long as possible. I was instructed to keep their lives as normal as could be, and this I endeavored to do, for such time as might be left to us.

A week had passed since our confrontation with Gabe in the woods, and we had not been outdoors since the encounter, though Mr. Vaughn had doubled the patrol of the grounds. Deprived of exercise and fresh air, I found myself staring longingly
out the window in unoccupied moments, despite the gray and wet weather. I was engaging in this activity when suddenly my eyes beheld the disturbing visage of someone standing, hands on hips, on the lawn below, daring and defiant, looking up at the second-story windows as if trying to work something out. It was Gabriel himself. In an instant he spotted me, and had the audacity to respond with an evil grimace before he vanished into the shrubbery. I was shocked, and frightened. How could he get past all of Mr. Vaughn’s patrols? Was no place safe? With an unreasoning fear of leaving the children in the schoolroom alone, I hurried them down the stairways and passages with me to the kitchen, leaving them there with Cook while I went to Mr. Vaughn’s den. Barely stopping to knock, I reported the incident to him in detail, though I acknowledged that in the time it had taken me to get to his office, the villain could have gotten well away. Mr. Vaughn, cursing in outrage, rang for Harry and Fairchild and began giving orders. He assured me that all doors and windows would be locked, even during the day, which allowed me to breathe more easily.

I quickly returned the children to the schoolroom, convincing them it was all a game, but I was badly shaken, and contemplated just what Gabriel was hoping to accomplish by showing himself. Was it simply a desire to terrorize us, to prove that he could penetrate all our defenses at will? I wondered how far he would go to wreak his vengeance on me, or on Goldilocks, who had so bravely and foolishly told him that she had been the one to betray him. Would he do murder? Remembering his berserk fury that day when he beat up on the bear, I even wondered whether he was altogether sane.

With the trial date only days away, we all gathered once
again in the drawing room and made the best of things. I played the pianoforte, while Mrs. Vaughn tried to teach Goldilocks some dance steps, and Mr. Vaughn was showing Teddy card tricks. We heard a distant noise, very soft at first, like the buzzing of angry bees, then gradually becoming louder. Mr. Vaughn raised his paw to silence us so that he could listen. He had just gotten up to go to the window when a brick came flying through it, scattering glass over half the room and landing in the center of the floor. After being momentarily too stunned to move, Mrs. Vaughn and I quickly leaped up and thrust the children away from the windows.

“Get them upstairs!” Mr. Vaughn commanded, but before we took another step, a second volley came through the broken window, this time a ball of fire, landing virtually at our feet. I heard screaming then, and some of it was my own, as we backed away from the fiery mass. Mrs. Vaughn grabbed Teddy, and I held on to Goldilocks, as Mr. Vaughn swiftly dumped the water from a vase of flowers on top of the fireball, stamping out the flames that remained.

“Cowards!” he bellowed out the window. “I’m coming out there, and if any of you have the nerve, you can stand and fight me like a bear!”

In through the window came shouts of “Shut down the printing press!” and “Shut it down if you know what’s good for you!” and “Next time we’ll burn the whole place to the ground!” There seemed to be a dozen voices or more, and I feared what might happen if Mr. Vaughn went out among them, as he seemed intent on doing. Mrs. Vaughn held firmly on to his arm, trying to calm him and talk him out of leaving the house, but when Mr. Vaughn refused to be deterred, she said, “All right, but keep
your temper, Walter, or you’ll only make it worse.” This finally seemed to sober him, though it did not alter his determination.

“I’ll take care of the children and the servants,” said Mrs. Vaughn.

“Don’t go upstairs!” Mr. Vaughn was now contradicting his earlier directive. “There may be a fire. Get everyone to the kitchen and stay near the door, ready to leave.” I directed my attention to the children, who were terribly frightened and bewildered by what had happened. Teddy was in tears, and Goldilocks looked to be in shock. Mrs. Vaughn and I half dragged them to the kitchen, and she quickly explained to the group of servants there what was happening. James and some others filled buckets of water, in case they should be needed, and the call was sent round for everyone to be ready to exit in case of fire. I saw Nurse arrive, fairly sober, and hover protectively around Teddy and Mrs. Vaughn, and I was relieved to see that she kept her head. Mrs. Vaughn called Nurse and me to her and said desperately, “Take care of the children! I must go and see what is happening with my husband!”

But upon hearing this, Teddy clutched her skirts in a death grip and cried, “No, Mama, no! Don’t leave! Don’t leave us!” and began to weep so piteously that Mrs. Vaughn, with a torn expression, bent over to comfort him. Goldilocks, who had begun crying as well, joined Teddy with a poignant appeal of her own, grasping Mrs. Vaughn’s paws and pulling her away from the door.

Mrs. Vaughn turned to me over her shoulder and said, “I can’t leave them. Go and see what’s happening and report back to me! I must know what transpires!”

“Yes, of course, madam,” I answered, and slipped away
without the children noticing that I was leaving. As I made my way with a lonely candle toward the main entrance of the house, I was surprised by the quiet. I had expected to hear angry raised voices, but there were none. Approaching the foyer, I could see clearly the open front door, and Mr. Vaughn’s towering form standing on the outside steps, and beyond him the glowing torches of a small crowd of men. Staying out of sight, I set my candle down and took up a station in the darkness a little way back from the door to watch and listen.

Mr. Vaughn was speaking quite calmly, addressing himself to the men. I speculated that he must know some of them, had perhaps even done business with some. As I listened, he called several by name.

“Mr. Harkness, Mr. Judd, Mr. Greeley,” he said with gravity. “There were women and children in that room where you threw your missiles. Is that the size of your courage?”

The men looked a little embarrassed, but one of them cried out, “What about this paper of yours? All you’re doing is stirring up trouble!”

“Have we printed any lies?” demanded Mr. Vaughn.

“That’s a matter of opinion!” growled one old-timer.

“Some of what we offer is opinion, and is labeled as such. The rest of it is fact, backed up by trustworthy witnesses or valid documents. If you think we’re wrong, then present your evidence and prove it! No one has taken away your right to speak your own minds. Write a letter to the editor! If it’s civil, I’ll print it.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, and then I saw Mr. Vaughn move closer to them, saying, “You all have a right to your opinions. You have a right to make yourselves heard! What you don’t have is a right to commit mayhem in order to silence
the opposition! Don’t you see that if
one
person’s voice can be silenced by those who disagree with him, then
none of us are safe
. When mobs rule, your own voice could be the next one silenced. Let us rather devote ourselves to protecting each other’s right to speak freely, as we have always done here in the Enchanted Forest.”

I was moved by his speech, and his deft effort to turn aggression into comradeship. There was a tense silence while the mood of the crowd teetered in the balance.

“You going to write about this, then?” piped up one voice.

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Vaughn, “you have been my good neighbors for many a year, and I hope shall be again. If you go in peace now, that will be the end of the matter.”

At this they conferred among themselves, and there was a low muttering. In the dim light I thought they looked rightly ashamed of themselves, peering at one another guiltily out of the corners of their eyes, and then, apparently having nothing more to say, the group started to break up and fade back into the night.

“They’re all gone now, and I don’t expect they’ll return,” I assured Mrs. Vaughn as I reported back to her and the anxious staff members gathered in the kitchen. I had described the scene at the front door as accurately as I could, trying to convey the eloquence of Mr. Vaughn’s speech, and he arrived soon after me to assure us all that the crisis was over. There was a long communal sigh of relief from the staff, and Mrs. Vaughn, after treating Mr. Vaughn to a rare public kiss on the cheek, turned her attention
to the children, and asked my help to get them to the nursery. There she tucked Teddy in and sat by his side, holding his paw and talking reassuringly to him, while I rocked Goldilocks until her head grew heavy on my shoulder. Long after the children were asleep, I lay awake, staring at my ceiling and thinking how close we had come to having the place burned down around us. Where would it all end? I felt that I was bound to a chain of events that I was powerless to sever. Excruciating as it was, the constant ache caused by my hopeless love was nearly overshadowed by the still-stronger sense of some inescapable threat that time suspended over our heads.