The Cottage in the Woods (44 page)

I remember the Vaughns coming to visit me in my chamber, full of concern, and telling me how grateful they were for all I had done for the children. Mrs. Vaughn described to me the beautiful service that had been held for Nurse’s burial, and how the story of her heroic sacrifice had spread far and wide, so that the little church had been packed with mourners. It was not for me, I decided, to tarnish the one shining deed Nurse had done with a postmortem exposure of her many wrongdoings. I chose to consign her transgressions to the past, and her soul to a greater Judge than I.

Mrs. Vaughn also related the news that their home had been burgled while everyone was keeping vigil at the waterfall, with many small but valuable things missing, including her pearl necklace, and that Mother Shoe was wanted for questioning. I
did not doubt that the great predator was responsible, though I marveled at the kind of greed that would induce her to risk such an act of burglary when she already had a fat purse to take away with her. No doubt the house sitting empty, and her grudge against the Vaughns, had been too much temptation for her to resist. She was picked up within days, flaunting Mrs. Vaughn’s necklace, and inflicted such violence and vituperation on the arresting officer that he resigned from the force shortly thereafter. Mother Shoe was found guilty of felony theft, and was likely transported to a distant land, as such felons are. Of her many children, half were found not to be hers at all. Some were returned to their rightful families, and the rest were made wards of the parish. As proof that many minds had been changed by that night at the waterfall, the children were quietly taken in, one by one, by caring villagers, both human and Enchanted, and no one raised a peep. The appeal would still go forward. We hoped it would be only a formality, with no more legal maneuvering by the Anthropological Society, but in any case the Vaughns had the gratifying task of explaining to Goldilocks that she need never worry about Mother Shoe again.

Teddy and Goldilocks were allowed to visit me, though they had apparently been warned to keep paws and hands carefully folded behind their backs, so as not to unintentionally hurt me with a sudden embrace. I was relieved that they did not react to my altered appearance, and though I had not ventured to view myself in a mirror, I dared hope that my face would not look too bad when the healing was done. Though Teddy was as engaging and ingenuous as ever, there was a discernible difference in him. I saw a seriousness, and a new confidence, the beginnings of the fine grown bear he would one day be, and yet my observations
were tinged with a little sadness. Somewhere on that cliff he had left a bit of his cubhood behind forever.

Goldilocks seemed excessively shy at first, as though there were some grave matter that stood between us, and she feared my reaction. Slowly, from behind her back, she brought one trembling fist, which looked to be holding something. Taking my paw, she put the something in it. There I beheld my mother’s locket, which had disappeared from my room so long ago—so very long ago that I had given up hope of ever seeing it again. I looked at Goldilocks in wonder, and as I did, she leaned over, cupping her little hand about my ear, and whispered to me, “I’m sorry, Miss Brown.”

I enfolded her in my arms then, unheeding of the pain, and whispered back to her my thanks, and that the best gift she could ever give me would be to speak to me again.

When the day of the appeal came, I was unable to attend, but the Vaughns had all their other witnesses ready to testify again if need be. I was all on tenterhooks lest some fresh interference from the Anthropological Society prejudice the new judge against us. The Vaughns returned within the hour. Judge Newton, a wise old soul, having determined that Mother Shoe would never return, had declared the Vaughns to be perfectly fit guardians, and ruled, by default, for Goldilocks to remain with them. That was to be the end of it. There was great celebration from the parlor to the servants’ hall, and Mrs. Vaughn reported to me that Goldilocks, perhaps feeling another degree safer, delighted everyone by laughing out loud.

That was the beginning of her road to recovery. When Teddy whispered to her now, she was seen to put her mouth to his ear and whisper back. The rest of us looked on with hope in
our hearts, never urging or interfering, but leaving it to the little ones to effect a cure in their own way and time.

Soon I was pronounced well enough to sit up and get dressed. I staunchly refused to wear my corset, at first draping a shawl loosely over my dress so that no one would notice, and set about at once to let out the waists on all my dresses, for I did not intend to ever wear the thing again. I had a brief moment of wondering what Mama would have thought, but I remembered her soft and rounded figure. How did I know that she had actually worn one herself?

And so, comfortably attired, I spent a great many hours sitting in the garden recuperating, taking what pleasure I could in the warm breezes and fragrant blossoms that spring had finally bestowed upon us. The sounds of birds and honeybees lulled me into a healing repose, and there seemed to be a cheerful conspiracy to make sure that I should not be left alone too much. Company came and went much of the day: acquaintances from Reverend Snover’s Saturday-night soirees, some members of the men’s choir, and even strangers who had spent that extraordinary night singing to us at the foot of the cliff and wanted to come and wish me well.

And then one day Mr. Bentley—or Lord Bentley, as Nurse had once reminded me—came to me in the garden. In a formal manner, he spoke kindly of my courage at the waterfall, and said he was glad to see that I was recovering. I saw again the sadness in his eyes, the stiffness of his demeanor. This Lord Bentley seemed like someone else, someone strange to me, and very far removed. Perhaps he had had time to remember himself and his position, and wanted to distance himself from the very memories I cherished. He said all the proper things, and I managed to say all the proper things in return, but my inner turmoil was
so great that I almost wished him gone. Perhaps sensing this, he told me that he would soon have to return to his estate. How far away would he have to go, I wondered, before I could forget our one momentous night on the cliff?

At the same time, Reverend Wright became a regular visitor at the Cottage, sitting with me often in the garden, making attempts at amiable conversation, and reading to me from scholarly tomes that gave me a headache. Nevertheless, there was something about him, after his heroic feat of carrying me home, that appealed to my sense of fairness. He was, after all, a fine specimen of bearhood, even with the thick spectacles, and he did have an admirable character, earnest and idealistic, and what crime was there in trying, a bit too hard, to do the right thing? This was the bear who had offered me my only proposal, after all.

Somewhere in that painful time I began to look on him with new eyes. I saw a bear who had devoted his life to goodness and piety, a bear who strove to improve himself. I even allowed myself to imagine what he might become with a little encouragement, and friendly counsel. Finally, the day came when I asked myself: What if he had been right? What if suitability for marriage was best determined by the intellect and common sense? What had love gotten me but a broken heart? I had prayed for a way out of the desert of guilt and loneliness that I saw stretching out before me. Here was a bear who could provide me with a modest home and cubs of my own, and, if not love, then at least a kindly regard, “till death us do part.” Surely, that would be enough to fill up my life and save me from spending the rest of my existence alone, tending other people’s cubs, daydreaming about the love I had lost. And though it would nearly break my heart to give up my position as Teddy and Goldilocks’s governess, I told myself
that my most important work with them was done; that now I must do whatever it took to go on with my life and be at peace again. All of these things I considered as dispassionately as I could, and all the time asking myself what Papa would say if I could unburden myself to him. Though there was no doubt that he and Mama had married for love, I thought that if he knew of my lonely torment, he’d understand how desperate I was to escape it.

While I was so absorbed in these thoughts, I had to admit to myself that I might drown in my own unhappiness if I did not make an effort to rejoin the world, and so it was that I stepped into the schoolroom the next morning, my ribs tightly bound, and my inner turmoil masked with a smile. It was gratifying to see how happy this made the children, though it took some work to restore order. I soon found that there was a new development in our former routine: now when I called on Goldilocks for an answer, she would whisper it into Teddy’s ear, and he would relay it to me. I recalled Dr. Ehrlichmann’s words that the child might begin to speak when she felt safe and free to do so, and thus I accepted this recent advancement without comment, and behaved as if she had spoken directly to me. And then came the day when I called upon her and heard a little voice say, “My real name is Nellie.”

I held my breath in excitement, but thought it important not to make her self-conscious by causing a big fuss. “Would you prefer to be called Nellie?” I asked calmly.

“Maybe sometimes,” she answered. “I like Goldilocks too.”

“Then I will call you Goldilocks, and keep Nellie as a nickname.”

The golden head nodded, and the lesson went on as usual,
with Teddy and me smiling broadly. Naturally, I reported this earthshaking event to the Vaughns. They greeted it with a mixture of delight and dread. The child had always indicated that Mother Shoe was not her real mother. Here was proof that she remembered a life, an identity, before she lived in the shoe. If Nellie remembered her real family, the Vaughns would be honor-bound to try to find them, and perhaps even return the child to them. It seemed that their troubles were not yet over.

Even with this distraction, Reverend Wright’s proposal, which I had formerly rejected, was so much on my mind that I found myself, in unoccupied moments, trying to formulate the right words to approach him on the subject. Surely there was little that needed to be said. I had already told him, after all, that my heart belonged to another, and he had declared it to be no obstacle. I just wanted it to be settled, and quickly, certain that I would experience relief from my suffering once the decision was made.

Accordingly, on Reverend Wright’s next visit, when we had talked for a while of inconsequential things, I said, “Reverend Wright, I would like to bring up a subject that may perhaps be painful to you.”

“Of course, Miss Brown, you must feel free to bring up any subject that you wish.”

“I wish to speak of your proposal to me. Would I be right in assuming you have not since become engaged to another? That you are free?”

“I am free unless you will consent to be my wife, Miss Brown. I have not found another more eligible. Is there a chance that you have reconsidered?”

“Well …” I hesitated only for a moment. “I believe I have,
Reverend Wright. But there are some things I should wish to settle. I would like very much to continue my work, at least until our own family demands my attention.”

“You’ll find that I can be very broad-minded, Miss Brown. You would be quite free to work as long as you see fit. But, Miss Brown, may I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Have your feelings changed, then, as regards the ‘other’ to whom you said your heart belongs? Can you be truly content without your heart’s desire?”

“That part of my life is closed, Reverend Wright. I wish to leave it behind me.”

“As you will, Miss Brown, but do not hesitate to discuss the subject with me at any time if you feel so moved. As a logical being, I am quite without jealousy.”

“Thank you for your concern, Reverend Wright. Are we agreed, then?”

“Agreed.”

And so he shook my paw, and the matter was settled. I imparted my plans to the Vaughns. Mrs. Vaughn spent a long afternoon with me expressing her concern that I was still very young for marriage. Because of Papa’s passing, they felt some responsibility to advise me in the matter, and they were concerned that I had not been myself since the night on the cliff. Perhaps I was rushing into things. I thanked her sincerely for her interest, but convinced her with much sensible-sounding discussion that I knew my own mind, and since I was willing to continue working, the Vaughns ended by reluctantly approving. The banns were posted, and I waited for the feeling of relief that I had prayed for.

With only fifteen days now until the wedding, I threw myself into my work with the children. It seemed that each day Goldilocks’s speech increased, and each day brought new surprises: her favorite color was blue, she liked math, she disliked spelling. She wanted to play outside. Bread and jam was “smashing,” and spinach “disgusting.” She called Teddy by name at every opportunity. Then Mrs. Vaughn reported to me that she had heard Goldilocks say her bedtime prayers aloud the previous night, giving thanks for her home with Teddy, and asking Heaven to bless each of the Vaughns, and “Nana and Ompah.” This created quite a stir with the adults. Clearly, the child remembered these loved ones from her past, however dimly. It was decided that the time had come to try questioning Goldilocks about her history. Because of my rapport with the child, and because she had first spoken to me, I was asked to try to draw her out.