The Cottage in the Woods (20 page)

“Never you mind about that,” Mrs. Van Winkle reassured me. “She’ll warm up to ye in a while. Jest move slow and quiet-like.
She’ll come to ye after she’s looked ye over good. Poor young ’un has been about scared out of her own skin by someone, if I’m any judge. More skittish than a cat.”

Signaling my thanks with a smile, I walked slowly to the same striped chair I had occupied last time, and said “Hello” to Goldilocks. She retreated further behind her fortress. “Hmm,” I said. “I wonder what to read today. What was I reading yesterday? It had something to do with a toad, and a beetle, and a mouse—and what else?” I watched her as an expression of avid interest animated her face. “Oh yes! A little girl. A
very
little girl called Thumbelina. I wonder what happened to her. Shall we find out?” I asked, looking directly at the child. She quickly looked away. “Let me see,” I went on. I returned to the place where I had left off, and resumed reading the story. Goldilocks kept her eyes on the book as I read of tiny Thumbelina taking pity on a sick bird, and nursing him all through the winter; of the mouse trying to make her marry a mole; and of how she flew off on her bird friend to a faraway land, and found her handsome fairy prince.

“And that’s the end of the story,” I said. “Of course, I have many more books full of stories. I have one here called
Beauty and the Beast
. It’s Teddy’s favorite. You know who Teddy is, don’t you? He is the little bear cub who lives downstairs.” I paused, curious to observe any change in her expression, and was gratified to see that her attention was all on me.

“Shall I read this one?”

She nodded ever so slightly, which seemed promising.

“All right, then,” I said with some delight. “This book has the most beautiful pictures imaginable. You might want to come closer to see them.”

I opened
Beauty and the Beast
on my lap, and began to read, holding each illustration up to tantalize her. It was a long story, and I had read about halfway through when I noticed the girl slowly coming out from behind her chair and sidling along the wall to a spot behind my chair, so that she could view the pictures over my shoulder. When I came to a lush illustration of Beauty exploring in the Beast’s palace, I held it up in front of her and waited for a reaction. At first she cringed backward against the wall, but staring hard at the picture, she leaned in closer and reached out to touch it, running her hand all over its surface like a blind person, as if she expected to find it three-dimensional. After a moment she withdrew her hand and I went on with the story, showing her each illustration in the same way, but she didn’t try to touch them again, apparently having learned that they were only flat.

I smiled inwardly. It seemed that books could work their magic on this tormented child. Throughout the whole long story, she hovered behind me, listening and watching until I reached the last page and slowly closed the book, then she slid away as silently as she had come.

That evening, Mr. Vaughn sent word to me through James that they had found no one on the property that afternoon. James related that more help would be coming from town, and that the grounds would be patrolled regularly in the days to come. I sent my thanks back to Mr. Vaughn, and settled down to write a response to Papa’s letter of a few days ago. So much had happened, and I was eager to share it with him, and so I wrote a long letter before retiring, telling him the story of the child, and how I was trying to befriend her.

I was nudged awake by Betsy the next morning, drawing me out of a deep slumber. Reluctantly, I climbed out from under the warm bedclothes into the chilly room.

“Good morning to you, miss. Cook’s serving breakfast downstairs. I thought I ought to wake you, you was sleeping so late.” I thanked Betsy and hurried through my waking routine, then went to the nursery and roused Teddy while Nurse snored away, unconscious of us both. Seeing to it that he washed his
face and paws, I set out Teddy’s clothes and encouraged him to dress himself as best he could. Though it would have been much faster for me to finish dressing him myself, I believed it would be better for him to do it on his own, and so we arrived a bit late in the kitchen for breakfast.

There, things went badly from the first. Cook served up big helpings of porridge, a sure sign, as I had learned, that she was out of temper. Whatever her motive, Teddy steadfastly refused to eat the stuff. He further offended Cook by sculpting half of it into little mountains and valleys and slopping the other half liberally on the tablecloth. Considering how uncommonly good Teddy usually was, I sometimes let some minor misbehavior pass, but this drew a scolding from me. Finally, Cook removed the mess with a huff and substituted a glass of milk and a piece of toast, with the warning that it would have to last him until lunchtime. Since no better fare was going to be served, Teddy nibbled at this with maddening slowness, taking little bites out of the toast to make designs in it, and gargling with his milk. Seeing that he was more recalcitrant than hungry, I declared that the meal was over and we adjourned to the schoolroom, but not, as it turned out, soon enough. Mr. Vaughn stood in the doorway, holding his watch and waiting for us.

“You’re late,” he announced, tapping his claw against the watch face. “This is not an auspicious beginning to your first day without Nurse’s supervision. Have you so quickly forgotten the primary requirement of professionalism? One must begin, Miss Brown, by being on time.
Tempus fugit
, Miss Brown.
Tempus fugit
.”

I had to remind myself at this point that Mr. Vaughn had a softer side. Fearing that my explanations would sound defensive
and inadequate, I simply replied, “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Very well, Miss Brown. See that it doesn’t,” he countered. “I’m afraid that you have already put me behind schedule, but now that I am here, I would like a full report on Theodore’s progress in each of his courses of study.”

“That would be an easy matter, sir. His progress is excellent in all subjects.”

“Good. Good. And the Latin? What progress in that?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t mastered the Latin sufficiently to begin teaching it to Teddy as yet, sir. It will require a little more time.”

“More time. Hmm. More time. May I suggest, Miss Brown, that though your assistance at the vicarage has been invaluable these past weeks, your presence there is no longer necessary? I think you’ll agree that with your new duties, and your Latin studies, your days will be too full to allow you to continue volunteering your time there?”

I hadn’t expected this, though I should have guessed Mr. Vaughn would be aware of my activities. More than that, I knew that though he had framed it as a question, it was really a command, and that I had better obey it. I had a fleeting thought, all unbidden, of Mr. Bentley waiting impatiently to hear the next chapter of
Robinson Crusoe;
of what he would say about my desertion, and of his tone of voice, and of how his face would look when he said it. Then, with a start, I reminded myself of my resolve to put him out of my mind. My employer’s directive made a perfect rationale for ending my association with Mr. Bentley altogether. Surprised and mortified by the tremor in my voice, I gave the only response I could: “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.”

“Very good. In a week’s time I shall measure your progress
in the Latin, and again at regular intervals. I’m sure that for a young bear of your talents, serious application to the subject will yield results.
Labor omnia vincit
, Miss Brown. ‘Labor conquers all things.’ ” Patting Teddy on the head, he said, “Carry on, carry on,” and departed.

I stood unmoving for a time after Mr. Vaughn’s exit. I felt as if he had left some residual specter of himself in the room observing my every word and action. I reflected then that Mr. Vaughn’s manner of supervision could be every bit as much of a trial to endure as Nurse’s, though in a very different way. At least his criticisms would be genuinely meant to improve the quality of Teddy’s education, rather than interfere with it, but I wondered faintheartedly if I could possibly live up to his lofty expectations. I reminded myself that I
had
been late today, though not by much. Still, if I wanted Mr. Vaughn’s respect, I must do better.

Teddy, however, had ideas of his own. His dawdling over breakfast had apparently been only the beginning of a determined campaign of minor naughtiness. He fidgeted at his desk, tapped the floor continuously with his feet, and scraped his claws across his slate. At my reprimands, he would merely change tactics. When I asked him to count to one hundred, he had the impudence to begin with one hundred and count backward. As this was no minor accomplishment in itself, I allowed him to keep on all the way to zero.

“That was very good,” I said. “Why didn’t you count forward to one hundred?”

“I dunno how,” he said, staring at his shoes, which he had begun tapping on the floor again.

“Perhaps you will remember in a little while,” I said, putting off a confrontation.

From that point on he responded to all my questions with a vapid “I dunno.”

After about an hour of this maddening behavior, I snapped, “Teddy! What is the matter with you today? I have never seen you misbehave so! What am I to do with you?”

Instantly, his expression changed from one of dull inattention to one of real alarm. His feet fell still; he sat rigidly erect with his paws clasped tightly on the desk in front of him. His frightened brown eyes searched my face, as if to read his own fate there. “Are you going to tell Uncle Ruprecht to come and get me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

All at once the morning’s misbehavior made a kind of sense. Apparently, Teddy had been testing me for a reason: to see if I would use the same draconian style of discipline as Nurse. What would the rules be now that Nurse was absent, and what would happen if he broke them?

“Teddy,” I said, reaching out to pat his head affectionately, “even if Uncle Ruprecht were real—and he’s not; he’s just a picture—but even if he were real, I would never, ever, no matter what you did, tell him to come and get you, because that is no way to treat little bear cubs, even naughty ones.”

“Oh,” he said, thinking about it. “Then would you pinch me? Hard?”

“No, Teddy, I wouldn’t pinch you either. I suppose if you were very bad, you would have to sit in the corner and think about things—about what you had done wrong, and how you might improve.”

“Do I have to sit in the corner now?”

“I don’t know. I think perhaps you are done being naughty. What do you think?”

Relief spread over his face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “I guess I’m done now,” he said, and picked up his slate and chalk as if to signal his readiness to work. I patted his head again and resumed the lesson, keeping a careful watch over his behavior, but the naughtiness had faded away, except for the occasional foot tapping, and I reflected that I might see a more natural side of Teddy once he truly realized that I would not try to bully him into perfect submission. Little did I think then how dangerous such a course could be.

Our afternoon walk took on a different flavor that day, as Nurse was no longer there casting her pall over the proceedings, but we were joined instead by Harry, as Mr. Vaughn had decreed, for our safety. Harry was a seemingly gentle giant, though no doubt capable of doing great damage when roused. Shaggy-browed and powerfully built, he was an uncomplicated bear, stolid and faithful. He wore drab trousers and a coarse tunic over his shirt, belted at the waist, all very clean, the wholesome effect of which was offset somewhat by the incessant dripping of his snout, and the trite expedient of wiping it on his sleeve. This subtracted nothing from his imposing presence, however, and I felt we were quite safe in his care.

Though Teddy’s immediate interest was in Harry’s musket, Harry put him off with a solemn explanation that it was for Teddy’s father to say when he was old enough to learn about guns, and until that day he had better content himself with watching. This Teddy did assiduously, picking up a heavy stick and holding it just as Harry held his gun, even down to imitating his gestures and gait. When our little excursion was done, and we returned to the manor, I had no doubt but what he had learned more of Harry’s mannerisms than he had of the day’s
botany lessons, but I hoped that this fascination would diminish as Harry’s presence became commonplace to us.

At the appointed hour, having turned Teddy over to his mother, and taken tea alone in my room, I climbed to the little bower in the east wing where Goldilocks was sequestered, trying to prepare myself mentally for the task of building a connection with the child. Though I surmised that she had had a hard life, I dared to hope that she was not too different from young cubs I had known, and I thought I would trust my own intuition as events unfolded. I greeted her with a sunny demeanor, paying no attention when she scrambled to her hiding place behind the furthest chair. With a companionable “Hello” to Mrs. Van Winkle, I took my place in the same large chair where I had sat before.