The Cottage in the Woods (28 page)

“How can I be of service to you?” he asked, a little briskly, still with the sadness in his eyes.

“W-well,” I stammered, “I’ve come to consult with you about the Latin lessons.”

“Ah, yes, about the Latin lessons,” he said, looking like a bear in torment. “Your progress has been so admirable, Miss Brown, I was going to suggest that your proficiency is probably adequate by now to begin teaching—”

“Just what I was going to mention,” I lied, trying to make it easier for Mr. Bentley, and save my own pride. I launched into a well-rehearsed speech that I had prepared against this eventuality. “I’m teaching the basics to Teddy now, and I feel confident that I have sufficient expertise to continue learning on my own. You’ve been an enormous help to me. I can’t thank you enough.”

“My pleasure to assist you, ma’am,” he responded formally, after which an awkward silence ensued. This was nothing like the warm, companionable silences we had often shared in the course of my lessons. I felt suddenly chilled, almost frozen. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, then, that’s settled. I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you again, Mr. Bentley.
Au revoir
.” I held my paw out for him to shake in an equally formal manner. His eyes turned suddenly brilliant and gentle as his paw grasped mine, but instead of shaking it, he slowly bent
his head and kissed it. My breath stopped, as if that could keep the moment from passing, then he straightened, resumed the businesslike demeanor, and roughly bade me goodbye. I backed out of the room, then turned and ran, my thoughts a jumble of confusion and grief.

Alone in my own room, I had no tears. I sat staring at the cold, empty grate, dreams shattering silently in my soul. As daylight faded into darkness, I tried to make sense of the encounter. I had seen the momentary joy in his expression, I still felt his kiss on my paw, yet it was certain that our old association was at an end. Something had changed. Something else was stronger, more important, and it had come between us with a deadly efficiency. I might never know what, or who, or why. I had no right to demand such explanations, but how could I fight an enigma? Papa had not schooled me, after all, in the feminine arts of flirtation and romantic intrigue. I had only my simple heart to offer, and it had not been asked for.

Whatever moved him, I clung selfishly to the hope that the feelings he had for me would not be so easily set aside, for I knew that he returned my sentiments, as surely as I knew my own heart. Not until I could look into his eyes and see neither joy nor torment there would I believe that he had stopped caring for me, and that conviction that he cared would have to be enough for me; perhaps it was all I would ever have.

“Papa,” I said aloud, “I need you now!” There seemed to be only an empty echo where Papa’s encouraging voice should have been, and this thought at last released a flood of hot tears, which racked my body as the darkness gathered around me. Finally, I lit a candle, and then sat up most of the night watching its feeble light flicker on the walls, rejecting the tray of food that Betsy
brought me, all corporeal matters seeming crass and unendurable now.

I thought it odd, as I forced myself to go about my tasks the next day, that the sun still rose; that the sky was still a heart-stopping blue; that people still looked at me, greeted me, as they always had; that no one seemed to notice that my world had stopped turning. Only Teddy and Goldilocks approached me, as my attention wandered for the dozenth time, gently patting me on the face or arm to draw me back to them. I observed them as if from a great distance. Sometimes I thought that I must leave the Cottage forever or lose my mind, but there was Goldilocks. What would become of her if I abandoned her again now? What would become of Teddy, left at Nurse’s mercy? I was trapped by my responsibilities, compelled to go through the motions of my normal life whether I would or no.

Weeks came and went in this manner while I waited like a dumb beast for the pain to pass. I took refuge in books. Books made it easier to get through a day. In lieu of lessons, I read countless fairy tales aloud to my charges, sometimes in the revised human versions to please Goldilocks, and sometimes in the original bear accounts. I lost myself in other people’s stories, for I could not endure thinking of my own. This was not without its effect on me: the tales of courage, wisdom, compassion, and self-sacrifice inspired me to look further than my own troubles. Through it all, I was learning that my life would still go on, day by painful day, with or without my consent. Though no force on earth could erase Mr. Bentley from my heart, I began to understand that I must keep him in a safe, secret corner of it, where only I would know he resided, and take up the reins of my life once again.

First I assessed Teddy and Goldilocks to see how much they had regressed while I had been so remiss in my teaching efforts. I was pleased to see that there had been little backsliding. In fact, Goldilocks’s good progress made me hopeful of assisting her to try something new. Now that she had come to trust us, her biggest fear was of the windows. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been frightened by the sight of that skulking brute, Gabriel, who had accosted me on the drive, but with the guards Mr. Vaughn had patrolling the grounds, I believed Gabriel’s trespassing must have ceased. The only disturbance they had reported was a gang of village children roaming the property. I was optimistic that with the patrols, and our faithful Harry guarding us, I might eventually succeed in tempting Goldilocks to accompany us on our walks, which would surely be of great benefit to her health and vivacity.

Each day, after checking to be doubly sure there was no one outside to be seen, I enlisted Teddy’s help to coax her a little closer to the windows, reassuring her that no one was about but those who were employed to keep trespassers away. Teddy pointed out to her that if anyone were nearby, we’d see their footsteps in the snow, and that there were none. One day, Goldilocks came all the way to the corner of a window and, with Teddy by her side, took her first quick peek outdoors. I actually smiled that day, making much of her, and was rewarded by her own tremulous smile, and another peek, slightly longer than the first. I was greatly encouraged by this, and even requested Mrs. Vaughn to send into town for some warm outdoor clothing and boots sized for a small human girl, in case we should succeed in persuading Goldilocks to join us in the snow.

Some days later I hit upon a strategy for convincing the
child to come outdoors. Goldilocks, who had done so well with looking out of the schoolroom windows, had been instructed to wait in her chamber with Mrs. Van Winkle until the clock struck two, then to look out her window. By that time, Teddy and I were dressed for the outdoors, and stomping our way to a place on the snow-covered lawn just below Goldilocks’s window, where her little face duly appeared. We waved wildly and threw snowballs. Teddy had the idea of making snow angels, so, once again abandoning my schoolteacher’s dignity, I sank backward into the snow and flapped my arms and legs until a respectable representation of an angel was made, next to Teddy’s smaller one. Goldilocks was seen to clap at our efforts. She smiled down on us, nose flat to the glass, as we rolled up three big balls to make a snowman, but we had nothing at hand to make a face with. We decided that Goldilocks should have the honor of placing the features the next day if she would come out. This offer melted away the last of her reserve.

The following day, Goldilocks was bundled into her new outdoor clothes, and we three stepped out into the mantle of white. We made our way to the unfinished snowman, armed with coals for the eyes, a carrot for the nose, a corncob pipe, and an old scarf and hat. The child’s cheeks were flushed and rosy, and her eyes sparkled as I lifted her to place the hat on the snowman’s head. Already the fresh air had done her good, and I was inordinately pleased at the trust she had placed in me in taking such a step. I resolved to use all my influence with the child to encourage her to come on our jaunts and enjoy the benefits of Nature. And as innocently as that, the die was cast.

It was at about this time that the Vaughns, having come to the decision that Goldilocks was not ready to attend a large social gathering like church, requested that Reverend Snover come to the manor for the child’s private religious instruction. I had no qualms about this, knowing that Reverend Snover, always a great favorite with youngsters, would charm the child. Teddy was to be included, on the supposition that it would make the lessons more palatable for Goldilocks, and would do Teddy no harm. And so it happened that Teddy and Goldilocks and I waited in the schoolroom one morning for Reverend Snover’s arrival.

He was due at half past nine, but the half hour chimed and he had not put in an appearance. We entertained ourselves by watching out the window as Mr. Vaughn’s new printing press was being delivered in crates amid much hubbub on the ground below. Strong bears in work clothes ferried each wooden box to the cellar doors and vanished within. I wondered how long it would take before the press was up and functioning, impatient
for the time when our own paper, the
Plain Truth
, would begin to circulate in the community. Mr. Babcock might say what he liked in his slanted newspaper. We would soon have the means to refute it!

As I was lost in these thoughts, the clock chimed ten, and still Reverend Snover had not come. I wondered what could have detained him. I was beginning to be concerned by half past ten, when Fairchild came to the schoolroom door and beckoned me out into the corridor. There stood not Reverend Snover, but his new curate, Reverend Abraham Wright, his eyes staring at me from behind his thick glasses.

“Miss Brown, Reverend Wright is here to instruct the children.”

“Oh,” I said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “You are most welcome, Reverend Wright. Is Reverend Snover well?”

“Reverend Snover is well. He is much occupied these days, but I shall do my utmost to fill his shoes,” Reverend Wright pledged, with excruciating sincerity.

“I hope you like children?” I ventured.

“To be perfectly frank, I’ve had very little experience with children. I hope that won’t be an impediment. They are persons, are they not?”

“Oh yes, most assuredly. But Goldilocks may need some time to get used to you. You might try storytelling. That is how I first befriended her. I must tell you that she is also easily frightened.”

“Perhaps we can concentrate on cultivating the virtues, then, and leave sin and eternal condemnation for later.”

I stared at him openmouthed, trying to determine whether
he was joking. Nothing in his physiognomy or deportment betrayed any hint of a sense of humor. Then the smallest of grins crossed his face. “A little joke,” he said, so softly that I barely heard him. “Do excuse me. I’m a bit nervous.” It occurred to me that he had also had very little experience with females, since his magnified eyes continued to stare at me so admiringly, as if he had never before seen one.

“Perhaps I might remain in the room, as a calming influence on Goldilocks?”

“Yes, thank you. That would be greatly appreciated.”

With my most bracing smile, I welcomed him into the schoolroom, and introduced my students. Goldilocks, who had been hiding behind me, promptly forsook the shelter of my skirts and squeezed onto Teddy’s seat with him, clutching his paw with her little white hand. Reverend Wright was wise enough not to insist that she sit at her own desk and merely acknowledged her presence with a nod. Without preamble, the somber clergyman launched into a homily on the nature of the Almighty.

Goldilocks seemed both fascinated and mystified, making me wonder if she had ever even heard tell of such matters before, and what questions she would ask if only she were able. As the good reverend continued on at some length, however, her attention wandered and was lost. Even Teddy, sitting politely upright, began to look a little out of focus, so that I watched for an opportune moment to request that the curate read the youngsters a story.

“Oh yes,” he acknowledged. “I almost forgot.” He immediately took the suggestion to heart and launched into the first story of them all, the biblical account of the six days of Creation, describing each new day in vivid detail. Once again
Goldilocks’s eyes grew wide with interest, until the curate began to expound on the theme with a scholarly analysis. I loudly cleared my throat, and the reverend, looking my way, took my hint, and moved on to an elementary instruction in how to pray. Goldilocks put her palms together in imitation of Teddy, but her expression was troubled. Indeed, she seemed on the verge of tears, until Reverend Wright, intuiting her difficulty, explained to her that her prayers would be heard even though she could not speak them aloud. She rewarded him with a glowing smile.

Finally, the lesson over, the good reverend and I adjourned to the corridor, where I thanked him sincerely for his efforts, a gesture that he accepted in a vastly inflated proportion. “Oh, I thank
you
, Miss Brown,” he effused. “I couldn’t have done it without you and your consummate direction. I do hope you will make a habit of attending our lessons.”