The Cottage in the Woods (7 page)

I gave him a wry smile, and told him that perhaps I was not the best judge of that; he might get a different opinion from my employer.

“Ah. Having difficulties, are you? Do you find him a bit overprotective and demanding?”

I looked at him, somewhat startled that he should read my thoughts, but reluctant to speak any criticism of my employer out loud. “I’m afraid I’ve already upset Mr. Vaughn on several scores,” I said vaguely.

“Perhaps there’s something you should know, my dear. There is a reason why the Vaughns are so protective of their little Theodore. He was not their first cub, you see. There were two before him, neither of whom survived infancy, and another one after him—an infant girl cub who died just last year. There are three small gravestones over there under the oak tree. I’m afraid the Vaughns have had more than their share of tragedy. I’m sure you will find that the parents hold tightly to little Teddy and even perhaps overprotect him or spoil him. It’s only natural, if you understand the history.”

An image formed in my mind of the big, empty nursery, and my heart contracted painfully. I could imagine it filled with boisterous and delightful little cubs like Teddy. The story tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt moisture in the corners of my eyes. “How very sad,” I said. “It all makes a kind of sense. I think the criticism will be easier to endure now that I know.”

“I thought you would see it that way,” he said, giving my shoulder a reassuring little squeeze. “You are a credit to your gentle parents.”

“Thank you, sir. You could give me no higher praise than that. I should be glad to come for supper a week from Friday, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.” The reverend assured me that he was looking forward to it already, and so I offered him my paw to shake and we parted. I thought him a most interesting person in spite of his advanced age, charming and not at all stuffy.

I continued my walk into the village. Bremen Town was a pleasant little place, lush with trees and hedges, and populated by the usual motley blend of characters to be found in the Enchanted Forest. The dwellings were as varied as the dwellers, ranging from several full-sized gingerbread houses—very much in vogue—to an inhabited pumpkin shell on the edge of town. Most of the occupants were friendly, nodding and offering a greeting to me as I passed, but of course there were always those who would cross the street rather than approach someone who was not of their own kind. This was more often than not a human person avoiding a creature like myself, as if by passing too near to me they might become infected with some exotic disease, or suddenly grow fur and lose all traces of civilization. I tried not to take it personally; after all, such people’s existences must be so bland and narrow. And somehow it seemed that they always wore the same expression: their faces puckered up as tightly as if they had been sucking on lemons.

I suppose that it was because I had been contemplating these matters that after handing in my letter I noticed a certain bulletin put up at the Post Office. The announcement was for a meeting of the Anthropological Society. Its name seemed innocuous enough, but Papa had once informed me that the group was nothing more than a private club for humans only—humans who believed in the superiority of the human race, and its dominion over all other species. There were pockets of this hateful society here and there throughout the Enchanted Forest, and I had heard of other villages that had had trouble with them. The fact that this notice was posted openly in a public place implied that the society was tolerated or even supported here in this seemingly friendly little town. I examined the handbill more
closely. It made the meeting sound like a village party, with a special guest speaker, a Mr. Morton Babcock, the new owner of the village newspaper, the
Town Crier
.

I looked around, half tempted to tear down the handbill and get rid of it, when a strapping young bear in work clothes walked into the Post Office and stood near me looking at the notices and reading some of them aloud. When he came to the announcement for the meeting of the Anthropological Society, he swore softly, reaching up and tearing the notice down in an angry motion. I looked into his face then, and was about to thank him for his act of courage when it became clear that he had been observed. Four juvenile humans focused their attention on the bear and swaggered over to him.

“What do you think you’re doing? Huh? What you got there, animal?” snarled the tallest boy, crossing his arms over his chest. I froze, afraid for the bear who had grabbed the handbill, and afraid for myself. I had never encountered anyone so openly hostile and threatening. He was a great lummox of a boy, dirty and repulsive-looking, dressed in a bizarre assortment of clothing: checked trousers too large, a snuff-colored coat too small, and a threadbare velveteen waistcoat, all worn with a casual élan befitting a member of the gentry—or a highwayman. The truncheon dangling from his belt seemed to indicate the latter. “What you got there, animal?” he repeated.

“Just cleanin’ the place up a little,” responded the bear with studied casualness.

The boy snatched the handbill from the bear’s paw and looked at it. “Why, you fool, this is about a private meetin’—a meetin’ of the better folk in town. You got some objection to this meetin’?”

“I got some objection to bigots and bullies,” said the bear evenly. “Most people around here do.”

“So you’re calling me and my friends names, are you?” the lummox demanded, seemingly enraged. “You’ll take that back before we’re through with you.” He grabbed one of the bear’s arms, and his friends grabbed the other, and they dragged him, struggling, out the door. Without thinking, I followed them out, yelling, “Stop! Stop it!”

I might as well have been talking to the wind for all the attention they paid me. I watched helplessly as they pulled the bear into a nearby alley and began beating him. I was hovering uncertainly at the alley’s entrance, looking around desperately for someone to help, when a great brute of a woman came charging down the boardwalk wielding a sack of potatoes like a club. At least, I thought it was a woman, though the build was broadshouldered and heavy. She wore a ragged dress and a drab scarf, and a cigar hung out of one side of her mouth. I flattened myself against the wall of the alley and looked on in amazement.

“Gabriel!” she roared. “Git yourself over here! Git away from there right this minute!”

Since none of the boys paid her the slightest attention, she stormed on into the alley and rained blows down on all four of them with the potato sack, until, finding themselves besieged, the three smaller boys jumped out of her way. But the biggest boy, the leader, had worked himself into such a frenzy of rage that he was impervious to her bashing, and he fought on like a whirlwind single-handed against the bear, pounding and kicking all out of control, while the bear seemed to hold himself in. I thought perhaps it was because it would go hard with him if he were accused of harming a human. The three other boys stood watching, slack-jawed, as the woman lit into the biggest
boy with renewed vigor, finally knocking him to the ground and cursing him. At this, the poor battered bear saw his chance and took off at a run, brushing past me on his way down the street, bleeding from the snout.

“What in Hades do you think yer doin’, fightin’ in the alley like some wild animal?” she bellowed. “Do I have to keep tellin’ you we can’t afford no more trouble with the law? We’re
poor people
,” the woman said, emphasizing her point by kicking him. “We got to be
meek
,” she said with another hard kick. Now he yelped with each blow, scrambling to get away from her. Gone was the swaggering bully I had seen in the Post Office. I’ll admit to some satisfaction at seeing this treatment meted out to him. As he got to his feet, the woman grabbed him by the ear, and twisted it. Ignoring his cries of pain, she dragged him after her, though he was even bigger than she. They passed close by, and he caught sight of me, his eyes dilated with fury. “What are you looking at?” he snarled. “If you’re smart, you’ll look the other way and keep your
mouth shut
!” With that, he broke free and ran away while the woman swore and hurried after him.

The other boys scuttled past me and retreated in the opposite direction as I stood dumbly staring after them. I was rather shaken by the scene I had witnessed. What would those boys have done to the bear if no one had stopped them? He seemed not to put up a fight. What would they have done to me if I had tried to interfere? I had no experience in matters of violence, and did not know what to do. I stood there until my heart stopped pounding, and seeing no one about, I thought only to get myself home. It was not until I was well out of the village that I breathed more easily, and my steps finally slowed to a sedate walk.

Soon I was passing Reverend Snover’s little church again,
and I was reminded of him telling me about the three little graves in the churchyard. What an unjust world, I thought, where the hateful people lived and thrived, and the innocents died young. I was unable to free myself from reflections on the episode in town, as well as the tragic story of the Vaughns’ dear departed cubs, and a somber mood settled over me like a heavy yoke. The sun hung lower in the sky now, as if wearied by its own weight, and my shadow stretched ever longer, dogging my steps like some dark colossus. As I passed through the iron gates and down the long drive, the woods closed in around me and the world dimmed into half-light. It seemed a different place from the pleasant haven I had traversed earlier. What had felt tranquil and majestic before now seemed sepulchral and eerie. There was a hush too that I had not noticed formerly. No wind rustled in the leaves; no birds trilled overhead. I wondered if it was only my mood that tinged the surroundings with a subtle menace. I huddled under my shawl, shivering slightly, and hurried on my way.

I had not gone much further when I heard a branch snap. I whirled and looked behind me, but there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen, only massive tree trunks towering in the gloom, overgrown ferns, and tangled clusters of underbrush. What had disturbed the utter stillness of the woods? I told myself that it was some wild creature, no doubt anxious to avoid me. I faced about and kept on walking, softly now, in order to listen. A little further on I heard it again, closer than it had been, and turned involuntarily to see. I caught a glimpse of something diving behind a tree. It had disappeared too quickly for me to make anything out, but I knew I had not imagined it. Had someone followed me, then? The hairs on the back of my neck bristled under my bonnet, but I kept walking. Only
a short distance along the drive I heard another noise, almost on my heels, it seemed. The conviction came over me that this was no random noise either—that something, or someone, was in fact trailing after me. My immediate urge was to run, but a war for supremacy began in my conscience between Cowardice and Reason. Would I give in to a nameless fear, as I had that first night with the footsteps in the hallway, or would I be the self-possessed professional that I made myself out to be to my employer? Reason told me that my employer must not see me running away again. Cowardice quickly assured me that my employer could not see me now, and without further ado, I picked up my skirts and ran.

Once through the front doors, I nearly collided with Mr. Vaughn in the entryway. Struggling to slow my breathing, I removed my bonnet with trembling paws, apologizing profusely.

“Miss Brown, I observed you careening up the drive as if the Devil were on your tail. Is there some reason for this, or are you once again giving way to your imaginary fears?”

Thinking I had better defend myself, I decided to tell Mr. Vaughn what I had observed in town. “I’m very sorry, sir, but I thought I was being followed by one of the boys I saw fighting in the village.”

“Indeed? Followed onto my estate? That seems most unlikely. You had better tell me all.”

I described the scene that had taken place from beginning to end, including the boy’s threatening words to me.

“You did right in telling me about this, Miss Brown. There has been the occasional trouble in town of late, and it’s a shame you got caught up in it. In the future I trust you will try not to become embroiled in matters that don’t concern you.”

I burned inwardly at this, for it sounded like a rebuke, and
I thought I did not deserve one. I knew better, however, than to answer back, and so, swallowing my gall, I said only, “Of course, sir.”

“Should the need arise, you may leave your mail with Mr. Bentley. He will see to it that it is delivered. Good night.”

Perceiving that I had been dismissed, I said, “Yes, sir. Good night, sir.” Then, struggling to keep to a sedate walk, I passed through the hallways and went up the stairs toward my room, wanting only to get to a place of peace and safety, and soothe my frayed nerves. Coming to the top of the stairs, I hurried down the gallery to the hall beyond, and around the corner where it turned toward the west wing. As I approached the nursery, the door banged open and Nurse’s head thrust out. She saw me, and her expression turned to one of purest hatred. She reflexively opened her jaws and made a loud hissing sound deep in her throat. Feeling her malevolent glare almost as a physical blow, I staggered, suppressing a cry, and dropped my bonnet. For an awful moment I fought for my composure. Had she actually lain in wait just to scare me out of my wits, I wondered, or had I simply happened along at an inopportune moment? Either way I would not give her any further satisfaction. Determined to behave as if nothing untoward had happened, I picked up my bonnet, said, “Good evening, Nurse,” and continued on my way.