The Cottage in the Woods (19 page)

“I’ve been spending several hours a day with her, and she’s become accustomed to my presence. Young James suggested his mother, dear old Mrs. Van Winkle, for her nanny. What a treasure she is! She raised ten children all on her own after her husband disappeared, and she has a way with little ones. She’s actually gotten the girl to sit on her lap and be rocked. Of course she’s getting on in years and does sleep rather too soundly herself.”

Now I knew where Mrs. Vaughn disappeared to in the daytime.

“And what of the advertisement?” I asked.

“Mr. Vaughn insisted on putting the ad in the papers. I was most unhappy waiting to see if some dreadful criminal type would try to claim her, but the weeks went by and no one answered. I feel certain now that she was raised by some band of thieves, and taught her pilfering ways. Poor innocent! All she knows is picking locks and stealing valuables. I tried to keep her nighttime activities from Mr. Vaughn. I was afraid he wouldn’t be so understanding about her wanderings and her bad habits. Most things I was able to retrieve before he noticed them missing, but he is too acute to be kept in the dark for long. Just last night his pipe went missing, and he announced to me that he was perfectly cognizant of the thievery and who was behind it, and that if I would be so good as to restore his pipe to its rightful place, I needn’t trouble myself to hide the fact anymore. It is unfortunate that I still haven’t found the pipe. I’m afraid she has some hiding places that I have not yet discovered. I believe your locket must be in one of them, but it’s possible that I will someday find it.”

I thought of Mama’s locket: a shiny trinket to the child, a
treasure beyond price to me. Would I ever see it again? Tears threatened to appear as I contemplated that I might never get it back.

“And you do have some hope,” I asked, “that she’ll be able to change her ways?”

“Yes, I do have hope. She’s such a little thing, I think she can hardly help but respond to love and kindness, and when she’s been ‘civilized,’ as Mr. Vaughn says, perhaps we can let her join in the family activities. I made the little bear suit so she would feel more at home—just like one of us—but even though I spend a part of every day with her, I do so long for the time when she can be with the family. For now, though, we’ve only told Mr. Bentley and a few very trustworthy servants: James knows, and we had to tell Cook and Betsy. And Nurse, of course.”

I thought of my first night in the manor, of Teddy and me hearing shuffling footsteps and running all the way to the nursery, then being reprimanded by Mr. Vaughn. I reasoned that Mr. Vaughn must have been in the dark about the child’s wanderings then.

“If you don’t mind me asking, madam, do you think that someday she will live with you openly?” I asked.

“Oh, I do hope so, when she’s ready. Mr. Vaughn says we shall see what to do when the time comes. No doubt there will be some trouble about it, but in the end I’m sure he’ll not allow himself to be influenced by hateful human prejudices. After all, we’re only taking care of an abandoned and misused child, and that can’t be wrong. What do we have to fear?”

I contemplated Mrs. Vaughn’s question for a while in silence. It seemed to me they had a great deal to fear. Maybe everyone would be against them. Maybe the little wild thing they had taken into their home and hearts could never be “civilized,” or return the affection lavished on her; could never stop her nighttime wandering and pilfering. I thought of all this, and then I thought of how colossally generous and warmhearted the Vaughns had been to her, and my opinion of them underwent a change. I had always respected my employers, but I hadn’t really seen this side of them; Mrs. Vaughn had been a figure of mystery, and Mr. Vaughn had his gruff exterior. I perceived them now in a different light. Now I could see beyond Mrs. Vaughn’s lovely surface. At last I could see Mr. Vaughn as the kind of bear who would once have been a kindred spirit to my own dear papa.

Looking into Mrs. Vaughn’s eyes, I said, “I think that you are doing a very fine thing, madam. May I help? May I visit her?”

“I was hoping that you would,” she replied. “In fact, I don’t know whether she is teachable. I’m sure it would be quite a challenge, but if you could perhaps work with her in your spare hours? I do think she’s intelligent.”

Though I felt some apprehension, I set it aside, and said, “Of course I’ll do whatever I can, madam. How old do you think she is?”

“I think perhaps Teddy’s age, or a bit younger. Six or seven. You may see her now, if you like. She’s just rising about this time. She sleeps quite late, you know, after all her nighttime exertions.”

I immediately agreed, and we set forth to the east wing. On an impulse, I asked if we might make a detour to the library and take some books along. I quickly picked out several I thought likely to capture the imagination of a little girl. As we walked on to Goldilocks’s chamber, Mrs. Vaughn warned me not to expect too much. We arrived just as Betsy was coming out with the breakfast tray. It looked like a wild animal had been after it. “Did she do that?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Mrs. Vaughn replied. “Such a blessing that dear Mrs. Van Winkle is so patient with her.”

We entered an attractive sitting room with a pale green sofa and striped chairs, and a large dormer window with a window seat. A comfortably corpulent, elderly woman sat in a rocker doing needlework, fairly exuding a sanguine calm. Mrs. Vaughn introduced her as Mrs. Van Winkle. The child was sitting on the floor in the center of a plush carpet, in her bear suit, surrounded by toys. I thought they must be Teddy’s castoffs—a stuffed bear, a boat, a pile of blocks—but she seemed not to know what to do with them. When she saw me enter the room, she jumped
up, ran to the furthermost corner, and crouched behind a chair, peeking out just enough to keep an eye on me. I could see that this was her habitual refuge by the afghan and pillows and assorted objects she had apparently stashed there.

Undaunted by the girl’s retreat, Mrs. Vaughn introduced us, calling her “our little friend Goldilocks,” and coaxed the youngster to come out, assuring her that I liked children very much, and had come especially to see her. The child stared intently at me, and I thought I saw a flicker of recognition on her face, though she didn’t stir from her lair.

“It’s quite all right if you don’t want to come out yet,” I said. “I’ve brought some books to read. You can listen from where you are.” I placed the books on a low table, and smiled at her.

Mrs. Vaughn excused herself, saying, “I’ll just leave you to get acquainted, then.”

I settled into a comfortable chair across from Goldilocks, and, exaggerating my gestures, I opened one of the books. The girl didn’t move, but she watched me closely. I picked up a lovingly worn volume, and said, “This book tells the story of a little girl. The smallest little girl you can imagine—a girl no bigger than your thumb! Would you like to hear it?” I thought I detected a spark of curiosity. I began to read the story of Thumbelina, of her birth from a flower, and the long saga of her adventures that followed: how she was kidnapped by a toad to be a wife for her toad son, the way the beetles rejected her as too ugly, and her long employment as a housekeeper for a mouse—and there I stopped, hopefully leaving little Goldilocks wanting to hear more.

“That’s all I have time for today,” I said, “but if you like, I’ll come and read the rest of the story tomorrow.” I watched her
carefully as I said this, and if ever a child looked bursting to say something, this was the child. I smiled to myself, and, picking up the books, I lightheartedly said goodbye.

As I walked back from the east wing, I thought of the plight of this silent child. I could not deny my growing conviction that there was some connection between the little girl we called Goldilocks and the volatile brute who had confronted me on the drive. What else could she have seen out the window that would have frightened her so? And Gabriel’s skulking about, hunting for information, might have been an attempt to locate the girl. Why the urgency? I wondered. Surely not out of any concern for her welfare. It occurred to me that she probably knew too much that would incriminate him and his dreadful mother, but what difference would that make if she couldn’t speak? All the rest of that day and on into the night, I wrestled with my quandary over Gabriel, and his threat to “settle a score” if I told anyone about him. Now that I knew some of Goldilocks’s story, his lurking on the grounds seemed far more sinister. What if his villainous machinations did involve this innocent child? It no longer seemed sufficient or right to simply try to avoid the problem. As my last thought before sleep, I admitted to myself that it was time to confess the secret I had been keeping, and tell Mr. Vaughn all about my experience with Gabriel.

Sunday, after church, I was standing at the door to the parlor, reluctant to interrupt the family’s time together, when Mr. Vaughn noticed me there and asked whether I needed something. My
request to speak with him alone was answered forthwith, and he ushered me down the hall and into the den.

“Has this to do with the little girl?” he asked. “I understand that you’ve met her. You can appreciate, I hope, why you weren’t informed of her presence sooner.”

“Yes, sir. As to whether it has to do with her, I don’t know, but I’m afraid it might.”

“Suppose you explain from the beginning, then,” he said. So I started from the first time I had encountered Gabriel in town, which Mr. Vaughn already knew of, to the time he had accosted me on the front drive, and his attempt to bribe me to inform him of activities in the house. When I told of his threat to come after me if I gave him away, Mr. Vaughn exploded with majestic wrath.

“By Heaven, this is not to be borne! This
cur
, this
knave
, dares to trespass, dares to attempt to spy on my household, dares to threaten a member of my household on my own property! Of all the infernal—” Here he made a visible effort to calm himself, though his paws were balled into fists.

“Then he is not in your employ?”

“He is most certainly not in my employ.”

“I suspected that he was lying about that, but I believe he meant his threat, sir. I hope that you can help me somehow.”

His voice tightly controlled, he said, “There will be no opportunity for him to harass you further, Miss Brown. I will instigate a manhunt—today! Furthermore, I am putting one of the gardener’s bears, Harry, at your disposal. He has not much to say for himself, but he’s intensely loyal, and a crack shot. Whenever you are outdoors for any reason, he will escort you. He must accompany you on your daily walks with Teddy as well, of course.”

Though this seemed almost too much protection, relief flooded through me like a warm tide. For the first time I actually felt grateful for Mr. Vaughn’s indomitable will. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure I shall feel quite safe.”

“I take no chances where my son’s safety is concerned, Miss Brown, and your father would not forgive me if I took chances with yours.
Ne accipias periculis non necessarium
. ‘Take no unnecessary chances!’ I thank you for having the courage to bring the matter to my attention.”

“If I might inquire, sir, Mrs. Vaughn has asked me to try to teach Goldilocks in my off-hours. Does this meet with your approval?”

“Yes, you may assume so, though I’m afraid you’ll find all your efforts to be in vain. As long as it doesn’t interfere with your regular duties, you may try your hand with her. You’ll be compensated accordingly, of course, for your extra efforts. Just keep in mind, as I have already apprised you, Miss Brown, that I will be monitoring your progress in the schoolroom closely.”

Our interview ended with Mr. Vaughn’s warning to stay indoors for the remainder of the day while he and the male staff searched the grounds. I had planned to go to the vicarage, but being compelled to change my arrangements, I went instead to the library, then on to the east wing for my second session with Goldilocks. There I found things much as before, with Mrs. Van Winkle rocking and humming, and Goldilocks sitting cross-legged on the floor, idling in the midst of Teddy’s cast-off toys. Upon my appearance, she jumped like a startled fawn, and ran to hide again behind her fortress chair.