The Cottage in the Woods (27 page)

Teddy was brokenhearted, moping about, refusing to be comforted, refusing to talk, and scarcely eating. Nurse, meanwhile, went about with an ostentatious swath of bandages around her paw, her arm in a sling, and limping on alternate feet, as the mood took her. The Vaughns were distraught, with Teddy in a decline and their confidence in Goldilocks badly shaken. Having neither an explanation for nor a resolution to the dilemma, they looked to me for a remedy.

It was with great trepidation that I made my way to the east wing to see how Goldilocks fared. I had come prepared with some of her favorite books, and finding her firmly entrenched behind her hiding chair, I tried to coax her out with the stories and illustrations she loved, but to no effect. She either would not or could not respond, and I began to be afraid that some lasting harm had been done. Mrs. Van Winkle, who had warned me so specifically not to break my heart over the child, refrained from saying “I told you so.” She merely explained in a sorrowful tone that she bitterly regretted having to leave the child.

“Please, Goldilocks,” I said, trying the direct approach, “do come out. I miss you. Teddy misses you. He’s very sad without you.” It had been a full day since my return, and the child had not budged from her old hiding place behind the chair, or even given any indication that she saw or heard me.

“Please, Goldilocks,” I tried again. “I’m so sorry I had to go away, but won’t you give me a chance to try to make things right?” I watched her closely for any response. Perceiving no change, I decided to forsake my schoolteacher dignity and sit down on the floor beside her hiding place to wait, hoping my nearness would communicate my compassion for her. This at least elicited a reaction: she stiffened her shoulders and turned
her face away from me. Ignoring this, I sat very still by her side while the afternoon waned, sometimes talking softly about why I had been away for so long, about my papa’s illness and death, and about how much I had missed her. Sometimes I hummed or sang; sometimes I was silent. I sat with her while my poor body rebelled at the hard floor, and my uncomfortable position on it. She remained unmoved. Finally, I dared to ease my paw gradually closer to her, and I touched her hand. To my astonishment and gratification, the little hand grasped my paw tightly. The slight body leaned near to me; she dropped her head down on my shoulder, and began to sob. I too was overcome with emotion. Until that moment, I had not even known for a certainty that she
could
cry. I had never seen her do so, though I had witnessed occasional bouts of silent grief. I held her in my arms and let her cry it out.

And so began her journey back to us. The Vaughns were pleased to hear of her progress, but they were now of the opinion that she was in need of moral instruction. This they would shortly arrange with Reverend Snover, stipulating also that Goldilocks must find some way of apologizing to Nurse. They had granted that I might reunite Teddy and Goldilocks in the schoolroom at my own discretion. But being unsure as to how I could arrange the requisite apology, I thought it best to give the child a few more days in which she might recover her sangfroid.

At the same time, I hoped to somehow discover the origins of the fateful tantrum in which Goldilocks had actually bitten Nurse. Since Teddy was the only one who could speak, I looked for some time to be with him when Nurse was not present in order to sound him out. This proved to be no great challenge, but getting him to talk to me was another matter.

“Master Teddy,” I inquired over breakfast one morning. “I’ve been thinking of what I can do to make Goldilocks feel better so she can come back to the schoolroom with us. It would help if I knew what happened to upset her so. Can you tell me?”

Teddy stopped eating, with his fork halfway to his mouth, and paused a minute before answering, “I dunno. I didn’t see.”

“Really?” I asked. “I think it must have been something quite momentous for her to behave in such an awful manner. I’d hate to think Goldilocks would suddenly turn wild for no reason at all. We couldn’t trust her then, could we?”

Teddy dropped his fork and looked down at his lap, considering. After a long silence he asked in a small, tight voice, “Miss Brown?”

“Yes, Teddy.”

“What are Gypsies?”

Perplexed, I responded, “They are travelers. They move from place to place, carrying their homes with them.”

“But do they buy children?”

I nearly gasped as I realized the likely source of such a cruel threat, and felt a rush of anger at Nurse’s perfidy. “No, Teddy, they do not buy children. That’s a terrible fib.”

“What about bear cubs? Do they buy those? Do they make them do tricks for money?”

I answered carefully: “I don’t know about wild bears, Teddy. Perhaps they do. But not with Enchanted bears, like ourselves. There are laws about such things.”

He seemed to contemplate this for some time, though he spoke no more of the matter. I tried to go about the school day as usual, but Teddy was so listless and preoccupied that I might as well have been talking to myself. Only when Nurse put in an
appearance did he show any reaction, and that was to fold his arms on his desk and bury his face in them. Nurse could hardly have missed the gesture, and I found it a fascinating study to observe her demeanor as she met with this and other blatant forms of Teddy’s rejection throughout the day. Each time she tried to approach him, he turned his back on her, folded his arms, and brooded, precisely as I had seen his father do on occasions when he was displeased. This was unprecedented. Nurse’s expression flickered between pain, anger, and melancholy. Whatever her role in fomenting this trouble, she had obviously not counted on Teddy’s complete alienation from her, or his brokenhearted pining after Goldilocks. As the days passed, and his rebuffs continued, I saw a humbled Nurse, a deflated and repentant Nurse. Dared I hope this represented a turning point in her checkered career? Could she reform, for the love of Teddy?

Meanwhile, I prepared Goldilocks to make her apology to Nurse. I told her, first, that I was convinced Nurse had done something to provoke her, though I did not know what, but the fact remained that she had bitten Nurse, and thrown a tantrum, and for that she must apologize, just as any good little girl would do. She could accomplish this by offering her hand to Nurse in friendship.

“This may seem unfair,” I told her, “but manners are what separate us from the wild beasts. Besides, the Vaughns want to be proud of you, as I do.”

At first Goldilocks shook her head vigorously and stamped her foot, but I spoke to her at some length during the following days, assuring the child that I would be watching over her; that if Nurse mistreated her in any way, she had only to bring it to my attention; and most of all that Teddy was waiting for her,
and was distraught without her. At this she finally nodded her acquiescence and threw her arms about my skirts.

Thinking it best to prepare Nurse for the encounter as well, I privately apprised her of my plan, and requested that she accept the child’s hand when offered. What her true response might have been I could not be sure, for she opened her mouth to speak, but, seemingly thinking better of it, closed it with a little pop. Then her expression changed into a sickeningly sweet smile, and she answered, “Oh, of course, of course, the little darlin’,” while rubbing the big bandage she still wore. “Won’t that be charmin’?”

Finally the morning came when Goldilocks was returned to the schoolroom, whereby a joyous reunion occurred with Teddy. At first I thought Nurse would not put in an appearance, but she wandered in shortly before noon, red-eyed and weaving slightly. I quickly prompted Goldilocks to make her gesture, and held my breath as the child walked purposefully over to Nurse, made a commendable curtsy, and bending down, extended a hand to her. An awkward moment passed while Nurse reached out and took Goldilocks’s hand, raising her other paw as if to strike her. I quickly moved to place myself between them, when Nurse, smiling sweetly, carefully stroked Goldilocks’s golden hair, and murmured, “Pretty-pretty. Teddy’s play-pretty.” Goldilocks froze, suffering Nurse’s touch with palpable reluctance, but Teddy called the child’s name out just as she began to tremble, and she retained her self-control. The critical juncture had passed. Nurse unsteadily retreated to her polluted little corner and soon began to snore, Goldilocks resumed her place next to Teddy, and my schoolroom was at last restored to its former felicity.

Though I did not relax my vigilance in the days that followed,
I saw no sign in Nurse of hostility toward Goldilocks; rather, she seemed to regard the child now as Teddy’s pet, or toy, to be looked after because it made Teddy happy. Teddy responded by returning to his previous sunny disposition. His manner toward Nurse was once again unfailingly affectionate, with an important difference: Nurse now understood that Teddy, having once withdrawn his affection, might do so again if goaded. The lock had cracked, and the chains were slipping. Her unwholesome hold over him had developed a fatal weakness in the form of a diminutive golden-haired girl, and I privately rejoiced at it.

The Vaughns, upon hearing of Goldilocks’s gesture of contrition, appreciated that the girl’s apology marked a new step in her “civilization,” and from that day began to include her in their nightly family time, a decision that increased exponentially the frequency of Goldilocks’s pink-lipped smiles. I was also invited to join them whenever I was free, as I had such a good rapport with the child and could manage her and read some of her gestures. Though this was another demand on my time, I found it very satisfying to be of such use to the family and the child. I did find it worrying that this new arrangement also increased the odds that someone among the household would spread the news of a human child living with the family of bears. What ripples that news would make in the Enchanted Forest, only time would tell.

By day, my little world had returned to peace and order. The children were doing well, and the Vaughns were pleased with my handling of the crisis. By day, my time was regimented, my thoughts were occupied. By day, I was too busy for grief. But by night, my self-possession deserted me. Now once again I was alone in the darkness, easy prey for all my fears and sorrows. Even now, it seemed impossible that Papa was gone, and many a night I soaked my pillow with missing him.

At the same time, Mr. Bentley was constantly in my thoughts. I had seen him only once since my return, a glimpse down a hallway, and a quick disappearance—enough to send my pulse racing, but no welcoming greeting to warm my heart. I even thought he might be avoiding me, no difficult task as we worked and resided in different wings of the manor. Alone in the dark, I asked myself if I could possibly have imagined the depth of feeling between us, or had he merely thought better of it once I was away? Had he perhaps had time to consider the difference
in our stations? Wouldn’t the son of a viscount expect to marry a female of some fortune? And I, a dower-less nobody, what did I have to offer him, except myself? And yet, I envisioned again and again the way he lit up with happiness at the sight of me, the way his eyes melted into mine when he spoke to me, and I asked myself whether that could be merely kindness.

Perhaps it was this aggregate of grief, loneliness, and uncertainty that finally dismantled all my carefully erected defenses. I had confessed to Papa that I was afraid of getting my heart broken. I admitted to myself now that it was already too late, for in the long separation from Mr. Bentley I had more than missed him; I finally accepted what I had avoided for so long: that I admired and loved him. In the lonely hours of the night, I dreamed of belonging to him, and he to me. I even dared to dream of a lifetime by his side; of a family of cubs around our feet; of growing old together, and tottering off into the sunset. If he was going to break my heart, I thought, then let it be broken thoroughly. “Love is not for the fainthearted,” Papa had said, and so I dared to be bold. I resolved to seek Mr. Bentley out about resuming our Latin lessons, and see what developed. If he rejoiced to see me, his expressive face would tell me so, and if he was polite and distant, that too would give me an answer. All through the next day, my intended visit to Mr. Bentley was constantly on my mind. My confidence failed me several times as my inner voice whispered that I should wait for him to act, that if he wanted to see me,
he
would seek
me
out, but I felt that I must know his heart or perish.

At teatime, I made my way to Mr. Bentley’s office with a mixture of hope and dread. Seeing that his door was open, I hesitated, then stepped in. Mr. Bentley was seated at his desk.
He looked up at me, and joy lit his face—and was just as quickly pulled back, to be replaced by an amicable but businesslike demeanor, with unmistakable sadness in his eyes.

“Ah, Miss Brown,” he said politely. “How nice to see you back. Please allow me to express my condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you,” I responded. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your note.”