The Cottage in the Woods (36 page)

Finally, a quiet gentleman came forward, introducing himself and the crow on his shoulder, who was Enchanted. The crow cleared his throat and started to speak.

“When Mr. Fairchild came looking for information about this band of wild children,” he croaked, “I volunteered to take to the air and seek them out. I began my search high above the forest, looking for chimney smoke, or for clearings in the deep woods, where I might spot an isolated dwelling. I scouted out locations that would be nearly impossible for a person to find from the ground. Spying one such place, I glided lower and observed a number of children cavorting about a structure that looked like an enormous shoe—which might in fact have been a giant’s shoe, with a roof attached on top and a chimney spouting smoke. I came in for a closer look, and did indeed observe a
great many children of various ages, dirtier than any forest animals, and dressed in rags. No sooner had the children spotted me than they began to make a sport of firing pebbles at me with slingshots. No parents were evident to curb their behavior, and I quickly ascended out of range, taking careful bearings so that I could find the place again.”

“So they hide out in this great shoe,” Mr. Vaughn mused, “and they make their living by robbing their neighbors blind. Can we assume that the mother this Gabriel spoke of is behind it all? Can we even assume that all those children are hers?”

“They could be,” said one of the badger lawyers, who had introduced himself as Mr. Caswell. “There could be enchantment involved—fertility beyond the normal number of years, an abnormal number of twins or even triplets.”

“Did you notice anything like that, Miss Brown?”

“Honestly, sir, they were so dirty I couldn’t tell. It’s clear that no one takes any care of them at all.”

“Excuse me,” put in Reverend Snover, “but perhaps the woman just has so many children she doesn’t know what to do? We must withhold judgment until the facts of the case are known. What we must ask ourselves is, now that we know of this needy family, how can we help them?”

“There’s one question I’m asking first,” Mr. Vaughn responded. “How do I keep my ward safely away from them?”

Mr. Caswell turned his attention to me. “You say they only wanted to secure her silence?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

He turned back to Mr. Vaughn. “My advice to you is to wait. Let the mother come to you, if she dares, and see if she can be convinced to do what’s best for the child.”

At that moment, Fairchild entered the room, his legendary composure somewhat rattled, and, with what clearly cost him some effort, announced to Mr. Vaughn that he had a visitor: a certain woman whom he had been expecting.

“You mean,” Mr. Vaughn responded, “the mother?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Show her in.”

There was a murmuring among the assembled townsfolk as Fairchild went to call for her. He returned a minute later, announced, “Mother Shoe, sir,” and withdrew. The gathering parted like the Red Sea as a tall, burly figure stepped into the doorway. At first glance I thought she was a rather ugly man, an impression aided by the large brown cigar she held between her teeth, but the dress and the scrawny baby dangling at her hip argued for femininity.

She halted, looking over the spectators, and, arranging her face in a gruesome imitation of loving concern, said, “Where’s me dear little girl?”

It must have been my mind playing tricks on me, or something about the way the light angled in through the window, but suddenly, instead of a human, I saw a great predator, such as those ancient fossils found on the seaside cliffs: a bony monster with gaping jaws and pointed teeth. My heart missed a beat, and I had to quell the urge to grab the baby out of her arms.

Mr. Vaughn, apparently not about to make things easy for her, drew himself up to his full height and said gruffly, “Who are you? State your business.”

Mother Shoe rearranged her face, taking the cigar out of her mouth, and assuming an exaggerated deference. “Oh, now, you must be the master of the house. ’Ow delighted and honored
I am to make your acquaintance, kind sir,” she effused, dripping honey, but her falsity was tangible; the great predator’s eyes glinted behind her gaze.

“As to my business, sir,” she continued coyly, “I was ’opin’ I could speak with you private-like, about my dear little girl what’s been missin’ lo these many months, and what’s been found by my boy Gabe, livin’ in the grand style ’ere with you good people.”

Mr. Vaughn held a short conference, sotto voce, with his lawyers. “Very well,” he agreed. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please excuse us, I thank you all for your help.” The group trickled out the door, giving Mother Shoe a wide berth, and yet unable to look away from the spectacle she presented. Mr. Vaughn turned to me and said softly, “Would you be so good as to bring Miss Goldilocks here? Say no word to her. We must see her spontaneous reaction.”

“Yes, sir,” I responded, knowing it had to be done, but afraid of what the effect would be on the child’s already shaken equilibrium. Finding the schoolroom empty, I hurried next door to the nursery and beheld both children and Nurse crouched around the laundry chute once again, listening to the servants’ voices filtering up from the kitchen below.

I cleared my throat loudly, and the youngsters’ heads popped up. They had the grace to appear embarrassed, while Nurse did not move an inch. Knowing full well that the minute I left the room she would be listening again, I decided to bring both children with me. Informing Goldilocks gently that Mr. Vaughn desired to talk to her, I was gratified to see that this elicited no negative reaction, and concluded, with some relief, that the kitchen gossips had not yet received word of Mother Shoe’s arrival.

Leaving Teddy to sit outside his father’s door, I entered the den once more, holding Goldilocks by the hand. Mother Shoe turned to face us, showing all her teeth in a grotesque leer, with her fat cigar hanging from the corner of her mouth. “Well, if it ain’t my little Rat—Um, um, I mean, um, M-Mary!” she stuttered. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had made the name up on the spur of the moment.

Goldilocks recoiled as if she had been struck—as if she too had seen the great predator’s gaping jaws and pointed teeth. She gave a little scream and darted behind me, clutching me with both arms.

Mr. Vaughn sat coolly observing this from behind his desk. “It would seem she is not happy to see you,” he commented to the woman. To Goldilocks he said, “Is that your true name? Mary?”

The child shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

Mother Shoe shrieked. Striking a pose with the back of her hand dramatically pressed to her forehead, the woman moaned, “You’ve turned ’er against me! Oh Lor’, you’ve ali’nated ’er affections! Oh, my dear, my darlin’ deary chile! She don’t want to know ’er own lowly mother what lives in a shoe! She’s ’ad ’er ’ead turned by livin’ in the lap o’ luxury. Oh, woe is me, woe is me—” The scrawny baby let out a mewling cry as the mother hauled him from one hip to the other like a sack of meal, her cigar dropping ashes perilously close to his head. My arms fairly ached with the urge to take the baby from her arms.

Mr. Vaughn looked on, appalled. Then, perhaps realizing he could do nothing for the baby, he turned his attention to Goldilocks. “Come to me, child,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t allow her to hurt you.”

With a swift glance at the woman, Goldilocks ran to Mr. Vaughn’s side. He put a protective arm around her and said, “Now, I’m going to ask you some questions, yes or no, and it’s very, very important that you answer them truthfully. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“First, do you know this woman? Don’t be afraid, just tell the truth.”

Goldilocks stared down at her shoes and stuck her lower lip out, but she nodded slightly in the affirmative.

“Good. Now, tell me, is she your mother?”

She shook her head vigorously and put both arms around Mr. Vaughn.

“Perhaps you can’t do it here today, child, but is there anything you can tell me, with your own voice, about who you really are and where you came from? That would help me very much.”

Goldilocks’s gaze seemed to be pulled inexorably to the woman who claimed to be her mother. The great predatory eyes focused on the child with deadly intensity. I watched in horror as she took the cigar from between her teeth, and used it to make a stabbing and twisting motion aimed at Goldilocks, exactly as Gabriel had done with his knife the day before to illustrate his threat to “cut her gizzard out” if ever she spoke again.

“Stop that!” I cried in outrage as Goldilocks turned white and grabbed her throat protectively. Mr. Vaughn observed with some puzzlement, but did not interfere as I continued. “Stop it, I tell you!”

The predator was suddenly the meekest and most innocent
of women. “What? Why, that’s just a little private sign language between me and me own dear little girl to tell her how much I love her!”

“Madam,” Mr. Vaughn replied, “nothing can make me believe that you have the smallest regard for this child. Suppose you tell me what you came here for.”

“I come for me precious daughter, of course! She’s the light of my life, that one is. Me and her brothers and sisters are plumb brokenhearted without her.” At this point she began to blubber unconvincingly, and squeezed out a few tears. “And I’m just a poor woman,” she gulped, “what lives in a shoe and tries to do ’er duty by all ’er darling childrin, but me ’usband’s off at sea, an’ ’e don’t send no money ’ome, an’ ’ow are we to live? I’d like to know. T’isn’t right this ’ere child has everythin’, an’ the rest of us have nuthin’! Now maybe you could make it worth my while …”

“Ah, so we get nearer to the point. So you
might
be able to give her up for the proper price.”

The predator whipped to attention, smelling blood. “Oh, sir, how could you even think of me givin’ up me favorite child, me treasure, but …”

“Yes?”

“But p’raps,” she said, wiping her eyes and nose with her dirty hand, “I could bring meself to make the sacrifice, if it would ’elp to provide the necessities for me other precious babes. What a terrible, in’uman choice to ’ave to make, but I shall ’ave to bear it!”

“So you’re willing to sell her to me.”

“Oh, now, sir, don’t you be saying that! It would just be me, a brokenhearted mother, leavin’ ’er precious young ’un to the
care of a fam’ly what could provide ’er with the foiner things in life, and you, sir, expressin’ yer friendly gratitude and p’raps wantin’ to ’elp out a fam’ly of poor needy childrin. No need to talk of sellin’!”

“I assume there’s a record of her birth, perhaps in one of the local churches?”

Mother Shoe snorted. “I don’t need no record! I know me own child! I have all her brothers and sisters to witness her growin’ up from a golden-haired babe! She’s mine and I want what’s comin’ to me!”

“How much?” Mr. Vaughn asked pointedly.

Without hesitation, she named a sum that would have set her up quite nicely for life, twenty-some children and all, one thousand pounds. The figure seemed to echo in the resulting silence.

“You can’t be serious,” Mr. Vaughn finally replied.

Abruptly, Mother Shoe’s insinuating manner changed. All social graces vanished. “Not serious, am I?” she snarled. “Not serious? A big, important bear like you might think you can just go round the countryside snatchin’ up poor people’s children, but I’ve got somethin’ to say about that, an’ I’ll say it at the top of my lungs until everybody ’ears me, I will! You’ll pay it and be glad to afore I’m done!”

“Get out,” he replied, needlessly ringing for Fairchild, who almost fell into the room, with Teddy stumbling in after him. “Escort Mother Shoe to the door,” he ordered. “To the front gate if need be.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you!” she snapped, glaring at the child with pure malevolence as she repeated the threatening motion with her cigar.

Mr. Vaughn rose, placing Goldilocks behind him, and, as if in response to the woman’s unspoken intention, said, “This child is my ward, and she is under my protection.”

Mother Shoe grew quiet. In a voice dripping with acid, she hissed, “But you can’t watch ’er
every
minute, now, can you?” Spreading her mouth into the hideous leer once again, she cackled to herself, stuck the cigar in one side of her mouth, and threw the wailing baby over her shoulder. “Goodbye for now, dear little Mary. You be a
good
girl, won’t you?”

And with that, she brushed past the awestruck Teddy, and was gone. Goldilocks reached her arms up toward Mr. Vaughn in an obvious request to be picked up, which he immediately granted, then she wept on his shoulder with discernible relief and gratitude. Teddy ran to his father and hugged him about the legs, while out from behind some heavy drapes stepped one of the lawyers, the diminutive Mr. Caswell, who had apparently witnessed the entire encounter.

“We have not heard the last of the woman, sir,” he warned. “It is my belief that she’s known where the child was all along, and left her here to give you plenty of time to become attached to her before making her demands.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. If that’s what she’s about, her plan has worked. The child is like one of the family now, but I won’t give in to that woman’s extortion. If she’s cynical enough to use the child this way, it’s a safe bet she’d never stop coming back for more.”

“That’s almost certainly the case, sir. But she can indeed foment trouble for you, if she makes enough noise. If the Anthropological Society hears of her complaint, you’ll have the very Devil to pay. They’re trying to push through a law to
keep humans and the Enchanted separate. This would make a perfect case for stirring up public opinion in favor of their cause.”

“Then let us hope that the Anthropological Society and this evil woman never connect. They travel in rather different circles, after all. I should think even members of the society would not want to dirty their hands dealing with the likes of her.”