The Cottage in the Woods (37 page)

Back in the schoolroom with Goldilocks and Teddy, I caught a motion out the window, and a flash of red. Curious, I leaned closer to the window for a better look, and recognized Nurse’s small figure, wrapped in the red shawl she habitually wore out of doors, moving at a furious pace in the direction of the front drive. I watched her until she was out of sight, wondering what could motivate her to exert herself so uncharacteristically. It seemed likely that she must have heard the whole story about Mother Shoe’s visit by now through her listening post at the laundry chute, and the chilling thought occurred to me that she might be running to catch up with the woman. I asked myself whether Nurse would really collude with that harpy. All that would be required was a word from Nurse to direct Mother Shoe to Constable Murdley, and he and the rest of the Anthropological Society would line up their considerable weight on Mother Shoe’s side. Though it was fruitless to speculate, and there was nothing I could do to stop her in any case, the thought that Nurse would betray us all preyed on my mind.

Goldilocks was badly shaken by the confrontation with Mother Shoe, and Teddy, having witnessed the woman’s tempestuous departure, was full of questions, so academic studies were temporarily set aside. I had so many questions myself that there was little I could say to them. Was Mother Shoe really Goldilocks’s mother? What kind of mother would try to terrify her own child? What kind of mother would leave her child with strangers until they had become attached to her, and then try to sell her to them? I had no answers. What was wanted was a diverting outing, but Mr. Vaughn had quite rightly put a stop to our going outdoors. Instead, we marched through the hallways on a pretend safari to the library, where we looked up wild animals from the African continent, and copied engravings of them from books. Having thus conquered the beasts, we climbed onto Sofie, the overstuffed sofa, and lost ourselves in our favorite storybooks for a time, before retracing our route to the schoolroom. Between this “outing” and Teddy’s occasional whispered messages to her, we had managed to distract Goldilocks from her distress, and restore the smallest of smiles to her face. Though the whispering was a behavior I’d normally discourage, I dared to hope that it might lead Goldilocks to whisper back to him, and so I pretended to ignore it.

At the end of the school day, Betsy knocked on the door and handed me a note from Mrs. Vaughn, a request to come and see her in the solarium when my duties were done. At dismissal time, I accompanied the children into the nursery to see if Nurse was back from her mysterious errand. There she sat, demurely stitching away in her place by the fire. When she looked up at me and smiled sweetly, it was painfully obvious that she had been up to some mischief. I stood watching her, wanting to question her, though I thought it would be futile. Finally,
Nurse, uncomfortable under my gaze, looked straight at me, and snapped, “What?!”

“I saw you running toward the front drive after that woman left,” I said accusingly.

“I was just minding my own business, chickie. You should try it!”

Our eyes locked in a contest of wills, but, realizing that opposition would just make her more stubborn, I looked away in frustration. Bidding the children goodbye, I hurried on to see what Mrs. Vaughn wanted.

As I entered the French doors to the solarium, I was met with the garden scents of fresh foliage and moist earth. Making my way between the potted palms and philodendrons, I found that dear lady seated on a wicker love seat, surrounded by a plethora of decorative pillows. She greeted me with a sad smile, and invited me to sit by her side.

“I needed someone to talk to, my dear, and you are such a sweet child, almost like a daughter to me, and you understand about Goldilocks and how we love her, and how she is one of us now.” She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

I had come to know Mrs. Vaughn better in the months since Goldilocks and I had been part of the Vaughns’ family gathering each evening, but this was the first time she had specifically invited me to talk. “I’m honored, madam, that you thought of me. What troubles you?”

“Well, I really believe I haven’t a friend left in the world,” she announced.

“How can that be, madam? Surely you are mistaken.”

“Yes, how can it be? I ask myself the same question. It started with all this ill will and prejudice the Anthropological Society has been stirring up against the Enchanted, and then word got
out that we had Goldilocks living with us. In the past few weeks, my friends have dropped away from me one by one.”

I struggled for words, mindful of the difference in our stations, and not wishing to insult these females who had been her friends, but I was unsure how to comfort her. I wanted to put my arms around the dear soul, as if she were my own mama, but I dared not take the liberty.

“Perhaps it is not the end, madam. I think that if they really knew the whole story, they might understand. Wouldn’t it be worth a try to explain matters to those who have been your particular friends?”

“Explain? After the way they have humiliated me? They have removed themselves forever from my sphere!”

I was silent, and she shook her head and said, “Listen to me. I sound like one of them. I believe you could be right, dear. I think I will try to explain to them. Perhaps if they met the dear child, they’d see. Maybe all is not lost, after all.” She dried her eyes and bade me stay awhile and keep her company.

She seemed to have talked out her distress over her friends, so I considered whether to apprise her of the morning’s visit from Mother Shoe. Though my urge was to shelter her, I believed that she would want to know the worst. I proceeded to fill her in, describing the horrible woman and all that had transpired as objectively as I could. Mrs. Vaughn was terribly alarmed. Her first thought was for Goldilocks, and the shock it must have been to her.

“The poor child,” she bemoaned. “How much more can she stand? It is just unthinkable for her to fall into the hands of those people! Mr. Vaughn should have paid the woman, paid her anything!”

“I’m afraid, madam, that if he had once given in to her
demands, she would have come back again and again to demand more. You would never have been free of her.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true, but are we free of her now? We can’t even allow the child outside to walk about on our own property! And I’m afraid Mr. Caswell is correct in assuming that we haven’t heard the last of her.”

Three days later Mr. Vaughn received the summons, a legal demand for him to appear in court in the matter of
Shoe v. Vaughn
, to decide the custody of one Mary Shoe, aka Goldilocks. I was visiting again with Mrs. Vaughn in the parlor, her invitations to come and talk having quickly become a daily habit, when Mr. Vaughn entered the room, jaw clenched and eyes blazing, to show her the awful document. Though he was making an effort to be calm and stoic, I could see that Mrs. Vaughn was deeply dismayed, near to panic.

“Oh, how could this happen?” Mrs. Vaughn gasped, clutching my paw for solace.

“Someone’s gotten to that Shoe woman,” Mr. Vaughn growled, “and I’ll wager she’s wasted no time getting herself hooked up with the Anthropological Society. It has to be some group with very deep pockets to have retained this law firm. Someone like Murdley and Babcock, and their bunch of fear-mongers.”

I believed I knew in that moment just who had “gotten to” Mother Shoe, and directed her straight to Constable Murdley, but I had no proof and could not accuse her. To think I had ever allowed myself to believe that Nurse’s better nature was winning
out! She had only been biding her time to find some other way to work her devilish will. My stomach tightened into a knot.

“What are we going to do?” Mrs. Vaughn asked, trying to match Mr. Vaughn’s attempt at calm. She and I both hung on his words.

He said, “Our solicitors are already working on it, building a case against Mother Shoe and her son Gabriel, charging them with using that gang of children as thieves and pickpockets. If only Goldilocks could speak, I’m convinced she could tell us all about it. As it is, I’m sure we’ll have no problem finding a dozen villagers who will be willing to testify against them. Strictly speaking, the woman should be dragged off to jail. No magistrate in his right mind will award our Goldilocks to her by the time we are through.” He said this, but he wouldn’t meet Mrs. Vaughn’s eyes.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Mrs. Vaughn insisted.

He sighed heavily. “The case will be heard by Judge Slugby, charter member of the Anthropological Society, in a week’s time.”

Her grip on my paw tightened until I almost cried out, and I felt my eyes watering, while Mrs. Vaughn seemed to deflate, and shrink into herself like a little old woman.

Mr. Vaughn put a bracing paw on her shoulder. “Mrs. Vaughn,” he said, “remember yourself. We must be strong and resolved. If Slugby rules against us, we will appeal to the high court!”

Mrs. Vaughn raised her chin and straightened her spine, as if preparing herself to meet bad news. Looking him in the eye, she said, “But if the decision goes against us, they’ll take her.
She’ll fall into the hands of that loathsome woman and her misbegotten son. Even if we win the appeal and get Goldilocks back after that, how will we ever heal her, or rebuild her trust? And Teddy! He loves her so, and he has total faith in us. What would it do to him?”

“We will face whatever we must when the time comes,” he replied. “And meanwhile, let us not give up hope! Come, Mrs. Vaughn, you will only make yourself ill imagining the worst.
Labium superius dura!
”

“This is no time for your Latin phrases!” she responded.

I smiled, and translated for her. “It means ‘stiff upper lip.’ ”

“Very good, Miss Brown,” Mr. Vaughn acknowledged. “I hope that I may call upon you to testify on the child’s behalf?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do anything I can.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll leave you two to each other’s care. I must confer with my solicitors with all due speed.”

When he had gone, Mrs. Vaughn shakily asked me to stay and take tea with her, and I of course accepted, but I reminded myself that she was lonely now, and though her motherly affection was genuine, such invitations would probably cease once her old friendships had been repaired. We sat side by side on the divan and she spoke to me of her worries for a long time, until she had calmed herself. “We must do something to keep our spirits up,” she said, and immediately hit on the idea of a party.

“A party every night!” she cried. “Since all my friends have deserted me, it will be just for us, and we shall decorate the drawing room, and you shall play for us, and we shall have music, and fine things to eat, and all manner of games, and it will be splendid! ”

“… I’m sure it will, madam,” I concurred, admiring her determination, but having private doubts about how cheerful we could be.

Noticing my hesitation, she turned her full charm on me. “I’ve heard how talented you are, my dear. Really, I am counting on you! Surely you can do it for Goldilocks’s and Teddy’s sakes!”

She went on in this vein until she had won me over, and I was able to set my doubts aside.

I approached the drawing room that evening with a smile fixed on my face, determined to do my part. Mrs. Vaughn greeted me warmly, taking me by the paw and bringing me to the fireside. She was garbed in a lovely blue silk dress, with ruffles and matching ribbons, and even Goldilocks was attired in a party dress of white lawn and lace. Impulsively, I looked down at my own stodgy dress. Still in mourning for Papa, I wore my black bombazine, and no ornament. I comforted myself with the thought that I had dressed for Papa, and that they must take me as I was.

As the evening progressed, I got into the spirit of celebration. Mrs. Vaughn’s good cheer was indeed so irresistible that my smile soon turned genuine. True to her word, there were delicious desserts and punch to drink. She soon had us all laughing with a game of blindman’s buff. Teddy was blindfolded and groped about the room until Mr. Vaughn allowed himself to be caught. After a few more rounds, Mrs. Vaughn called upon me to accompany her in a solo. I found that she had a fine contralto voice, perfectly suited to the sentimental old song she chose.