The Cottage in the Woods (5 page)

“Yes, that will suit perfectly, I’m sure. Just be certain to deliver him back to me by teatime. After that, your time is your own, though I understand Mr. Vaughn has set you to work learning Latin. Still, you should have ample free time. I hope you will feel at liberty to enjoy the grounds. There are miles of trails good for walking. You and Teddy might enjoy the walk to the waterfall this afternoon. It’s very secluded and picturesque. You may go wading, if it’s not too cold. Teddy knows the way.”
She gave Teddy a little pat on the head, with an admonition to mind his governess, and make his mama and papa proud, and left us to our own devices. I sent my thanks Heavenward that my pupil’s mother was so reasonable and generous.

I set out first to determine what levels Teddy had reached in his education, and discovered through some simple learning games that he was already proficient in reciting the alphabet, and could count to twenty. He also knew several of the stories from his storybooks by heart, and recited them as we turned the pages, making up little improvements here and there when the mood took him. I was charmed by these imaginative touches, and suggested that I could help him to write down stories of his own invention. This met with such enthusiasm that he wanted to begin right away, and I, capitalizing on the moment, sat with him and wrote while he spun me a fantastic yarn, peopled with brave and resourceful young bears, all manner of wizards and witches, and hideous fire-breathing dragons. When he had finished, I read it back to him word for word, and had the pleasure of seeing his soft brown eyes glow with delight. Suddenly he saw writing as a magical tool, something that could make his imaginings come to life, something he was eager to learn. I promised him that we would begin the very next day to make letters into words, looking forward to the day when he would be able to write his own stories.

In no time, it seemed, the lunch hour came, and I rang for Betsy and requested that we have a tray prepared to take outdoors. As this troubled no one, we found a comfortable spot under an enormous old oak, and ate our lunch of aged cheese, a dark, wholesome bread, and sweet mead. Then, while Teddy lay reluctantly down for his rest in the nursery, I spent my time getting
ready for our nature hike. I found that the schoolroom was complete with nets, collecting jars, and an assortment of books on local flora and fauna. I was packing several collecting jars and a book on birds into a satchel when Mr. Vaughn entered the schoolroom with a most serious expression. “So, Miss Brown, I have just come from the nursery. Theodore tells me that he spent the morning making up stories. Is this true?”

“Yes, sir,” I almost squeaked.

“And what is the reason for this? Surely you have better things to teach him than that!”

“It was a writing exercise, sir,” I managed to respond. “I thought that writing his own story would excite his interest in learning to read and write.”

“I suggest you excite his interest using something with a basis in fact, such as ‘Jack and the Beanstalk,’ or ‘Snow White and the Seven Elves.’ ”

“
Elves
, sir?”

“Yes. Yes,
Dwarfs
. That’s what I said. The important thing is to stick to the history books!”

“Yes, sir. I shall look into it. Just the facts,” I responded as I secretly crossed my claws under the tabletop. The truth was, I abhorred the idea of stifling Teddy’s splendid imagination. Though I was new to being a governess, I was still a cub at heart, and I remembered how a young cub’s mind worked, and how to spark its interest. I thought I could find a way to pay lip service to Mr. Vaughn’s directions while continuing with my own program.

That afternoon found Teddy and me meandering along the banks of Ambleworthy Stream, as delightful a body of water as one could wish for, bubbling gleefully as it slipped and plunged
over black rocks, and resting here and there in transparent pools filled with frogs and minnows. Teddy and I were conversing on subjects from eating one’s Brussels sprouts, of which he did not approve, to the saying of rhyming prayers, of which he did, and on to the finer points of making kite tails and spitwads. We had captured and identified four different insects, including a water bug and two butterflies, and hoped to catch several more.

Teddy was proud of his proficiency with the net, and prouder still to be my tour guide. I could tell by the soft, ever-present roar that we were near the waterfall. The path took a turn away from the stream, and into the deep woods, where the view was obscured for a space of time. Suddenly we stepped out of the woods and into a sunlit glade. There in front of us was a sheer rock face, perhaps sixty yards high, with a curtain of white water tumbling down, down, into a pillow of mist. Beneath the mist, a bed of jagged rocks tore the curtain into chaos and foam, and released it to the surrounding lagoon. I breathed a long sigh of pure pleasure, and strolled to the water’s edge. In every direction lay such extravagant beauty that it seemed as if we had stumbled upon a small corner of paradise. I was still taking it in while Teddy took his shoes and socks off and gingerly tested the water with his toes.

“It’s not too cold, Miss Brown, is it?” he asked, raising his voice to make himself heard over the rush of the waterfall. I bent down and plunged my paw into the clear pool, and, finding it acceptable, gave him a nod of approval.

“Stay near the shore!” I cried, sitting down to remove my own shoes and stockings, then tucking up my dress and petticoats so as not to get them wet. I set the collection jars out for him, and then waded into the water, wiggling my toes in the
pebbly bottom as Teddy swooped his net after an elusive amphibian.

“I got one! I got one!” Teddy yelled. I fetched a jar for him and held it while he tenderly extracted the creature from the net, and placed him inside. I was oddly moved by Teddy’s gentle touch with the tiny animal. It was a wonder to see such painstaking coordination and thoughtfulness in one so young. He looked up at me, straight into my eyes, and I thought, not for the last time, what an excellent little companion he made.

We set the captured frog aside to take back to the schoolroom. Together we made our roundabout way toward the waterfall, occasionally stopping here or there to capture another frog. These were just for sport; Teddy held each of them in turn between his two paws, and told them they were the best of frogs, and how pleased he was to make their acquaintance, then he released them with a splash back into the pool. We had come to the rocks at the edge of the falls, and paused there, staring out over the water, letting the fine spray dampen our faces. I found myself gazing, half hypnotized, at the patterns of light glancing off the wavelets, and for a time I basked in that feeling of rightness with the world that profligate beauty often confers.

I don’t know what broke in upon my reverie, whether it was the violent motion I caught in the corner of my eye, or whether the apprehension of disaster seized me before I had turned my head, but I knew immediately that Teddy was in trouble, even before I heard his cry. I had not seen him leap to the wall of rock and begin to climb, but there he was, scrambling for a higher foothold, and wearing an expression of such panic that I cast about to see what was frightening him. Suddenly I saw it, the winding form of an adder at the foot of the cliff, coiling and
ready to strike. I had been taught as a young cub to recognize the distinctive dark zigzag pattern on its back, and apparently so had Teddy. The creature, poisonous and agitated, crouched about five feet away at the base of the wall where Teddy had just been standing. I remained perfectly still, so as not to threaten the snake, and shouted up to Teddy to stop. I had no idea if he had been bitten, but I could do nothing for him until he came down. He seemed not to hear me, but looked down again at the adder, and then began climbing still higher.

“Teddy!” I shouted. “Don’t go any further! Don’t move!” Whether he heard me at last, or just couldn’t find a foothold, he hesitated. “Don’t move,” I repeated, not knowing what to do next, trying to avoid the one idea I realized I had to face. I would have to move the snake. I had seen Papa do this once when I was small, but I recoiled at the thought of trying it myself. “Don’t move,” I repeated, knowing I could not go back for help and leave Teddy here. I must move that snake, even if it should bite me, and I must do it quickly, and get Teddy down before he fell. “Teddy,” I called, “I’m running over to the edge of the woods to get a stick now. I’m coming right back!”

“Don’t leave me, Miss Brown!” he yelled to me from above.

“I’m only going a little ways, to get something so I can move the snake. You can watch me. Just keep your eyes on me!” I turned and ran to the nearby undergrowth to find a long, forked stick. I was terrified, but determined. Though I could be paralyzed by a dread of unknown horrors in the dark, at least this
was a fear I could see and name, and take action against, and, as there was no one else to do it, I must not fail.

I prepared myself inwardly, slowly approaching the snake from behind, and with a swift motion I pinned the creature’s head to the ground between the branches of the fork. I knew I must touch it now, getting a good grip with my paw at the base of its head, and I was very loath to do it. Taking a deep breath, I accomplished this, a little surprised to find that its skin felt smooth and dry. I lifted the stick and picked the snake up at arm’s length, still holding it fast behind his head and supporting its writhing body with the stick. Across the glade and into the underbrush at the edge of the woods I carried it, then I gingerly threw it a safe distance from me, and watched, shaking, while it shyly slithered away.

Running back to the waterfall, I looked up to see Teddy, who had now reached a ledge more than fifteen feet above my head. “Look, Teddy,” I called up to him, “the snake is gone now. Are you all right? Did it bite you?” Eyes glazed with fear, he shook his head wordlessly, as if unable to speak. He still clung, frozen, to the rock face, perhaps just now realizing how far up he was. I felt a surge of relief that he had not been bitten, yet one glance at the jagged rocks below him told me he was still in terrible danger. I had thought to talk him down, but his obvious panic showed me that would be quite impossible. I reluctantly concluded that I must go up. I did not know what I would do when I reached him, but trusted to the moment to show me how to proceed. I had no confidence to marshal for the task. Nevertheless, I began to climb, sending up a desperate prayer for help. I was immediately dismayed to find the rocks slick with a film of moisture. Still, I pushed and pulled my way upward, concentrating
so purely on my sense of touch that I might almost have had my eyes shut.

“What are you doing up there?” bellowed a voice below me, nearly jolting me from my place. I was far enough up to make for a nasty fall, if fall I should. Trembling, I looked down over my shoulder and observed a tall, powerfully built young bear, in the dress of a gentleman. His heavy brow was gathered in a scowl of outrage and disapproval. “What are you about?” he demanded.

“You nearly frightened me out of my life!” I shouted. “Can’t you see I’m trying to climb? The cub is panicked. I can’t talk him down.”

“Come back down before you break your neck!” he commanded. “I’ll go up after him!”

I must confess to a flash of anger at his peremptory manner. Though it seemed petty, I had managed the situation thus far, and I bristled at being ordered about like a child. “He’s my charge,” I shouted. “I should do it!”

“Don’t be a fool!” came the response. “I can carry him down.”

I didn’t see how he could accomplish this, but I swallowed my pride and halted. “Teddy,” I called, looking up. “I’m going down, but someone else is coming up for you. Someone big and strong. Just hold on!” I began my descent, thinking all the time how Teddy must be tiring, and what would happen if he lost his grip. The gentleman, meanwhile, had his jacket and shoes and stockings off, and was rolling up his sleeves. As soon as I reached the ground, he began to climb, expertly finding paw- and footholds where none seemed to exist, and using his claws to dig into cracks and crevices. He made his way up to Teddy’s
ledge, and began to talk to him. I saw him put his arm around Teddy’s waist, and then he deftly maneuvered him onto his own chest. Teddy clung to him like a young monkey clings to its mother, with his arms around the gentleman’s neck, and his legs wrapped around his middle. It seemed impossible to me that the bear could manage, burdened in this way, but slowly, precariously, paw by paw, he started downward. Halfway down, his grip failed as a shower of rocks came loose under one paw, but he quickly transferred his weight to his other paw and remained steady. One slow, deliberate movement at a time, he made the hazardous descent. When at last his feet reached the ground, I released a long-held breath. Teddy slid from the gentleman’s arms and stood on his own two feet, a trifle unsteady, but unharmed and alert. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. “How can I—” I began. I was going to say “thank you” when he broke in on me.

“What the Devil possessed you?” the tall bear demanded before he had even caught his breath. “How could you permit him to climb in such a spot?”