The Cottage in the Woods (18 page)

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Authors: Katherine Coville

BOOK: The Cottage in the Woods
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“This all happened in a morning,” she said, “but it really began earlier, with the weather. It was just four months ago now, the hottest, driest June that anyone could remember. The birds and crickets had stopped chirping. The wild creatures had become bolder and bolder, coming onto the grounds, even up to the house, seeking water. Old George, the gardener, reported he’d seen wolves drinking at the koi pond. After that, Mr. Vaughn declared that Teddy and I must not go out alone for our walks. Everyone’s nerves were on edge, just waiting for a good, cooling rain.

“And then came that morning. We were all looking forward to some nice, refreshing berries for breakfast. Well, wouldn’t you know Cook would choose that morning to serve us piping hot porridge. Mr. Vaughn was scowling, and even Teddy threatened rebellion. I wanted to send the stuff back to the kitchen, but was afraid of inciting open warfare with Cook. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘it’s not so bad,’ and I took a big spoonful, burning my tongue badly.

“ ‘Enough!’ declared Mr. Vaughn. ‘We are going out. We shall leave this mush to cool off while we go berry picking.’ He
stalked into his den and came back a minute later with his musket, shoving several minié balls into his vest pocket.

“ ‘Is that really necessary, dear?’ I remember asking.

“ ‘Better safe than sorry,’ he said. He locked the front door, and we set off for the glade where the strawberries grow. The berries were small and scarce because of the drought, but we proceeded to make a snack of them. Not until the first thunderbolt split the air above us did we pause and look up. The treetops were dancing in the wind with a mad rushing and roaring. Suddenly we heard a loud crack, and a branch plummeted down within a few feet of us. I was startled, but more than that, I was filled with the conviction that we must go back. I turned to Mr. Vaughn and said, ‘Something’s wrong. I feel it. I want to go home.’

“I expected that he might laugh it off. He generally has no patience with presentiments and portents, but this time he looked into my eyes, and quoted—I remember it so clearly—‘For my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars.’

“We grabbed Teddy and hurried back up the path. The wind howled at our backs; thunder and lightning raged overhead. We clambered into the house just as the skies opened and unleashed the deluge. We had made it safely home, but my mind was still unquiet. Mr. Vaughn was tense too. ‘I’ll just check the drawing room doors,’ he said. ‘They never do shut right.’ He set off down the hall. Teddy and I followed at a distance. We stopped at the entrance and watched as Mr. Vaughn went to close the French doors, which were wide open.

“Well, we were barely seated at the breakfast table when we realized that someone had gotten into the porridge. Why,
Teddy’s was all gone! Mr. Vaughn and I looked at one another. Then he rose from the table and picked up his musket and loaded it. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I’m going to look around.’

“ ‘I won’t stay here,’ I said. ‘We’re coming with you.’ And we all trooped through the downstairs, inspecting each room for anything moved or missing, until we came to the back parlor. At the far end near the fireplace, we found Teddy’s little chair in several pieces.

“ ‘Vandalism!’ said Mr. Vaughn.

“ ‘Oh dear. The silver candlesticks are missing,’ I said. ‘But perhaps the servants have taken them for polishing.’

“ ‘And will you look at this!’ said Mr. Vaughn, going to his own favorite chair. ‘Someone has moved my newspaper, and my pipe and glasses are on the floor! By Heaven, someone has been sitting in my chair! ’

“I looked closely at my own favorite chair and saw similar signs. My knitting had been disturbed, and my favorite afghan was missing! ‘Whatever shall we do?’ I cried.

“ ‘Do?’ Mr. Vaughn said, cocking his gun. ‘I know what I shall do! Stay back!’ He marched out of the room, down the hall, and up the grand staircase. Teddy and I hurried after him. Into each of the rooms on the second floor we went, and on to the master bedroom. Here I knew immediately that something was wrong. I had made the beds carefully myself that morning, as it was the maid’s day off, but now they were all rumpled and unmade, and a pillowcase was missing from Mr. Vaughn’s bed. And wasn’t he furious!

“Suddenly I noticed that Teddy had gone on ahead, and it worried me to have him separated from us. I called out his name, but there was no answer.

“ ‘Try the nursery,’ Mr. Vaughn said.

“ ‘Teddy? Teddy?’ I called as we went. Still no answer, and I felt a little chill of fear, wondering where he could have gone, or what could be preventing him from answering. We opened the nursery door, and there stood Teddy, at the foot of his bed, staring, entranced, at what was on it. He turned to us, his eyes glowing as if he had just witnessed a miracle, and put his claw to his mouth, going ‘Shhhhh.’ He pointed to the little figure lying there, and whispered, ‘You’ll wake her up!’

“Well, there we stood, we three, looking at the child. She was very dirty, dressed in rags, with a tangle of mud-colored hair and no shoes on her grimy little feet. I remember that her thumb was in her mouth. In the other hand she clutched my missing afghan, and next to her lay the missing pillowcase, out of the corner of which stuck the end of a silver candlestick. But the little face was what drew one to her, and grabbed at one’s heartstrings. It was a cherub’s face, utterly serene and innocent, only where there should have been round, rosy cheeks, there were pale hollows, and a trail of dried tears. I think I fell a bit in love with her at once.

“ ‘The little angel,’ I whispered.

“ ‘The little thief!’ said Mr. Vaughn.

“ ‘Can I keep it?’ Teddy asked.

“Mr. Vaughn rang for young James, the footman, then motioned me out of the room. We had a hurried conference in the hallway.

“ ‘Don’t go getting attached to it,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sending for the constable. It’s a human child; let them determine what to do with it.’

“ ‘Yes,’ I said indignantly. ‘Just see how well the humans have
taken care of her so far! She’s only a wee little thing, and half starved! She needs love and nurturing. What’s the constable supposed to do with her? Put her in jail?’

“ ‘What would you suggest? Give her the run of the place? Should we lock up every valuable we own, or simply let her rob us blind? Besides, she must belong to someone. You can’t just KEEP a child, you know. That could cause a world of trouble.’

“ ‘Maybe we should put an advertisement in the papers,’ I suggested. ‘We could take care of her here until someone answers, and if no one answers, then why shouldn’t we keep her? I’m sure that would be all right. Please, Walter. She looks so thin and pathetic. I doubt if she can survive much longer without being cared for, and you must know she’d catch her death out in this storm.’

“Mr. Vaughn shook his head. ‘So it would seem I’d be guilty of murder, Mrs. Vaughn, if we don’t keep her? Well, all right, then. I’ve come this far in life without murdering any innocent children. I suppose I can wait a little longer. We’ll keep her here, and care for her, but I’m putting an ad in the paper. Someone must know something about a missing child—or a burglar at large.’

“Teddy came out of the nursery and took me by the paw. ‘Come on. I think she’s waking up,’ he said. A little moan escaped the girl’s lips, and her eyes began to open. ‘For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Vaughn,’ I said, ‘put the gun down. You’ll frighten her!’ He laid the gun on the mantel, and we all continued to stare at her as she watched the three of us.

“I’ve asked myself time and time again what we could have done differently, but of course we had no idea what was to come. She lay there so peacefully. Then the child’s expression changed.
She sprang from the bed like a scalded cat and bolted for the door. Mr. Vaughn reached it first, and shut it. The girl gave a strangled little cry, but she never slowed. She simply swerved to the side and ran the whole perimeter of the nursery, and then did it again, dodging each of us, and running straight up and across Teddy’s bed as if it weren’t there. She finally halted at one of the windows, climbed up on the sill, and wrenched it open. The rain drove down, soaking her, but she seemed oblivious to it, looking frantically at the ground as if she might actually jump from the second story. My heart was in my mouth. I started talking to her, quietly introducing each of us, and asking her name. She seemed not to hear me. I took a step closer to the window, and with another wild cry the child jumped back into the room and resumed her frantic running. Little Teddy stood mesmerized by her, then he began to run too, as if he were being pulled into her frenzy. I tried to call him to a halt, but it was useless. ‘Just let them wear themselves out,’ Mr. Vaughn said, but that didn’t look likely to happen.

“In the next instant the child made a leap for Nurse’s chair, and from there grabbed Mr. Vaughn’s musket off the mantel. She held the heavy gun awkwardly, but knew enough to place the stock against her shoulder and take aim for the door. Teddy stopped his charge, and we all stood still for an awful moment, mouths hanging open, paws in the air, held hostage by a child with a cherub’s face, and eyes of flint. ‘You don’t want to do this,’ Mr. Vaughn said, calmly backing away from the door. ‘That gun is loaded and cocked, and unless you’re very careful, it will go off.’

“Then three things happened so quickly that we could barely react. James arrived and, knowing nothing of the drama within,
opened the nursery door. Then instantly, the child dropped the musket and ran toward the door, whereupon the gun went off, narrowly missing Mr. Vaughn.

“He and the child both dove for the door, but Mr. Vaughn got there first. He grabbed her up in a bear hug that completely immobilized her. ‘Whoa, little hellion!’ he said, and he held her, rocking his body back and forth like he used to do with Teddy. Whether she was actually comforted, or simply found herself unable to struggle anymore, the child seemed to relax into his chest, and she was still.

“Mr. Vaughn asked James to stay with Teddy in the nursery while we took care of her, but Teddy objected loudly, saying, ‘Where are you going? I want to come too!’

“ ‘She has to go home to her own house now,’ Mr. Vaughn said. ‘It’s time to say goodbye. You must stay here with James.’ At this, the child started squirming again, and James had to restrain Teddy from following us.

“As soon as the nursery door was shut, I started to speak to Mr. Vaughn about this change of plans, but he interrupted me. ‘You’ve seen how fascinated Theodore is with her. I think you’ll agree that we cannot expose him to the behavior of this little wildcat? I’m simply making sure he won’t come looking for her. I hate to lie to him, but it can’t be helped. Now, where, my dear, do you suggest we keep her?’

“ ‘Of course. You’re right,’ I said. ‘She must be kept away from Teddy. She must be some place safe, where she can’t jump from a window—and spacious. And out of the way of the rest of the household, I think.’

“ ‘Yes, out of the way, by all means. You do realize, my dear, that there are those who would make a great deal of trouble over
us harboring a human child. I don’t doubt she’ll be a great deal of trouble in any case. How do you propose to go about civilizing her? Have you thought of that? A child that doesn’t even speak? She may be deaf, or dull in her wits.’

“ ‘Walter,’ I said, with all the seriousness I could, ‘I only know she needs me.’

“Mr. Vaughn let out a big sigh, and said, ‘Lead the way.’

“I chose a suite of rooms up under the eaves in the east wing, much too high to jump from, where nobody goes unless we have company. They had been done up as a lady’s chamber, and never used, but I thought they could be made into a comfortable home for a little girl.

“I gave Mr. Vaughn a short list of instructions for James, chief among them being to bring a rocking chair, and some food. Mr. Vaughn transferred the girl to my arms, with only a brief struggle from her, and I said to her, ‘This place is for you now, dear. You’re safe here,’ and I cautioned Mr. Vaughn to lock the door on his way out. The child remained calm until she saw the door close, then she fought to get down. She ran to one of the dormer windows. I thought she was checking the distance to the ground, but she gave a strange, hoarse cry and bolted away as if something had terrified her. She ran to a big, overstuffed chair and squeezed in behind it. I went to the window to see what had frightened her so, but all that was visible was the torrent of rain and the empty drive. I wondered what she had seen. Was an accomplice waiting out there somewhere? If so, he must have abused her terribly to inspire such fear in her. If I could help it, he would not get the chance to do so again.

“All through that afternoon she stayed in her little hideout, ignoring me. Finally, it occurred to me to try singing. She peered
out from behind the chair as if she were paying some attention to me. It seemed that she was not deaf, after all. When the food arrived, she wouldn’t come near the tray until I had backed away from it, and then she ate as if it were her last meal—and with such appalling manners! But what could you expect from the poor little mite?

“That evening Betsy and I gave her a bath. The girl fought like a tiger at first, but then the warm water seemed to relax her. It wasn’t until we had washed her hair that we discovered that startling color—as gold as a gold sovereign. That’s when Betsy started calling her Goldilocks, and so we have called her ever since, for the child has not spoken as much as her name from that day to this.

“So that’s the story of little Goldilocks,” Mrs. Vaughn finished. “It’s been four months now, but she still behaves like a wild thing. It wasn’t long before I realized that she was picking the locks and roaming about the house taking valuables. You see, she could have opened any door and run away long since, but she seems to have decided she is less afraid of us than of whatever she saw outside. To this day she won’t go near a window.” Mrs. Vaughn sat back and put down her knitting, apparently tired by the long narrative.

I thought of Gabriel lurking around the drive, his unhealthy interest in the comings and goings in the house, and his ugly threats. Could he be the one the child feared? If so, I shared her fear of him. I wondered, not for the last time, whether I should tell all to Mr. Vaughn and hope that he could find a way to protect me from the brute. Turning my thoughts back to the girl in her lofty rooms, I asked, “Who looks after the child now? You can’t be with her all the time.”

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