It was at about this time that the Vaughns, having come to the decision that Goldilocks was not ready to attend a large social gathering like church, requested that Reverend Snover come to the manor for the child’s private religious instruction. I had no qualms about this, knowing that Reverend Snover, always a great favorite with youngsters, would charm the child. Teddy was to be included, on the supposition that it would make the lessons more palatable for Goldilocks, and would do Teddy no harm. And so it happened that Teddy and Goldilocks and I waited in the schoolroom one morning for Reverend Snover’s arrival.
He was due at half past nine, but the half hour chimed and he had not put in an appearance. We entertained ourselves by watching out the window as Mr. Vaughn’s new printing press was being delivered in crates amid much hubbub on the ground below. Strong bears in work clothes ferried each wooden box to the cellar doors and vanished within. I wondered how long it would take before the press was up and functioning, impatient for the time when our own paper, the Plain Truth, would begin to circulate in the community. Mr. Babcock might say what he liked in his slanted newspaper. We would soon have the means to refute it!
As I was lost in these thoughts, the clock chimed ten, and still Reverend Snover had not come. I wondered what could have detained him. I was beginning to be concerned by half past ten, when Fairchild came to the schoolroom door and beckoned me out into the corridor. There stood not Reverend Snover, but his new curate, Reverend Abraham Wright, his eyes staring at me from behind his thick glasses.
“Miss Brown, Reverend Wright is here to instruct the children.”
“Oh,” I said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “You are most welcome, Reverend Wright. Is Reverend Snover well?”
“Reverend Snover is well. He is much occupied these days, but I shall do my utmost to fill his shoes,” Reverend Wright pledged, with excruciating sincerity.
“I hope you like children?” I ventured.
“To be perfectly frank, I’ve had very little experience with children. I hope that won’t be an impediment. They are persons, are they not?”
“Oh yes, most assuredly. But Goldilocks may need some time to get used to you. You might try storytelling. That is how I first befriended her. I must tell you that she is also easily frightened.”
“Perhaps we can concentrate on cultivating the virtues, then, and leave sin and eternal condemnation for later.”
I stared at him openmouthed, trying to determine whether he was joking. Nothing in his physiognomy or deportment betrayed any hint of a sense of humor. Then the smallest of grins crossed his face. “A little joke,” he said, so softly that I barely heard him. “Do excuse me. I’m a bit nervous.” It occurred to me that he had also had very little experience with females, since his magnified eyes continued to stare at me so admiringly, as if he had never before seen one.
“Perhaps I might remain in the room, as a calming influence on Goldilocks?”
“Yes, thank you. That would be greatly appreciated.”
With my most bracing smile, I welcomed him into the schoolroom, and introduced my students. Goldilocks, who had been hiding behind me, promptly forsook the shelter of my skirts and squeezed onto Teddy’s seat with him, clutching his paw with her little white hand. Reverend Wright was wise enough not to insist that she sit at her own desk and merely acknowledged her presence with a nod. Without preamble, the somber clergyman launched into a homily on the nature of the Almighty.
Goldilocks seemed both fascinated and mystified, making me wonder if she had ever even heard tell of such matters before, and what questions she would ask if only she were able. As the good reverend continued on at some length, however, her attention wandered and was lost. Even Teddy, sitting politely upright, began to look a little out of focus, so that I watched for an opportune moment to request that the curate read the youngsters a story.
“Oh yes,” he acknowledged. “I almost forgot.” He immediately took the suggestion to heart and launched into the first story of them all, the biblical account of the six days of Creation, describing each new day in vivid detail. Once again Goldilocks’s eyes grew wide with interest, until the curate began to expound on the theme with a scholarly analysis. I loudly cleared my throat, and the reverend, looking my way, took my hint, and moved on to an elementary instruction in how to pray. Goldilocks put her palms together in imitation of Teddy, but her expression was troubled. Indeed, she seemed on the verge of tears, until Reverend Wright, intuiting her difficulty, explained to her that her prayers would be heard even though she could not speak them aloud. She rewarded him with a glowing smile.
Finally, the lesson over, the good reverend and I adjourned to the corridor, where I thanked him sincerely for his efforts, a gesture that he accepted in a vastly inflated proportion. “Oh, I thank you, Miss Brown,” he effused. “I couldn’t have done it without you and your consummate direction. I do hope you will make a habit of attending our lessons.”
“I would be happy to attend the children’s lessons if you wish,” I responded, “but you give me far too much credit. I have done nothing to merit such praise.”
“Really, I’m sure your helpful hints to me made all the difference.”
I smiled and steered the conversation toward “goodbye,” while Reverend Wright proffered his hope that he would see me at Reverend Snover’s regular Saturday-night soiree. I had not attended one of the Snovers’ gatherings since my return from home, in light of the fact that Mr. Bentley had always accompanied me to and from the vicarage each Saturday night, and that, even if I knew that he were willing, I felt unequal to spending an evening in his company. I brushed off Reverend Wright with an excuse, and offered to see him to the door. As we walked, we conversed in a desultory way about each of the youngsters, while I privately thought what an unusual bear he was: undeniably handsome except for the thick glasses magnifying his eyes to twice their normal size; good-hearted, but awkward and pedantic; and though conspicuously versed in knowledge gleaned from books, quite out to sea in ordinary relationships. I wondered how he might be improved by Reverend Snover’s care and guidance.
It was later that same day, just as Teddy, Goldilocks, and I were coming in from outdoors, that the summons came from belowstairs for the three of us to join Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn in the front parlor. Mystified, I gave a cursory wash to the youngsters’ faces, a brushing to Goldilocks’s hair, and and a straightening to their clothes. As we approached the room, a stranger’s raised voice could be heard within, which quieted suddenly as the little ones entered behind me, hand in paw. Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn were seated together on the divan, and standing directly in front of them was Chief Constable Murdley, with his mastiff-like jowls.
“Children,” Mr. Vaughn said, “this gentleman is Chief Constable Murdley, from the police.” Goldilocks immediately hid behind my skirts, but at my urging, managed an abbreviated curtsy and then ran to Mrs. Vaughn and climbed up on her lap. Teddy gave a little bow, then took his place next to his father. I stood off to one side, sensing the strained atmosphere, and wondered what Constable Murdley could possibly want with the children. He was stiff and imposing, and I hoped that he would not frighten them as much as he did me.
Mr. Vaughn calmly turned to Goldilocks and posed a question. “Constable Murdley wishes to ascertain whether you, Goldilocks, are being well taken care of here. What is your opinion, young lady? Can you tell us yes or no?”
Goldilocks nodded vigorously and put her arms around Mrs. Vaughn’s neck.
“As you can see, Officer, she has come a long way since we found her here, ragged, half starved, wild as a Tasmanian devil. Now she is well fed, well clothed, civilized, and happy. Furthermore, she is being educated in all appropriate subjects, including religious instruction. Most importantly, she has formed bonds with the family; obviously, she is much attached to my wife, and she and Teddy are playmates, schoolmates, and fast friends.”
“But no human playmates? None of her own kind?” the constable interjected.
Mr. Vaughn’s brow lowered ominously, and for a moment I thought he would not answer. “No,” he finally said. “Mrs. Van Winkle, the woman who minds her, is human. Until recently the child has been too easily frightened to introduce new people to her.” Turning to me, he inquired, “Have you anything to add, Miss Brown?”
I wanted to shrink from the constable’s attention, but I sensed how important it was to speak up on the child’s behalf. “She is applying herself in school. She has nearly caught up with Teddy in a very short time. They work well together, and spur each other on.”
“Well?” the constable snorted. “How can you tell that when she doesn’t even speak? What about that? The girl doesn’t even speak!”
Mrs. Vaughn responded with elaborate courtesy. “Sir, we have had a specialist in to examine her. It was his opinion that the child suffered some trauma before she came here, which caused her to lose her voice. No one can tell if it will return.”
“As for the schoolwork,” I added, trying to keep the resentment out of my voice, “it only takes a little ingenuity to test her comprehension. For example, I might write ‘Stand up’ or other instructions on the blackboard. If she follows the instructions, then I know she reads and comprehends.”
“If you please,” added Mrs. Vaughn, “now that you’ve seen the child, I’d prefer to send the little ones from the room rather than speak in front of them. You can see, can you not, that she is in good health and spirits and well cared for?”
Constable Murdley emitted a deep “Harrumph!” then added, “She needs to be with her own kind! That’s the truth of the matter.”
I felt as if I’d been slapped. With a few callous words he had dismissed all we’d done for Goldilocks! The Vaughns too looked affronted and appalled as the tension mounted.
Mrs. Vaughn ushered Teddy and Goldilocks to the door, requesting that Teddy lead her back up to the schoolroom, then she turned on the constable. “Her own kind left her starving and ragged, stealing for a living. I see no special virtue in that.”
“She belongs to someone, begad!” he expostulated. “You can’t deny it!”
Mr. Vaughn stood, his wrath like a force of nature. Pulling himself up to his full height, he looked down into the constable’s face and said tightly, “I know my rights, sir. We advertised in all the local papers, and no one’s claimed her. She’s had great care here, and I have the receipts to show for it, so unless you have a candidate with actual proof of parentage, she belongs to us!”
The constable harrumphed again, but he stepped back a pace and slid a finger inside his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. His jowls trembled as he sought for words. “Well, ahem,” he spluttered. “Ahem, we may not have the parent, I grant you, but you can bet there’s one out there somewhere. I wouldn’t get too used to this unnatural arrangement if I were you, that’s all. No sense in getting attached to what don’t belong to you.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Mrs. Vaughn interrupted, playing the role of peacemaker. “We’ll take your words into consideration. Now, will you have some tea?”
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’ve said my piece, and I’ll just be on my way. But this isn’t over, I can tell you!”
Mrs. Vaughn called for Fairchild to see the constable to the door while Mr. Vaughn visibly restrained himself from saying more. Fairchild answered the call with such alacrity that he must have been standing directly behind the door, and I caught a glimpse of Betsy, too, so that I wondered if they had been listening at the keyhole. I speculated on how long it would take for the details of today’s interview to make the rounds of the staff.
No sooner had the constable departed than Mr. Vaughn erupted. “The officious, impertinent blackguard! The cur! If he’s so concerned about children, why isn’t he out rounding up those village brats who insist on trespassing on my land? Why isn’t he talking to their parents about their welfare? I’ll tell you why! He simply dismisses our household as an ‘unnatural arrangement’! ‘Unnatural arrangement,’ is it? As if kindness were unnatural! As if benevolence and affection were unnatural! If that isn’t the Anthropological Society for you! He’s one of their grand high chiefs, and so is Judge Slugby! And Babcock is the grand high chief of them all! Ever since he took over the Town Crier, he’s been spreading his poison, and now it’s come to my own doorstep! They’ve somehow gotten word that the girl’s here, and they’re going to make as much trouble as they can, mark my words. Of all the venomous, detestable snakes!”
Mrs. Vaughn cleared her throat and, catching his glance, nodded over to me. Mr. Vaughn stopped short and turned to me.
“Oh. Pardon me, Miss Brown. I’m afraid my temper has gotten the better of me.” Then he turned back to Mrs. Vaughn, and continued: “The black-hearted swine! If he thinks we’re going to be intimidated by him throwing his official weight around, he’s sadly mistaken! I’m sending for my solicitor—I’ll hire a whole team of solicitors if necessary! As if what I do in my own home is any business of the likes of him!”
“Mr. Vaughn, dear,” interrupted Mrs. Vaughn, “couldn’t we make Goldilocks our ward? Would that put everything right?”
He looked at her as if a fairy had just materialized in front of him. “Why, Mrs. Vaughn,” he exclaimed, “that might just settle the matter! She is our ward, is she not? If we’re not her guardians, I don’t know who is! Won’t that set the society on end! Why, I’ll get Mr. Bentley moving on this right away!” He hurried toward the door, then stopped and turned to us, saying, “Oh. Please excuse me, ladies,” and made his exit. Fairchild, apparently having heard him coming, opened the parlor door and stood well aside, as if making room for a passing whirlwind.
Mrs. Vaughn gripped my arm for support and put her paw on her heart. “Oh, they mustn’t take her away!” she breathed. “Suppose she is claimed by some terrible people? People who will neglect and abuse her the way she was before?” She pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Poor little thing! Such an appealing child she’s become. And Teddy. Just think of Teddy if she is taken away. Oh, calamity! Whatever would we do without her?”