The first day of spring announced its presence with a wail of wind and a slashing torrent of sleet. By noon a glittering glaze of ice encrusted every surface, accumulating drop by deadly drop until even mighty branches cracked with the weight of it and fell to earth. We remained cooped up in the schoolroom, dreaming of warm breezes and fragrant blossoms, watching dejectedly at the windows as the elements colluded against us. The children especially became fractious without their regular exercise.
Then, within days, a sudden thaw gusted in, turning the forest into a dripping morass of melting snow and mud. Harry and I ventured out to survey the surrounding woods and see if they were safe for the children. We slogged through the cheerless landscape, picking our way carefully around puddles and fallen branches. No gentle zephyrs wafted by, portending winter’s end; no birdsong called awake the nascent buds; no small green shoots hinted at better things to come. All of Nature seemed to be conspiring to withhold the blessings of spring, waiting. Harry, being of a superstitious bent, said it was an evil sign, and kept crossing himself when he thought I wasn’t looking. Ambleworthy Stream, usually so placid and contained, had transformed overnight into a roiling river, subsuming its banks and everything in reach, leaving treacherous black pools in the hollows. Only the path we called the Giant’s Walk, named for its population of huge old trees, was well above water, though slick with mud.
“What is your opinion?” I asked Harry. “Is it safe to bring the children out here?”
“Safe enough, if we keep to the path, and away from the stream. A bit of mud never hurt, and they’ll have the two of us watching over ’em. Not like that band of dirty ragamuffins what runs loose all over these parts with nobody lookin’ after ’em at all. One of these days one of ’em will come to a bad end. See if they don’t!”
“Where are the parents? I wonder.”
“Eh, miss. From what I hear, these wild ’uns all come from one mother, and she’s enough to make yer blood run cold. Maybe they’re here in the woods hidin’ out from ’er.”
Back at the Cottage, Harry repeated his assessment of conditions to Mr. Vaughn, who encouraged us to resume the youngsters’ healthy outings, and instructed Harry to keep the unsupervised village children off the property for their own good. After that, Teddy, Goldilocks, Harry, and I continued our daily walks, doggedly venturing out in the dismal weather. Day after day, we trod carefully down the Giant’s Walk, determinedly searching for hidden proofs of spring, as an incessant drizzle fell from the slate-gray sky above, and the brown mud beneath us sucked at our boots. The only colors to be seen were in the soft rose tint of Goldilocks’s cheeks, and the golden halo of her hair.
At about this time, I was invited to a family celebration held in Goldilocks’s honor. Sweetmeats and punch were being served in the back parlor, for Mr. Vaughn had chosen the moment to announce that Goldilocks was officially his legal ward. The child was given to understand that she was now part of the family. To demonstrate the fact, Mrs. Van Winkle had been retired with a handsome pension, and Goldilocks had been moved from her apartment up in the east wing to reside with Teddy in the nursery, a special treat for both the children. I had immediate misgivings about this, knowing what Nurse was, and what she was capable of, but the decision was not mine to make. I could only hope that Nurse would continue to regard Goldilocks as Teddy’s beloved plaything, and look after her accordingly. After recent developments with Teddy, I was all but convinced that Nurse’s better nature was on the ascendant, but alas, it was not to be.
The next afternoon, I lingered in the schoolroom after the children had gone to tea. I was putting things to rights and making notes for the next day’s instruction, as was my habit. I sometimes took my tea there if I had a lot to do. I had been sitting for some time in the empty room, reading, when I sensed a presence behind me. Startled, I turned about to behold Nurse lurking there, rubbing her paws together and looking unbearably smug.
“You,” I said, a little testily. “You startled me.”
“Oh, I just poked my head in and seen you sittin’ here all alone,” she answered, suddenly bursting into inappropriate laughter, which faded off into periodic snickering.
“So you thought you’d keep me company? That’s very considerate of you.”
“Yes, company,” she agreed, “seein’ as how you’re all alone.”
“Well,” I said, wondering what she was up to, and struggling to maintain a light tone, “was there something you wished to talk to me about?”
She began tittering again. “Oh, I just been havin’ a little conversation down in the kitchen with Betsy and Cook.”
“Yes?” I said, with exaggerated patience. I had no interest in the kitchen gossip, if it was even offered to me, which was rare. However, it was clear Nurse was full of some news she wanted to tell me, and I only wanted to get it over with.
“Oh, I thought you might like to hear. It’s about a friend o’ yours.”
“Yes? Which friend?”
“Why, none other than your old friend Mr. Bentley!”
I should not have been surprised to hear her call Mr. Bentley my friend in such a suggestive way. From the time that we had begun my Latin lessons, the household gossips had linked us romantically. It would make the perfect excuse to torment me with news of him. Suddenly apprehensive, I asked, “Is he well?”
“Oh, he’s more than well, I’d say. It’s his brother, the viscount, that ain’t so fortunate. He’s the one what’s died, leaving the title and all to Mr. Bentley. That’s Lord Bentley now to the likes of you, eh, chickie?”
I paused for a moment, taking this in. “How very sad about his brother. I hope Mr. Bentley—”
“Lord Bentley!”
“Lord Bentley,” I echoed. I looked straight into her eyes and said, “I hope that he’ll be happy in his new life.”
She covered her mouth with her paw and snickered convulsively.
“Surely you don’t find his brother’s death so comical?”
“Oh no, chickie. You ain’t heard it all.”
“Yes?”
“Oh, I hate to say, miss, you bein’ such good friends with him an’ all. I’d hate to think I might upset you.”
“You positively concern me. Pray give me the news and be done with it.”
“We-e-ell,” she drawled. “It seems Lord Bentley is engaged! To his cousin! Has been since he was a cub!”
“Yes, I know,” I responded without emotion, wondering if Mr. Bentley’s engagement was now household gossip.
Far from discouraging her, this seemed to propel her onward. She leered evilly for a moment, literally hugging herself with delight. “Well, it seems they’re plannin’ a big bust-up of a weddin’. The invitations are goin’ out to all the gentry. Imagine! All the finest people will be there to see them married, includin’ the Vaughns. And then his cousin, Miss Wallingsford, will be Lady Bentley.”
I struggled to keep my expression impassive as her beady little eyes nearly scorched my face, searching for a reaction, some telltale sign of anguish she could savor ever afterward, and report gleefully to the others. I stared dispassionately back, pretending to myself that she was speaking of someone else, refusing to think about it until I should be alone and able to allow myself to feel.
“ ’Course I don’t expect they’ll be sending an invitation to the governess, but p’raps it would be just too awful for you anyways, eh, chickie?” Here she patted my back with one paw, in mock sympathy, while she sniggered into the other.
As the full effect of Nurse’s cruelty hit home, I pushed her away from me and rose from my seat, needing to be rid of her, but she clutched my paw in her own and stroked it, her manner fawning, intimate, and insufferable as she continued her cruel parody of concern.
“Oh, now don’t tell me I’ve upset you!” she lamented. “Oh, the poor dear! And here I thought you’d rather hear it from a friend.”
“That’s quite enough,” I asserted, withdrawing my paw from her grasp.
She pulled at my skirts instead. “Does chickie want to be left alone? Oh yes, we’ll leave her alone. All alone.” She treated me to a particularly poisonous glare, and ground out, “Better get used to it, poor thing!”
I stood there, riveted by her eyes, those eyes that held no ember of warmth, no glimmer of pity toward me. Blinking, I pulled myself loose of her grasp and walked out of the room, her malicious cackle echoing after me.
It seemed an eternity before I reached my own chamber door, and still I could hear her unholy laughter, though I refused to look round and see if she was actually following me. Closing the heavy door, I was finally blessed with silence.
I sank into a chair as the news hit home. Shaken as I was, I told myself that nothing had changed. Mr. Bentley was now Lord Bentley, making an impossible barrier between us. But it had already been impossible. Nurse had only made it a little more real. Alone, she had said, I would be all alone, and she was right. All I could see ahead of me was a spinster’s life, caring for other people’s cubs, and eventually outliving my usefulness. And yet I could not let go of the thought of Mr. Bentley’s last words to me: that I would always have his heart. I could still hear his deep voice saying it. I could still feel his powerful arms around me. I knew that I should try to wipe it all from my memory, but I clung to it more selfishly than ever, loathing my own weakness.