Free The Cottage in the Woods by Katherine Coville

essence of fall in the air, a wild madrigal of birdsong. As if on cue, a lone sparrow landed on the railing of my balcony, tilting its head in quick little movements as it eyed me up and down. It held its congenial pose for all of a minute, giving me the feeling that I had been smiled upon, then a noise in the far end of the garden startled it and off it flew.
    The sun was fully up now, gilding even the most mundane objects with outlines of refulgent light, and I could see the door opening in the far end of the garden wall. My curiosity aroused, I watched as Fairchild stepped over the threshold. He was not in his butler’s uniform, but ordinary town clothes, with plain trousers and a brown greatcoat draped loosely over his lanky human frame. Knowing that he had his own quarters near the kitchen, I wondered where he had been at this hour. Following his progress as he made his way between the garden rows, I perceived, as he drew nearer, an expression of black rage on his brow. Curious and concerned, I observed him carefully as he approached the kitchen door, confident that he, like most humans, would not look up.
    “Good morning to ye,” Cook called to him. Then, seeingthe intensity of his expression, the canny old bear lowered her voice and said, “What news? What’s the mood in town?”
    By now they were both outside my line of sight, directly below my balcony, but their voices drifted up to me, and, ignoring the good manners I had been raised with, I listened in.
    “There’s trouble brewing, and that’s for sure,” Fairchild’s voice fairly growled. Then came a pause and his hushed inquiry. “Is anyone else about?”
    “No one but us, and old Meg inside building the fire, and she’s deaf as a post. What is it?”
    “This is for the master’s ears only, you understand, but you have a sister in Bremen Town, don’t you?”
    “Lord, yes. My sister Violet. Is this about the uproar there? Those musicians taking over the old Hawkins place? She says it’s all anyone talks about.”
    “Well, there’s some that will do more than talk, and she’d best be prepared.”
    “I told her there’d be trouble! It’ll make no difference that those four musicians drove off a band of robbers, I said; they’ll still say it’s a bunch of animals that’ve run a gang of humans out of their own house. The society won’t take that lying down!”
    My ears pricked up at the mention of “the society.” I recalled the handbill in the Post Office that had started so much trouble. Could she be talking about that? I leaned closer to the edge of the balcony and cocked my ears.
    “Well, you didn’t hear it from me,” Fairchild’s voice ground out, “but there’s going to be the Devil to pay. By the time Babcock finishes whipping the townsfolk into a lather, those robbers the musicians chased out will be sounding like a pack of Sunday school teachers, and the sole support of their starving little grannies,and those poor old tired musicians will sound like a pack of wild savages. Nobody will blink an eye when— Well, never mind. You’d best get word to your sister, that’s all. A week from Friday, you tell her to keep herself inside and lock the doors and shutters, and if she’s smart, she’ll see nothing, hear nothing—and above all, say nothing. Mind, you didn’t hear it from me, or my neck’s on the line.”
    “So you’ve been to their meeting, then? It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Fairchild. Just let the constabulary deal with them.”
    “The constables? The constables are all in with them! There’s even a judge that’s one of the society! Slugby’s his name, and he lives up to it! No, we can’t rely on the law.”
    “But if ever they get onto you, I don’t dare to think—”
    “Don’t worry about me, Bess. I’m not alone, you know. Just you stay out of it, and warn your sister to stay out of it too. You’re no match for the likes of them.”
    “Well, I’ll pray for the Almighty to watch over