Chapter 3 - The Lock on the Nursery Door
The next morning, the mansion was bathed in a pale, watery sunlight that did nothing to warm the cold stone corridors.
Ruby walked up the grand staircase at 6:45 AM, her heart throat-high. She was wearing a new, simple grey dress—no uniform, as she had insisted to Mrs. Ashcroft that she would not wear the white clothes the other nannies had worn.
Mrs. Ashcroft had met her at the top of the stairs with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You think you are clever, don't you?” the house manager had whispered, her fingers curling around her diamond brooch. “You think because you played a little trick on a disturbed child, you are safe in this house. But Nathaniel Cross does not keep people who do not know their place. You will fail, Ruby Lane. And when you do, I will be the one to lock the gate behind you.”
Ruby had kept her face blank. “Then I’ll make sure I don’t fail, ma'am.”
When she entered the south wing, the double doors were unlocked, but the atmosphere inside was heavy.
Ollie was sitting in the corner of his nursery, his small back pressed against the wall. He was wearing clean blue pajamas, his hands wrapped in white bandages. He looked up when she entered, his dark eyes instantly locking onto hers.
He didn't move. He didn't make a sound. But he didn't reach for anything sharp, either.
“Good morning, Ollie,” Ruby said, keeping her voice light. She walked over to the small table and set down a tray she had brought from the kitchen—warm oatmeal, some fresh berries, and a small glass of milk. “I brought some breakfast. And look who I found in the hallway.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out the toy rabbit.
She had spent the night in her tiny room with a needle and thread she had borrowed from Mrs. Hester back in Bridgeport. The rabbit’s missing button eye had been replaced with a small, shiny black bead. She had also sewn up a small rip in its ear with a neat, blue thread.
She set the rabbit on the table beside the oatmeal.
Ollie stared at the rabbit. Slowly, very slowly, he crawled out of his corner. His movements were cautious, like a wild deer approaching a clearing. He reached out with one bandaged hand and touched the rabbit’s new bead eye.
Then, he looked up at Ruby.
For the first time, she saw a flicker of something resembling curiosity in his eyes.
“His name is Barnaby,” Ruby said, sitting on the floor a few feet away. She didn't crowd him. She gave him space. “He told me he likes oatmeal. But only if you eat some first.”
Ollie didn't eat immediately, but he sat down at the table. He picked up the spoon with his bandaged fingers, his movements clumsy, and took a small bite.
Ruby smiled. “Good job.”
As she watched him eat, she noticed something she hadn't seen the day before.
On the far wall of the nursery, behind a heavy bookcase that had been pushed aside during the boy's tantrum, was a door. It was small, made of dark iron, and secured with three heavy, modern deadbolts. It didn't look like a closet. It looked like a cell door.
She stood up, walking toward it. “What’s this door, Ollie?”
The moment she reached out to touch the brass handle of the deadbolt, Ollie let out a sharp, terrified gasp.
He dropped his spoon. The glass of milk shattered on the floor as he scrambled backward, his small body shaking violently. He covered his ears with his bandaged hands, his mouth opening in a silent scream of pure terror.
“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry!” Ruby cried, instantly retreating. She dropped back to her knees, raising her hands. “I won’t touch it. See? I’m away from it. It’s okay, Ollie. I’m right here.”
The boy’s breathing was shallow, his eyes fixed on the iron door as if he expected something monstrous to break through it at any moment.
At that moment, the nursery door opened.
Nathaniel stood there, his eyes sweeping over the spilled milk and the trembling child. His face darkened.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“I didn't do anything,” Ruby said, her voice rising in defensive anger. “I asked about that door, and he went into a panic. What is behind that door, Mr. Cross? Why is it locked with three deadbolts inside a child’s nursery?”
Nathaniel walked into the room, his eyes cold as he looked at the iron door.
“It is a utility closet,” he said, his voice flat. “It is locked for his own safety so he doesn't play with the wiring.”
“That’s a lie,” Ruby said, standing up to face him. “You don’t lock a utility closet with high-security deadbolts. And you don’t put it behind a bookcase. He’s terrified of it.”
Nathaniel stepped closer, his shadow completely enveloping her. “You are here to watch my son, Miss Lane. Not to inspect my house. If you touch that door again, or if you ask about it, your contract is terminated, and your brother's medical bills will become your sole responsibility again.”
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He looked down at Ollie, who was still shaking in the corner.
“Teach him to behave,” Nathaniel said coldly. “Or the doctors will do it for you.”
