Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Watched Doors
Clara's new assignment began the next morning.
She was given a small room on the servants' floor and told to remain available from seven in the morning until Noah went to bed.
Mrs. Hargrove delivered the instructions personally.
"You are not his therapist."
"I know."
"You are not family."
"I know."
"And nothing that happened yesterday gives you authority in this house."
Clara met her eyes.
"I know that too."
Mrs. Hargrove leaned closer.
"Then remember it."
When she left, Clara noticed that her pearl brooch was gone.
At breakfast, Noah refused to enter the formal dining room.
He stood in the doorway staring at the long table.
Dominic was already seated at one end.
"Noah."
The boy backed away.
Dominic sighed.
"Every morning."
Clara looked around.
A silver service bell sat beside Dominic's plate.
Mrs. Hargrove had used it to summon staff.
Clara picked it up.
Noah flinched so violently that his shoulder struck the doorframe.
Clara immediately put it down.
Dominic saw everything.
"What was that?"
Clara didn't answer him.
She crouched near Noah.
"Does the bell scare you?"
Noah stared at it.
His lips pressed together.
Clara pushed the bell across the table until it fell into an empty serving drawer.
Noah's breathing slowed.
Dominic looked disturbed.
"Hargrove uses that bell."
Clara nodded.
"Maybe someone else did too."
They ate in the breakfast room instead.
Noah sat under the table at first.
Clara sat on the floor six feet away with a bowl of cereal.
She did not ask him to come out.
Ten minutes later, a little hand appeared.
Then a knee.
Then Noah crawled into the light.
He ate dry toast while watching every doorway.
Clara noticed something else.
Whenever footsteps approached, Noah looked first toward the north hall.
Not the entrance.
Not the staircase.
The north hall.
After breakfast, Noah disappeared into his playroom.
Clara followed at a distance.
The room contained expensive toys that looked untouched.
Noah sat on the carpet with crayons.
He drew hard enough to break two of them.
Clara said nothing.
When he finished, she looked at the paper.
A black car.
A woman with yellow hair.
A little boy.
A red door.
And beside the door, a tall figure with a white circle drawn at the throat.
A pearl.
Clara's skin prickled.
She turned the paper over.
Noah grabbed her wrist.
His eyes filled with panic.
"It's okay."
She released the drawing.
"I won't take it."
He pulled it to his chest.
Then Clara heard Mrs. Hargrove behind her.
"What is he drawing?"
Noah shoved the paper beneath his leg.
Mrs. Hargrove stepped closer.
Clara stood.
"Cars."
Mrs. Hargrove looked at Noah.
Then at Clara.
"Children draw nonsense."
She walked away.
That evening, Clara found the drawing under her pillow.
Noah had placed it there himself.
On the back, written in shaky lines that could barely be called letters, was one shape repeated again and again.
N.
O.
N.
O.
N.
O.
May you like
And beneath it was a crude arrow pointing toward the north wing.
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