Chapter 8 - The Nanny On Trial
Catherine Vale arrived at Ashcombe Hall at nine the next morning in a dark green Range Rover and walked through the front doors as if she owned enough of the family history to ignore everyone guarding it.
She was fifty-two, tall, silver-blonde, and dressed in a navy coat over riding clothes.
Her resemblance to Edward was immediate around the eyes.
So was the tension between them.
“You sent security men to collect me from my own house.”
Edward stood in the drawing room.
“I asked you to come.”
“Your men said it was not optional.”
“That means I asked clearly.”
Catherine looked at Vivienne, then Eleanor, then Shaw.
“This already looks ridiculous.”
Edward handed her the clinic log.
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Eleanor saw it.
“So?” Catherine said.
“You met Adrian Mercer seven times.”
“Yes.”
Vivienne laughed.
Edward ignored her.
“Why?”
Catherine removed her gloves finger by finger.
“Because I was gathering information.”
“About what?”
“About Vivienne.”
The room went still.
Vivienne stared at her.
“You were spying on me?”
Catherine turned.
“You were preparing a guardianship challenge.”
“You had no right.”
“I had every right once Edward named me guardian.”
Edward stepped forward.
“You knew?”
Catherine looked at him.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your attorney called me for consent.”
“I told him to keep it confidential.”
“He did.”
“Then why were you investigating Vivienne?”
“Because confidentiality does not require stupidity.”
Edward’s face hardened.
Catherine continued.
“Victor Lyle contacted three doctors asking hypothetical questions about whether a child with severe emotional instability could require a professional guardian instead of a family guardian.”
Dr. Rainer frowned.
“How did you learn that?”
“One of the doctors knows me.”
“So you went to Mercer.”
“I followed Lyle.”
Vivienne crossed her arms.
“And conveniently met the same man accused of drugging Chloe.”
Catherine’s face changed.
“Drugging?”
Edward watched her closely.
“You did not know?”
“No.”
Vivienne gave a sharp laugh.
“How useful.”
Catherine looked at Edward.
“What happened?”
He told her.
The sandwich.
The tea set.
The camera outages.
The blood work.
Chloe’s words.
Catherine went pale by the time he finished.
“I never knew Mercer had been inside this house.”
Vivienne stepped toward her.
“But you met him seven times.”
“To find out what Victor was building.”
“What did he tell you?” Edward asked.
“Very little.”
“Then why keep meeting him?”
“Because he kept asking for money.”
Edward frowned.
“You paid him?”
Catherine hesitated.
“Yes.”
Vivienne smiled.
“And now we are calling me suspicious.”
Catherine looked directly at her.
“I paid him to tell me what Victor wanted.”
“What did Victor want?” Eleanor asked.
Catherine’s eyes shifted toward Chloe’s empty chair near the window.
“A record.”
“What kind?”
“A documented pattern showing Chloe was emotionally disturbed, resistant to care, and potentially unsafe without specialized supervision.”
Dr. Rainer’s expression turned hard.
“That language would support a petition for professional guardianship.”
Catherine nodded.
Edward looked at Vivienne.
She did not blink.
“I never authorized that,” she said.
Catherine’s voice was cold.
“Victor said you did.”
“Victor lies for a living.”
“He is your lawyer.”
“He was.”
Edward looked between them.
“Who benefits if a professional guardian replaces Catherine?”
Catherine answered.
“The guardian would control trust decisions under court supervision.”
“Which guardian?”
“Victor had a firm in mind.”
Shaw asked the obvious question.
“Who owns the firm?”
Catherine looked at Vivienne.
“A holding company linked to Victor’s brother.”
Vivienne’s face changed.
“I did not know that.”
Edward laughed once.
“No one knows anything in this house.”
The front door opened somewhere down the hall.
A security guard appeared.
“Mr. Shaw.”
Shaw stepped out.
He returned a moment later holding a sealed plastic evidence pouch.
“What is that?” Edward asked.
“Found in Mrs. Finch’s room.”
Eleanor’s stomach dropped.
Inside the pouch was a small amber bottle.
It looked almost identical to the bottle found in the blue room.
A white strip of paper had been wrapped around it.
SLEEP.
Every face turned toward Eleanor.
She did not move.
Vivienne’s voice came softly.
“Oh, my God.”
Edward stared at the bottle.
“Where exactly?”
Shaw’s expression was unreadable.
“In the bottom drawer of her wardrobe.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“I have never seen it.”
Vivienne covered her mouth.
“Of course.”
Eleanor turned toward Edward.
“I did not put that there.”
He looked at her for a long time.
Three days earlier, she had been a stranger he hired from an agency.
Now a bottle connected to his daughter’s illness had been found among her clothes.
Eleanor understood how ugly the facts appeared.
She also understood that innocence did not make facts disappear.
Shaw asked, “Who had access to your room?”
“Any member of staff with a master key.”
“Did you leave it unlocked?”
“During the day, yes.”
Vivienne shook her head.
“How convenient.”
Catherine looked at her.
“You seem delighted.”
“I am relieved that someone is finally looking beyond me.”
Eleanor kept her eyes on Edward.
“Mr. Harrow, I understand what you have to do.”
His jaw tightened.
“What do I have to do?”
“Remove me from Chloe until this is examined.”
From the hallway came a sharp cry.
“No!”
Chloe ran into the room barefoot.
A maid followed helplessly behind her.
Chloe threw herself against Eleanor’s skirt.
“No, no, no.”
Eleanor crouched.
“Chloe.”
The child clung to her neck.
“Do not go.”
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
Eleanor held her carefully.
“Your father needs to make sure you are safe.”
“You are safe.”
“I need him to know that too.”
Chloe began to cry.
It was the first time Eleanor had seen tears come freely instead of silently.
She stroked the child’s hair.
Then Chloe saw the bottle in Shaw’s hand.
Her crying stopped.
She stared at it.
“That is not Mrs. Finch’s.”
Edward stepped closer.
“No questions,” Dr. Rainer warned.
Chloe did not need one.
She pointed.
“That is from Mommy’s red bag.”
Vivienne went white.
“What red bag?” Edward asked before the doctor could stop him.
Chloe looked at Vivienne.
The fear returned.
Vivienne spoke quickly.
“She means my makeup case.”
Chloe shook her head.
“No.”
“Sweetheart, you are confused.”
“No.”
Vivienne stepped closer.
“The red bag has vitamins.”
Chloe backed into Eleanor.
“No.”
Eleanor stood and moved Chloe behind her.
Vivienne’s face twisted.
“Stop putting yourself between me and my daughter.”
Eleanor’s answer was quiet.
“Then stop making her move away from you.”
The words hit like a slap.
Edward raised one hand.
“Enough.”
Shaw took the bottle away.
“I am having both bottles tested for prints and composition.”
Vivienne stared at Eleanor.
“If it has her fingerprints, will you finally believe me?”
Eleanor looked at the bottle.
“I touched the one from the blue room after Mr. Shaw bagged it because he asked me to confirm the scent through the open pouch.”
Shaw nodded.
“She did.”
Vivienne’s expression flickered.
Eleanor saw it.
A tiny calculation.
A mistake being corrected in real time.
That frightened Eleanor more than anger would have.
Edward ordered Eleanor moved to a separate guest suite while the bottle was examined.
He apologized once.
Eleanor told him not to.
“I would think less of you if you ignored evidence because Chloe likes me.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“That is an unpleasantly reasonable thing to say.”
“Reason is often unpleasant.”
Chloe did not accept the separation quietly.
She sat outside Eleanor’s door for twenty minutes until Catherine persuaded her to return to the nursery sitting room.
Eleanor heard the child ask whether adults always sent away the person they trusted when something bad happened.
The question hurt more than the accusation.
Eleanor sat alone beside the window and thought about every decision she had made since arriving.
Had she asked too many questions?
Had she interpreted Chloe’s fear through her own suspicion of wealthy families?
Had someone noticed how quickly the child trusted her and used that trust as the perfect place to plant evidence?
She forced herself to consider the ugliest possibility too.
What if some part of her memory was wrong?
What if she had touched the bottle somewhere and forgotten?
Professional certainty could become vanity as easily as parental certainty could.
She wrote down every moment she remembered handling anything connected to the blue room.
The exercise calmed her.
Facts were not loyalty tests.
If they cleared her, good.
If they did not, Chloe still deserved the truth.
Late that evening, Shaw returned with preliminary print results.
Eleanor’s fingerprints were on the second bottle.
Vivienne’s were not.
Edward closed his eyes.
Chloe was asleep upstairs.
Eleanor stood across from him in the study.
“I cannot explain that.”
Edward looked exhausted.
“Neither can I.”
Shaw remained near the door.
“There is one more print.”
Edward looked up.
“Whose?”
Shaw’s face tightened.
“Agnes Bell.”
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