Each day now held new terrors for her. During the week someone had tried several times to open her bedroom door. She had taken to locking it and the nursery door, since Charles had dismissed the nanny as a needless expense. At night she watched the door handle from her bed as it slowly, soundlessly, turned and held for a moment, until the unseen hand allowed it to fall back into place. Sometimes she crept to the door and listened to the heavy, unsteady breathing. In daylight Charles had gone no further than to leer at her and make crude suggestions, but she knew it was only a matter of time until things got out of hand. That morning she had found him in the nursery talking to Lucy, admiring her waist-length hair, while the child stood blushing. She looked delighted that her uncle was finally paying attention to her and unaware of how threatening his behaviour was. He smiled on seeing Elizabeth and remarked on how lovely Lucy was and quite the young woman.
