To dismiss what importunes, and recall what pleases
Mr. Castle does not call for Karen again, though Leo sits with him a handful of times after the meeting. The master of the house is away most days and returns at hours that are at odds with schedules of his ward and staff. Mrs. Nelson assures Karen (and anyone who will listen) that she does her best, but the house is not at rights with a man at the helm who does not sit to a proper nightly dinner. Karen thinks this is just as well. Since their first encounter, and the night that followed, she worries he might call an audience, and she will spend it blushing.
Two weeks pass in relative quiet without further male disturbances. A warm break in the early winter cold gives Karen reason enough to order Leo into her coat and boots for a long walk on the waterfront at Battery Park. The pair arrives at the bottom of the stairs, kitted for the adventure ahead, and Karen stops short with a small squeak.
Mr. Castle stands with his back to them, his jacket and waistcoat disposed of, directing Sam and a second man in moving the massive mirror hung beside the main doors. The gilded scroll frame is twice the height of Leo and would reach well over Karen if she stood beside it. It is an ancient, silvered thing that reflects back the hall’s filtered daylight in soft, grey tones.
The two servants struggle with the weight of it, and it looks as though the thing will tip forward and crash to the floor. Castle leaps forward and pitches his shoulder beneath one substantial corner. In that instant, the muscles of his back are caught in a striation that makes the cords and tendons stand in sharp relief. His hair curls back over the open collar of his shirt and his trousers pull tight against his thighs.
Karen sucks in a breath as commotion rises around the men. Mrs. Nelson and Dinah appear from their tasks, crying out and putting their hands to the frame to assist in setting it right.
She cannot be sure, but Karen thinks she catches a tiny movement as he looks back over his shoulder at her.
She grips Leo’s hand and pulls the girl out the door.
New York Bay is clear, and sellers have arranged their carts in a Christmas market. An organ grinder calls out favorite carols (and sells the sheet music pinned to a sandwich board beside him), and the air is threaded with his high alto. Leo supplies small change and the pair purchase a paper cone of chestnuts hot from the roasting tin.
They spend a few bright hours in the cold sunshine, discussing possible holiday gifts and plans for the first real snow soon to come. When the sun begins to dip along distant roofs, Karen and Leo stroll home under a haze of yuletide cheer.
Turning onto their home street, governess and pupil find two men awaiting entry on the front step of Thorne House. Both are tall and attired in well-cut suits; both are strikingly handsome. The nearer of the two, sporting a fashionable swoop of carefully coiffured hair, catches sight of Leo and steps down to the curb to greet her.
“Why, little Miss Leo!” He beams, showing even, white teeth. Karen notes Leo’s sudden silence, despite the man’s attention.
“My dear, I have not seen you in ages. Tell me are you well?”
“Quite well, Mr. Russo.”
He smiles wider and goes down on one knee to meet Leo at eye level. “Such wonderful news. I hear you’ve come to stay with Mr. Castle for a time. How are you faring under his roof?”
Leo shrugs, uncomfortable but amenable. “Very well, sir. I am happy here.”
Mr. Russo nods and straightens his legs. He turns to Karen, catching his waist with one palm and bowing slightly, “And who might this charming creature be?”
Karen offers an ingratiating smile, “Miss Page, Leo’s governess.”
His fine features crease as he grins again.
“I’m William Russo, Miss Page. Call me Billy. My fine friend here is Mr. Curtis Hoyle. We’re long-time compatriots of your employer, though his absence at the door seems a repudiation of the facts.”
“We’re hoping to see him, Miss Page,” Mr. Hoyle supplies from the top step. His broad form is as solid as the columns that frame the front door. There is something considered about Mr. Hoyle, who remains in place and still – aware, it seems, of Mr. Russo’s overactive display.
“Unfortunately, gentlemen, I cannot be sure if Mr. Castle is at home today,” Karen takes Leo’s hand firmly and begins up the steps. “His schedule can be erratic.”
“Sounds like Frank,” Mr. Hoyle murmurs with a wry twist of the mouth. Then, to Karen, he continues, “We served with Mr. Castle at Rock River a few years back. He’s never been one for social calls.”
“Unless it was neck-deep in enemy ranks with two knives at his disposal,” Mr. Russo waggles his brows scandalously. The fine hairs on the back of Karen’s neck rise.
“Bill,” Mr. Hoyle warns, glaring briefly at Mr. Russo.
Undaunted, Mr. Russo takes the steps two at a time back to Karen and Leo. He clasps the little girl’s shoulder and offers another ready smile. “We’ll be on our way, ladies. But it was most pleasant to find you here. Tell me, Leo dear, how are your parents?”
Leo is now bristling under his touch, but she does not buckle. “They are well, Mr. Russo. They are enjoying Europe very much.”
“And your brother?”
“He enjoys it with them.”
As if cued from the footlights, the front door swings back to reveal Mrs. Nelson. She looks between Karen and Leo on the step, then to Mr. Russo and Mr. Hoyle. She recognizes the men and casts her arms out wide to them both.
“Bill, Curtis! Imagine you both calling this afternoon – how wonderful!”
Karen takes the opportunity to guide Leo past the housekeeper into the main hall. She hurries her pupil up the stairs, silent with a hand digging urgently into the girl’s clothed spine.
“Good afternoon, Miss Leo, Miss Page,” Bill calls up the main staircase, “Until we meet again!”
____
They burst into the empty schoolroom as if surfacing from a deep dive. Karen shuts the door firmly behind them and locks it for good measure. Leo has drifted to the fireplace which glows a deep, calming red. She stares into the flames with a troubled look.
Karen takes a moment to remove her coat and lay it across a side table. She takes care when approaching Leo. The lie Leo gave Mr. Russo downstairs had rolled so quickly from the girl’s mouth. Karen hears the disjointed words of Headmaster Fisk:
Deceit is a sad fault in a child and sure sign of wickedness.
“Leo…?”
The little girl does not respond. Still, in her coat and gloves, she hugs herself tightly and continues to stare distantly. Karen comes to kneel beside her, taking Leo by the shoulders and turning her gently so they face each other. Leo does not meet her eyes.
“Leo, you were not truthful with Mr. Russo.”
“No, Miss.”
“Why? He is a friend – he asked after your parents.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Why did you tell him your brother was with them?”
Leo’s lower lip begins to quiver, and tears gather on her lashes. She inhales sharply before pressing her lips together and squeezing her eyes shut. Fat tears escape and roll down her cheeks.
“Leo, dear heart… why did you tell – “
“Mr. Castle told me to!” the words are depth charges shaking the deep. Leo begins to cry in earnest and throws herself against Karen’s shoulders.
Karen settles her shawl around the girl’s shoulders and helps her into Karen’s fireside armchair to rest. Shortly after, Leo calms and falls into a troubled sleep. Karen summons Adele and kisses Leo’s forehead once before taking her leave.
An unsettled feeling follows Karen the rest of the night. She thinks of venturing into the kitchen where Cook and Dinah are most likely peeling apples for a tart while Sam darns socks, happy to be in their company. She dismisses the notion – considers calling on Mrs. Nelson for tea, but Karen’s mind is too active to manage the housekeeper’s enthusiastic stream of gossip.
In the end, she retreats to her room. Before a leaping fire in the hearth, she loses herself to the day’s events.
“… Neck deep in enemy ranks…” Bill Russo’s snickered line returns to her. The upward curve of one handsome eyebrow punctuates his words.
“…Two knives at his disposal.”
Karen glares into the flames.
She sits at her desk and opens her notebook, pen poised over a fresh page. Nothing comes, though. Leo’s tears rise in her mind along with the tight grip of the girl’s hands on Karen’s sleeves as she wept, “Mr. Castle told me to!”
There is no choice but to speak with the man himself. Karen closes the lid of her inkpot, stands, and straightens the lines of her dress. To approach the master of the house without invitation is a breach of protocol that could end her employment in minutes. Karen thinks again of Leo’s tears and Russo’s words and knows she cannot leave this stone unturned.
Unlatching her door, she listens in the hall for approaching steps. Silence has settled over the house. Creeping to the top of the landing, she looks down into the foyer and spies the glow of firelight from Mr. Castle’s study.
It's now or never.
She takes the stairs quickly, slipping between shadows and practically running across the hall. Pilot gives a small whuff when she enters, jerking to his feet and trotting to Karen.
Castle’s knees and shins are visible from behind the wing chair. He starts at the sound of Pilot’s greeting, turns in place to meet her with a sharp glare.
“Miss Page?”
Karen takes a deep breath, “Mr. Castle, I must speak with you.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Castle says, slowly rising from his seat. At his full height, the man seems to fill the room.
She shakes her head; she will not be dissuaded. “It concerns Leo.”
His demeanor changes in an instant. The lines of his body straighten, and concern rises in his eyes. “Come in then and shut the door.”
Karen steps inside. He motions to the chair opposite, and she sinks into it, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. Her scalp prickles as he resumes his seat. There is a glass of whiskey on the small table at his side, and he draws it to his lips.
“You’ve taken a risk coming here.”
“I do not hesitate when it comes to Leo.”
He nods in agreement and gestures for her to continue. She takes a deep breath.
“Friends of yours called to the house this afternoon – Mr. Hoyle and Mr. Russo.”
“So I hear.”
“Mr. Russo was quite solicitous of Leo – asking after her health and that of her family. When he inquired about her brother Zachary, Leo said he was in Europe with his parents.”
Karen watches his face for a sign of surprise, but Castle does not react. In the absence of a response, she continues. “When I began here a few months ago, Mrs. Nelson said he was in a private school in Washington. Either I was told a falsehood that day, Mr. Castle, or Leo has lied to your friend.”
“And what do you think, Miss Page?”
“I think, if anything, neither are true. And if that is the case, sir, it is a grave concern. Made more so by the fact that Leo says you have instructed her to lie.”
Castle freezes, his glass held just below his chin. Now Karen can detect a shadow of surprise in his features. She leans towards him, voice low.
“Why would that be, sir?”
It is the second time she has put him off his footing. The master of the house inhales noisily, sets his glass aside and reclines, steepling his fingers against his mouth.
“Anything I instruct Leo to do is in the interest of keeping her safe, Miss Page.”
“Lies are not safety, sir.”
“Oh?” His lips form a cruel sneer, “That sounds like the words of a young woman unfamiliar with the world. You would say honesty overall, then?”
Karen’s brows knit in a hesitant glare, “I would say a child unable to tell the truth is in grave danger.”
‘Deceit,’ hisses Headmaster Fisk in her mind. ‘Wicked.’
Castle tilts his head, a look of mocking pity on his face, “As I said, ‘a woman unfamiliar with the world.’”
Without ceremony, he stands and strides to the door. “Don’t worry yourself over a girl’s stories, Miss Governess. I’ll speak to Leo myself.”
Pilot rises and ambles to his master’s side. Castle sweeps his long coat over his shoulders and pulls the buttons together. “Scurry back to your room now, before the rest of the house makes assumptions of you.”
He leaves and the dog trails behind him. Karen hears the jingle of the front door and the crisp of its latches as Castle pulls it shut behind him. The searing sting of his dismissal – both of her presence and her report – is infuriating. Frightening. Cruel.
Yet, he’s right. Karen has taken a risk to come here. She shifts in the chair, feeling the restrictions of her position. Karen waits a moment longer before slipping back to her room.