Note: This ficlet is connected to the previous two: 17 The House of Fiona and 18 The Raven.
XIX. Leo
The House of Fiona was a place of charity, and admittedly, research. I do not deny that in the past we Nightrays have engaged in less than ethical procedures in the name of crown and country, and I suspect this will not be the last incident to add to our Ledger of Deeds to be judged during the end days. But for all of the young faces I had avoided during the only occasion I had visited the orphanage, news about the unfortunates reach me regularly, whenever I meet with Father to discuss the Dukedom's assets, publicly-known and otherwise.
On this occasion, however, the news of Elliot's new manservant startled me.
Entering the manor, I first spotted the boys playing chess in the parlor room. The servant boy was an unkempt horror. Though his dress was passable enough, his hair gave him the appearance of a savage northerner, so much so that I had to stop in my tracks at the open doorway to stare.
Elly, seeing me, came over and gave me a clasp on the shoulder while he excitedly presented his new manservant.
"This is my big brother, Fred," he said to the shaggy mess beside him.
"Lord Frederic," I corrected stiffly.
Upon introductions, the scamp displayed the rudest behavior toward me, refusing to stand in my presence and having the nerve to offer his hand (as if we were equals!) when he stated his name.
No surname, I immediately noticed. Meaning that the child was a commoner. And, judging by the accent, a villager from the central plains. Worse and worse.
"Where was your last place of employment, boy?"
"I had none. I've come from the House of Fiona, my lordship," Leo answered, swinging his legs (swinging his legs, the nerve!) from his seated position at the table.
I arched an eyebrow and wrapped a protective arm around Elly. "Please excuse us," I said hurriedly before ushering my brother from the room.
"Are you out of your senses, Elly-?" I hissed once I had shut the door to the dining hall.
"Not you too." Elliot scowled and crossed his arms. "Ernest and Claude were fine enough with bringing me to the House to choose a servant before Father yelled at them about it. But after our last visit to the orphanage he suddenly changed his mind. So I thought he already told you too."
"In letters, he mentioned a new addition to the staff. But that…. that person, Elly, is not staff material."
Running a hand over my face, I emitted a long sigh and inwardly cringed at the hypocrisy. For years, Father had warned me about keeping standards, that the Nightrays were being held under scrutiny since our position in society was so perilous. And didn't this soured reputation hinder us already? Wasn't that the reason why Ernest and Claude courted no ladies, and no one had approached Vanessa with an offer to visit? Wasn't this the reason why Father suggested that I go make myself useful in foreign service rather than stay at home? Wasn't this why Mother was so adamant about displays of public good, to hone ourselves favor in the eyes of a critical nobility?
I approached Father with my growing concerns about Elliot's wellbeing. Obviously, this ruffian bodes no good for him.
"You…approve of the boy?" I inquired, keeping the disbelief out from my voice. Father, who had taught me that even the scullery maids had to have a pedigree before entering our home, had fallen so far below the proper standards for the Nightray reputation. First, the adoption of the wards, and now, entertaining the thought of a village boy serving under Elliot? And not any village boy, but one from the House of Fiona…?
"Certainly. Didn't you know that Leo had saved Elliot's life in Sablier?" Father explained from his seated position in his study. "They were on the search for some missing children, and Elliot had bumped his head and lost consciousness. No matter what you may think of his status, he at least deserves some recognition for his good deed."
"That may be the case, but will every good deed result in picking up more dirt on our good name?"
I noted how oddly sinister my father appeared during this conversation: seeing him positioned in the shadows of the study, as the lamplight tilted in a peculiar fashion that obscured the upper regions of his face. A villainous look, almost, akin to cheap theater street performances where the evildoers wore a mask that obscured his expression from the world. I nearly laughed at the foolish comparison. Father, a villain?
Another evil alternative presented itself in my mind. Could Father be succumbing to the temptation of the beast that slumbered below us? That foul Raven….
I presented my next question in a hard tone. "Father, does this have to do with contracting the Raven too?"
"No. But the child is of great importance to this household in a similar manner. You know the meaning of sacrifice," Father muttered. "Of duty. Of service. It is ingrained by the very swords we wield upon our chests."
"But what does that have to do with wallowing alongside such filth? I don't understand. The orphans—" I paused, let my eyes close for a moment and then continued, "Maintaining the orphans are a necessity, I know. But bringing one of them here as if we ran the charity house from the manor and not from Sablier…."
"Frederic," Father said, rising to his feet. He approached and embraced me. "You must trust that I only have the Nightray honor in mind."
The touch surprised me (Father was never the affectionate one) and I froze, unsure of how to interpret the gesture. "Our honor at the cost of our current reputation?" I murmured, clenching my fists.
Father whispered in my ear, "I swear, my dear son, if all goes to plan, the Nightray name will become the greatest in our nation's history." He let go and said, "Soon, you'll not feel the need to spend all of your time lackeying after His Ambassadorship like an exile, or sneaking in the shadows to earn the fear in others' eyes. We are so close, Fred. Your grandfather would be so proud."
"He would. But he's dead, Father, driven to death by obsession." I eyed him warily and Father narrowed his eyes and pounded his gloved fist upon the desk.
"You have no right to judge," he snapped. "You, out of all my children, should understand the depths of our pain."
"I do," I said, lowly, and exited before he could say another word. "I'll stay in the townhouse for tonight," I added briskly. "And we'll meet again tomorrow to settle accounts."
Honest to gods, I was unsure how to interpret Father's behavior. How much he had changed over the years! Like how a knit shirt can fade from dark to grey and become unraveled over time, my father had begun to fray. The thought frightened me, seeing this man who had guided me in honor and in discipline start to crumble.
Was Grandfather like this too, near the end? Will this portend toward my own future, if the Raven's stubbornness continued to plague us all?
Exiting the study, I walked past the parlor room where the village boy sat, reading. I studied his small frame in the firelight, discerningly, as if any hidden abnormality would emerge upon my silent invocation.
In the flickering light, Leo motioned his head sideways to face me, and for a moment, I caught a flash of his eyes through the thick glass of his spectacles.
What an extraordinary color they were.
"Lord Frederic," he said softly. "Are you taking your leave this evening?"
"Yes," I replied shortly. I was going to end my remarks there, but could not help but add, "It is respectful for a servant to stand in the presence of one's betters."
"Oh." Leo stood, put his book on the table and even gave a little bow. "My apologizes, my lordship."
Giving a grunt, I tightened my cape and departed.
That scamp will come to no good to our family, I suspect. I only pray that Father hasn't lost sight of what remains important.