LeRoux Manor Read online

  Something clammy and freezing clenched around her wrist, and Camille screamed. She yanked her hand back so hard; she lost her balance again and fell backward onto the floor.

  “Careful, miss,” Miss McAllister stated calmly from the doorway. “You don’t want to injure the other wrist as well."

  Then Camille’s mother pushed past the old woman and ran to Camille’s aid. “Honey, what happened? Are you okay? I heard screaming.”

  “Someone grabbed me,” Camille gasped. “In the closest.”

  “What?” Her mother helped her to her feet and glanced at the wardrobe.

  “Now, now, miss,” Miss McAllister added, heading into the room. “I think all that poking around in the attic and the dreary weather has your imagination running rampant.” The woman approached the wardrobe and pushed the clothes aside to reveal the wooden back. “You see? There’s no monster here, child.”

  “I’m not a child,” Camille grumbled, staring at the open wardrobe.

  “Perhaps Miss McAllister has a point, Camille. Why don’t you come with me for a drive into town? We need a few things from the store, and the change of scene could do you some good. Maybe we should get that wrist checked out while—”

  “It’s fine, Mum. Just a strain.”

  “Well, I want to take a look at it before we go. If nothing else, you should wrap it and stick some ice on it for a while.”

  Camille nodded, letting her mother guide her from the room, though not without first casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder at Ms McAllister and the wardrobe. She could have sworn the woman dipped her head the tiniest bit, and a shiver ran up Camille’s spine.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A

  RE YOU ALL right?” her mother asked as she navigated the slick roads through the rain. “I'd thought you’d be thrilled to get out of the house and check out a few new shops."

  Camille turned from the window and smiled. "I am. I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

  "The house kept you awake?"

  "Something like that." Camille turned back to the window, unsure whether she should mention the woman from the garden. “Mum, could we maybe ask Miss McAllister to stay out of my room? She gives me the creeps.”

  “Camille. That’s not very nice.”

  “Well, she does! She’s always lurking and sneaking up on me.”

  Her mother sighed. “I think maybe you’re letting the house get the better of your imagination. It’s probably just a novelty for her to have new people in the house. I’m sure you can understand her curiosity about us. But if it’ll make you feel for comfortable, I’ll have a word with her about it.”

  “Thanks, Mum.” She glanced out the window again and saw the library sign on the side of the road. "Hey, Mum, would you mind if I checked out the library while you run your errands?"

  Her mother shot her a quick frown, but she slowed down and pulled over along the side of the road. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Not that I'm not thrilled by you wanting to read so much, but you've never passed on going shopping before."

  "What are you trying to say?" Camille asked with a cheeky grin.

  "Nothing. Nothing. By all means, go spend some time at the library. I'll come find you when I'm done."

  Camille leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. Jumping out, she pulled her hood over her head against the rain, then ran down the street to the library.

  When she stepped inside, she just stood there for a moment, taking in the high rows of shelves and the musty smell of old books. Light filtered in from angled windows in the roof, revealing the rain-laden clouds above. It had been a long time since she'd been in a library, and something about the smell made her think of her childhood. With a smile, she approached the counter.

  The librarian peered over her glasses with a slightly raised eyebrow. “So, you’ve decided to resort to the library?” she asked. Unsure if the question was meant to insult her or just state the facts, Camille just nodded. “Well, I’m Ms Liddell. Now, you won’t find the internet here, either. We like to uphold a more traditional library.” The librarian stepped out from behind the counter and with a curled finger gestured for Camille to follow.

  The girl complied in silence, her curiosity mounting as they weaved through the surprising number of shelves, all heavily laden with books. They stopped at a small bookcase against the rear wall; on either side hung black and white photographs of the town over the years—LeRoux Manor featured in more than one. A sign hanging from the ceiling labelled this section as, ‘Local History’.

  "Here you go. Everything we have on LeRoux Manor and Woodville is here. It’s not the most comprehensive collection—I suppose we’re not the most interesting place to write about—but I’m sure you’ll find something of interest. Unfortunately, we don't allow these books to leave the library, but you can photocopy anything you like."

  "Oh, I didn't bring any change with me..."

  The librarian pursed her lips. “Since you're new in town, I'll give you some free credit on your library card. After that, you can just top it up as you need. That’s about the extent of any technology I can offer you."

  "That's awesome. Thank you."

  "You're welcome,” Ms Liddell replied with a small smile. Camille’s gratitude seemed to have thawed her somewhat. “I already know your address, so I just need your name, and I can make one up for you while you peruse the collection."

  "I'm Camille LeRoux."

  Ms Liddell stared at her, her mouth fell open, and her glasses slid down her nose.

  "Uh... is something wrong?" Camille asked, scuffing the toe of her sneaker back and forth across the carpet to mask her unease under the sudden intensity of the librarian’s stare.

  Ms Liddell shook her head, as though banishing her thoughts, and the woman’s smile looked strained this time. "No, of course not. You just took me by surprise is all. We all thought the LeRoux line ended with Charles."

  "No, he was my father's uncle. I’ve never met him, though."

  "Ah... and are you the only girl of the family? I mean, do you have any siblings?"

  "Nope. Just me and my parents."

  "Interesting..."

  "That I’m an only child?"

  "Oh, no. It’s nothing. I'll go make up your card up for you. Just come and grab me if you need anything."

  Camille watched Ms Liddell walk away, her strange questions hovering after her. Now she really did feel like a stranger in a new town. She turned her attention to the shelves and read through the titles, unsure where to start. Running her fingertips along their spines, she whispered the titles to herself, waiting for one to call out to her.

  Architecture of LeRoux Manor

  LeRoux Manor: A Brief History

  Woodville and Its People

  Woodville: A History

  She found herself drawn to LeRoux Manor: A Brief History and withdrew it from the shelf. Then she carried it to the small research table, sparse except for a single desk lamp, and sat down on the hard, plastic chair. Taking a quick look around the desolate space, she lifted the cover, and the book’s thick spine cracked. Camille wondered how long it had been since anyone looked at it.

  Unable to pass up checking out the photos before reading, she flipped through the book and gazed at the images of the manor when it was first built, with its immaculate gardens of bountiful flowers, majestic trees, and perfectly sculpted shrubbery. The large staff looked impressive lined up along the veranda of what Camille thought was the rear of the house. She couldn’t help but admire its magnificence—at least, how it used to be. It was no wonder the town revered it so much. Turning the page, she found the same family portrait she’d seen in the album in her room, only this one was in colour.

  Again, Camille found herself drawn to Mena, with her solemn expression overtaken by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It surprised Camille to see that Mena’s hair was the same deep auburn as her own, only Mena’s fell in curls around her shoulders while Camille’s hung
thick and straight down her back.

  “What happened to you?” Camille muttered. Knowing she didn’t have long before her mother would be ready to return to the manor, Camille took to photocopying as much as she could.

  “DID YOU FIND WHAT YOU were looking for?”

  Camille jumped and spun around to see her mother behind her. “Mum, you scared me.” She placed the last of the books back onto the shelf. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll go through what I have when I get home. Can we come back if I need to? I can’t take any of these books out of the library.”

  Her mother gave her a sideways look. but didn’t dissuade her. “Of course we can.”

  Too impatient to wait until they were home, Camille sifted through the copied pages in the car and ignored the frequent glances she felt her mother cast her way. When they returned to the manor, she hardly lifted her head as she got out of the car and walked up the steps to the front door.

  “Don’t mind me,” her mother called. “I’ll just carry all the groceries myself!”

  Camille turned. “Sorry, Mum. I was off in my own world.”

  Her mother smiled. “It’s fine. Your father’s coming around the side of the house. He can help me. It’s just nice to see you taking such an interest in the place. I’d still like help with dinner, though, please. You have an hour.”

  Camille nodded and smiled at her mum, grateful for the time to dive straight into her reading.

  She settled into her window seat, plugging her headphones into her phone, and placed the photocopies in her lap and the box of albums at her feet. The first few pages she read focused on the Mena’s disappearance and the murder of the girl’s father. It seemed to be the stand-out event of Woodville’s history, though Camille couldn’t imagine much of anything ever happening in such a small town. She found it both odd and quite sad that, with the size of the population at the time of Mena’s disappearance, they never found her or Caleb’s murderer. How awful it would have been for Mena’s mother and brother to never know what happened to either of them.

  After a bit more reading, she discovered the most popular theory seemed to be that a squatter had been living in the woods behind LeRoux Manor, and Mena had wandered into his territory. At best, he’d abducted her; at worst, she was murdered. When her father went looking for her, this trespasser had murdered him as well. The police believed the culprit must have been an outsider, as the whole town was present at the Manor and the only two unaccounted for were Mena and Caleb LeRoux.

  Camille sat up straight as she read the next sentence; the knife used to kill Caleb LeRoux was unlike any they’d seen before. Other than the fact it was particularly large, no other description was provided. The report did state that the weapon had been wielded with such force, it was buried to the hilt in Caleb’s back. The knife had entered between his left shoulder and his spine at an angle that suggested the culprit had raised the knife above his head before swinging it down. It was a catastrophic blow—one that would have killed him quickly.

  Camille stared out the window and focused on the trees. The theory kind of made sense, especially with the way Caleb was murdered. But something about it still didn’t sit right with her. How could a supposed stranger go unnoticed for so long in such a small town? Even with everyone up at the manor the day of the party, surely someone must have seen him in the days before or even after the murder. Camille felt there was more to the story, and she decided that discovering what really happened to Mena and Caleb was to be her new project.

  With some reluctance, Camille joined her parent’s downstairs for dinner. She sat quietly as they talked, absently pushing her food around the plate with her fork.

  “Earth to Camille,” her father said loudly.

  She jumped again in her chair. “Sorry, Dad. I was just thinking.”

  “We can see that. What’s on your mind?”

  Camille straightened up in her seat, glad to have her opening. “Well, I decided I wanted to know more about this house—or manor, or whatever we call it—since it’s been in the family forever and we know nothing about it.”

  “Have you found anything interesting?” her mother asked.

  “Actually, yes. Did you know the LeRoux’s threw a big party once this place was finished and invited everyone to come and see it? Rich or poor. Everybody in the whole town. It sounded like a big deal for back then.”

  “Yes, I dare say it was.” Her father nodded thoughtfully as he tore of a piece of his roll and popped it in his mouth.

  “And... during the party, Caleb LeRoux—the husband, the man who built this place—was brutally murdered. His six-year-old daughter Mena disappeared, and no one ever found her.”

  “What?” Her mother’s knife clattered to her plate.

  Camille nodded. “Yep. Mena went missing first, then her father went looking for her. He didn’t come back either, so everyone at the party went looking for them. They only found Caleb, though. Well, his body.”

  “Phillipe?” her mother exclaimed.

  Camille’s father shrugged but kept his eyes on his food. “Well, yes, it’s true. It’s hardly a secret.”

  “And you didn’t think I needed to know about it before moving here?” her mother asked, annoyance flickering across her face. Phillipe lifted his head and flashed a sheepish smile at his daughter while reaching across the table for his wife’s hand.

  “I honestly didn’t think it would be an issue,” he stated. She gave a slight shake of her head at his renowned nonchalance. Camille’s mouth twitched in amusement, and she tried to hide it by taking another bite of her dinner. Her father was so laid back that he often didn’t consider things might be cause for concern in others. “It happened a couple hundred years ago at least, and the murder was in the woods beyond the estate, not in the house.”

  Her mother took a moment, leaning back in her chair and sipping at her wine. “So, what else did you find out?” she asked her daughter.

  “Well,” Camille stated, putting down her fork, “nothing, really. Caleb’s body was found in the woods, face down with a knife in his back. Mena was never seen again. The only lead—if you can call it that—was that everyone thought the murderer was a stranger to the area.”

  “How awful,” her mother exclaimed. “Though I must say, that seems like a rather vague theory for the murder of such a prominent man at the time.”

  Camille nodded. “And what was so weird was that the knife in Caleb’s back was described as something ‘they’d seen before’. Like something that wasn’t generally made at the time. Maybe that’s what led them to the stranger theory.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.” Her mother turned to Camille’s father again.

  Clearing his throat, he gave a small smile. “It’s honestly not something people advertise. Besides, Charles was my only living relative, and we hadn’t spoken to him since Camille was a baby. Family history has never been in the forefront. I honestly had quite forgotten all about it until now.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to him after I was born?” Camille asked. Her parents exchanged an unreadable glance at the sudden change of topic. “Come on, guys. I’m not a kid. I can handle it.”

  “Your great uncle and I had a falling out is all.”

  “You’ve told me that a hundred times. What was it about?” Camille prompted.

  “Camille...” her mother started.

  “No, it’s okay,” her father replied. “She’s right. She’s not a child.” He turned to her and held out his hand with a solemn frown.

  Suddenly concerned, Camille reached out and placed her hand in his. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, when you were born, my uncle insisted quite... fiercely that we give you up for adoption.”

  “What?” Camille gasped and pulled her hand away.

  “Of course, your mother and I never entertained the thought,” he assured her. “Not for one second. The day you were born was the happiest day of our lives, and we wouldn’t give you up for the world.”


  “Good to know...” Camille replied dryly. “So, what was his reason for wanting to cast me from the family tree before he’d even met me?”

  “To this day, I still don’t really know. And that’s the truth. As soon as he found out we had a daughter instead of a son, he just wouldn’t let it go. So, we cut all ties with him. Honestly, I’m surprised he left the Manor to us. Yes, I was his only living family, but I was sure he wouldn’t want to give me anything.”

  “What else would he have done with it?” Camille asked.

  “Oh, he could have left the estate to the town, for example. Left it as some kind of heritage museum. God knows the place has some history.”

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” Camille’s mother asked, reaching out and placing her hand on her daughter’s.

  Camille sat quietly for a moment, staring down at her plate. “I think so. I mean, sure, it’s not a nice feeling to know someone wanted to give you away. But I didn’t even know him. You guys wanted me, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Good.” Her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

  “Something else on your mind?” her father asked, and Camille found herself pushing her food around on her plate again. She looked from one parent to the other, trying to gauge whether to tell them.

  “Better out than in,” her mother gently prompted.

  “Well, our first night here, I saw something. Someone. I was sitting at the window seat in my room, and I saw an old woman standing in the gardens outside. She stared right at me. And before you say anything, it definitely wasn’t Miss McAllister.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming, honey?” her father asked. “There’s no one else up here. Just us and the McAllister’s. Unless of course you saw a ghost...”