LeRoux Manor Page 7

  “Hmm...” Camille’s parents hadn’t believed her when she’d told them. What if her new friends thought she was crazy? But Grace was the one who saw her, she reminded herself.

  Grace led her to a table outside where the others were already waiting for them at a picnic table under a beautiful old tree. “How’s your first day of school treating you?” Jayne asked, though she eyed Lachlan instead of looking at Camille.

  “Pretty good,” Camille replied. “Just trying to learn my way around the place.”

  “What class do you have after lunch?” Grace asked as she sat beside Jonathan. Sitting on the bench opposite her, Camille pulled the folded piece of paper from her pocket and opened it up. “Uh, double history.”

  “Same as me. We can sit together if you like,” Lachlan suggested quietly.

  When Camille looked up at him, she caught Jayne’s gaze darting frantically between her and Lachlan. “Uh, sure. Thanks.” Then she looked away. Something lightly tapped her shoe, and she found Grace staring at her with a raised eyebrow and the slightest hint of a smile. Camille took a deep breath and slipped her timetable back into her pocket. “There’s something we thought we should share with you guys...”

  “We?” Jayne asked, scowling at Lachlan.

  “Me and Grace.” She couldn’t help but smile as Jayne visibly relaxed.

  “Last night after dinner,” Grace started, “I Face-Timed Camille...”

  “I was showing her around my room, and she... saw someone in the hallway.”

  “Someone who shouldn’t have been there.” Both Grace and Camille looked expectantly at the group.

  “Wait. What do you mean someone who wasn’t supposed to be there?” Jonathan asked. “Do you mean like someone broke in?”

  “Not exactly,” Camille replied.

  “Woah... Are you saying you saw a ghost?” Lachlan leaned forward in his enthusiasm.

  “We think so,” Camille said. “I didn’t see her. I was too busy looking around to show Grace my room. But Grace got a good look.”

  “She was old-fashioned-looking,” Grace explained. “But so vivid. At least from what I could see, which was just from the waist up. I thought there really was someone standing there in the hallway.”

  “That sounds...” Jayne whispered.

  “What did she look like?” Lachlan demanded. “What exactly happened?”

  Camille and Grace did their best to recount the brief experience. “I also saw her that vividly my first night in the manor,” Camille added. “I’m pretty sure I saw her a few other times. Like in my wardrobe. Sometimes, I think I see her out of the corner of my eye or in a reflection.”

  “Bloody hell, that’s intense,” Jonathan stated with a shake of his head.

  “I knew there was something paranormal going on in that place,” Lachlan added. “Why the wardrobe?”

  “I have no idea. Weird, right? My Dad checked it and reckoned there’s no way anyone could just disappear in there, but I know what I saw.”

  “Well, if she’s a ghost, then of course she could,” Jonathan stated.

  “Seems like a pretty random object for a ghost to be attached to,” Jayne said, obviously quite eager to participate.

  “You’re telling me...” Grace replied kindly.

  “Have you experienced anything else?” Jonathan asked.

  Camille paused, looking down at her hands. “Before I saw her the last time, I had this weird dream. Only it felt so real. I was up in the attic, and I found an old trunk. It was locked, but then out of nowhere, a key skidded across the floor toward me. There was something about the trunk... when I opened it... it felt like déjà vu. Like it belonged to me or something. I know it was only a dream, but I just haven’t been able to shake it.”

  “Have you looked for the trunk?” Grace asked. “Maybe the dream was trying to tell you something.”

  Camille looked up in surprise. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t actually think that it might be real.”

  Grace shrugged. “You never know.”

  “That would be so cool if it was...” Jonathan added.

  “You should document it,” Lachlan suggested. “Everything you see and experience. Like a blog or something. It would be awesome.”

  Camille glanced at him, wondering why he seemed so enthusiastic about her experiences at the manor when he’d barely said two words about anything else.

  “That would be pretty cool,” Grace agreed. “Part of the blog could focus on trying to work out who the woman is and what she wants. They say ghosts haunt places for a reason, right?”

  Camille shrugged. “I guess so.” Suddenly, she felt reluctant about all of it. It was one thing to tell her new friends, but did she really want to put it out there for the whole world to see?

  “At least have a think about it,” Grace said. “You don’t have to decide right away.” Her smile clearly indicated she loved the idea.

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Camille replied with a small smile, grateful when the boys changed the subject to that afternoon’s basketball practise.

  “I HEAR WE have a LeRoux in our class!” exclaimed Mr Ostervic as he entered the classroom, dropping his bag on the desk and facing the students. Camille slid down into her seat, feeling the hot flush of mortification rush from her chest up into her face.

  “I TOLD YOU...” LACHLAN whispered with a grin.

  “Camille LeRoux, raise your hand, please.” Mr Ostervic scanned the room, looking for the new face. Camille slowly raised her hand as all eyes turned on her. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything embarrassing like make you stand up and introduce yourself. Though I will say it’s exciting to have a young LeRoux in our midst.”

  Camille mustered a small smile as she lowered her hand and cringed in her seat. Lachlan chuckled softly beside her, the unexpected sound a welcome distraction from her embarrassment. It sent a flutter of nerves through her. “Now,” Mr Ostervic continued, turning to the whiteboard behind his desk and picking up a marker, “it’s the first day of your senior year and the perfect time to give you your major assignment.” The glass groaned. Stepping aside, Mr Ostervic revealed the project on the board: ‘Family Tree’.

  “Is he serious?” Camille whispered to Lachlan, but he didn’t respond. He just stared at the board. She noticed his tight grasp on the pen in the palm of his hand, and she frowned with equal parts worry and intrigue.

  “I want a comprehensive family tree, starting with your immediate family and working back from there for as far as you can. I appreciate some of you won’t be able to travel as far back as others, but I expect your full efforts on this. The project will make up fifty-percent of your final grade.” A second groan swept over the classroom, and Mr Ostervic smiled at Camille. “Now, given the enormity of the task, you will work together in pairs. To make it easier for you, the person you’re currently sharing a desk with will be your research partner for the duration of the assignment.” Camille snuck a sideways glance at Lachlan. Jayne’s going to kill me.

  CAMILLE FELT FORTUNATE that she hadn’t faced a single class without at least one of her new friends alongside her. Yet she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous sitting beside Jayne. She wasn’t looking forward to telling her she’d been partnered with Lachlan for their history assignment. She’d been friends with the group for five minutes and certainly didn’t want to rock the boat.

  “We should totally use this time to do a little research on your blog,” Jayne whispered conspiratorially.

  “I haven’t said I’m going to do one yet,” Camille replied. She was finding fewer and fewer reasons not to.

  Jayne dismissed her protest with a wave of her hand, then typed the words ‘LeRoux Manor’ into the search engine. Unable to hide her curiosity, Camille leaned over as much as she dared so she could see the results. “This can’t be right...” Jayne whispered.

  “What?” Camille whispered back, now completely invested.

  “There’s hardly any hits. An announcement about Mr LeRoux’
s death, and some generic information about the Manor and when it was built and all that. But that’s pretty much it.”

  “That seems odd. Maybe try a different search,” Camille suggested. “What about ‘LeRoux family’?”

  Jayne typed it in and sighed. “That isn’t much better. Nothing interesting at all. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Camille replied, searching the screen. “How about ‘murder at LeRoux Manor’? That’s bound to pull something up.”

  “Good idea.” Jayne typed quickly, then slumped back in her chair. “You can’t be serious...” The search had returned zero hits.

  “That’s impossible!” Camille explained a little too loudly, garnering herself a pointed look from the teacher. She ducked her head and lowered her voice. “I’ve seen the newspaper articles. How does the net have nothing about it?”

  “That’s it,” Jayne whispered, her eyes still on the teacher. “Now you have to get the information out there. It’s a conspiracy!”

  Camille shot her a sideways glance. While she didn’t agree with the conspiracy theory—yet—she did think it bizarre to fine no information online. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  C

  AMILLE LUGGED THE heavy new book toward the window and laid it before her as she sat cross-legged on the seat. She smiled in satisfaction at the cracking spine when she opened the book. She loved new books.

  A gust of wind surged against the window, making the glass rattle slightly. Camille looked out at the manor grounds and the woods beyond. The wind weaved through the trees, swaying the branches left and right as though both taunting and beckoning to her. Forcing herself to turn back to the book, she was tempted to skim through it to look at all the pictures. Then she reminded herself that if she wanted to be well-informed for her blog, she needed to read every word from start to finish. At this rate, aside from what she’d found in the attic and the few pages she had from the library, the book might be her only decent resource on the manor.

  Flicking over the two pages of contents, she stopped on the first page laying out the LeRoux family tree. She placed her finger at the top and scrolled down. With a whoop of excitement, she held her finger under the name at the very bottom of the tree, right beneath her parents, who were linked together by a single line indicating their marriage. Camille looked back up at the top of the tree to Caleb LeRoux, married to Cecile Lecuyer. Beneath them was Pierre and Mena. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw she shared Mena’s birthday. As she took another glance down the tree, her smile turned into a frown. Returning to the top for a third time, she slowly scanned each line until she returned to her own name.

  Camille leaned back against the cushions and stared out at the woods, as though the answers to her confusion were hidden amongst the trees. According to the family tree, she was the only female descendent of the LeRoux family since Mena. How is that possible? With a sigh, she uncrossed her legs and got up from the seat. She’d have to question her father about it at dinner.

  “SO HOW WAS YOUR FIRST day of school?” her mother asked, smiling as she took her place at the table.

  “Pretty good, actually. It definitely made a difference already knowing Grace and the others. Turns out I had at least one of them in all my classes.”

  “That’s a stroke of good luck,” Her father stated, then filled his mouth with steaming roast beef.

  “It’s a small school, so probably not that unlikely, really,” Camille replied with a shrug.

  “My daughter, the optimist.” Her mother chuckled.

  “I prefer the term realist.” Camille smiled and started eating.

  “So, what interesting things did you learn?” her father asked, piling his fork up again.

  “Dad, it was only the first day...”

  “So? There was nothing to learn at all?” He winked at his wife.

  Camille rolled her eyes. “Actually, now that you mention it, one of my major assignments for the year is on the family tree. I’ve found a couple interesting things about that already.”

  “Do tell.” Her father’s smile lacked any amusement.

  “Well, first, during computer lab, Jayne and I decided to search for information on LeRoux Manor. Nothing came up, aside from just stock-standard location, et cetera. No information about its history, about what happened to Caleb and Mena. Nothing. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  “Maybe,” her mother said. “I mean, don’t they say you can find anything on the internet these days if you know how to look for it? Maybe you need to try refining the search.”

  “I don’t think you can get much more specific than ‘LeRoux Manor’. You want to know what else is weird?”

  “Sure,” her parents replied in unison, busying themselves with their meal.

  “The book I bought on the manor had our family tree in it—”

  “Are we on it?” her mother asked sharply.

  “Yes! Which is pretty cool, I have to admit. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I looked over it, and not only do Mena and I the same birthday, but I’m the only girl born into the family since her.”

  “That’s interesting,” her father stated, not looking at either of them. “Clearly, you should have been a boy.”

  “Ha, ha, Dad. You’re hilarious. Seriously, though, don’t you think that’s bizarre? I mean, what are the odds of only two girls being born in two hundred years?”

  “Sure, it’s unusual,” he said, “but genetics is a tricky thing. Some families have a lot more men than women, and vice versa. It doesn’t mean anything. That family tree doesn’t have all the information. What about the unlisted pregnancies that didn’t reach full-term? The girls that could have been born but never were?”

  Camille stared at her plate. She didn’t want to think she was reading too much into the family tree, but it was hard to ignore her father’s logic. Maybe she was letting Grace’s enthusiasm for the manor cloud her judgement. “How come the family tree starts with Caleb?” she asked. “He obviously had parents.”

  “I don’t know about his parents, sweetheart,” her father said. “But my guess would be that the family tree starts with him because he built the manor. And that’s what the book’s about, right? Honestly, I’ve never delved into the history of our family. I prefer to look forward, not back.”

  “Maybe reading the whole book will answer some of your questions,” her mother added gently.

  “I hope so,” Camille said. “So, can I please be excused? I have some reading to do.” Her parents nodded, and she rose from the table headed into the hall. Her mother’s voice wafted toward her from the dining room.

  “Phillipe, is that why Charles was so against us having a daughter?”

  Camille stopped short when she heard the question, straining to hear her father’s response.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Dad never talked about the family after his falling out with Charles. We were kids when it happened. And Dad wasn’t... well, he was never very open about discussing most things. I can’t imagine that’s the reason Charles was so upset. What a crazy notion, right?”

  “Not much crazier than him wanting us to put Camille up for adoption and try again for a boy,” her mother said.

  “I just find that hard to believe. The whole thing’s ridiculous.”

  There was a pause. “Still, I have to agree with Camille. No girls born to a family in two hundred years? It’s definitely strange.”

  Camille had heard enough; the thought of a connection between her uncle’s obscene wishes and the family tree made her sick to her stomach. Taking the stairs two at a time, she promised herself she’d get to the bottom of it. She was halfway down the hall to her room when someone stepped out in front of her and made her jump.

  “You really should learn to leave things alone, Miss,” Miss McAllister drawled, her stern gaze fixed firmly on Camille.

  Camille took a deep breath and collected herself, annoyed that she’d let the old woman surprise her again. “Wel
l you should stop lurking in hallways,” she snapped. “It’s creepy.” Then she moved around the woman, fighting the urge to turn back; she had a feeling Miss McAllister was staring after her. Instead, Camille closed the bedroom door behind her and waited, listening for movement in the hall. When she was met with nothing but silence, she slowly backed away from the door and went to her place on the window seat. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she set the book in her lap and started with Chapter One.

  SHE AWOKE WITH A START and banged her arm into the window. The book went clattering to the ground. Her alarm beeped incessantly, and she reached out with her other arm to turn it off before she realized the alarm wasn’t there. She’d fallen asleep on the window seat.

  With a frown, Camille swung her sleep-heavy legs over the edge of the seat and stumbled toward her mobile still vibrating and beeping on her bedside table. Once she’d turned it off, she stretched her neck a little, wincing at the stiff soreness there. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep at the window; the first day of school must have taken more out of her than she’d thought. Camille smiled, realising it was the first time since moving into the manor that she’d awoken feeling well-rested. She couldn’t wait to hear her friends’ thoughts on her interesting ancestry.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Y

  OU’RE DRIVING ME crazy,” Grace exclaimed as they left maths class together. “I can tell you’re holding something back!”

  “What? How?” Claire laughed. “You’ve known me for five minutes.”

  “I can tell, because you have the world’s lousiest poker face. You’ve been fidgeting and staring off into space all day.”

  “Yeah, I do want to share something, but I think I’m going to wait until lunch hour. Just so I can tell everyone at the same time... I think I need the group’s input.”

  “Oh! I do love a good intrigue!” Grace stated with a dramatic wave of her hand. They weaved through the throng of students on their way to the table under the tree. Jonathan and Lachlan were already there, stuffing their faces as though they hadn’t eaten in days.