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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. “Well 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.
