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P
LEASE TELL ME you’ve updated your blog with Grace’s sighting and the mirror incident?” Jayne pleaded.
“Without any evidence to post, people will just assume I’ve made everything up,” Camille replied.
“Some people are going to think that whether you have any evidence or not,” Grace argued. “You know. Don’t believe everything you see and all that. But we know it’s real. Besides, isn’t the point of the blog anyway? To document everything?” She tore off a piece of her sandwich and popped it into her mouth.
“I’m with Grace,” Jonathan agreed around a mouthful of chicken wrap. “Most people just think LeRoux Manor is super creepy, so I doubt anyone would actually be surprised to hear there’s a bunch of weird stuff going on there.”
“Well, that’s awesome...” Camille replied with a rueful smile. “I’ll be the blog girl who lives in the creepy manor.”
“That’s the spirit!” Jonathan exclaimed. Grace gave him a playful nudge in the ribs.
“Have you considered the possibility that you’ve been looking into the wrong family tree?” Lachlan asked quietly.
Camille frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you said Miss Mc Allister definitely reacted to the name Caroline. Her family has lived in the manor for as long as the LeRoux’s have. So maybe Caroline isn’t related to you. Maybe she’s related to the McAllister’s.” Camille raised her eyebrows in admiration of his theory.
“Boy wonder strikes again!” Jonathon shouted, slapping his mate on the back.
“That’s not bad at all,” Grace said. “You could be onto something, there.”
“Maybe there’s something about them back at the manor,” Camille suggested, “either in the book or the attic stuff.”
“Maybe, yeah. Or, if you want to go to the library and see what we can find, that might help. I’m not working today.”
“Definitely,” Camille said.
“I can’t,” Jayne added, dropping her gaze in disappointment. “I have to babysit. Won’t be done until after dinner.”
“I’m keen,” Lachlan offered. The girls looked at him in surprise, but he just kept eating.
“Uh, sure...” Camille said, feeling Jayne’s stare burning into her.
“Yeah, I’ll leave you lot to the library,” Jonathan said. “Not really my thing. But I expect an update if you find anything cool.” Grace rolled her eyes at him.
“Same here!” Jayne added, clearly not wanting to be left out.
“What’s everyone got for the last two periods?” Jonathan asked.
“IT here,” Camille answered while Jayne nodded in confirmation.
“We have bio,” Grace told the boys, obviously referring to them and herself.
“What would I do without my personal assistant?” Jonathan grinned and stood from the table.
“I think you’ll find you’re my assistant.” Grace dumped her bag in his hands. He kissed her on the head, then slung her bag over one shoulder while his own hung from the other.
“Cool,” Camille said. “We’ll meet you out front after school.” They waved each other off before walking in separate directions. By the way she stomped next to Camille, Jayne was obviously annoyed she couldn’t join them after school. Camille thought it best they walk in silence until she could think of a way to remedy the situation.
They entered the IT classroom, and took their seats, and found a different teacher sitting at the desk. Once everyone was seated, he finally spoke, his bushy grey eyebrows joined in an unfriendly frown. “I’m substituting today. You can have a free work session to work on what you want, but I don’t want to see any nonsense or rowdy behaviour.”
Jayne and Camille glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. The teacher returned to whatever he was reading, and Camille leaned over toward Jayne. “If you don’t have anything you want to work on,” she whispered, “would you mind helping me finish off the post for my blog?” Jayne’s eyes widened, and she nodded eagerly.
Camille was relieved to find she had to do very little—Jayne was clearly in her element—and watched in awe as her the girl expertly uploaded images and rearranged text.
“Okay, we’re ready for a preview to see how it all looks before it goes live.”
“Live?” Camille asked.
“As in publish it so everyone else can see it. Aren’t you supposed to be the high-tech city girl?” Jayne laughed.
Camille gave her a rueful smile. “Tech I love, so long as it works. It’s the how anything works I know nothing about. You, on the other hand, are so good at this stuff.”
Jayne gave a nonchalant shrug, but her proud smile gave her away. “I’m okay. Better than most. Who knows? Maybe I’ll make a career out of it.”
“I really think you should.” Camille leaned in for a better look at Jayne’s handiwork. The page started with a photo of Camille Jayne had taken from her Facebook page. Beside that was a brief introduction chronicling Camille’s move to LeRoux Manor and her interest in finding out the truth about the manor’s history. On the next page, Jayne had uploaded the LeRoux family portrait from Camille’s phone. Below the photo was the LeRoux family tree Camille had typed up, with a change in the font to better suit the site. The final page detailed Camille’s strange experiences in individual journal entries, ensuring they were properly documented while also giving some character to the blog.
“Are you happy with it?” Jayne asked.
“Are you kidding me? I love it. It’s awesome. Thank you so much.”
“You can do the honours, then.” Jayne moved aside.
Camille smiled as she moved the mouse over the ‘Publish’ button and clicked.
“You remember how to add new posts as we discover more information, right?”
Camille nodded. “I think so. But if I get stuck, I’ll let you know.” Jayne smiled, and Camille hoped the ice between them had finally thawed, opening the way for them to become friends.
CAMILLE DIDN’T KNOW why she felt a wave of butterflies in her stomach when she saw Lachlan and Grace waiting for her at the school gate. Grace saw her first and waved. Camille returned the gesture before deflecting her gaze to the ground. She felt so awkward under Lachlan’s intense stare as she approached. After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached them, feeling the heat in her cheeks and hoping they’d mistake the blush for a chill from the cold air. She made a point of rearranging her scarf for good measure.
“About time, LeRoux,” Lachlan said, pushing himself away from leaning against the wall. “We were starting to think you weren’t going to show.”
“Sorry. I think I accidently took the scenic route from the computer lab.”
Grace laughed and hooked her arm through Camille’s. “You’ll know this place like the back of your hand before you know it.” They made their way toward the centre of town, Grace seemingly happy to take over the majority of the talking for the three of them. Camille tried to focus on what she her friend was saying rather than worrying about the fact that Lachlan walked half a step behind them. Finally, Grace led them into the library, and Camille welcomed the warmth.
“Hi, Ms Liddell,” she said to the librarian as they walked past the front counter.
“Good afternoon.” Ms Liddell offered only the smallest smile as she peered at them over her glasses, her hands resting on the book lying open on the desk. When they reached the first bookshelf, Camille looked back to find the librarian still watching them and fought off the urge to shiver.
“Where did you say all the Woodville stuff was?” Grace asked, and Camille pointed toward the back wall. They went there first, and Grace scanned the shelves. “Wow. Not a lot here, is there?”
“There isn’t really a lot to write about aside from the manor,” Lachlan started. “Beyond that, we’re just like any other small town, I expect.” They each grabbed books from the collection and carried them to a table.
“What’s the best way to go about this?” Camille asked.
“How about we start by checking contents and indexes for any reference to the McAllister’s or any other servants at the manor,” Lachlan suggested. So, they each grabbed a book from the small stack and got to work. It wasn’t long before they realised their search was going to be more difficult than they thought.
“Can I help you with anything?” Miss Liddell asked. All three of them jumped at her unexpected and silent approach.
“Uh, not sure...” Camille stammered. “We’re looking for some specific information but not having much luck.”
“What information would that be?”
“We’re trying to find more information about the manor staff,” Lachlan stated confidently. “We know the McAllister family have worked there since it was first built, so we were hoping to find some kind of family tree or employment records. Do you know if either of those exist?”
Miss Liddell only stared at him in response. He shifted under the intensity of her gaze, then looked at Grace and Camille.
“Uh, Miss Liddell?” Grace asked.
The librarian turned her attention to Grace, as though she hadn’t done anything strange, then said, “I’ll be right back.” The woman turned and walked away; her footsteps soundless on the carpeted floor.
“What was that about?” Camille whispered.
“I have no idea,” Lachlan replied, gazing around the library.
Grace frowned. “That was super weird...” Camille nodded.
“I don’t really care,” Lachlan said with a shrug, “as long as she has something that’ll help us. I guess we can put these books away.”
It took about ten minutes—enough time for them to wonder if Miss Liddell was actually coming back—for her to reappear. In her hands was a densely packed manila folder, bound together with a piece of string, like an old-fashioned parcel. She placed it on the table between them.
“What’s that?” Camille asked.
“Everything I have on the manor that isn’t already published. It was donated to the library. From a private collection, so to speak.”
“You mean, someone was actually interested enough to research the manor?” Grace asked.
“Something like that,” Miss Liddell replied. “A professor was very interested in the history of the manor... I think it was about twenty years ago now. Possibly longer. I was only a library assistant then, but I recall him being quite charming. Some of his theories were a little too fanciful for my liking.”
“Fanciful how?” Camille queried.
The raised her eyebrows. “He had a rather distasteful fascination with the paranormal. The man was here all the time, writing up his findings and theories. Then one day, he just stopped coming. Shortly after that, I received this. It was quite the scandal.”
“I didn’t know a donation to a library was considered a scandal,” Grace said with a frown.
Miss Liddell stared at Lachlan again for a moment. “Well, he simply up and vanished. We never saw or heard from him again. I do remember the letter that came with the folder was very strange. Dated a few weeks before he disappeared, yet the package didn’t come to us until at least a month after. I suppose none of that really matters now. Everything he researched is in the folder. Please be careful with it.” Then she walked away and left them to it.
“Curiouser and curiouser...” Camille whispered.
“At least she came up with the goods.” Lachlan pushed the folder toward her. “It’s your family’s home. You should open it.”
Camille gave him a small smile as she placed her hands on the folder. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt a lot different than opening a book. This felt more personal. Carefully, she untied the string, and Lachlan and Grace leaned closer. The folder was worn around the edges, and Camille gently opened it to reveal a stack of papers haphazardly thrown together.
“Well, this’ll be fun to sort through,” Lachlan stated.
Camille exchanged a questioning look with Grace, unsure if he was serious or joking. Then she picked up the first few papers and flipped through them. “Looks like everything’s dated, so that’s something.” She placed the A4 hand-written pages back in the folder. “How about I split this pile into three?”
“Sounds good,” Grace replied, and Lachlan nodded. Camille grabbed the first stack and handed them to Grace. The next stack went to Lachlan, leaving Camille with what remained in the folder. Grace glanced quickly through her pile. “At least his handwriting’s neat.”
“It might be easier if we try to sort everything into chronological order first,” Lachlan suggested, reaching for the first pile.
“If you say so.” Grace pulled her stack toward her.
Camille took the last stack and marvelled at how a professor could be so disorganised.
They searched through the donated research in silence until Camille lifted a page to reveal a journal, “Hey guys, check this out.”
“Awesome,” Lachlan exclaimed. “Open it. Maybe it’s got the professor’s name.”
Camille opened the journal and immediately found the legible name written on the first page. “Professor Robert Rivers.”
“Woah, what?” Grace stood from her chair and walked around the table to peer over Camille’s shoulder.
“What? Camille asked. “Do you know who that is?”
“Uh, that’s Lachlan’s surname.” Both girls looked up at him.
His eyes were wide, and he seemed to have paled even more, if possible.
“Lachlan?” Camille prompted.
He swallowed thickly. “My uncle. I never met him, but I know he was obsessed with the manor. My father was really messed when he disappeared. Mum said he’s never been the same since. I guess that’s why I’ve always kind of been so interested in it. But I never imagined finding his work. Or that he’d done so much research on the place.” He eyed the journal with a slight scowl.
Camille lowered her gaze. “I’m really sorry to hear that.” “Thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the journal with an expression Camille thought was part intrigue and part fear.
“Here.” She pushed the journal toward him. “You should have it.”
Lachlan only nodded in response, reaching out for the journal and pulling it toward him. He sat there for a moment, one hand on the cover while the fingers of his other hand tapped on the table. Camille and Grace exchanged a quick look, and Camille wondered whether this had been such a good idea after all. Finally, Lachlan opened the journal and ran his fingers over his uncle’s name. “How about we leave the journal for last and look through these papers for anything on the McAllister’s?” he suggested, closing the journal and pushing it to the side.
“Uh, sure. Whatever you want to do,” Camille replied, taking a quick look at where the journal sat, all the more intrigued to learn of its contents. Instead, the three of them focused on their individual piles of paper.
It was a slow process; everything was hand-written and at times hard to read. It seemed if the professor was particularly excited about something, his handwriting became almost unreadable. Yet Camille found herself enjoying the process of reading and deciphering, trying to pull anything relevant from the professor’s thoughts. Despite the less-than-ideal way they’d come into possession of the professor’s work, she felt herself forming a connection to her new home and its past.
“I found it,” Grace cried, then ducked her head when she seemed to remember where they were. “I almost gave up, but this has to be it.” Lachlan and Camille moved closer and huddled around Grace for a better look. It wasn’t set out like the LeRoux family tree in her book; it was a page of dates with entries beside each, and it was the exact information they’d been after.
THE MCNALLY FAMILY TREE | ||
YEAR |
NAME |
NOTES |
1807 |
Anne McNally |
McNally family comes under the employ of LeRoux family. |
1817 |
Anne McNally |
McNally family move with the LeRoux family into the new manor. Year of Mena’s disappearance and Caleb’s murder. |
1827 |
Anne McNally & Dougal McFarland |
Marry |
? |
Catherine (McNally?) |
Possible cousin to Anne McNally |
1829 |
Watson McFarland |
Born |
1849 |
Watson McFarland & Caroline Felding |
Marry |
1850 |
Sybil McFarland |
Born |
1874 |
Alice McFarland |
Child adopted by Caroline |
1877 |
Sybil McFarland & Alaric Stafford |
Marry |
1880 |
Mary Stafford |
Born |
1910 |
Mary Stafford & Malcolm McAllister |
Marry |
1911 |
Thomas McAllister |
Born |
1940 |
Thomas McAllister & Lucy Grey |
Marry |
1942 |
Robert McAllister Margaret McAllister |
Born – Twins |
“Look,” Lachlan said, pointing at the page. “Here’s the McAllister’s down the bottom, born in 1942.”
“And there’s Caroline.” Camille pointed to the entry higher up on the page. “1849. Watson McFarland married Caroline Felding.”
“Woah, 1849... So she married into the McAllister family, then,” Lachlan stated.
“Looks like it.” Camille’s enthusiasm faltered for a moment when she spotted another name on the list. She pointed to the line for 1817, the year the manor was completed and the LeRoux family tragedy unfolded.
“He’s listed Catherine—cousin of Anne McNally?”
“So?” Lachlan shook his head. “Anne was the first in the family to work at the manor. Maybe he just didn’t know if Catherine had worked there too.”
“She did,” Camille replied.
“How do you know?” Grace asked.
“It sounds silly, but the dream I had... the one in the attic with the trunk... I heard a little girl say the name Catherine. It can’t be a coincidence.” Grace and Lachlan just stared at the page.
“I think there might be more going on here than we thought.” Lachlan leaned back in his chair and lifted his arms for a stretch.
“Let’s focus on one mystery at a time,” Grace suggested. “So, Caroline married into the McAllister family tree in 1849, but it doesn’t say how old she was. A year later they had a daughter. Sybil.”
“What about this?” Lachlan pointed to a side note. “Caroline adopted a girl in 1874 named Alice.”
“That seems odd...” Grace murmured. “By then, Sybil would have been twenty-four and Caroline would’ve had to at least be in her forties.”
“Yeah, this is weird,” Camille added. “Maybe Alice was a relation or an orphan she took in?”
“Maybe,” Lachlan replied. “We might find the paperwork for it in all this.”
After another exhaustive scan through the pages, they found nothing.
“Does Woodville have a registry?” Camille asked. “I’ll search the net when I get home.”
“Worth a shot,” Grace agreed. They turned to Lachlan, who seemed to have been too busy flicking through his uncle’s journal to hear them.
“Lachlan?” Grace nudged him.
“Huh? Oh, sorry. I just saw the last entry.”
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to skip to the end?” Grace joked.
“What does it say?” Camille asked, shifting to the edge of her seat, her hands clasped on her lap beneath the table. She couldn’t say why, but she suddenly felt anxious.
Lachlan gave her a quick glance before returning to the page. “Well, it says that in order to further his research, he’d convinced Charles LeRoux to allow him a limited stay at the manor. On the condition Charles could review his research before it left the house.”
“That’s it? That’s the last entry?” Camille asked.
He nodded. “So we know he went to the manor and was never seen again.”
“We don’t know for sure that was the last time he was seen,” Grace cut in. “Just because it says that was his plan doesn’t mean it happened. There’s no proof he was at the manor. He could have left town before then.”
“Look at all of this, then,” Lachlan replied, scowling. “Do you really think he’d just leave it all behind and pass up on the opportunity to his obsession right there, at the source?”
Camille and Grace exchanged glances. “All I’m saying,” Grace said, “is we don’t know for sure that he was there. At least, not yet. We have to keep an open mind.”
“If you say so. I have to go.” He didn’t look up at either of them as he stood and placed the journal in his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was almost as an afterthought before he turned and walked away.
“What the hell?” Camille whispered.
“I know, right?” Grace answered in equally hushed tones before returning to her pile of notes.
Camille stared after Lachlan, wanting to go after him but not wanting to face the questions and innuendos from Grace if she did.
“I didn’t know much about your uncle,” Grace said. “I don’t think anyone did. Which makes me wonder why a man as private as Charles LeRoux would agree to let someone stay at the manor. Especially someone with the intent of investigating.”
Camille leaned back in her chair. “You’re right. It doesn’t make much sense. Maybe he knew there was something going on there and wanted to get answers.”
“Maybe we’ll never know,” Grace added. “Did you find anything in his stuff that indicated he’d seen the old woman?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. I haven’t been over that side of the manor yet. I’m not even sure my parents have. I think they’re leaving it until last, out of respect. All I know is that he kept to a small part of the manor and left the rest of it untouched.”
“Might be worth having a look,” Grace suggested, and Camille nodded silently. A chill ran up her spine.
