LeRoux Manor

by Liz Butcher

  “Anything else?” Camille asked, only half listening. While Jayne read out the articles’ highlights, Camille experienced the strangest combination of déjà vu and not feeling wholly present, as though she weren’t really there with her friends in her bedroom. She’d never felt anything like it, and though it passed quickly, it left her unnerved and anxious. “Sorry, what was that?” she asked.

  Jayne looked up at her briefly before rereading the article. “It says no one was charged, and the and the investigation quickly wrapped up. The LeRoux family had the woods’ heritage listed and included them as part of the estate, making them private property.”

  “That’s not half suspicious...” Jonathan scoffed.

  “Hmm...” Camille frowned. “Why do I feel like it had to be Mena? I mean Alice. Or whatever we’re calling her.”

  “That’s just wrong,” Jonathan declared with a scowl. “She was just a little girl then. It couldn’t have been her.”

  Another clap of thunder crashed outside. Then the clouds opened, and heavy rain pummelled the windows. The ferocity with which the raindrops hit the glass panes made Camille think of tiny fists beating against them in protest, trying to make her and her friends stop what they were doing.

  Lachlan’s next words pulled her away from the image. “My uncle wrote that the LeRoux’s’ wealth grew static after Caleb’s passing. They didn’t have any significant financial growth after that, like all their money just... stopped coming in. Then in 1874, it all came flooding back again.”

  “That’s weird, right?” Jonathan asked.

  “Well, again, that’s the same year that Alice was adopted by Caroline and the animal problems started,” Camille said. “I’d say that’s more than weird.”

  “You’re still convinced Alice is actually Mena?” Lachlan asked.

  Camille nodded. “I know it sounds crazy and makes no logical sense. I know if Mena was alive in 1874, she should have at least been in her fifties, not still six years old. But I know it’s her. I mean, just look at the pictures. You can’t deny it.”

  Her statement was punctuated by another thunderous crack from the storm, making them all jump. They stared at each other in momentary surprise before Jonathan chuckled. “Talk about creating an atmosphere...” Camille opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by the bedroom light flickering overhead.

  “Uh... how likely is it that this place loses power if this storm keeps up?” Jayne asked nervously, staring up at the ceiling light.

  “I have no idea,” Camille said. “This is the first storm we’ve had here. But I’m sure it’s be fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll go ask my parents where they keep the flashlights.” Jayne gave her a relieved smile.

  “I’ll come with you,” Lachlan stated, and the Jayne’s smile disappeared just as quickly.

  Camille tried to avoid looking at her as she got to her feet. The room lit up in a brilliant flash of lightning, shortly followed by another booming roar of thunder shuddering through the house.

  “We’ll be right back,” Camille reassured them, then she and Lachlan stepped out of the circle. As soon as they did, the room shook around them. Camille tried to keep her balance as she stared at Lachlan in surprise; his expression mirrored her own as the shaking intensified. “Is this normal for your storms here?” she yelled over the noise. Lachlan shook his head as he reached out for her hand. As soon as their fingers touched, they were hurled apart by a sudden, unseen force that sent them both sliding across the wooden floor in opposite directions. Jayne screeched, she and Grace grabbed a hold of Jonathan, and the three of them huddled together, looking back and forth between Lachlan and Camille.

  Lachlan pushed himself to his feet and strode resolutely toward Camille. He held out his hand again. She hesitated for a moment before reaching up for him. This time, he grasped her hand tightly, and the subsequent thunderclap roared so loudly, it sounded like it came from within the room. Then he pulled her to her feet and pressed her against him. She didn’t have time to register their closeness as the lamp flew off the bedside table, hurtling toward them and shattering at their feet.

  “What the hell is going on?” Lachlan yelled. Camille couldn’t reply but looked to where her friends huddled together on the floor. She gestured for them to stay where they were, then stepped away from Lachlan with his hand in hers. Before they could move any farther, the floor shifted violently. She lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, almost pulling Lachlan down with her and crying out at the bite of broken glass piercing her skin.

  Lachlan lunged toward her and almost fell himself. “Are you okay?” he asked, helping her to her feet as they braced themselves against each other to keep their footing. Camille looked up into his eyes and suddenly felt oblivious to the mayhem surrounding them—and the filthy stare Jayne shot her way. Swallowing thickly, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. There was a final clap of thunder, sounding weakened as it ebbed away, and Lachlan and Camille gazed at each other.

  “Camille, you’re bleeding!” Jayne cried out, and Lachlan stepped back to get a better look.

  He swore under his breath and lifted her hand to reveal the jagged cuts running down the length of her arm. It made her wince. He Lachlan stared at her intently, as though trying to determine what caused the pain.

  “Her leg,” Grace declared, pointing.

  Camille’s eyes widened when she looked down to see it for herself. She could only see blood seeping through her shirt at her ribs, but from the outside of her thigh protruded a slim shard of glass from the shattered lamp. Reaching down, she made to pull it out, but Lachlan grabbed her wrist and moved it away.

  “I don’t think you should do that. At least not until we have a first-aid kit or something. We don’t know how deep it is.”

  Camille nodded “So we’ll add first-aid kit to the list with the torches, then?”

  “I don’t think you should be going anywhere—”

  “It will be way quicker for me to go than for me to try giving any of you directions through this place.”

  “I’m not keen on the idea,” Jonathan offered, “but I think she has a point.” Another clap of thunder shook the windows. They all stared nervously around the room, waiting for the next crazy thing to happen. When it didn’t, they relaxed just enough to return to the task at hand.

  “Maybe we should all go together?” Jayne offered.

  “Probably best if you lot stay here,” Lachlan replied. “In case that earthquake or whatever it was kicks up again. It’s a lot safer in here than wandering around the manor.” Jayne didn’t reply, staring at Camille’s hand still in Lachlan’s. Camille let go of him and took a step to the side.

  “Uh, you all saw that lamp, didn’t you?” Grace asked. “And you want us to stay here?”

  Camille looked from Grace to Lachlan, uncertain what to do. “I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “Hey, I think the storm’s passing,” Lachlan said as a large clap of thunder rattled the room again.

  “Yeah, it sounds like it...” Jayne replied.

  “Did that not sound a little less fierce?” he asked with a shrug.

  “Look, guys. Maybe they’re right,” Grace said. “This is freaky, but at least in here, we can see the four walls, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing else that can smash. They’re just leaving for a few minutes.”

  Jayne stared at her with wide eyes. “Grace—”

  “We’re all a little scared,” Grace continued. “How about we push Camille’s bed against the wall? If the three of us sit there and waited with all these cushions, wouldn’t that make you feel better?”

  Jayne sighed and shakily got to her feet, her eyes on Lachlan as she feigned instability, but his attention was already back on Camille.

  “Do you really think you’re up for this?”

  Camille nodded. “It’s not far, and these look worse than they are. I promise.”

  “Okay. Let’s get this over and done with, then.”

 
; As another bout of thunder shook the room, the lights flickered off. Jayne and Grace screamed before the lights turned back on, pulsing as though threatening to turn off again at any minute.

  Lachlan offered his arm, and Camille leaned on it for support. “Let’s go.”

  “Be careful,” Grace said. “And hurry back.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  L

  ACHLAN LED THEM back to the staircase, and Camille was more than happy to let him take the lead. Another deafening roar of thunder rattled the walls, and without thinking, she stopped and gripped his arm tightly. He looked down at her, then gently removed her hand. Camille felt herself flush with embarrassment just before Lachlan slid his fingers between hers and led them down the stairs. She grabbed his arm with her other hand, partly for support and partly because she just liked touching him.

  They took it slower than she would have liked, but Camille had underestimated how much it would hurt to walk down the stairs. When they reached the sitting room, she reluctantly released Lachlan’s hand. Her parents sat together on the long lounge under the warm glow of the free-standing Tiffany lamp beside them. Her mother’s head rested in her father’s lap; her face hidden from view behind the book she was reading. Her father had his headphones in to watch something on his tablet. He smiled at whatever it was, then looked up and saw them standing there. The smile slowly slipped away, and he pulled his headphones out of his ears. “What is it, Camille?”

  Allysha lowered her book, and upon seeing her daughter’s expression, she quickly sat up. “Camille? Lachlan? Is everything okay?”

  Camille glanced at Lachlan, who also seemed to notice the immaculate state of the room, but he said nothing. “Wow, this room must be built like a bunker I can’t even hear the thunder in here.” she said, half to Lachlan and half to her parents.

  “What are you talking about, honey?” Allysha swung her legs off the couch to sit fully upright beside her husband.

  “The storm. Actually, it felt more like an earthquake. Or both. Just now. My whole room was shaking. It broke my lamp, and I hurt my...” Camille glanced down at her arm. There were no cuts. She pulled her shirt out away from her body to find it clean, and the leg that had filled her with such pain only moments before was now glass-free. She looked up at Lachlan and found his mouth agape and his eyes as wide as hers.

  Her parents exchanged a glance before turning back to them. “I think if there’d been an earthquake,” her father said, “we would know about it, sweetheart. I’d say it’s more likely the house is just a little unsteady in the storm. That thunder’s right overhead. Sure, the manor’s big, but it’s still going to shake a little.”

  Lachlan stepped forward as if to say something in Camille’s defence, but she grabbed his arm and gave it a little tug. “You’re probably right. I guess this place still creeps me out a bit.”

  “That’s understandable.” Allysha stood from the couch. “It’ll take more than a week or two to get used to, I’m sure. I think it’s a good time for a cup of tea. Would you like me to bring you guys up anything?”

  “Uh, no thanks, Mum. I thought we’d just grab some torches or something, though, if that’s okay. Jayne’s worried about losing power in the storm, and it’s freaking her out.”

  “Not a problem at all,” her mother said. “We have plenty. Your father made sure of that.” Allysha walked past her daughter and gave Camille’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Come with me into the kitchen.”

  Camille looked at her father, who winked at her before replacing his headphones and returning his attention to the tablet show. She exchanged a quick glance with Lachlan, then turned and followed her mother.

  Loaded up with both torches and candles—and a strict reminder on the safety of said candles—Camille and Lachlan silently weaved their way back through the manor.

  “Okay, seriously, what the hell just happened? You were injured. I saw it,” Lachlan hissed.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  He shook his head but continued in silence until they got to the foot of the stairs. “Do you really think it was just the storm making your room shake like that?” he asked.

  “No way. That definitely felt like an earthquake to me. I’ve never felt the floor move under me in a storm. Then again, I’ve lived in Woodville for five minutes. Maybe that’s just how intense the storms are here, and I’m just blowing it out of proportion. What do you think?” Camille stared at her feet as they started slowly up the stairs.

  “I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never seen anything like that. It’s odd, and you’ll think I’m mental, but it kind of feels like the house—or the estate or whatever—was trying to make us stop.”

  Camille risked a quick look up at him. “Stop our research?”

  Lachlan nodded. “And stop... you know. Us getting closer.” Camille pressed her lips together to hide the smile as he coyly ducked his head and cleared his throat, lengthening his stride.

  “I know what you mean, though” Camille stated, changing the subject. “If we were anywhere else, I’d be calling the whole thing crazy and would just forget about it. But I already know there’s way more going on here than we thought. Jayne’s gonna flip though if we tell her the earthquake apparently only happened in my room...”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t say anything. I mean, you’re right, and it won’t just be Jayne that flips. She’ll definitely be the most vocal about it. Until we can work out what’s going on, maybe we just don’t tell them.”

  “I don’t think they’ll be worried that much about an earthquake when they see that all the blood and the cuts on me are suddenly gone.”

  Lachlan stopped and grabbed her arm. “Are you sure you’re really okay?”

  Camille lifted her shirt high enough to reveal the side of her ribcage. “Like nothing happened.”

  He reached out and gently rubbed his thumb over her skin. “Good as new...” Herr face flushed at his touch, and she let her shirt fall back down. Lachlan cleared his throat. “There’s no lying to them, but there’s no explanation, either.”

  “Awesome.” They continued up the stairs.

  Camille smiled ruefully, sneaking another glance at him before quickly turning away. “Bloody hell!” She almost tripped over the next step when she found Miss McAllister standing at the top of the staircase, watching them. Lachlan swore beside her as he dropped a torch and quickly fumbled to pick it up.

  About to say something smart, Camille quickly thought better of it when she saw the old woman’s expression. Gone was her usual sneer of distaste, replaced by a deep frown darkening her eyes. That frown didn’t carry the usual disapproval, either. This time, it looked like both concern and fear.

  “What’s going on?” Camille asked. The woman said nothing. Lachlan had regained his composure beside her and stared up at Miss McAllister.

  “Do you know what happened in my room just now? What happened to me?” Camille asked, moving up a step as though approaching a startled animal. Miss McAllister opened her mouth slightly, glanced at Lachlan, and closed it again. Camille’s eyes flickered toward him before settling on Miss McAllister one more time. “You do know something, don’t you?”

  Miss McAllister took a hesitant step forward but stopped as her brother appeared from the shadows on Camille’s left. He walked toward her, either unaware of Camille and Lachlan on the stairs or ignoring them altogether and bent to whisper in his sister’s ear. Camille and Lachlan exchanged a bewildered glance. Then Mr McAllister straightened, his back still toward the staircase, and his sister just kept staring down at them.

  An icy chill ran up Camille’s spine; something about seeing the two of them together unnerved her. It was almost like déjà vu, and yet she knew that wasn’t possible. Then the anxiety crept back in when she realised the McAllister’s’ odder-than-normal behaviour confirmed there was something more going on in the manor. Somehow, that unspoken confirmation brought hot flushes of terror washing over her. Camille wished she could j
ust drop the candles and torches and grab a hold of Lachlan. She knew it would make her feel better, but she didn’t want to startle Miss McAllister and ruin whatever chance she had left of getting a response from the woman.

  After what felt like an eternity, Miss McAllister turned around without a word and led her brother back into the shadows.

  “What the hell was that about?” Lachlan murmured.

  Camille looked at him, her unease still strong despite the McAllister’s’ departure. “I have no idea.”

  They hurried back to her room to find Jonathan, Grace and Jayne crouched together on the window seat, gazing out at the storm. None of them seemed bothered by the flickering bedroom light overhead. The minute Camille stepped through the doorway; the lights went out. It was still fairly early in the evening, but the heavy storm clouds completely blocked out whatever sunlight remained. Lightning flashed through the sky, and her friends jumped, glancing around the room. Jayne screamed just before the lightning disappeared, and Lachlan fumbled to turn on a torch. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s just us.”

  “Please tell me you have torches,” Jayne added with a sob. “This place is freaking me out!”

  Lachlan walked toward them, torch in hand, and Camille dumped her armful of torches and candles on the bed. “Here you go,” he said, handing Jayne his torch. “We brought plenty. And a bunch of candles too.”

  Camille set to work lighting the candles. Then she placed them on the bedside table and spaced them out on the floor around the room.

  “It’s okay.” Grace placed a reassuring arm around Jayne’s shoulders. “Just a bad storm. It’s not like you haven’t seen one before.”

  “Not in a haunted house, I haven’t.”

  “No one said it was haunted...” Camille realised her words only fell on deaf ears as Jayne turned toward Lachlan and buried her face in his chest, the torch forgotten. A pang of something like jealousy shot through Camille, but when his eyes met hers, she had the strongest feeling he was trying to tell her something. The intensity of his stare made her flush hot again, so she cleared her throat and pretended to double-check the candles.