Marie: Here's the next chapter. Thank you, Nancy Nickerson for that review. Sorry to disappoint but Nancy and Ned are just friends. And yeah so much for level-headed Frank. He's now head-over-heels-in-love Frank. Lol. Enjoy!
"This house dates back to some time before the Civil War. Colonel Gerard LeRue immigrated to America from –you guessed it- France, with his family when he was a small boy. His father was wealthy and they started a plantation here. Gerard inherited it and then continued to run the plantation but also attended military school and was very well known for his part in the Civil War on the Confederate side."
The group of visitors to the plantation (a grand total of five people for the evening's last tour) listened intently to Annabelle's narrative of the mansion's history.
Nancy in particular was wondering about the rumors she'd heard of the vanished Confederate money. "Is it true that there was once an operation in the Lighthouse where they made Confederate coins?" she asked.
Annabelle grinned, apparently used to having this question asked of her. "That was what the colonel is most famous for. He used that as a base and also a place where they stashed money for the Rebels. After the outcome of the war the lighthouse was shut down and it has remained empty for many years now."
Joe piped up. "What ever happened to the money? Surely they didn't spend all of it!"
Her green eyes twinkled mischievously as she got to the best part of the story of Gerard LeRue. "Supposedly a large sum of it had been promised to the Colonel. Unfortunately the Colonel's ending is a rather tragic one. He was carrying the money with him on his way home while the war was still going on and he was robbed by some desperate Confederate deserters who knew about the operation. He was murdered and the money was taken. Of course the money was useless once the war was over but the men weren't aware of this fact when they took it. His plantation was abandoned after the war and has only recently been restored to its original glory."
Nancy chewed on the story. What happened to that money? Where did the thieves stash it?
"What about the ghosts?" asked another tourist. He was a rather fat man with a balding head and a camera ready.
Miss Harris got a little nervous with this question. She lowered her voice and said, "It is said that Colonel LeRue and his men now haunt this house and the lighthouse and there are many reports of seeing them wandering aimlessly between the two locations. Some say LeRue is looking for his stolen money, wanting to avenge his death on the ones who killed him. No one has found the money but it is believed to be somewhere in the area since there are reports that many deserters lived on the abandoned property towards the end of the war."
"Ooh, ghosts!" laughed Joe. He nudged Frank and said, "Better be on your guard when you go to sleep tonight. LeRue might want his bedroom back."
It was obviously futile to try to make conversation with the young man, however. He was smitten and there was no hope of bringing him back. Joe waved his hand in front of his brother's face but it was no use. He was gone as long as that girl was in the room.
After the rest of the tour the group went up to their rooms to get ready for dinner. It was supposed to be a semi-formal event so they were to get a little gussied up. Nancy put on a nice skirt and blouse that she looked stunning in, a very classy look, just like her. The boys even cleaned up nice.
Joe whistled when he saw Nancy. "Pretty as a picture," he said as he grinned.
Nancy just laughed and entered the dining room. Frank had since awoken from his little day dream about Annabelle and was almost back to his old self. Almost.
The older brother turned to his younger sibling and said, "You know, Joe, I don't think you're being obvious enough. Try harder." He patted him on the back and entered the room also, chuckling all the way.
With antique looking wall paper, crown molding, silver candlesticks, an impressive mantle and a massive oak table the main dining room of LeRue Plantation was a sight to behold. Able to seat a large group of people it was obviously the highlight of a visitor's experiences at the plantation.
When the three companions entered, the room was already abuzz with talk of what they were going to visit while in Shoalwood and of the mysterious history of the bed and breakfast they were already staying in. The woman sitting next to Nancy was very animated and wished to hear her side of the ghost rumors.
"I heard that the ghosts don't like it when someone stays in their room and the people in them are the ones that are most likely to see a spirit."
Nancy couldn't help but laugh at it. The woman seemed convinced that ghosts were real. "Well, I'm not so sure there really are ghosts at this place, or any place for that matter, but I'll keep my eye out."
The man sitting across from her widened his eyes and said, "Oh, but they do exist! That's why I came out here- to do some ghost hunting. I'm writing a book on the east coast's most haunted houses."
Now Joe laughed from where he was seated next to Nancy (of course!) and said sarcastically to the man across from her, "Oh that sounds like a best seller!"
Nancy elbowed him and said pleasantly, "I'll be sure to look for it when it comes out."
This satisfied the man and he turned back to his roast beef. Frank was talking to the man beside him about the rooms they were staying in. Apparently the man's room was on the same floor as Frank and both had been inhabited by an owner, Frank's by Gerard LeRue, and the other man's by Colonel LeRue's father, Aleron. Both men were wondering if they would be seeing anything during their stay.
"I personally don't believe in ghosts," said the young man, named Walter Alberda. He was a thin young man and looked a bit sickly, his glasses large compared to his long face and thin nose.
Frank agreed but admitted that the stories intrigued him. The two continued in their conversation, along with everyone else at the table, and dinner went well. The courses were delicious and the three were so full they passed on dessert and decided to maybe get that a little later in the evening.
Nancy and Joe decided they wanted to explore the grounds but Frank declined, stating that he wanted to hang around the main house. His two friends nodded at each other knowingly. Annabelle.
The older of the two brothers watched them head off in the direction of the gardens and then went in search of the young auburn-haired beauty he had met earlier that day. Of course it wasn't really like him to be so smitten but hey, Joe was right. Frank needed to enjoy his vacation after all.
It took him a while as the house was rather large and it was no easy task finding one particular person in such an immense place. He was about to give up hope and go in search of Nancy and Joe but then he saw a door he hadn't been through or knocked on yet so he went in…and ran smack dab into the cook and her tray of muffins.
"What're ya doin' in here, chile?" the large black woman asked of the very surprised young man, dusting crumbs off herself angrily.
He could only blink and look at her and then his surroundings. Pots, pans, ladles…he was in the kitchen and the cook was almost as surprised to see him as he was of her.
"Uh," he said intelligently.
"Young man, ya're supposed to be out lookin' at the grounds, not in ma kitchen!" She put her hands on her hips, obviously waiting for an explanation from Frank who was apparently not allowed to be back in the kitchen.
"Um, I'm Frank and I'm looking for…"
"I don't care who ya are and I don't care who ya're lookin' for! I wanna know what ya're doin' in ma kitchen, runnin' into people who have places to go and chores to do."
Despite his athletic build Frank was pretty sure this woman could crush him with her big toe and not care a whim about it. Those angry dark eyes weren't lying, even if he had run into her and her muffin tray on accident.
Just when he thought he was done for he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Odessa, what put you in such a foul mood today?"
The cook's eyes softened when she saw who the voice belonged to. "Miz Harris, how come you didn't come to see ole Odessa earlier this mornin'? I missed ya."
Annabelle laughed and said, "I was doing a tour that Aunt Molli couldn't make it to. But you still didn't answer my question. What are you yelling at poor Frank Hardy for?"
The black woman resumed her angry voice. "He came in here and near bowled me over and ruined a whole batch of ma famous blueberry muffins!"
Frank scratched his head nervously, wondering how he was going to weasel out of the situation and also curious as to how Annabelle Harris had learned his name when he had been struck dumb earlier that afternoon.
"Odessa, why don't you go clean the dining room and Frank and I'll make you another batch of muffins? You've been teaching me how to make blueberry muffins since I started visiting this place so it's not like I don't know how to make them."
The woman considered this and finally a smile spread over her features. "Alright, ya got a deal." But then she shook her finger at Frank and said, "Don't ya be messin' up ma kitchen, ya hear?"
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered. He breathed a sigh of relief when the woman bustled out of the kitchen and into the dining room, grumbling a little about ruined blueberry muffins.
Annabelle just grinned at Frank and said, "Ever made muffins before?"
Note: Well that's the next chapter. It'll get better in the next chapter, don't worry. Right now we're just introducing you to the characters and the setting and stuff. Background is always good. Please review!