A Life in Orleans

Part Two

In the small room, I think it was meant to be an office, there was only a desk and a portrait, which was reclined from the desk. That portrait was of my mother... I recognized her unmistakable hair and porcelain skin. Nevertheless, I could not convince myself that it was true. Besides, what would a painting of my mother be doing in Orléans, France? Since I knew it was getting darker, I could not see very well so I decided to head home. I would return another day.

I ran down the stairs in shock as fast as I could and grabbed my school satchel, which I had left resting by the bed of the stairs. Then, I left as soon as possible. A soft mist had begun to drizzle as I walked back to my loft. All I could think about was running back to the manor house, and I had to restrain myself from doing so. It was too dark and I had nothing to illuminate the house with, it would be pointless. Instead, I focused on what I would tell Charles tomorrow. Maybe his family, being a part of the French aristocracy, would know something.

Once I arrived home, I was so mentally exhausted that I fell straight asleep, only to wake up in the morning more confused than before. Had it all been a dream? After all, I had wanted to know more about my mother, so why would not I dream of her? That theory was soon displaced, however, when I looked at my coat. It was still damp from last night's walk home.

I woke up, like usual, with the sunlight pouring in to my loft through the small window beside my bed. On this particular day, however, it blinded me. I stumbled out of bed disoriented and accidentally smacked my head against the hot wooden panel on my bed. Then, I realized it was now Thursday, which meant I took arithmetic with Charles; I could tell him about my surreal adventure last night. I quickly changed clothes, as I had fallen asleep in my clothes last night, and headed out the door. Immediately when I arrived I saw Charles socializing with the girls in the square. I would not interrupt him with serious matters, so I decided to tell him during class when the distraction of the opposing gender was not possible.

The clock struck noon and I dragged him away from his suitors to enter class. "Excuse me, sir, I was in the middle of something." Charles joked loudly as if to let the girls hear him.

"Leave them wanting more, Mr. Prévost. Besides, we have more important matters to attend to." I fed into his satire. He responded with a baffled face; as if to say he did not think anything I had to say could be more important. "Class is about to start," I mentioned, reinforcing my claim.

I do not think either of us paid any attention to the lecture, for I spent the entire hour rambling about last night. "Do you think it was really her? Might your family know something if so?" were questions that I must have repeated a dozen times. Charles seemed genuinely interested in helping me, but he said that I should go again during daylight hours to make sure. He suggested that we ask his parents during our Christmas holiday.

I understand why he thought it was a good idea, but it was the first week of December. Three weeks seemed like an eternity to wait to find out if his family even knew something. If they did not, it would be three weeks wasted.

So, I decided that come Saturday since I had to work at the school library today and tomorrow, I would revisit the abandoned manor house, this time during the morning. I would have liked to have been accompanied by Charles, this way he could confirm what I saw, but he was busy "studying" and wanted to go on Sunday. Since I could not wait any longer, I went alone.

This time, when I entered the home my footprints were still there. Further proof that nobody had touched the manor for years. I did not hover on the first floor at all, shuffling up the staircase at once. Before I opened the door behind which the portrait stood, I wanted to know if there was something behind the other door that I had seen. There was nothing but an empty bed frame. My anxiety was brewing, and I think that if I had not opened the door when I did, I might have made my lips bleed.