by Holly Webb
“Lord Tarquin Fane? You mean the Marquess of Fane?” Professor Tobin’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “An emerald? Goodness, Maisie, did he give the girl the Stone of Saint Cecilia?”
“I don’t know.” Maisie looked puzzled. “It was a necklace, with pearls, and an emerald pendant.” Maisie stared at him. “Miss Lane said it was as big as her thumb. Could that be the Stone of Saint Cecilia? The emerald’s got a name?”
Professor Tobin pulled at his moustache, trying to remember. “Let me see… The Stone of Saint Cecilia. Mmm… One of the most famous jewels in the world. It was found in India, yes, hundreds of years ago, and for a long time it was in a church of Saint Cecilia in Italy – in the crown of a statue of the saint, I seem to recall. But the church was destroyed by an earthquake and the stone was stolen. Eventually it came into the hands of the Fane family, in about 1700. Since then it’s been one of their greatest treasures. They put it in a necklace. There are legends about it.” The professor frowned. “It was thought that the stone had actually been stolen from Saint Cecilia’s statue before the earthquake, and that was why the church collapsed. All nonsense, of course.”
Professor Tobin pulled out an enormous spotty handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “But it’s one of those jewels that gathers dark stories about it. Legends of ruin and disaster for its owners, if it should be lost. The family are all supposed to die of a terrible wasting sickness, if I remember rightly. Poor girl – when she finds out about the curse, she’ll probably think she’s brought it down on herself and Lord Tarquin.”
“Do you think maybe Lord Tarquin won’t marry her if she can’t find it?” Maisie asked worriedly.
Professor Tobin sighed. “Considering she’s just lost approximately a third of his fortune, I should think he might possibly have doubts…”
“Hello, Maisie! Oi, don’t let that dog near the sausages…” It was the next day and Maisie had just run into George – the delivery boy from the butcher’s. George held the parcel with the meat delivery up over his head and pretended to glare at Eddie, who was dancing round his feet and yapping excitedly.
“Don’t tease him,” Maisie said, giggling. “You make him worse. He wouldn’t dream of even looking at a sausage if you didn’t encourage him. How’s work?”
George shrugged. “All right, I suppose. The new girl that took Sally’s place – she’s the most stuck-up thing you’ve ever seen. She acts like she’s too good to work in a butcher’s shop, she’s enough to make a cat laugh. You ought to see her waltzing around with her nose in the air. She says I smell, Maisie, can you imagine? She’s got a lacy handkerchief with lavender water on it, and she holds it up to her nose when I go past.”
Maisie shook her head disgustedly. George did smell of the shop, she had to admit, but that was hardly a surprise, and the shopgirl probably smelled of sausages and the best mince, too.
“Hey, Maisie,” George added, as he passed her the meat order. “Isn’t that Miss Lane who lives upstairs friendly with Miss Sarah Massey? The one who plays Lily in Circus Sweethearts?”
Maisie groaned. Had everyone heard of the actress except her? “Yes. Why? What of it?” she asked.
“Well,” said George. “Miss Massey didn’t go on last night. She’s had an accident. It’s in all the papers and the newsboy was shouting about it.”
“What sort of accident?” Maisie asked worriedly. “Is she all right? Was she badly hurt?”
George shrugged. “Don’t know. Anyway, I thought your Miss Lane might want to go and visit her, or something.”
Maisie nodded. “It’s kind of you.” She knew quite well that George just enjoyed passing on gossip, but then Maisie did like to gossip, too, so she could hardly tell him off. “I’ll take Miss Lane’s letters upstairs and tell her the news,” she promised him. “So have you seen her play?”
“Course I have!” George said. “Everyone’s seen it, Maisie, it’s the talk of London. I’ve seen it twice. I got a seat up at the back. It’s fantastical.” He gave her a surprised, rather pitying look. “Haven’t you seen it, then?”
“No…” Maisie muttered, going pink. “Gran isn’t keen on the theatre. She thinks it’s not proper. All that dressing up and glittery stockings…”
“Your gran’s just fussy,” George said, rolling his eyes.
By the time Maisie had put the meat away in the larder, the front door was banging closed and she realized crossly that Miss Lane had gone out – and now someone else was bound to tell her about Sarah Massey’s accident. Maisie would just have to try to catch Miss Lane later, and hope she would feel like gossiping. Maisie sighed sadly, and got on with the washing-up.
A little while after their midday dinner, Maisie heard Miss Lane coming back and talking to Sally in the hallway. She hurriedly filled the kettle and put it on the stove. It was almost tea time, if one liked tea early, anyway. And Miss Lane often didn’t eat dinner if she was busy, so it would be a kindness to take her a cup of tea…
Maisie assembled it on a tray and shut Eddie in the kitchen so that he didn’t trip her up on the stairs – he never meant to, but he was only a puppy and he had a habit of weaving in and out of feet.
Then she carried the tray up to Miss Lane’s room, and knocked hopefully.
“Oh, Maisie, you little treasure,” Miss Lane murmured, as she flung open the door. “I need that tea. I’ve spent the whole morning fussing over Sarah at her lodgings, and if you think I’m untidy, Maisie, you should see what she’s like. And her landlady isn’t nearly as nice as your gran. I haven’t had so much as a biscuit.”
“George told me Miss Massey had had an accident…” Maisie prompted, hopefully.
“Oh, yes, she had the most lucky escape, though. She was crossing the road, and she was nearly run down by a hansom cab. The cabbie said she wasn’t looking, but Sarah swears she was.” Miss Lane frowned. “Though she’s so featherbrained at the moment, Maisie, I should think it probably was her fault. Since Tarquin told her about the emerald being valuable, she just hasn’t been thinking straight, and now she’s learnt about some sort of curse on the stone, although that’s all just superstition.”
Maisie frowned. “I thought she was a star, Miss Lane. How can she get away with being featherbrained? With all those words to say, and the dancing, and the songs?”
“Exactly,” Miss Lane said grimly. “It’s that dratted boy Timmy’s fault. Well, Tarquin. Sarah’s been in such a tizzy she can hardly remember if she’s coming or going. Even before the accident, I think the manager of the theatre was getting tetchy. It’s up to him who gets the starring roles, you see, and until a few days ago, he thought Sarah was wonderful. Pretty, and she’s got a lovely voice, and charm, Maisie. That’s what made her so special. You could feel her smile all the way to the back row of the gods – that’s the bit right up at the top, dear.”
Maisie sighed. She wished Gran wasn’t so strict. Even the butcher’s boy knew more about the theatre than she did.
“But she’s still got all that,” Maisie pointed out.
Miss Lane shook her head. “She’s distracted, though. Forgetting her lines, messing up the steps in the big chorus dance number. Oh, they covered for her, but the audience could see it wasn’t right. And the charm’s gone, Maisie. The sparkle. She’s too worried to shine.” Miss Lane sighed. “It’s even worse now, of course. She’s convinced it’s all because of the curse, especially since she was nearly run over by that dratted cab. Have you heard about this curse, Maisie?”
“Professor Tobin told me about it,” Maisie nodded. “About it being bad luck to lose the emerald.”
“Yes,” Miss Lane said grimly. “So now, of course, Sarah thinks she’s probably going to die some sort of horrible lingering death.”
“So has Lord Tarquin noticed that she’s not wearing the necklace yet?” Maisie asked.
“She had enough sense left to tell him that the clasp was loose, and that she had taken it to the jeweller’s to be mended,” Miss Lane explained. “But I think that u
sed up the last of her wits. Now she’s just a jittery mess.”
“So, what happened last night? Did they have to cancel the show?” Maisie asked anxiously.
“Oh no,” Miss Lane shook her head briskly. “No, her understudy went on instead – one of the chorus girls, who knows the role in case Sarah’s ill.” Miss Lane wrinkled her nose worriedly. “And unfortunately for Sarah, she was very good. Arabella’s a dear girl, very sweet and sensible. She was in the chorus in the last show I did at the Gadsby. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was as well known as Sarah, one of these days. The theatre manager practically kissed her after the curtain calls, so one of my other friends told me. Sarah’s been so worried about Timmy and the necklace, she hasn’t exactly made herself popular. Too many leading-lady temper tantrums – someone moved the parasol she uses in one of the dances, and then the ribbons on her shoe broke, and she made a bit of a fuss about it. And now Arabella’s there, just as pretty and no trouble at all, and she knows the part backwards…” Miss Lane sighed. “I tried to warn Sarah, but she screeched at me! And then she apologized, and then she cried. A lot. May I have another cup of tea, Maisie?”
“So you think Miss Massey might lose her part?” Maisie breathed. It was fascinating.
Miss Lane nodded slowly. “I think she might – if she doesn’t start making more of an effort to keep it, anyway.”
“Maisie! Maisie! Are you there?”
Maisie, Gran and Sally all looked up in surprise.
“Is that Miss Lane calling for you?” Gran asked, looking anxious. “You did do out her room nicely this morning, didn’t you, Maisie?”
“I did,” said Maisie. “And I lifted up all the piles of clothes and books and things, and I put them back exactly the same afterwards.”
“And you didn’t break anything?”
“Of course not!” Maisie rolled her eyes.
Miss Lane suddenly appeared at the kitchen door, in her smart outdoor coat and a beautiful velvet hat. “Oh, my goodness, it’s freezing out there,” she said, brushing at her sleeves. “It’s even beginning to snow.”
“Is there anything you need, Miss?” Gran asked, standing up.
“Oh no, no… Well, actually… It isn’t anything to do with the lodgings, Mrs Hitchins, don’t worry. Everything’s perfect. But I wanted to ask you something, you and Maisie.” Miss Lane looked at her hopefully. “Could I sit down for a minute and talk with you?”
Gran nodded doubtfully and then glared at Sally. “Put the kettle on, girl! And Maisie, you fetch that seed cake out of the larder.” Gran bustled about, clearing the vegetables off the table, and dusting a chair for Miss Lane with her apron. The lodgings at 31 Albion Street were quite smart, and lodgers did not usually turn up in the kitchen. It made Gran jumpy. But now Miss Lane was here, she had to be treated properly.
“What can we do for you, Miss?” Gran asked once Miss Lane was seated with the best silver-plated teapot in between them, and the seed cake on a glass dish. Maisie sat next to Gran, with Eddie at her feet, who was hoping for cake crumbs.
“I need help, Mrs Hitchins. To be quite straight about it, I need Maisie.”
Maisie nearly dropped her teacup, she was so surprised. “What for?” she gasped excitedly.
“Mind my best china, Maisie,” Gran snapped. “What do you mean, Miss Lane? What do you need Maisie for?”
“Has Maisie told you about my friend, Miss Sarah Massey? She’s appearing at the Dauntry Theatre. She’s the star.”
Gran looked slightly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about the theatre,
Miss. I’m too busy for gallivanting about.” Miss Lane nodded. “Of course. But Miss Massey is very nice. A very sweet girl. The thing is, she’s been terribly unlucky recently. A necklace was stolen, a valuable one, and actresses are very superstitious, you know.” Miss Lane smiled. “I never, ever let a black cat cross my path, Mrs Hitchins. I’d be convinced that something awful would happen.”
“Lot of nonsense,” Gran muttered, but not very loudly. Maisie knew for a fact that Gran felt the same way, and she always looked at her tea leaves after she’d finished the cup.
“Some silly person told Sarah that the necklace was cursed, and she’d brought disaster on herself by losing it. So now, of course, she’s so worried that everything seems to be going wrong.”
“Poor dear,” Gran said sympathetically.
“Yes,” Miss Lane agreed. “But I don’t think it’s anything to do with a curse. I think someone – someone very unpleasant – could be playing tricks. Playing on Sarah’s nerves. Trying to make her lose the star part.”
“But that would be so cruel!” Sally gasped.
Even Gran clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Poor child.”
“Do you think Miss Massey would stop worrying about all her bad luck if she got the necklace back?” Maisie asked.
Miss Lane sighed. “Well, probably. But I don’t see how she will. Sarah made such a fuss when the necklace disappeared that all the cast and the stage crew are being searched before they leave each night, which makes me think that whoever stole it must have hidden it in the theatre.”
“Unless, of course, the thief got it out of the theatre before she even noticed it was missing,” said Maisie.
“That’s true,” said Miss Lane. “But it seems unlikely – they would have had to be very quick about it.” Miss Lane was quiet for a moment, as if she was thinking it through. Then she sighed. “Anyway, they can’t keep the searching going on for much longer. Sarah says that everyone’s been complaining about it. And if they stop, sooner or later someone will be able to sneak it out. And to be honest, they could have done already if they were daring.” She winked at Maisie. “I bet I could hide an emerald pendant somewhere in my petticoats.”
Gran sniffed disapprovingly, and Miss Lane tried to look serious. “Well, on the positive side, there are a lot of people around the theatre at the moment, in and out of each other’s dressing rooms all the time, so it would take a lot of nerve to try and sneak it away.”
“Do you have any idea who could have stolen it?” Maisie asked, pulling out her little notebook from the pocket of her apron.
Miss Lane sighed, and shook her head. “No. Not a clue. And I’ve an awful feeling we never will.”
Maisie frowned and nibbled on her pencil. “Wait a minute. You said everyone thought the necklace wasn’t valuable, didn’t you? Or not very valuable, anyway. You thought it was glass. So why would anyone want to steal it?”
“Oh!” Miss Lane looked surprised. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that…”
Maisie leaned forward, frowning. “Isn’t it a bit strange that all these horrible things are happening to Miss Massey now, just after the necklace was stolen? Just in time to make her think that the curse is working… Could anyone at the theatre have known what the necklace really was? Even Miss Massey didn’t know.”
Miss Lane nodded. “That’s true… So someone must have worked out what it was before … before Sarah even knew herself!”
“But perhaps it wasn’t stolen so that the thief could sell it. Or that wasn’t the main reason, anyway, given all these latest events,” Maisie murmured. “Because someone who works in a theatre isn’t likely to know how to sell a fabulous emerald, are they? You couldn’t just take it to any old jeweller’s shop. They’d need a – a criminal mastermind.” She nodded to herself, proudly remembering the phrase from Gran’s newspaper. “I think it must have been someone who doesn’t like Sarah. They stole the necklace just so they could make her think she was cursed!”
Miss Lane looked at Maisie in surprise. “I hadn’t even thought of that, Maisie. Goodness, I can see why you’re so good at this detecting business. But how would they have known who Timmy was, and what it was he’d given her? Even Sarah didn’t know for ages.”
Maisie frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure about that bit.” She turned to Gran. “Miss Massey’s admirer is the son of a duke,” she explained. “He didn’t
tell her who he was to begin with – but there are drawings of people like that in the society pages of the papers, aren’t there? Photographs, even, sometimes. I know Miss Massey didn’t know who he was, but maybe someone else recognized him?”
Slowly, Miss Lane nodded. “I think that could be it, you know. And they might have been jealous… Sarah’s only nineteen. That’s very young to have such a starring part, and there’s been a lot of horrible, catty talk from the girls in the chorus. Lots of them think it should have been them playing the part. If someone found out that Sarah had a lord as an admirer, as well… And she kept on showing off that pretty necklace.” Miss Lane laughed. “Even I got a little sick of Sarah telling me how beautiful her necklace was, and I’m her friend!”
“So they might decide to steal it, just to serve her right?” Maisie suggested.
“Exactly… Oh dear, it’s even worse than I thought,” Miss Lane murmured. “Mrs Hitchins, please do say I can borrow Maisie.”
Gran stared at her. “But you’ve still not said what you want her for, Miss Lane!”
“Oh!” Miss Lane shook her head. “Sorry. It’s spending the morning with Sarah – I’m all mixed up. She needs a dresser. Someone to help her in and out of her costumes, and tidy her dressing room, that sort of thing. And with the way things are at the moment, it needs to be someone that Sarah can trust. Someone who knows what’s going on with Tarquin, and won’t gossip! I told Sarah she could certainly trust Maisie.”