by Holly Webb
Maisie tried not to look at Arabella as she began to lift sparkly bracelets and rings out of the box. She mustn’t let Arabella guess that this was all for her benefit. But it was so hard not to glance sideways, and see how she was taking it.
“Can I really have anything, Miss?” she murmured. “They’re all so pretty. This ring, maybe. Ooooh, or this, the green one. It’s lovely.”
“Yes, any of them,” Sarah agreed, a little impatiently. “Do you think I should go a shade darker on my cheeks, Arabella? I look so pale.”
Arabella hadn’t moved a muscle. She really was a very good actress, Maisie thought.
“Then I’d like this, please, Miss,” Maisie said, drawing out the emerald pendant, and making as if to slip it back into her apron pocket.
“No!” Arabella yelped, snatching it out of her hand. And then she gasped, as Sarah and Maisie both swung round to stare at her.
“Give me that, please,” Sarah said, her voice so cold it made goosebumps rise up on Maisie’s arms.
“Why – I mean – I just don’t think Annie would be very happy about this going – it’s a pretty piece, that’s all. She’d better choose something else,” Arabella stuttered.
“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Sarah said, taking the necklace, and motioning to Maisie to fasten it round her neck. “It’s also mine. But you knew that, didn’t you.”
“I don’t know what you mean…” Arabella opened her eyes widely, fluttering her eyelashes a little. She looked so amazingly innocent that, for a moment, Maisie even wondered if she’d got it all wrong.
“You stole it. You could have crept in here just before the last number – you had time.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “But why? Why would you have done that? I thought you were my friend!”
“Friend?” Arabella hissed, and Maisie felt a chill run down her spine as she saw the horrible look on her face. “Why would I be your friend? You have all the luck! Dragged out of the chorus to be a star, and then your rich little lord turns up, showering you in jewels! And you’re so stupid you didn’t even know what it was he’d given you! Couldn’t you see it was real?”
“How did you know?” Maisie asked quietly.
“My grandfather runs a little jewellery shop,” Arabella said bitterly. “Oh, he’d never have anything like that. But I can tell a real stone when I see one. And I couldn’t miss that one. Besides, I knew the stories about it. My grandfather used to tell me about all the famous jewels.”
“So you took it,” Sarah said.
“Yes. But you’ll never prove it!” Arabella cried. “Everyone knows you’re always making a fuss. They won’t believe you.”
Sarah gave her a strange sort of smile, and stood up, walking over to the screen in the corner, where she changed. She moved it back, so that the theatre manager could step out, and then she smiled at Arabella.
“Oh, I really think they will.”
“I can’t do it!” Maisie whispered, her eyes wide with panic.
“Of course you can! It’s nothing! You did far more acting in that little scene where we tricked Arabella than you need to now. Besides, Maisie, you have to. With Arabella gone, we need another girl. All you have to do is sit there and pretend to sew.” Sarah nudged her. “And don’t try to trip me up!”
“I suppose so,” Maisie muttered. “Oh my goodness, it’s starting!”
“Go on! Just follow the others, and sit down on that hay bale!” Sarah gave her a little push, and Maisie hurried out on to the stage, desperately trying not to look at the audience. She knew that if she saw that many people staring at her, she might faint.
Afterwards, she could hardly remember anything of the dance number. It seemed to fly by, and then one of the other girls was grabbing her wrist and hauling her off with the rest.
“You see! It was fine!” Sarah hissed in her ear. “Now you’d better get back down to the dressing room. I need to change in a minute.”
Maisie helped Sarah with her changes, like she always did for the rest of the show. But in between she sat in the corner of the dressing room, with Eddie on her lap, trying not to remember the lights, and the music, and all those people. She had never been so scared, never.
“Maisie, come on!” One of the chorus girls dived into the room. “Oh, good, you’ve still got the dress on. It’s the curtain call.”
“But I don’t have to do that, do I?” Maisie squeaked.
“Sarah says you do. Come on!” She dragged Maisie up the stairs and actually pushed her on to the stage. The chorus girls danced on in a train, and the girl in front grabbed Maisie’s hands. “Hold me round the middle. Just skip!” And then she danced on to the stage, smiling and skipping, and Maisie had to follow her.
The audience were shouting and clapping, and throwing flowers as Sarah and the other stars bowed and bowed. Maisie wasn’t surprised. Sarah must have been at her best tonight – she had been so happy, and she was about to see her fiancé. The huge emerald glowed against her throat, making her look more beautiful than ever.
One of the chorus girls gathered up the flowers and passed them to Sarah, but then she turned, and beckoned to Maisie. The two girls either side pushed her forward, and Sarah filled her arms with flowers, while Maisie blinked nervously at the sea of cheering faces.
Afterwards, in the dressing room, she frowned at Sarah. “What are you going to tell Lord Tarquin? He’s bound to ask you why you gave all your flowers to a girl in the chorus.”
Sarah smiled at her in the mirror as she wiped away her make-up. “I’m going to tell him the truth. And then I shall give him the necklace back. If he still wants to marry me, even when he knows I lost it, I shall ask him to give me something else. A nice little diamond, perhaps. Something small. Something that won’t curse me if I happen to lose it!”
“Won’t you miss it?” Alice asked Maisie the next day. She had convinced Miss Sidebotham that she’d left her French grammar book behind at Albion Street. “It must have been such fun being in the theatre.”
Maisie shook her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. It was nice for a change, but it was ever so tiring. I don’t mean the being-up-late, I mean the people. Always crying, or fighting, or having hysterical fits. I like sensible people,” she added, scratching Eddie behind the ears.
“I suppose that’s what actors are like,” Alice said, nodding.
“Mmmm. Well, it’s good to be back home, without anything more dramatic than Sally breaking the china,” said Maisie. “Miss Sarah’s dresser, Lucy, is a lot better now, she can hobble around. So Miss Sarah doesn’t need me any more.”
“I wish you’d stayed just one more day, so you could find out what Lord Tarquin said,” Alice sighed. “I do hope they’re still getting married, it’s such a lovely story. I suppose Miss Lane will tell you, though.”
“Maisie! There’s someone here for you!” Gran was calling up the stairs.
Maisie jumped up. “Who can that be?” she murmured, hurrying down.
Alice peered curiously over the banisters after her.
“Miss Maisie Hitchins?” asked the man at the door, and Maisie nodded mutely. He was extremely grand, in a black livery absolutely covered in gold braid, and there was a carriage drawn up in the street, with a crest painted on the door.
“Lord Tarquin Fane presents his compliments and asks you to accept this small token of his gratitude,” the man went on, holding out a jewellery box.
Maisie took it, her hands shaking, and the man stalked back to the carriage.
“Whatever is it?” Gran demanded, staring at the box. “Open it, Maisie!”
Maisie undid the little golden hook with trembling fingers. Inside the box, on a bed of dark velvet, was a little pearl bracelet, and underneath, there was a dog collar. The smartest collar that Maisie had ever seen –dark green leather, with a buckle that sparkled in the winter sunlight shining through the open door.
“Good gracious me, Maisie, the man’s sent you a diamond dog collar!” Gran cried, and Maisie be
gan to laugh.
“It’s a reward,” Maisie murmured. “Like a real detective. People are always giving Gilbert Carrington things. But I’d much rather have a collar for Eddie than a silver-plated walking stick.”
“And the bracelet’s beautiful.” Gran held it up admiringly.
Maisie nodded. “Mm-hm.” She smiled as she fastened the sparkly collar round Eddie’s neck and then put on her bracelet. She held out her hand, admiring the glow of the pearls round her wrist. They might have to keep the jewels for best, she thought. What if they went missing, like Miss Sarah’s necklace?
Still, she could hang them up on her wall for the rest of the time. Perhaps Professor Tobin would lend her one of his little glass cases. They’d remind her of the glittering, dangerous world of the theatre – and the case of the vanishing emerald.
When Maisie rescues an abandoned puppy, he quickly leads her to her first case. George, the butcher’s boy, has been sacked for stealing, but Maisie’s sure he’s innocent. It’s time for Maisie to put her detective skills to the test as she follows the trail of the missing money…
Maisie has been invited to the country as a companion for her best friend, Alice. But as soon as the girls arrive, they are warned that the manor house they’re staying in is haunted. With Alice terrified by the strange goings-on, it’s up to Maisie to prove there’s no such thing as ghosts…
Maisie loves to look at the amazing objects her friend Professor Tobin has collected on his travels around the world. But when a thief steals a rare and valuable wooden mask, leaving only a feather behind, Maisie realizes she has a new mystery on her hands…
Gran has a new lodger and Maisie suspects there’s more to him than meets the eye. Fred Grange says he works for a biscuit company, but he is out at odd hours and knows nothing about biscuits! Determined to uncover the truth, Maisie is drawn into a mystery that takes her deep underground…
Maisie’s best friend, Alice, has disappeared from her fancy new boarding school. The only clue is an inkwell spilled across Alice’s desk, and a trail of suspicious paw prints. Will Maisie be able to find her friend before Alice ends up in real danger?
For sneak peeks, fun facts and more, visit
www.maisiehitchins.com
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2014.
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2013
Illustrations copyright © Marion Lindsay, 2013
eISBN: 978–1–84715–519–1
The right of Holly Webb and Marion Lindsay to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library.
www.littletiger.co.uk