The Mystery of the Velvet Gown Read online

  Then suddenly, her hurt turned to anger as Jane concluded, “Whatever the case, Patty, I’m going to make Diana Lynch sorry she ever tried out for the part of Juliet.”

  The Accident ● 2

  EVEN THOUGH Trixie had a busy afternoon of classes, Jane Morgan’s comments kept bothering her, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. Lost in thought, Trixie was strangely quiet as she joined the other Bob-Whites on the school bus.

  “What’s the matter, Trixie?” Honey asked, noticing her friend’s unusual silence.

  “I was just thinking.”

  “Uh-oh,” Mart interjected. “That’s when it’s time for us to start worrying. Remember, Trixie, Romeo and Juliet is not a mystery; it’s a tragedy.”

  “I know.” Mart glanced at her sharply. It wasn’t like Trixie to ignore his teasing. “I was just wondering,” she said, turning to Honey and Di. “Do you know Jane Morgan?”

  “I went to elementary school with her when we lived in town,” Di answered, “and she’s in a few of my classes now. But I don’t know her very well.”

  “Neither do I,” Honey echoed. “I’ve probably spoken fewer than ten words to her in my entire life. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Trixie shrugged, deciding that Jane’s comments would only hurt Di’s feelings and that it was probably just jealousy on Jane’s part, anyway. For once, Trixie thought, giving herself a mental pat on the back, I thought before I spoke.

  It was snowing lightly when they left school, but as the bus turned onto Glen Road and headed east, the wind picked up and sent snowflakes swirling in a crazy dance.

  Trixie pressed her nose against the bus window. “Wouldn’t it be awful,” she giggled, “if it snowed all night and we couldn’t go to school tomorrow?”

  “It certainly would,” Honey agreed. “We’d have a whole day to do all those boring things like sledding and having snowball fights.”

  Brian sighed with mock sympathy. “But Trixie would miss her favorite class—algebra!“

  “Terrible, just terrible,” Jim laughed.

  The school bus pulled up at the end of the driveway at Crabapple Farm and deposited Honey and Jim and the three Beldens. Brian walked directly up the drive, and Honey and Jim turned off onto the path up to Manor House. But Mart and Trixie walked slowly, taking in the quiet beauty of the snow.

  There was a blanket of snow on the roof and on the lawn, framing the house with still whiteness. Ice clung to the dark, bare branches of trees and bushes in delicate, lacy patterns. Icicles hung from the eaves of the roof in stark, sculptured beauty. The two Beldens stood in silence for several minutes, then slowly walked up the drive together.

  They were greeted at the back door by six-year-old Bobby, who held a freshly baked cookie in each hand.

  “Hi, Mart. Hi, Trixie. Wanna oatmeal cookie?” the little boy shouted. He handed them each a warm cookie, then raced back to the table to get one for himself.

  “Mmmmmm,” Mart sighed, taking a big bite of the hot, spicy cookie, “my favorite.”

  “Funny how anything edible seems to be your favorite,” Trixie teased.

  “It’s just that cold weather happens to increase my appetite,” Mart replied with mock defensiveness.

  “Uh-huh,” Trixie said, “along with rainy weather, hot weather, partly cloudy weather— and whether or not you’ve just had a six-course dinner.”

  “I knew it was too quiet around here,” Helen Belden laughed, greeting each of her “twins” with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Trixie!” Bobby interrupted. “Moms said you’d help me build a snowball man. Please, Trixie, will you, right now?”

  “Now, Bobby, I said you should wait to ask Trixie. At least let her get in the door and change out of her school clothes.”

  Trixie bent down and gave Bobby a hug. Even though he was a bother sometimes and seemed to have an endless supply of questions, she loved him dearly.

  “Moms is right, Bobby. Let me change my clothes and have some more of those yummy cookies, and then we’ll go out and make a ‘snowball man’ and angels.”

  “Angels?” He frowned in puzzlement.

  “Snow angels, honey. I’ll show you.“

  “Speaking of angels,” Mrs. Belden said, “it’s already the third of January, and we still don’t have the Christmas tree down. I keep hearing promises from all of you that you’ll help pack ornaments. Well, tonight’s the night, gang. Don’t make any plans for after dinner.”

  “I’ll help,” Brian said, “and I’m sure Mart will offer his services, too, as soon as he swallows those three cookies he just put in his mouth.”

  Mart gave his brother one of his famous why-does-this-always-happen-to-me looks, but he nodded agreement.

  “I putted in the raisings all by myself and stirred and stirred till my arm hurted,” Bobby said proudly. “And then I let Reddy lick the spoon.”

  “You what?” Mrs. Belden cried as Mart choked on a mouthful of cookies.

  “But I didn’t put it back in the bowl,” Bobby answered quickly, sensing that he had said the wrong thing.

  At the sound of his name, Reddy, the Beldens’ big Irish setter, came running into the kitchen. Untrained and totally unpredictable, Reddy was hopeless as a hunter or a watchdog, but all the Beldens loved him, especially Bobby.

  “Can Reddy play snow angel, too?” Bobby asked.

  “I don’t think he’ll be able to, Bobby, but he can come out and play snow doggy,” Trixie replied. “You start getting into your snowsuit while I go up and change.”

  “Okey-dokey, Trixie,” Bobby said, already struggling into bulky snow pants.

  Outside, Trixie taught Bobby how to sit down carefully in the snow and then lie back and move his arms up and down to make a snow angel.

  “Yours looks better than mine, Trixie. Mine gets crooked from my elbow,” Bobby complained.

  “You’ll get better at it,” she reassured him. “Just keep practicing.” They continued playing happily until their mother called them in for dinner.

  Peter Belden had just come in from work. He was a bank officer with the First National Bank of Sleepyside. Trixie and Bobby greeted him with cold, snowy kisses.

  Dinner was accompanied by discussions of the freshman class play, the prospect of another heavy snowfall, and, of course, Bobby’s account of making snow angels. Just as they were finishing dessert, the telephone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Mart said, getting up quickly. “It’s for you, Trixie,” he yelled. “It’s Di.”

  He returned to the dining room. “I swear she must send up smoke signals to her friends, instructing them to call just when she’s supposed to start the dishes,” he grumbled.

  “Now, Mart,” Mrs. Belden said. “She played with Bobby for quite a long time after school while you had time to yourself. I think you and Brian could do the dishes this evening and give Trixie some time to herself.”

  Mart grumbled again, but he knew his mother was right. Trixie smiled appreciatively at her mother as she went to answer the phone.

  “Hi, Di,” Trixie said enthusiastically. “How does your family feel about having a Juliet in their midst?”

  “Mummy and Daddy think it’s wonderful!”

  Di answered. “So wonderful, in fact, that they want me to have a cast party after the last performance. Won’t that be terrific?”

  Trixie agreed that it would be, and for the next fifteen minutes, they discussed plans for the party. “I’m going to call Honey and tell her,” Di finally said. “See you tomorrow on the bus.”

  Trixie hung up the phone and went to help Mart and Brian put the finishing touches on the washing of the dinner dishes.

  “Perfect timing, as usual,” Brian laughed, drying the last plate.

  Remembering their promise to help untrim the Christmas tree, they all went upstairs to the attic and brought down the empty ornament boxes. They were wrapping the delicate glass pieces in tissue when the back doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Mr. Belden said.
He went through the swinging door to the kitchen and returned a moment later. “There is a Miss Wheeler here to see you, Trixie,” he announced formally. “However, she is cleverly disguised as the abominable snowman.”

  Trixie went out to the kitchen to greet her guest and found her struggling to remove her boots. A heavy layer of snow clung to Honey’s hat and coat. Even her eyelashes were iced with a thin layer of snowflakes.

  “My goodness!” Trixie cried. “I thought it had stopped snowing. I’m always glad to see you, Honey, but why did you come out in this weather?”

  “I’ve got something terribly important to tell you,” Honey began. “I tried to call you,” she continued, removing her hat and gloves, “but your line was busy. Then I tried to call Di, but her line was busy, too, so I figured you were talking to each other and I didn’t know how long you would talk. Mother and Daddy went into New York City this afternoon and won’t be back tonight, and Jim had a biology report to do. So Miss Trask said I could walk over to see you, because I wanted someone to talk to, but it wasn’t snowing so hard when I left, and you know how I like to walk in the snow, and....”

  “Honey, slow down!” Trixie cried. “I know I’m just as bad as you are at getting information out sometimes, but what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, the most awful thing has happened. I just—” By this time, Honey had removed all her snowy outdoor gear, and she and Trixie went into the Beldens’ living room. Everyone greeted Honey warmly, particularly Bobby, who loved to have her visit.

  “How nice to see you, Honey,” Mrs. Belden said. “Please sit down and make yourself at home. We’ll soon be done with the tree.”

  “I’ll help, too,” Honey said.

  Meanwhile, Trixie had been making wild and exasperated gestures, trying to get Honey’s attention. “Honey Wheeler,” she finally demanded. “Will you please stop being polite for five seconds and tell me what this ‘terribly important’ thing is that brought you over here tonight?”

  “Oh,” said Honey, somewhat startled. “That’s right.” Then her tone became serious as she told her news. “You’ll never believe it, Trixie, but Miss Darcy’s father is missing—and Scotland Yard suspects that he’s been kidnapped!“

  “That’s terrible!” Helen Belden cried. “Uh-oh,” Mart warned. “Better watch out, or we’ll all be at Kennedy International waving good-bye to Trixie on her way to give Scotland Yard a helping hand.”

  “Cut it out, Mart,” Trixie said seriously. “This is nothing to joke about.” She turned back to Honey. “Do you know any more details?” she asked.

  “Not really,” Honey replied. “Miss Trask said that Miss Darcy was too upset to talk very much when she called. All I know is that Miss Darcy received a phone call from the British Embassy in Washington, D.C., when she returned from school late this afternoon. Her father has been missing for a week, but they’d been postponing contacting her, in the hope that they would find him quickly.”

  “Did they check with all the hospitals and with any other relatives?” Trixie asked, her detective’s instincts searching out possibilities and explanations. “Has anyone received a ransom note?”

  “Scotland Yard isn’t exactly a small-time operation, Trixie,” Brian said. “I’m sure they’re doing what needs to be done.”

  “That poor young woman,” Mrs. Belden sighed. “She must feel so helpless, being so far away.”

  “Miss Trask told Miss Darcy she’d come and stay with her or she could come and spend the night at our house, but Miss Darcy insisted that she’d be all right,” Honey said as she helped remove ornaments from the tree.

  Trixie began to help again, too. The discussion of the kidnapping continued, with Honey repeating all the information she knew.

  “I don’t mean to change the subject,” Honey interjected, “but this ornament is beautiful.” She held up a delicately painted lamb.

  “That was my grandmother’s,” Helen Belden said. “Be very careful wrapping it. So many of these ornaments have special meanings,” she went on. “Most of them have been passed from generation to generation, like family heirlooms.“

  “Ah, yes,” Mart rhapsodized, holding up a lopsided styrofoam square decorated with a hodgepodge of felt and sequins. “Note the aesthetic excellence of this lovely legacy.”

  “That was Trixie’s first-grade Christmas-project.” Mrs. Belden smiled. “It is lovely, isn’t it?” No one else shared her enthusiasm, and Mart snorted, but Bobby was fascinated.

  “Trixie was in first grade?” he asked with amazement. “Just like me?”

  “Just like you,” Trixie answered. “Brian and Mart were in the first grade at one time, too. In fact, here’s Mart’s first-grade Christmas project.” She giggled, displaying a strange-looking star, covered with glitter and bits of cotton. “It’s just about as ‘lovely’ as mine!”

  Finally, all the ornaments were packed and ready to be put away in the attic until the next Christmas. Brian, Mart, and Mr. Belden took the tree out of its stand and carried it outside to be chopped up for firewood. Honey and Trixie sat down in front of the fire, while Mrs. Belden and Bobby went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate.

  “Trixie,” Honey whispered when everyone had left the room, “I have one more thing I’ve been saving to tell you, but it’s a secret, and you have to promise not to tell a soul.”

  “You know I can keep a secret,” Trixie said.

  “I know you can, Trixie, but I just had to say that, because if Miss Trask ever knew that you knew, she’d know that I was the only other one who knew who could have told you, and you know—Oh, my goodness! I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore!”

  Trixie laughed and nodded understandingly. Both she and Honey had the same tendency sometimes to let their words trip over each other in a mad scramble to get from ideas to sentence forms.

  “We’re just lucky we can understand each other’s gibberish,” Trixie giggled. “And I do know what you’re talking about, even though I still don’t know what you want me to pretend I don’t know.”

  “Please, don’t you start, Trixie,” Honey laughed. “I’ll tell you right away and spare us both any more fumbling. Do you know that man who often picks up Miss Darcy after school?”

  “Sure,” Trixie answered. “The one who looks like-a cross between Robert Redford and Paul Newman—who could miss him?”

  “His name is Peter Ashbury, and Miss Darcy is engaged to him,” Honey said excitedly. “Miss Trask was planning to give an engagement dinner for them next week, and as a surprise, she was going to ask Miss Darcy’s father to come over from London. Of course, that’s all changed now. I just hope they find her father soon!”

  “So do I,” Trixie sighed, “and I sure wish we could be there to help. Oh,” she said suddenly. “With all the talk about the kidnapping, I almost forgot to tell you about Jane Morgan!“

  “Jane?” Honey asked. “That’s the second time you’ve brought her up today. Why are you suddenly so interested in her?”

  “I’m not,” Trixie explained, “but for some reason, she’s interested in us, or at least in Di.” Trixie related the conversation she had overheard between Jane Morgan and Patty Morris.

  “That’s terrible!” Honey exclaimed with wide-eyed disbelief. “I can’t imagine anyone being that jealous of us. I mean, I feel so lucky to have friends like you and your brothers and Di and Dan and a brother like Jim—I never even thought about anyone being jealous!”

  “I think it’s mainly Di getting the part of Juliet that’s brought out the green-eyed monster in Jane,” Trixie said. “But I do think we should keep an eye on her. Di has enough on her mind with that part right now. She doesn’t need any trouble from Jane Morgan.”

  Honey nodded to show that she understood. Then she glanced down at her watch. “Heavens!” she cried. “Miss Trask will kill me for staying so long. Once I start talking to you and your family, Trixie, you practically have to put a plug in my mouth to get me to stop.”

  “That isn’t how you u
sed to be. Once you were all ribbons and lace and so quiet,” Trixie teased, recalling the painfully shy Honey Wheeler she had met not all that long ago. Honey had lived at boarding schools and summer camps most of her life, until her father bought the huge old estate near Sleepyside. It was the first time Honey had ever had a real home and a friend like Trixie.

  “Oh, golly! I was even terrified of my own shadow!” Honey laughed good-naturedly. “I certainly like myself much better now, without all that ribbon and lace,” she added, looking down at her faded dungarees and loose sweater. “And I don’t think anyone I know would use the word ‘quiet’ to describe me anymore!”

  “That’s for sure,” Mrs. Belden agreed as she walked into the room, carrying a tray laden with cups of steaming-hot chocolate.

  “Moms,” Trixie asked, “could Brian and Mart and I walk Honey home?”

  Mrs. Belden agreed but insisted that they all have a cup of hot chocolate before they left.

  Soon they were all bundled up for the crisp night air. Bobby pleaded to go, too, but was told it was too late for him. He pouted as he waved good-bye to Honey.

  Outside, they had a quick snowball fight, which Mart instigated by hitting Trixie squarely on the back with a well-packed ball. That sent all of them scrambling, packing, and throwing, until finally they called a truce. But Mart had run on ahead, and Trixie suspected he was stockpiling snowballs for an ambush.

  “Shhhh. We’ll sneak up on him instead,” she whispered to Brian and Honey.

  Stealthily, they crept forward in the quiet night. The silence was suddenly, sickeningly broken by the screech of tires and the thud of an impact—followed by á child’s high, piercing scream.

  “That’s Bobby!” Trixie cried.

  To the Rescue ● 3

  TRIXIE, HONEY, AND BRIAN raced through the snow, following the sound of Bobby’s screams. Mart was close behind them. Up ahead, they could see a car, its rear wheels sunken deep in the snow-filled ditch beside the road. The beams of its headlights cut through the dark night at a crazy angle.