“Well!” Hillary picked up her hat box as Betty gathered one of Hilary’s remaining bags and her typewriter. “At least some of you…creatures…are pleasant. That so-called “master” of yours is positively rude!”
“He’s angry.” Bear shuffled slowly after Mr. Rabbit up that polished staircase, juggling Betty’s valise and carpetbag. “Don’t blame him. He made,” he gulped, his eyes a little fearful, “her angry.”
Hilary made a face. “That is not an excuse. He’s the one who threw a fit over a rose!”
Bear’s big lips turned down. “Master loves roses. Make him think of…” He closed his eyes again as the Eagle nudged him with a wing and squawked gently, trying to encourage him to remember, but his lumbering friend only shook his head. “Think of lady.”
“I can’t imagine,” Hilary snorted, “that anyone would go for such a…a grouch!”
Maple’s glare almost matched the Eagle’s narrowed eyes and annoyed squawk. “You’d be surprised, Hilary.”
The hallway seemed to go on for miles. It was as well-kept as the rest of the house, the antique furnishings spotless. The lamps gave the pale blue walls a soft glow. “This…” Bear huffed as they stopped before one of the doors, “is your room, miss. Girls get rooms later.”
The girls gasped behind her when Hilary opened the door, and even Hilary’s eyes widened. It was the most beautiful bedroom she’d ever seen…and every bit of it was decorated to her tastes. The walls were soft blues, her favorite color, the furniture comfortable and yet aristocratic, strong wood covered in plush blue velvet. The four-poster bed was big enough for all three of them, with a satin coverlet and plump down pillows and an Irish lace canopy.
Hilary was more surprised to see the very pretty golden dog who covered the soft pale blue couch in a satin sheet. “Oh, hello, Miss!” The dog-girl had the same human arms with fur as Bear, but hers was curly and golden. She was clearly much younger than the others, with her enormous round glasses, guileless blue eyes, and loping, curly gold ears. “I just turned down your beds. Mrs. Fox and I will set up rooms for the other two young ladies tomorrow. For right now, the Master says you can sleep here.”
“I call the couch!” Maple immediately dropped her suitcases on it and settled down next to them.
“Betty,” Hilary added, ‘take the fainting couch. You’re the smallest. I,” she smirked and settled on the end of the four-poster, “will take this masterpiece. It was made for me, I think.”
“Oh Hilary,” Betty ran her fingers over the headboard, “look at these carved roses! They’re so intricate!”
“The Master thought you’d be happy here.” Puppy beamed under her little black nose and whiskers. “He always did say this room was special. It was originally intended for…” She coughed as the Eagle squawked and glared at her. The Bear just looked confused. “Well, this probably is the nicest room in the house.”
“There’s even a phone.” Hilary ran her fingers over the ivory and brass telephone stenciled with roses on the rose-carved side table. “Good. I want to call C.J after we have our hot drinks. He said he’d do some research. The rehearsal should be ending soon.”
Betty put an arm around Hilary as she sighed. “You miss it, don’t you? Acting. Especially with, well, Jeff.”
“Acting, yes. I was born to play roles. I will go back to the boards, after all this is settled.” She sighed. “Jeff…no. He wanted Pavla. End of story.” She ran her fingers over the headboard. “Still…there’s something about all this…”
“Yeah, it’s incredible!” Maple had already flung herself across the couch. “So soft! I might never move.”
“Miss?” Bear handed Betty her carpetbag and valise after she set up the typewriter on a gleaming dark-wood desk with brass trim. “Here’s the bags.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a gentle smile. “You know, I don’t think we really introduced ourselves. I’m Betty. Do you have a name, besides Bear?”
“I…” The wide amber eyes closed…and when they opened again, they were black as tar. “I did…no. Not now. Bear. I am Bear.”
Puppy nodded. “You can call me Puppy or Canine, or something to that persuasion. I don’t mind. It’s fascinating meeting all of you, but I must retrieve those drinks. I do hope the blankets are to your liking. Ring that bell,” she nodded at a small silver bell dangling in a corner, “if you need me.”
“What about you?” Maple jumped up and took the Eagle’s wing before he could retreat. “Do you have a name?” She flashed him another grin. “They call me Maple, ya know, like the syrup? It’s really my middle name. I like it better’n plain old Anna.”
“Oh, we just call him ‘Eagle,’ miss.” Puppy nodded at the little man-bunny carefully arranging Hilary’s luggage near the massive walk-in closet. “That’s Mr. Rabbit, Master’s valet.” She leaned over Betty’s shoulder as she pulled out paper and ink spools. “Oh, you’re a writer? I used to write stories in my spare time before...uh, well, I used to.”
“Yes, I do.” She smiled at the girl-dog. “Maybe we can make some together.”
“When I’m not working,” Puppy added quickly. “Master does like our chores to be done on time.”
Eagle nodded at a clock on the marble mantelpiece and squawked. “Oh dear, he’s right. It’s getting late. We do need to get those drinks. It’s been so pleasant to meet all of you!” Puppy bounded out, still clutching the remaining linens.
Betty took Bear’s arm. “Are we going to see you at breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Maple patted Eagle’s wing. “I’m sure it’ll be an… edit-fying…experience.”
Bear only nodded. “You’ll see us there. Breakfast.” He looked like he was going to say something to Betty, but Eagle finally took his arm through his wing and tugged him out.
“Well,” Hilary clapped her hands, “I suppose it’s lights out, then. Our drinks should be up soon. If they’re not, I’ll ring the bell.”
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to sleep.” Maple opened one of the suitcases and tossed flimsy silk stockings and two bras on the floor before finally digging out her thin silk nightgown with the filmy lace. “That Eagle…those eyes…” She shook her head as she went behind a polished wooden screen decorated with lacquered roses. “Hey, did you girls get the idea that you’ve seen their eyes before? Eagle…darn it, I’ve seen those eyes somewhere!”
“Now that I think of it,” Betty added as she removed her worn red flannel nightgown from her carpetbag, “the bear is familiar, too. Oh, where have I seen those eyes? You didn’t have any bears in your shows, did you, Hilary?”
Hilary pulled out her own fine blue satin nightgown and feather-trimmed robe before going into the walk-in closet. “The last time I saw a bear was Maple’s old stuffed bear that I know she brought with her.”
“Hey,” Maple waved the old brown teddy in her face as she came out from behind the screen in a peach silk nightgown, “watch what you say about Walter! He’s my buddy!”
Betty came out swaddled in her red nightgown and worn wool robe. “I’m going to write letters to Father and see if I can finish out that play I was working on. After that, Hilary, I swear I’ll go right to bed.”
“Ehh, I think I’m gonna pack it in.” Maple lay down on the couch with Walter and pulled the soft quilt over her. “‘Sides, I know what I’m gonna dream about tonight. Enchanted mansions full’a gorgeous eagles and roarin’ trolls and magic…this is five times better than the movies!”
“This is most definitely not a movie.” Betty signed as she settled down behind her trusty typewriter. “I do know that Maple’s right about one thing. There’s something going on here. Something is very, very wrong. That poor bear can barely get two sentences out. But his eyes…” She closed her own, then shook her head. “I don’t think he’s a bear or a simpleton. Someone did this to him.”
“I agree.” Hilary settled down under the satin quilt on her exquisite bed. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that eagles and puppies don’t normally walk and talk. And that troll…” She huffed. “I don’t know what got into him, or why he wanted just me in the first place.” She smirked and waved her hand at the lavish room. “Other than he has amazing taste for a disgustingly grotesque creature with an overwhelming need for control and an ego larger than this entire mausoleum. Or have I said too much?”
“Aw Hilary, pipe down.” Maple slid a pink satin sleep mask over her eyes. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”
“Fine, Maple. You sleep.” Hilary took the phone and dialed the operator as Betty clacked away on her typewriter, lost in her own world. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get to the bottom of this mystery.” The moment the operator came on, she directed her to the backstage at the Nixon, then told the stagehand she wanted her brother.
“Hilary?” C.J’s sensible voice crackled over the line. “Is that you? Are you alright? Dad’s beside himself right now. All he’s been doing is pacing the floor, listening to the radio and worrying about you three.”
“I’m fine. I’m more than fine, C.J.” Hilary couldn’t help her moan as she sank into the thick, downy pillows. “Father wasn’t wrong about the mansion.” She sighed. “Or the monster. There is a monster here, C.J. A whole zoo of them. But…” she closed her eyes, her fingers running on the blue satin. “C.J, something is seriously wrong here. Someone did this, and I need to know who, and why.”
“So do I.” She could hear the clatter of stage hands moving scenery behind her brother. The sound almost made her blood ache. She missed the stage so much. “Hilary, after you three left, Dad and I made calls. I called Doug Thompson. I’m going to find out who owns that mansion. I think it’s the key to all of this.”
Hilary raised an eyebrow. “The way that…monster…acted, I believe he owns this overgrown museum.”
“Monsters don’t buy mansions anywhere but old Gothic horror novels.” There was another clatter and the sounds of high-heels clopping…and the voice of a woman Hilary never wanted to hear again. “Oh damn it. It’s her. Hilary, Pavla Nemcova is here.”
“What?!” Hilary’s screech was so loud, it jolted Maple out of slumber and made Betty look up from her typing and turn around in surprise. “That…that…Czechoslovakian puff pastry! I thought she was with Jeff and the Lost Boys club back in Europe!”
“Evidently not.” C.J’s gentle voice dripped with sarcasm. “Hilary, she’s the star of this show. She’s got your role in ‘The Rivals.’ I don’t like it, either. In fact, I hate it. She’s too calculating and frigid for this role. She has all the warmth of a dead fish.”
“Why that…that…” Hilary sputtered. “That BITCH of a trollop already got her hands on my Jeff! Why does she have to take my roles, too?”
Her baby brother’s voice sputtered and crackled on the line. “That’s what I’m going to find out. Hilary, she’s alone. Jeff isn’t with her. Neither are Scott, Victor, or Mr. Foley.”
Hilary raised an eyebrow. “You’d think she would want to spend time with her dear little trophy husband and his Lost Boys club. He, Sherwood, and Comstock were thick as three thieves. And he never travels without Foley. He’s his valet, for heaven’s sake!”
“I know.” She could hear footsteps coming closer. “Hilary, she’s coming over here. I have to let you go. I’ll call you later this week when I talk to Doug and get to the library. Dad, Doug, and I are here for you, Hilary. We’ll find out what’s going on.”
“Thank you, C.J!” Hilary sighed. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
That was when she heard…her voice. The deep, manipulative purr of an Eastern European vamp who stole hearts and men as easily as Hilary could command an audience. “You, boy.” The voice sounded imperious and calculating to Hilary, and she did not like it talking to her brilliant brother like that. “I need that phone. Whatever little romantic tet a’tet you have with girlfriend, you can do it on own time.”
“Yes, Miss Nemcova!” C.J’s voice trilled before he returned to the phone. “Hold tight, Hilary. Dad and Doug and I will get to the bottom of this. I don’t own every Hardy Boys and Tom Swift book for nothing.”
“Hilary?” Betty frowned as the line crackled one more time and died. “What was that all about?”
“Yeah, Hilary!” Maple lifted the sleep mask, her big brown eyes clearly annoyed. “I was havin’ the best dream!”
“That…that…” Hilary sputtered, her nostrils flaring, her velvet eyes wide, “that trollop of a Pavla stole my role in ‘The Rivals!’ And she’s alone. C.J says Jeff, Sherwood, Comstock, and his valet aren’t with her.”
Betty raised an eyebrow. “Hilary, you told me Jeff was close with his staff, especially his secretary and manager. If they’re not with Pavla, where are they? Why would she leave them in Europe?”
“Oooh!” Maple clutched Walter. “This is just gettin’ better and better! A real Nancy Drew mystery!”
That was when the little rabbit came in, balancing a silver tray with three drinks in porcelain cups covered in roses. “Thank you, Mr. Rabbit. You can put the tray there.” She indicated the coffee table in front of Maple’s couch.
“Can I touch your ears?” Maple leaned over to stroke the twitching rabbit, but Betty immediately pulled her back when his eyes widened and he jumped back.
“Maple,” she hissed, “rabbits have very sensitive ears! I don’t think you should be playing with them.”
“Aww, I just wanted to feel them!”
“Girls, please.” Hilary waved her hand at the rabbit. “You’re dismissed. Tell your so-called ‘Master’ and whomever the cook is in this amusement park that I take my bacon crisp and my eggs over easy, Maple will have her waffles with only maple syrup, not that teeth-itching corn syrup, and Betty has oatmeal with whatever fruit is available at this time of year.”
Betty patted Mr. Rabbit’s thin shoulder. “Thank you for bringing us our drinks! I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.”
Maple waved at him with her big grin. “Night night, Mr. Bunny!” Mr. Rabbit only rolled his brown eyes and twitched his way out.
Hilary sipped her coffee. “Ahh. Surprisingly full-bodied and rich for an enchanted mansion. Of course, I’ve never been in one. I don’t know how they usually make coffee.”
“Who cares?” Maple shrugged and gulped hers. “It’s hot, an’ it’s just how I like it.”
Hilary sighed. “I think it’s time we turned in. We’ll talk to the walking zoo in the morning and start getting to the bottom of this.”
Betty took her tea to the desk. “I’m going to finish these letters, and then I’m going to bed.”
“I’m done.” Maple settled back down with Walter. “Night, girls!”
“Good night, Maple!” Hilary put the empty cup aside and laid her head on those soft pillows. “Good-night, Betty!” But Betty was too involved in her writing to hear her.
She couldn’t sleep at first. Her mind was a whirl of roses, monsters, snow storms, and that…that trollop who kept invading her nightmares and kept her from the one man she’d ever truly cared about. “Oh Jeff…” she murmured into her pillow before finally dropping off into a restless satin-smooth dreamland, “where are you?”
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