The China Doll

Ezri woke the moment the steeple bells started to chime, and was on her feet before the last note rang out. She looked at the glass of days on her dressing table and crouched down to see that the pearly white sand inside was, indeed, aligned with the gold-etched line that she'd been waiting for.

"It's today, it's today," she sang as she skittered across the marble bedroom floor on little bare feet. Before her nanny was even in the room, she'd already shed her nightie and was dancing through her closet, running her long, golden fingers over silk and satin and velvet and linen, unable to choose from the wild array of colors before her.

"Mistress!" Nanny, a silver-faced tea kettle of a creation with a permanent tick-tock in the back of her throat, came rolling in. Her starched white apron was arrayed in flounces of stern disapproval; she was a thing that brooked no nonsense from the likes of Ezri. "What under the upper lights are you doing, prancing about in the altogether?"

"Choosing an appropriate arrangement of pretties," Ezri said unrepentantly. "For today is the day I get my dollie." She pulled out a frothy pink thing that would wrap her up like the cone at the heart of cotton candy. "What do you think? I want to look perfect for her."

"I think you need a bath," Nanny replied. She was unmoved by Ezri's pretty pout and whisked the dress from Ezri's grasp before poor Ezri could even squeak. "You cannot see Papa in this state."

Ezri was all petulance and procrastination, to no avail. Nanny bundled her into a bath of bubbles wherein Ezri sank up to her little nose to glare at her Nanny.

"Don't take that tone with me," Nanny said as she hung towels on the warmer.

"I didn't say anything." Ezri's retort was something of a burble through the bubbles as she declined to raise her head enough to speak clearly.

"I can hear you looking." Nanny was unperturbed by logic, as she often was. "It's not ladylike to glare."

Ezri blew bubbles into the water and sank down until the water gurgled in her ears and shut out the rest of the lecture. Hiding got her nothing but Nanny's hands plunging down into the bath to find her hair and give it a scrub. All Ezri's squeaking and flailing did little to divert Nanny from her goal of getting Ezri cleaner than the cleanest thing that ever was.

Finally, Ezri was pulled from the bath, swathed in towels against her will, and shoved back into the cool air of the bedroom.

"Go have your tea," Nanny ordered. "I'll get you a dress."

"But..."

"You'll want to try fifteen things and you'll never see Papa in time, and you won't get your doll today."

That was enough to silence Ezri for the time being. She sat in her little white chair at her little white table and took her tea as the maid -- a little coppery thing all clad in black -- served it to her. The wind blew in and popped the last of the tiny bubbles clinging in Ezri's hair. Pop, pop, pop, one at a time, until all the pretty things were gone.

#

"You do love me," Ezri said to Nanny as Nanny herded her down the hall to see her Papa.

"Not likely," Nanny said sternly. She always said things like that and they made Ezri laugh like a fistful of silver bells in the hand of a giddy baby.

Ezri was wearing the frothy frock she'd picked out and she bobbed down the halls like a dandelion seed blown from a pink-dyed clock. Pink was Ezri's favorite color, so everything that grew in the garden was pink, even those things that usually weren't. "You let me wear the dress," she trilled, whisking toward the stairs.

"Only so I didn't have to listen to you whimper like a rusty hinge." One of Nanny's long arms shot out and she caught Ezri by the wrist, reeling her back in. "Lady-steps," she scolded.

"I love you, too." Ezri planted a pink kiss on Nanny's undemonstrative cheek and decided to reward her by taking perfect, mincing lady-steps that made her frills flounce and her curls bounce. "I can't wait to get my dollie. Do you think I'm old enough for a dollie, Nanny?"

"Quite," Nanny said, steering Ezri away from the temptation of sliding down the polished ivory banister. "You're more than old enough."

"I think so, too," Ezri agreed.

On the way to Papa's study, she caught sight of herself in a mirrored wall. She didn't look different, still as tall and willowy as always, still perfect and golden and flawless. Her curls shimmered around her face and the pink dress covered her in lace except for her white-gloved hands and silk-slippered feet.

Ezri had never really understood time. It was just another form of arbitrary adult fancy that broke the monotony of aimless happiness up into cycles of anticipation and frustration. Time, Ezri thought as they passed under the steeple clock and her head hummed with the churning of the gears above, was nonsense.

#

Papa's study was vast and lovely and Ezri often wandered about it, looking at his beautiful glass globes and the sad faces of the stuffed animals that posed almost lifelike on their pedestals. She even liked the varied colors of the books and their gilded spines, there was something harmonious about the way the shades and hues varied row on row.

And then, as always, there was Papa, tall and broad with his solemn white face and his sleek black beard. Sometimes when he was thinking, Ezri thought he could be like one of his animals, a rare specimen frozen in time forever.

But, today, she only had eyes for one thing. The box. The beautiful golden box in the corner. It was a little taller than she was and bound by yards of shimmering silky ribbon teased and tormented into a magnificent bow like a rose. The sharp jerk of Nanny's hand on her wrist reminded Ezri to be patient and polite with her Papa, so instead of rushing off to tug the bow willy-nilly, she rustled to her Papa's great mahogany desk and curtsied like a lady should.

"So, you've come for your doll, have you?" Papa said, looking up from his work. He was terribly busy, always. He wrote and wrote, all day. Ezri had no idea what he wrote, but the pen he wrote with was a beautiful white plume with a pearl barrel and a silver nib and it made his fingers blue with the ink, he wrote so fast. Today, he was drawing, which he did when he wasn't writing, gear on gear, intricate circles with tiny teeth that bit each other as they turned.

"Yes, Papa," Ezri said as sweetly as sugar, curtseying again.

"How old are you now?" Papa reached for his special time jar and frowned at the levels of the thick red oil and the position of the tiny wheels that ticked with every slow drop of a day.

"Five," Ezri said, clasping her hands and trying not to bounce. It felt like she had been waiting for this day her whole life.

"You're a big girl now." Papa put the jar down beside a pretty polished skull that looked like a man's and rose, smoothing down his beautiful velvet coat. "And you've been a very good girl, Ezri." He came around to run his fingers over Ezri's upturned face, smiling down at her with his rare, broad smile. "You may have your doll. And then I must go away for a little while. So give me a kiss before you get busy with things far prettier than your Papa."

Ezri stood on her toes and obediently gave her Papa a kiss on the cheek. She was so excited she thought she would burst, as though only her clothing were holding her together. "I love you, Papa," she said spontaneously. She did love her Papa. He was so good to her.

"Go on," Papa said tolerantly. "Go see your doll."

Ezri tore the rose bow into a flurry of silken petals that fell around her in a cloud, and then she pulled away the cover of the box. It would have fallen to the floor when Ezri flung it aside, but Nanny was there to pick it up, as she usually was. Ezri pulled back the layers of paper and gasped, clutching them to her frilled chest at the sight before her.

The doll in the box was the most beautiful thing in the world. It had curls like Ezri's, a face like hers, a perfect rosebud of a mouth like hers, except the doll's face and throat were pure white china, as were her delicately articulated hands and arms.

"Oh," Ezri said, softly. "She is the most beautiful doll in all the world. Thank you, Papa." She looked up over her shoulder and Papa was standing behind her, smiling down at her.

"You're welcome, darling," he said to her. "Are you happy now?"

"Oh, yes, Papa." It was all Ezri could do not to dance with joy. "Perfectly happy."

Papa ran his hand over her hair, petting her curls and down where her pink bows lifted the golden spirals away from her slender golden neck. "Then I'm happy, too," he said, looking so pleased with her.

Ezri wanted the moment to last forever, wanted to remember it always, and wished that terrible old time would just stop right now and leave her be in her happiness.

And then it did.

#

Fabrizia woke up and wondered how she had managed to fall asleep standing up. She was resting in a bed of rustling white papers, and when she looked down, she was dressed in a lovely white dress tied with a ribbon at the waist.

"Hello, Fabrizia," a warm voice said. "I'm your Papa."

Of course that was her Papa. "Hello, Papa," Fabrizia said, and her voice was like a crystal wind chime caught in a tender summer breeze. "I must have had a nap."

"Yes, you did." Papa, tall and broad and a little stern, offered her his hand and Fabrizia took it, stepping out of the box. "Nanny will take you up to your room so that you may have a nicer rest."

Nanny was a stout thing in a white ruffled apron, not terribly pretty but she looked functional enough. Fabrizia supposed she would like Nanny. She took Nanny's hand when Papa passed her over and held on for balance as she looked around. Her little white feet weren't quite as steady as she would like. Her Papa's study was a wonderland of glittering spheres and silent beasts, and Fabrizia was in awe.

"Come along," Nanny said briskly.

Fabrizia started to obey, but then she caught sight of a most perfect thing slumped in a chair behind Papa's desk. It was a sleeping golden girl dressed in the most magnificent dress of pink lace and ribbon, and Fabrizia wanted to play with her more than anything she had ever wanted, as though it were the first thing she had ever wanted.

"What is that?" She pointed at the sleeping girl with one slender white hand.

"Oh, that." Papa waved dismissively. "It's just an old doll."

"A doll?" Fabrizia let go of Nanny's hand and took a few steps toward it, wondering if the doll would open its eyes when she drew close enough. "Is it for me?"

"You don't want that old thing," Nanny said, catching Fabrizia by the wrist and drawing her away.

"Nanny's right," Papa said gently, stepping between Fabrizia and the doll so that she couldn't see it anymore. "Besides, you're still a little girl. When you are a big girl, I will get you an even more beautiful doll, all your own."

"Really?" Fabrizia couldn't help peering around Papa to catch another glimpse of the beautiful golden doll.

"I promise," Papa said, giving her a smile. "I will even show you on your glass of days when it will be yours. Now run and play."

"Yes, Papa." Fabrizia let Nanny lead her out of the wonderful study and into a long hall. They passed under an archway and she could hear strange sounds overhead.

"Don't dawdle," Nanny chided.

"Sorry, Nanny." Fabrizia hurried up a little, her feet pattering on the marble floor. "When will I get my doll?"

"Soon enough," Nanny said tonelessly. "Soon enough, my darling."

-fin-

A/N: I just whipped this off today in response to a writing challenge in which I was given my title and asked to write a story of at least 1000 words to accompany it. I actually had fun. 2102 words, spell-checked only, disclaimer, disclaimer, all rights reserved, etc, fishcakes, please do not reproduce, link as you please. I hope it entertained... M.A. Corryn

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