The next day, Mekitty hugged me tight and said, “Good morning, Kitty!” She had forgotten all about scolding me the night before and was ready for another day’s adventures. She quickly put on her clothing and only needed a little assistance from Tilly to fasten the buttons of her best navy blue serge dress. Then Tilly helped all the girls into their starched white pinafores. Charlie looked quite handsome in a suit with a large bow tie. We sat down to breakfast at a small table in the nursery where the children always ate their meals. Tilly tied a large bib on Gertrude in the high chair and started to feed her.
“Today is Sunday, Kitty, and we are going to walk to church with Aunt Mamie and Aunt Georgy,” Mekitty confided to me.
Tilly frowned. “Miss, are you sure your mama will let you take the doll to church?” Back then, Sunday was a day when children were expected to sit quietly and only play with “appropriate” toys, such as the Noah’s Ark in the nursery.
“I won’t leave Kitty here!” Mekitty said stubbornly. But after breakfast, when we joined her parents in the hall, Mekitty’s mama insisted that I needed to stay in the nursery. Tilly brought me back upstairs and set me on the shelf next to Mamie’s old doll, Miss Willow.
She seemed much taller up close. The top of my head reached only halfway up her skirt, which was composed of folded pieces of gold and silver colored parchment paper. Her tight black velvet jacket revealed slender arms and a tiny waist. Gold braid criss-crossed the front of her jacket and also covered her tall, pointy hat. Miniature golden coins dangled from her black choker necklace and earrings. In her right hand, she held a long ivory rod with a pointed tip.
I studied her face. Miss Willow had a pale complexion with bright red lips and rosy cheeks. Some paint had rubbed off the tip of her nose, and her hair was painted black with wispy curls cascading around her forehead. She looked back at me with a mysterious smile.
“Hello, Kitty” she said.
“You know who I am?” I asked.
“Well, I may be old, but I’m not blind or deaf. I heard Mekitty talking to you yesterday, and I saw you fly out the window.”
“Oh.” I squirmed with embarrassment. “That was an accident.”
“Was it an accident… or was it fate? Maybe your destiny is one of misadventure.”
I didn’t want to think about that, so I asked her a question. “Why do you have to stay up here on the shelf?”
“It’s rather a long story, but I suppose we have an abundance of time while Mekitty is at church. My first memory is from the year 1842, when I stood on a shelf inside the window of a toy store. Below me was an enormous, beautifully carved Noah’s Ark with two dozen pairs of animals. But what had caught my attention the most was beyond the display. A child was looking through the shop window. She was terribly skinny, and even though it was winter, she wore only a faded brown dress. Her feet were bare, and she carried a basket filled with flowers. She placed her grubby hands on the glass and stared at me with longing until another girl finally dragged her away. The flower girl came back almost every day after that, and I kept hoping that she would enter the shop to purchase me. But then one day she didn’t come.
“When the store closed that night, I could hear chatter behind me from the other dolls on the shelves. The china dolls were the loudest. ‘Poor little peg wooden doll,’ said one. ‘That hairstyle is so unfashionable. No one wears tuck combs in their hair anymore. She will be lucky to find a buyer before Christmas!’ Next a papier mache doll chimed in, ‘If only she had long, curly black ringlets like me! Then some child would fall in love with her!’
“‘But I already have a child,’ I insisted. ’The little flower girl! I just know she will come back and buy me soon.’
“A china doll named Hestia responded. ‘You are not likely to see her again. She is too busy trying to earn a living to waste money on an ugly old doll like you!’
“I didn’t want to believe her, but I knew in my heart she was right. Why would anyone want an unfashionable wooden doll when they could have the latest beauties from Paris?
“Life in the shop continued as usual until one day a new doll was placed on the shelf next to me. She was about my size, but her head, arms and legs were made of china. Her striped pink and white silk dress shimmered, and she wore a matching silk bonnet and a velvet cape edged with white fringe. She had twinkling blue eyes and shiny black curls. When I tried talking to her after the shop had closed for the day, her eyes never blinked, and she remained frozen and unresponsive.
“A week later, a mother and child entered the store. The little girl looked all around until she spied my companion. ‘I want that doll!’ she said.
“An odd thing happened then. I watched as the doll’s features seemed to come to life, and I sensed an awareness that wasn’t there before.
“’I want her! Mama, can I have her?’ the girl asked hopefully.
“‘Now Henrietta, you know we are here to find a present for your cousin. Your birthday isn’t for months.’
“‘I know Mama, but she looks so beautiful. Please buy her for me!’
“The arguing continued. In the end, the girl left without the doll. That night in the shop, I heard my companion speak for the first time. ‘Did you see Henrietta?’ she asked me. ‘What a beautiful child she is. She named me Lady Jane and promised to come back for me soon.’
“I didn’t have the heart to say the girl might never come back, so I just smiled and said I was happy for her.
“The next day was December 24th, and Mr. Hamley, the shopkeeper, came in earlier than usual. He was expanding his stock of magic tricks for conjurers, and he decided to set up a new display. He removed me from the front window and placed me on a shelf in the back of the store. From my new perch I had a perfect view of the entire shop. He moved Lady Jane to a side table next to the window. Then he picked up the heavy Noah’s Ark. As he backed up, it started to slip from his grasp. Wooden camels, lions, elephants, horses and cows slid along the deck and cascaded to the floor. Mr. Hamley managed to hold onto the ark, but he stumbled and knocked over the table.
“I saw Lady Jane hit the floor. I can still hear the sound of her china head shattering.” Miss Willow paused and turned to me with a sad expression. “You can’t imagine how horrible it was, Kitty.”
She was wrong about that. I could imagine it all too well. “What happened next?” I asked.
“When she heard the crash, Mr. Hamley’s eldest daughter rushed to the front of the store. She picked up the scattered animals. After she swept the remains of Lady Jane’s head into the dustbin, she looked up at me. ‘Papa, perhaps we can salvage the dress for that funny old wooden doll. She is about the same size, and the bonnet will hide her tuck comb.’ Helen took off my striped dress with the high waist and puffed sleeves and redressed me in Lady Jane’s clothing. It was unsettling to think that moments ago, these clothes belonged to a doll who had only come to life a day ago. I felt sad that she had ended up in the dustbin, but I have to say it was a relief to finally feel fashionable.
“Later that day, the bell above the door jingled as a well-dressed man entered carrying a red-haired tot. A second little girl and the eldest, a boy, followed behind.
“The shopkeeper rushed to his side and said, ‘Good evening Mr. Dickens!’ (In those days, he was never called Venerables.) Mr. Hamley took some sweets out of his pocket and offered them to the children. The boy popped the treat in his mouth, but the little girl hid behind her father’s coat. ‘Now, Mamie, surely you remember Mr. Hamley?’ her father prompted. She shook her head. ‘Well then, perhaps Katie would like one.’ Katie took the candy and started to squirm in his arms. He placed her on the floor, and she ran to a rocking horse and hopped on. The little boy wandered around the shop, looking at the displays of tin soldiers and cavalry. He seemed intrigued by a miniature paper model of a theatre.
“‘What brings you to Noah’s Ark on this fine afternoon? Are you wanting Christmas presents for the children?’ Mr. Hamley asked. ‘It looks like Katie has already found a favorite!’
“’Yes, that’s right.’ Mr. Dickens was an attractive young man, clean-shaven, with dark, curly hair and piercing hazel eyes. He surveyed the items in the shop with interest. ‘I see that you have some new conjuring tricks in the window. Might I take a look?’
“‘Certainly, sir. I think you will find we have the best selection in London. You can also order more tricks from our catalog.’
“Mr. Dickens moved towards the window, and the little girl who had been standing behind him froze in place. The shop was filled with customers, and she frowned. She slowly made her way to the back of the store. Then she looked up at the shelf and saw me. Her eyes widened, and her mouth popped open. ‘Pink dolly!’ she said and pointed at me.
“Mr. Dickens heard her exclamation and joined her at the back of the store. Sensing a sale, Mr. Hamley followed and said, ‘Excellent choice! That is a rare peg wooden doll, carved of pine from the Thuringian forest near Sonneberg, Germany. And quite a sturdy toy for a young child, I might add, with an unbreakable head.’
“‘Have the doll sent to Devonshire Terrace, along with the rocking horse and the toy theatre. And the magic tricks I selected.’
“‘Very good, sir. I shall have them delivered later this afternoon.’
“Mr. Dickens gathered his children and left, but my journey was just beginning. I was sealed in a box and put on a wagon along with the other toys. It was quite a frightening and bumpy ride through the noisy streets of London.
“On Christmas morning, Mamie opened my box and lifted me out. When she hugged me tight, I finally felt complete.” Miss Willow looked at me with a sentimental smile on her face.
“What happened to the little barefoot flower girl?”
“Sad to say, I never saw her again.” She sighed. “Part of me still misses her. But I soon felt at home with the Dickens family, and I loved Mamie dearly. Mr. Dickens named me Miss Willow because I was ’skinny as a willow rod.’ Mamie used to take me everywhere, and she slept with me every night.”
“But why doesn’t Mamie play with you anymore?” I asked.
“Because she grew up. Of course, she loved me at first, but after a few years, she became bored with me. The same thing will happen to you. Mekitty will lose interest in toys before long. And then it will be the shelf or storage for you as well.”
“Mekitty will never stop loving me!”
“Are you so sure of that? Would you like to find out?” She gestured to her skirt. “After Mamie grew tired of me, Georgina thought it would be amusing to dress me as a fortune teller. Fate Lady dolls were quite popular at the time. She made this costume for me and wrote out all the fortunes on pieces of paper. Then Mr. Dickens designed this special wooden stand that rotates.”
“Can you really tell my fortune?” I asked.
“Of course, though you might not like it.”
“But I have to know about Mekitty!”
Miss Willow stared at me intently. “Very well. Take hold of the wooden stand underneath my skirt and spin it around. When it stops, open the piece of paper that my wand points to.”
I reached down and did as she said. The rotating papers made me dizzy. They gradually slowed and then stopped. I stared at the golden paper directly underneath the wand.
“Open it, Kitty.”
I hesitated. Did I really want to know my own future? What if I found out that Mekitty would reject me? But a feeling of curiosity overwhelmed me. I reached out to touch the fortune and felt a sudden jolt of energy. My stomach dropped to my feet, as if I were falling off the roof all over again. “What was that?”
Miss Kitty regarded me with interest. “It means the magic is working. It is a sign that you have a powerful destiny.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“We’ll never know unless you read your fortune.”
I reached towards her skirt again. As I unfolded the fortune, the paper crackled with age. The black ink had faded to a dull brown.
“What does it say?”
Miss Willow looked down at the fortune and read:
If adventure you crave,
Then your fate shall be grave.
I pondered this for a moment. “But what does it mean?”
“‘All shall become clear, when the time comes to pass.’ At least, that is what Mr. Dickens would say when I performed in his magic shows.”
“You mean Venerables can do magic?”
“Mr. Dickens was fascinated by magic, and he often put on shows for his friends and family. The first one was on Charley’s 6th birthday.”
“But Charlie is only three!”
“You know him as Mekitty’s and Charlie’s papa. His birthday was a very special occasion indeed, with a lovely Twelfth-Night cake sent by Charley’s godmother, Lady Angela Burdett-Coutts. It weighed a whopping ninety pounds.”
Being a doll of small proportions, I had no idea how big this was.
“Before the dinner,” Miss Willow continued, “all the children and guests crowded into the nursery to witness Mr. Dickens’ performance. He wore a black velvet smoking jacket over a midnight blue waistcoat embroidered with silver moons and stars. In his right hand he held a wand carved of ebony with ivory tips. I was sitting in the front row on Mamie’s lap. To the amazement of all, he turned a watch into a tea-caddy and back again. He made coins pass right through a table. He burned a pocket handkerchief, then restored it to its owner unharmed. But the highlight of the show was when he sent a traveling doll away. When it reappeared, the doll brought messages for the children from far-away lands.”
“Did he really make the doll disappear?” I asked. The words “traveling doll” had stirred something inside me.
“It was more of a prop than a doll. The body was carved from a solid block of wood and painted blue to look like a sailor’s uniform. On its head was a round black hat with a narrow brim. ‘Now children,’ Mr. Dickens said as he pulled the doll out of his conjuring bag, ‘I would like to introduce Swansea Jack, a tar of the Royal Navy. He travels the world to bring you news from the deepest jungles of India, the deserts of Arabia, and the mysterious Orient! But first, he needs his magical cloak.’ Then he reached into the bag again and pulled out a purple cape which he wrapped around the doll. ‘What request do you have for Swansea Jack? Where would you like him to go?’ Mr. Dickens paused and looked directly at Charley.
“‘America!’ Charley replied.
“Where is America?” I asked.
“It is a long, long way from England, thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe you will go there someday, Kitty. That is, if it’s adventure you crave.” She smiled, and I could tell she was teasing me.
“Did Venerables send the doll to America?”
“Indeed he did. Mr. Dickens turned back to the doll and said, ’Right, then. Swansea Jack, I bid you travel to New York and tell me what my friend, Washington Irving, is having for dinner on this fine day.’ The little doll shook its head. ‘What’s that, you won’t do it? Oh, I see. You need your traveling expenses.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out an invisible coin. ‘Jack uses fairy money so it won’t weigh him down. Now Jack, FLY!’ He hit the doll on the head, and it disappeared. To prove the doll was gone, he shook out the cape, and the doll was nowhere to be seen. He could make the doll reappear just as easily, and he sent the doll to various locations all over the world.”
“He sounds like a wonderful magician!”
“Naturally. Is there anything Mr. Dickens can’t do? But I haven’t told you about his most amazing trick of all,” Miss Willow continued. “Later that year, Mr. Dickens and the children were at Mrs. Macready’s birthday party. He asked to borrow a top hat from Mr. Stanfield. Into the hat went eggs, flour and all the raw ingredients to make a proper plum pudding. Then he passed the hat over a candle flame and said some strange words. Finally, he flipped the hat upside down over a plate.
“Out tumbled a steaming pudding, fully cooked and ready to eat! With a flourish, Mr. Dickens returned the hat, totally unharmed, to its owner. I heard Mamie gasp and say, ‘Oh, papa!’ Then the audience burst into applause.”
“How did he do that? How did he bake a pudding in a hat?” I asked.
Before she could answer, we heard the children tromping up the stairs. The nursery door started to open, and that was the end of my conversation with Miss Willow.
Text copyright © 2021-2023 by Wendi Dunn. All Rights Reserved.