rattles, tops, sets of toy soldiers, a wooden Noah’s Ark filled with carved and brightly painted pairs of animals, similar sets of barnyard beasts, board games like Fox and Geese, hobby horses, gaily painted shields, wooden swords, and sets of ninepins. Some made plain for poorer children, and others with great detail and embellishment fashioned from more costly materials for his wealthier patrons.
I paused beside the shelf that contained the finest dolls, mounted higher than the rest, beyond the reach of most eager little hands and meager purses.
“Shall you make a doll of me, I wonder?” I said as my fingers idly caressed a skirt of vermilion silk with a pattern of golden poppies worn by a little lady with a mass of golden curls crowned by a wreath of red silk poppies.
“The most beautiful doll I have ever made,” Remi promised, his eyes shining with sincerity and ardor. “With her face, hands, and feet carved of the purest white alabaster, and hair like the finest ebony silk. I will dress her in deep blue velvet trimmed with golden lovers’ knots just like you are wearing today so you will always remember.”
I took a step toward him, just as he stepped toward me. His strong fingers closed around my delicate wrist. My pulses pounded, and my heart leapt inside my breast like an eager, nervous frog. I relished the knowledge that he could have snapped it if he had wanted to, but I knew he didn’t. This shy, gentle, soft-spoken, and soft-bodied man who made dolls would never wantonly destroy any object of great beauty. I would always be safe with him! Then I was in his arms, and he was kissing me with such a furious hunger I didn’t know whether he was angry at himself for desiring me or at me, a beautiful, proud, highborn, well-bred young lady who should have known better, for submitting to a common artisan’s ardor.
But there was no time for questions. As we broke apart, staring at each other, speechless, in blushing and bewildered silence, the door opened and there stood that breathless and gawping idiot Matilda sobbing out an apology for losing me in the crowd.
“It’s about time!” I snapped. “I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like hours! I merely stepped inside this shop as I did not think it meet that I, a duke’s daughter, linger in the street like a common trollop looking for trade! My father would never approve, and he will be sure to flay the hide off you if I decide to tell him that you left me to fend for myself alone in the merciless streets of London. I might have been molested by a fishmonger or groped by a grocer! Or abducted and sold into a brothel to spend the rest of my days satisfying the base lusts of low men, or even had my purse snatched!”
As Matilda continued to weep and blubber words I did not even bother trying to decipher, I turned to the doll maker and graciously gave him my hand.
“Make me a doll, Master Jouet,” I said. “When it is finished, and you are certain that it is worthy of me, send it to me, and—this time I insist—I will pay you, and well.” I spoke these words, husky and soft, with a bold gaze and sensually parted lips that I hoped would convey that I meant to give him so much more than cold hard coins.
Without waiting for his answer, I thrust my chin up high and turned, letting the train of my gown slap Matilda’s ankles like a velvet whip, and headed for the door.
“But how will I find you again?” Remi called after me. “I don’t even know your name!”
On the threshold I paused and looked back at him. “Look for the grandest and most beautiful lady at court; by the time you have finished your doll, that is who I will be!”
And with that lofty boast, I left him, confident that a day would come when I would see him again. Life just couldn’t be so cruel as to deny me!
We reached Baynard’s Castle just in time to join the lords and ladies hurrying into the Great Hall. I paused for just a moment to catch my breath and
I paused beside the shelf that contained the finest dolls, mounted higher than the rest, beyond the reach of most eager little hands and meager purses.
“Shall you make a doll of me, I wonder?” I said as my fingers idly caressed a skirt of vermilion silk with a pattern of golden poppies worn by a little lady with a mass of golden curls crowned by a wreath of red silk poppies.
“The most beautiful doll I have ever made,” Remi promised, his eyes shining with sincerity and ardor. “With her face, hands, and feet carved of the purest white alabaster, and hair like the finest ebony silk. I will dress her in deep blue velvet trimmed with golden lovers’ knots just like you are wearing today so you will always remember.”
I took a step toward him, just as he stepped toward me. His strong fingers closed around my delicate wrist. My pulses pounded, and my heart leapt inside my breast like an eager, nervous frog. I relished the knowledge that he could have snapped it if he had wanted to, but I knew he didn’t. This shy, gentle, soft-spoken, and soft-bodied man who made dolls would never wantonly destroy any object of great beauty. I would always be safe with him! Then I was in his arms, and he was kissing me with such a furious hunger I didn’t know whether he was angry at himself for desiring me or at me, a beautiful, proud, highborn, well-bred young lady who should have known better, for submitting to a common artisan’s ardor.
But there was no time for questions. As we broke apart, staring at each other, speechless, in blushing and bewildered silence, the door opened and there stood that breathless and gawping idiot Matilda sobbing out an apology for losing me in the crowd.
“It’s about time!” I snapped. “I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like hours! I merely stepped inside this shop as I did not think it meet that I, a duke’s daughter, linger in the street like a common trollop looking for trade! My father would never approve, and he will be sure to flay the hide off you if I decide to tell him that you left me to fend for myself alone in the merciless streets of London. I might have been molested by a fishmonger or groped by a grocer! Or abducted and sold into a brothel to spend the rest of my days satisfying the base lusts of low men, or even had my purse snatched!”
As Matilda continued to weep and blubber words I did not even bother trying to decipher, I turned to the doll maker and graciously gave him my hand.
“Make me a doll, Master Jouet,” I said. “When it is finished, and you are certain that it is worthy of me, send it to me, and—this time I insist—I will pay you, and well.” I spoke these words, husky and soft, with a bold gaze and sensually parted lips that I hoped would convey that I meant to give him so much more than cold hard coins.
Without waiting for his answer, I thrust my chin up high and turned, letting the train of my gown slap Matilda’s ankles like a velvet whip, and headed for the door.
“But how will I find you again?” Remi called after me. “I don’t even know your name!”
On the threshold I paused and looked back at him. “Look for the grandest and most beautiful lady at court; by the time you have finished your doll, that is who I will be!”
And with that lofty boast, I left him, confident that a day would come when I would see him again. Life just couldn’t be so cruel as to deny me!
We reached Baynard’s Castle just in time to join the lords and ladies hurrying into the Great Hall. I paused for just a moment to catch my breath and
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