Posted on Thursday, 3 March 2005

Author's note: I'm about an hour early by local time, but Happy Birthday, Lise! Hope you like your present...I'm off to bed

"Ladies," a head popped out the door marked Toymaker. "Here's the latest one; what do you think?"

Several members of the Austen Etc. toy company gathered around the miniature prototype, a handsome man dressed entirely in black. Finally, Becky, one of the older employees, asked, "I gather it's a new Darcy version...but what's with all the black?"

"It's an angst Darcy, suitable for all situations involving suffering, self-pity, and soul searching. The black turtleneck is for the modern authors, and I also have a black poet's shirt for the Regency-lovers." She started to pull her head back inside, then shoved it back out. "Oh, and don't, whatever you do, leave it near any alcohol or the Benwick dolls."

"Whyever not?" A mischievous looking fellow asked. "I didn't think the wine did any harm."

The Toymaker shook her head. "I might have guessed it was you, Dan. I came in this morning and found two empty bottles and Angst Darcy busily playing at Heathcliff. 'Lizzy! Lizzy!' Do you have any idea how long it takes to clean up the forehead of a doll that isn't intended to bleed in the first place?"

"Okay," said the lady who had identified the doll originally, "that answers the alcohol question, but why don't you want it placed near Captain Benwick?"

"I left them side by side on my workbench for an hour, and when I came back, they'd managed to collaborate on two volumes of the worst poetry I have ever heard in my life." She vanished inside for a moment, reappearing with two thumbnail-sized books and a magnifying glass. "See for yourselves."

A few moments later, groans arose from the group along with a spate of chuckles. "Oh, this is bad!"

The Toymaker just nodded and disappeared back inside her workroom. The others went back to work, save for a brunette who took the new model over to place in the prototypes case and two or three ladies who followed her over to examine the contents of the case.

"Say," commented one of the newer employees, a girl named Amanda, "What's that doll over there? Why does it have a triple-locked case?"

"Oh," Becky laughed from where she was sorting through orders, "that's the original Colonel Studmuffin. The Toymaker did that to keep it and our Dwiggie customers under control."

"Under control?"

"Well, things got a little hectic when we issued that model. The Toymaker ended up having to destroy every last one with the exception of that prototype, and then she locked it away."

"It doesn't look that problematic. May I see it?"

Becky shook her head a trifle regretfully. "She made me swear never to unlock that case."

"But you do have the keys?" Jessie, the other new employee, asked.

"Well, yes..."

"Did she make you swear never to let someone else unlock the case?"

"No..." Becky started to smile, then cautioned, "but only to look, mind you!"

"Of course." Amanda crossed her fingers as she answered, noting that Jessie had done the same.

"All right." Becky sorted through her ring of keys and produced a tiny gold one.

Eagerly taking the proffered key, the other ladies crowded around the case while Jessie did the honours of opening the case and removing the prototype. They never noticed the other prototypes eying them surreptitiously. The innumerable Darcys, Wentworths, Knightleys, et al, began to slide toward the far side of the case, away from the group of women. The Lizzys, Janes, etc., on the other hand had commenced a slow creep toward the circle, their eyes fixed on the miniature Colonel. One resourceful Caroline had even begun tearing up her petticoats for a rope. The real women remained oblivious.

"He's not that handsome," Amanda pouted. "All right, but not handsome."

"Oh, he grows on you," Becky commented with a dreamy sigh.

"Hmm," Jessie had turned him over and was examining the back of his uniform. "He has a funny little lever back here. It's marked," she peered more closely, "'Charm' with 'Off' and 'Mild' settings."

"Should we try it?" Allison, who had worked there for a year or so, asked. "I know Anna used to swear that doll was too dangerous to touch, but it seems harmless."

The Toymaker once again looked out of her workshop. "Has anyone seen that nice dark brocade I use f...what are you doing?"

"Just seeing what this switch does."

"What switch?" She frowned. "I didn't design angst-Darcy with any switches."

"Oh, it isn't a switch on angst-Darcy," the curious newbie replied brightly. "We opened up the case to look at that old Colonel Fitzwilliam model."

The Toymaker blanched. "That switch? The one labeled 'Charm?'"

"Yeah, that one. Why?"

"Don't touch it."

"Why? Does it self-destruct or something?" Amanda started to set it down.

"Well, no..."

"Then what harm will it do to see?" A quick flick of her wrist moved the tiny lever from "Off" to "Mild."

"I can't watch," the Toymaker groaned, diving back inside her door, which she quickly locked behind her.

Within moments, the buttons on the Colonel's uniform began to gleam and every speck of dust vanished. Straightening up proudly to his full (if diminutive) height of eight inches, he removed his hat and made a sweeping bow. "Ladies," he almost purred, "it is indeed an honour."

Inside her office, the Toymaker was barricading her door when she heard the squeals and redoubled her efforts. Once she had finished thoroughly blocking the door and window with every vaguely movable object in the room, she went to her supply closet and pulled out her fabric swaths. These she used to begin muffling her female prototypes, even the largely harmless Mrs. Bates. After each doll was thoroughly wrapped, she locked it in a separate wooden box, and put the boxes in the back recesses of the closet. All the while, she kept throwing nervous glances over her shoulder at the door. "It's fine if they stick to 'Mild,' but please, dear Heaven, don't let them go up to 'Full.' I knew I made that switch too powerful."

Outside the door, Jessie had caught her breath enough to take a closer look at the Colonel. "Hey, gals, this goes up another notch. What do you think 'F' could be short for?"

"Flirty, maybe?" Allison sighed. "He'd make such a good flirt."

"Ooh," the group sighed, except for Becky, who had begun to edge toward the door.

"Let's see," Jessie reached out and moved the switch.

Becky fled.

The Colonel's uniform, which had been impeccable, now achieved a sheen and polish that could only be described as Resplendent. He flashed a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial and his eyes smouldered. In a voice that had acquired a chocolate smoothness, he murmured, "Such accomplishment and beauty as I see here quite takes my breath away."

The ladies began to drool.

Inside her barricade, the Toymaker heard the sudden silence and winced. She'd heard that unnatural stillness before and it usually preceded...three, two, one She counted down the moments on her fingers, then held her breath, hoping against hope to be proven wrong.

"Get him!"

She had been right. She stuffed some cotton in her ears and began to consider her alternatives.

Meanwhile, the Colonel had vanished briefly under a mob of female bodies. The ladies at the bottom began uttering cries of frustration, however, and the miniature soldier appeared to have escaped, poking his head cautiously around a desk leg. He had not, unfortunately, reckoned on the other toys joining the pursuit.

"There you are, Colonel," a voice spoke from behind him, and he turned to see a trio of seven-inch women advancing on him. The two Carolines had a petticoat-rope stretched between them, and Elizabeth Elliot was waving her copy of Burke's Peerage like a banner.

He screamed and sprinted for the stockroom, hoping to hide among the boxes.

"There he goes!"

The thunder of large and small heels on the concrete floor was deafening.

The Toymaker's cell phone beeped at her. She set down the limb she was hurriedly shaping and grabbed the phone. "Austen's Toys, etc. This is the Toymaker speaking. Can we call you back? There's a bit of an emergency at the moment."

"It's Becky...and I know all about the emergency. I'm hiding in the Ladies' Room to stay sane."

"Then why are you calling?"

"I thought you should know we're about to go critical. I peeped out in time to see the Fanny Price model leave her contemplation of Edmund and start making herself a net out of Mrs. Norris' green curtain accessory. And you know she never even stops worshipping Edmund when she sleeps."

"Bother! I've less time than I thought, then."

"I'd say ten minutes, tops."

"Well," the Toymaker glanced at her work-in-process, "I wanted to polish a few more things first, but I guess we'll just have to make do. Do you have anything you can stuff in your ears?"

"Paper towels."

"Good. I don't need you treeing the Colonel again."

Becky winced at the crashes coming from the storeroom. "I think they may have done it without me. It sounds like someone is climbing the shelves."

"Now, wait until you hear the screams, and you know what to do from there."

"Got it."

The Toymaker clicked off her phone. Looking at the pieces she had spread on the floor, she sighed. "Oh, I hate shoddy work. Still, needs must when the Devil drives." She began assembling pieces.

Three minutes later, she tied the last lacing shut. Looking at the life-sized figure, she prayed, "God forgive me for what I am about to do," and placed her finger on its forehead to activate it. "Wake up, Mr. Collins."

"Madam," the figure bowed, "I have not seen such splendor since my noble pat-"

"We don't have time for that." She cut him off. "You're going to help me open that door, and then you're going to go into the storeroom - just follow the squeals - and give a sermon there on the virtues of propriety. If the women don't run, you're going to try to kiss as many as you can. Understand?"

He assumed an affronted air. "Madam, I know not who you are, but I am not accustomed to being ordered about like a servant."

She looked coolly over her shoulder as she began to shove her workbench away from the door. "I'm the person who determines if you ever see Lady Catherine again...or if you become the loincloth-clad slave of a certain Dwiggie."

He paled. "You mean?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He frantically began tossing items away from the door, while the Toymaker smirked.

They reached the door in record time, and the Toymaker opened it to let Collins charge down the hall waving a copy of Fordyce. A few moments later, screams could be heard from the other end of the building, and she dove back into her office to pull an old metal strongbox from under the pile of rubble formerly known as her workbenches. She got it open just in time to have Becky, paper towels protruding from her ears, race inside, clutching a struggling Colonel Fitzwilliam.

She braced herself for the onslaught of the effects of the Colonel-on-Charm, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that she seemed to be unaffected. She pointed at the figure, then sketched a "?" at Becky, who flipped the miniature around to show that she had run the level back to "Off." Giving a sigh of relief, the Toymaker took the Colonel and with a murmured, 'So long, Studmuffin,' she dropped him inside the strongbox. As she closed it tightly and triggered the lock, she saw her assistant remove her improvised earplugs.

When she was sure that Becky wouldn't be able to escape hearing her, she spoke. "Now do you remember why the Colonel-on-Charm is a forbidden substance?"

Becky nodded.

"Good. I'm not sure I can cope with another Colonel-mania pandemic. Now, get everyone back to work...and lock up Collins. I need a day or two before I can figure out how to turn him back into the eight-inch STUD variety."