She smiled back at me.
I turned back to Evelina, an idea forming in my mind. Papa had told me about scientists, people who asked questions about the world and investigated it to find out what it was like. I wanted to be a scientist, to find out what Evelina was like.
Picking the doll up, I untied her bonnet and laid it down. Then I started to examine her dress. It was fastened with tiny hooks and eyes. I undid them and pulled off the dress. She was wearing a pair of cotton drawers. I took those off too. Her body and the tops of her arms and legs were made of cloth, stuffed with something soft.
"She's just like you underneath," I told Annabel.
The bottom half of her arms and legs were made of kid leather, like my best shoes. I studied her face. Where the wax had melted I could see something else underneath. I looked round the room. I needed a knife. Tom's penknife. He wasn't allowed to carry it about with him, so it must be in the nursery.
I opened the door and listened. I couldn't hear anything. As fast as I could, I tiptoed along the landing, into the nursery, and opened the drawer where Tom kept his treasures, all jumbled together. The knife was there, half-hidden under magnifying glass and a lump of sealing wax. I seized it and ran back to my room.
My heart was thudding and I had to wait a moment until my hands felt steady. Then I opened the knife carefully. I picked up Evelina and laid her on top of my chest of drawers. I hesitated: it seemed cruel to plunge the knife into her head but I told myself not to be silly.
"I don't love her like I love you," I said to Annabel. "And Papa said scientists have to be bold sometimes."
I put the tip of the blade against her forehead and pushed. It went in easily. I cut along above the eyebrows and down the right side of her face, making a flap which I pulled open. The wax was just a coating. Inside was a lining of papier-mache.
The eyes were glass balls. I pulled one out. It was like a marble. I extracted the other one, too.
Having gone this far, I thought I might as well continue. I cut the arms and legs off at the elbows and knees, where the kid leather covering ended. Next, I split open the body from top to bottom. The stuffing started to come out. It was stiff and dark: I thought it was horsehair.
There was no more to see.
"Well," I said to Annabel. "What shall we do now?"
The door opened.
"It's time to wash your hands for—Oh, Miss Louisa! Whatever have you done!" Mary's shocked face peered down at me, and the remains of what had been Evelina scattered across my bedcover. I swallowed. There was going to be trouble.
***
"What did you think you were doing?" Papa looked at me gravely. He was sitting at his desk in his study, which was also his consulting room. The smell of tobacco smoke and medicines tickled my nose.
I wriggled uncomfortably.
Mamma had been speechless when she saw what I'd done. She'd stared at my handiwork, while I waited for her to say something, my heart thumping like a drum. Eventually, she'd looked at me and said very quietly, "I don't understand you, Louisa. I don't understand you at all." Her voice was like a grey shadow and I felt more frightened than if she'd shouted.
She'd left me sitting on my bed all day until Papa came home.
He was still waiting for an answer.
"I—" I faltered. "I wanted to see—" I stopped.
"What?"
"I was being a scientist. I wanted to see how the doll was made."
Papa had an odd expression on his face, as if he'd swallowed something too quickly. After a moment he coughed and said, "But you've ruined a very expensive present."
"It was spoiled anyway!" For a moment I felt almost cheerful. And then I remembered it was my fault the doll was spoilt in the first place. I hung my head. Papa was hardly ever angry, but this was different. This was very bad.
"Louisa." Papa's tone was quite unexpected. I looked up at him. "What are we going to do with you?" He was shaking his head and almost— smiling?
I was mystified.
Papa coughed again. Now his face was serious. "So—for your punishment..."
I waited, holding my breath.
"I think you should write a letter to your Aunt Phyllis, telling her what you've done."
I swallowed. "All of it?"
Papa nodded. "Yes, every bit of it. You can write it now." He stood up.
I thought of sitting at the big table where we did our lessons and trying to write the letter, with Tom watching me and laughing.
"Papa—"
"Mmm?"
"May I write it at your desk?"
He looked down at me for a moment, then patted my head.
"Yes, you may."
I sat down in his chair with the carved wooden back. My feet didn't reach the ground. He pulled the silver inkpot towards me and put a piece of paper in front of me.
"Be sure to use your best handwriting."
"I will, Papa."
He went out of the study. I heard Mamma speaking to him in the hall and I tiptoed over to the door and put my ear against it. I heard Papa say, "But it was just natural curiosity, Amelia, not naughtiness."