There's no doubt that Duke Berkeley was very generous, giving her a full 40 pounds for her manuscript, and even handed her a magazine as a souvenir.
"The Helen doll will be released this Saturday," the Duke said, resting his chin on his hand, the soft flesh of his face sinking into his fingers. "If you want one, just have the butler bring it to you."
"That soon?" Elena was a bit surprised. "How many copies are prepared?"
The Duke blinked. "Guess."
With a neutral expression, Elena tucked the money into her bag and made to leave.
"Wow, you're in such a bad mood!" Duke Berkeley teased, puffing his cheeks. "Fine, don't guess, you'll find out on Saturday anyway."
It seemed he wanted to keep the suspense until the end. Elena just muttered "Oh" and left without looking back.
She took the paper bag and writing desk to her study, where Vera and the new friend were already waiting.
The new friend was named Grace, and her name immediately suggested she was the daughter of a devout family. She came from the middle class and had nearly died from a cholera outbreak a few years ago. Her parents had emptied their savings to save her, and she was also staying here to avoid the gossip of neighbors.
Since her family wasn't wealthy, she also submitted articles to the magazine and helped clean the house to earn contribution points. She had brought over the reader letters earlier.
"You're back," Vera greeted her, noticing the magazine in her hands. "Did you buy this?"
"The Duke gave it to me," Elena opened the magazine and flipped to the page with the paper doll, then took out a pair of scissors from the desk. "Want to try it?"
Though the club had subscriptions to magazines, no one would casually start playing with them. Now, Elena finally had the chance to enjoy it.
When the paper dolls were first made, they were just simple little pieces of paper. You had to use a candle to melt wax and glue them together, but Elena remembered that the paper dolls she had played with before always had little tags, and some even had tiny slits at the shoulders for inserting the tags to hold the clothes in place, so you didn't have to risk burning yourself with hot wax.
Making a slit was tedious, but drawing the little tags was easy. Elena carefully cut out Helen and her clothes, folding the tags and attaching them to the doll. A simple outfit change was done.
"SR can add background images as scenes," she examined the little paper doll in her hand. "A plain paper doll feels a bit dull."
Though she had based it on modern dress-up games, there were still some differences due to the era, such as how the paper doll had to wear a nightgown instead of casual clothes. Additionally, because the culture emphasized women's gentleness and humility, the butler had initially suggested drawing Helen's eyes slightly lowered, so she wouldn't make direct eye contact with children.
Of course, Elena had rejected that suggestion. Even from a psychological perspective, eye contact with paper dolls was important. Many model advertisements depicted models looking straight ahead to capture the buyer's attention and establish an emotional connection.
"This looks fun," Vera said eagerly, reaching for the paper doll. "When are you planning to release it? Can I pre-order?"
"Of course," Elena tidied up the cuttings and placed the small steel scissors back in the desk drawer. "The exact release date depends on how things go with *Helen*, but it should be soon."
"Actually, I think," Grace hesitated, "even without *Helen*, these little things would be very popular. I've never really played with proper toys."
Elena was curious. "Oh? What kind of interesting toys did you play with?"
"I only had a ragdoll," Grace shook her head.
"I have several dolls," Vera said, intrigued. "Some are made of porcelain, others from wood. I make clothes for them. They have their own homes, little tables, and beds... Sometimes I really envy them. By the way, have you ever played 'Grace's Game'?"
"Of course," Elena replied. That game, which was quite popular among girls, was simple but elegant. You held two wooden sticks, threw a ring, and another person would catch it with their stick. It was a graceful game and also allowed for a bit of movement. Elena had often played it with her sister back home. "We can play together next time."
Grace gazed at the paper doll with envy. "She's so cute. When I played with my ragdolls, I always wanted to change their clothes, but sewing a nice outfit is just so hard."
Elena empathized with her. Learning to sew wasn't as easy as modern people might think. Techniques like hemming, gathering, and rolling were enough to give anyone a headache.
"Clothes for paper dolls are much simpler. You just need to print them on paper, and changing is easy," Elena said, nodding. "Hey," Grace suddenly seemed to notice something. "Doesn't she have a mole under her eye?"
"Yes, to make her different from the other dolls," Elena explained simply, watching Vera gently hold the golden-haired, blue-eyed Helen doll, her eyelashes slightly lowered, gazing at herself in an almost melancholic way. "If others try to replicate her, they could easily overlook this small mole, but I mention it in *Helen* a few times. It's her signature."
"Wow, that's impressive," Vera said, feeling the charm of the mole. "Make sure to keep one for me when it's released."
Elena readily agreed, figuring she'd just ask the butler to reserve another one for her.
After finishing with the paper dolls, Elena noticed the paper bag full of reader letters. She carefully used the letter opener from her desk to break the wax seal.
She took out a letter, hesitated for a moment, and handed it to Vera. "Can you take a look? I'm worried they might be criticizing me."
Elena had a sense of self-awareness when it came to how provoking her novel could be. It was like the short video dramas people watched today. She had grown used to starting with a punch of intense emotions to grab the audience's attention. In a world with so many entertainment options, you had to pull them in with something dramatic. The more they hated it, the more they stayed—at least, that's how she felt.
Having continued this modern approach, Elena was understandably concerned that readers might write angry letters.
Vera laughed as she read through the letter from start to finish, then hummed in response. "Though it definitely made them angry, I don't think any literate woman would outright curse you in a letter. They probably just want you to treat Helen better. Poor Helen."
Elena felt even more guilty. It wasn't going to get better for Helen, not by a long shot.
"However," Grace hesitated, "I've heard that when authors write successful novels, they tend to keep writing in that genre. It might affect your... creativity?"
Elena had considered that, but she wasn't too concerned. "Let them write their stories. After all, there are so many 'true and false heiress' stories out there now—what difference does it make? They'll just inspire more creativity."
She was honestly bored with her current life. Compared to the vast array of modern novels, games, and short videos, life back then felt incredibly dull. If she were a proper citizen of London, maybe she could endure the monotony. But with the memories of a world flooded with information, it was torturous to return to such a primitive life.
It was like when someone reads the shampoo bottle while sitting on the toilet—she couldn't bear this complete lack of stimulation.
"If they really write something good," she thought, "novels that aren't so 'tragic' or 'preachy,' I'd thank them. Wouldn't it be nice if there were more authors like Dumas or Jane Austen?"
Whether there would be more Dumas or Austen, the magazine offices in London already had their eyes on *Helen*.
The prestigious novel magazine *Cassell's Magazine* never expected that this month's biggest sensation would not be them, nor their rival *The Strand Magazine*, but a women's magazine with few readers that had surprisingly made a breakthrough.
A magazine that only sold fifteen thousand copies suddenly doubled its sales, and naturally, everyone wanted to know what the secret to its success was.
"Yes, I admit I was also angry when I read the novel," the editor-in-chief said in a meeting. "But it has no literary value."
The editor-in-chief was puzzled. "I thought people read to learn something, not to... be seduced by this kind of... writing. Do they even know what they're reading?"
This question made sense. The middle class had always promoted "rational leisure," which meant they believed leisure activities should teach something rather than just provide enjoyment.
This view had long been popular with the public, and even in the 21st century, people still felt guilty about pursuing entertainment for pleasure.
Clearly, *Helen* wasn't the kind of novel that taught anything.
"But their sales doubled," a new editor timidly pointed out.
"This is wrong," the editor-in-chief grew more certain. "Inciting emotions through writing should not become the mainstream of magazine fiction. What's the difference between this and the one-penny novels?"
"But their sales doubled," the new editor raised his voice slightly.
"We should condemn this type of novel!" The editor-in-chief glared at him.
"As magazine editors, we have a responsibility to the public's perception. We might be their only source of information."
"But their sales doubled," the new editor raised his voice even louder.
"Let's have Wells try it. Isn't he working on a new book?" another editor suggested. "If *Ladies' Monthly* can feature a noble lady with a swapped life, why can't *Cassell's Magazine* have a nobleman with a swapped life?"