After writing with a WW1 AU, I was inspired to do a prequel showing their childhoods in the Edwardian era, and this episodic story was the result. (This is set before "Liberty Music", but hopefully you can enjoy this without reading the other first.)

1905

Unlike some of the children in his neighborhood, Schroeder had never been confined to spending the bulk of his home hours in his nursery under the sharp eyes of a fussy nanny or a stern governess, but his parents had allowed him to play his toy piano in the back parlor since he had been in diapers. It was a pleasant-looking instrument, varnished and made to look like a miniature upright, with ivory keys and a tall frame on which he could lean music sheets. Although the black keys were only painted on, from the time he had first played it as a toddler, Schroeder could make his piano sing any song he desired to hear. His mother declared that it was wonderful to listen to Beethoven while she wrote letters or prepared preserves with Rosemary, their maid-of-all-work, in the kitchen. His father said that if he ever came home to 1770 James Street from the clinic for lunch and Schroeder was not playing his piano, then that was his first indicator that something might be wrong.

One sunny afternoon found Schroeder in the parlor like normal. A recent growth spurt made it necessary for him to hunch a little over the keyboard. He was also obliged to draw up his knickerbockered knees toward himself while he played, no longer able to lay his legs comfortably flat on the red rug. The sailor collar on the back of his purple shirt flapped slightly from the breeze murmuring between the drawn curtains. "Für Elise" rang, somber yet hopeful, from his toy instrument, as rich as though it were from an actual grand piano. Schroeder never neglected his daily practice if he could help it, no matter how masterfully everyone already said he could play.

It ought to have been a pleasant afternoon for a quiet young boy, but today he had company, although he did his best to ignore her presence. On the other side of his piano, a girl a little younger than himself sat with her head bent over her latest project. A floppy, dark-blue bow perched atop her chin-length locks of black hair. A white, frilly pinafore protected her dark-blue frock while she played, and black stockings hugged her calves while buttoned boots tapped against the rug. Normally, she leaned back against the toy piano and listened or (more often) talked while Schroeder played, but today she had brought along her new sewing kit, full of colorful threads and shiny needles. Her large eyes focused on the stitches which her small hands made into a pink mound of fabric. It was to be a miniature party gown that would grace the new doll which she had received from her grandmother.

"I really like making my own doll clothes," she bragged to Schroeder. "Getting the fancy dresses from the toy shops is nice too, but Mama says the sign of a well-bred lady is her excellent needlework. So, I guess if I became queen someday, I'd have to have the best sewing skills in the whole wide world. That's why I have to practice a lot, the way you practice your piano a lot, Schroeder."

"You're comparing Beethoven to girls' stuff?" Schroeder sniffed, lifting his eyes to shoot her a disapproving look.

Lucy rounded on him.

"Boys sew too! What do you think tailors do for a living, huh?" she demanded. "And what about when your papa has to give his patients stitches, hmm?"

Schroeder had to think that one over.

"I concede I spoke too soon, Lucy," he said at length and dipped his head into a diplomatic bow. "I apologize."

"Good," she snapped, plopping an elbow against his piano. Her frown soon receded, however, and she started off again as if she had not paused. "The more doll clothes I make, the better my sewing becomes, Schroeder. Except Mama has to thread all the needles for me, so she does twenty each morning so that I don't bother her too much during the day."

Lucy reached into her sewing kit and held up a needle with a long pink thread. The ends were tied together, both so that they would not slip out of the needle's tiny eye and to make the stitching more durable. Schroeder gave her a nod to show he had seen it, but since he had no interest in sewing or dolls, he returned to his piano and started up "Für Elise" again.

"I want to learn to make all sorts of dresses, Schroeder," Lucy continued, speaking above the beautiful tones which his prodigious fingers drew from the toy piano. Her own fingers worked on the hem of the miniature skirt. "When I'm big, I'm going to have a wardrobe full of beautiful gowns. Can't you just see me in them, Schroeder? Ball gowns, tea gowns, morning dresses, afternoon dresses, walking dresses, visiting dresses, opera dresses, riding dresses, hiking costumes, hunting costumes, and a very special gown that I'd wear just for your debut concert as a real musician," she added. "You'd look up from the stage and see me in my theater box, and your mouth would just drop open. You would wonder who that beautiful lady is, and—"

But Schroeder played the piano louder, drowning her out until he reached the end of the song. In that lingering pause, Lucy's voice became clear again.

"—And, of course, you couldn't be a king, but you would be made a prince in order to be my consort, like Prince Albert was to Queen Victoria. Oh, 'Queen Lucy and Prince Schroeder' sounds awfully nice, don't you think?"

"It's awful, all right," he said under his breath, sticking out his tongue, but Lucy did not seem to hear. Gritting his teeth, Schroeder started "Für Elise" once again from the top.

Fortunately, Lucy had seemed to finish her daydreaming for the moment, and she returned to her sewing. By the time Schroeder had completed five run throughs of his piece, she had a large chunk of the tiny dress finished. She pinched the sleeves between her thumbs and index fingers, holding the outfit up like a marionette above the piano for Schroeder to see.

"Isn't it pretty?"

"If you like dolls," he answered noncommittally. If he had been a little older, he might have privately thought she had done a pretty good job for a girl her age, but dolls and dresses ranked too low on his list of remotely useful things for Schroeder to give the girly item more than a scornful sweep of his eyes.

"I wish I had a few boy dolls so that I can learn how to sew boy's clothes too," she contemplated. "I need to learn how to make boy's clothes if I'm going to sew for you someday, Schroeder."

"My mother sews for me just fine."

"But you can't expect your dear mother to take care of you when she's old and sick," Lucy challenged. "Where will you get your clothes then?"

"I believe you said something about tailors earlier?"

"Now you're just being difficult," she pouted.

She laid her chin on the piano top, watching him. He ignored her, but it was a little distracting to see her wide eyes in his peripheral vision.

"Schroeder," she suddenly said, "what would you think if I asked for a Beethoven doll for my next birthday?"

Schroeder slowed his playing. "You wouldn't joke about that, would you?"

At the rapid glance he shot her, Lucy began to brighten, seeing a chink in his armor of indifference. She folded her arms on the piano, holding his reluctant gaze.

"Perhaps if I had a Beethoven doll, I could sew wonderful clothing for him. Wouldn't you think that was grand, Schroeder?"

"As long as you didn't put him in anything stupid," he said with a shrug, but he checked her face to see if she was sincere.

"Not with the skills I'll have if I keep practicing until I'm a grown-up lady," she declared. "You'll be so proud of me, Schroeder. Wait and see!"

He looked down at the keys again, not dignifying that with a response, but as he reached the switch between the B and C sections of "Für Elise", his fingers lingered on the alternating coda notes longer than the composer had intended. He considered — he could not fully explain why, but he considered — switching to Leopold Mozart's Toy Symphony, just as a friendly act (even though he knew she would not recognize the melody). Maybe — unlikely, but maybe — dolls were not so stupid after all, if they could be made to look like Ludwig van Beethoven.

But that charitable thought was squashed once Lucy said, "All this practice on dolls will really help me get ready for our little dolls, Schroeder. I need to learn how to make christening gowns and baby clothes, and then trousers and short pants for when our sons are properly breeched, and also frocks and pinafores for our daughters. Do you think we'll have more boys or more girls, Schroeder? 'Cause I'm hoping for—"

But he did not learn what she was hoping for because he grabbed hold of his toy piano and yanked it out from under her, causing her to crash onto the rug.

A/N: In trying to be historically accurate (although I do not claim to be an expert), I went with Schroeder having a toy piano that resembles an upright rather than his typical miniature grand because these were more common during the turn of the twentieth century. Interestingly enough, during the end credits for the video game, Snoopy Flying Ace, Schroeder plays on a toy upright in the officers' club.

I know a woman who grew up Amish, and she says that she started sewing as soon as she could hold a needle. Her earliest projects were clothes for her dolls, and her mother would pre-thread the needles for her. In doing this Edwardian AU, I wanted to incorporate having the girls be able to sew, and it would make sense that Lucy would make doll clothes at a young age.