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Summary: AU. Eliza marries Freddie just to spite Henry. Only seven months later, all of the Professor's predictions come true. Freddie is gone and Eliza is left with nothing. She comes back to Higgins, whose life has been miserable without her, and he is faced with a decision: swallow his pride and take her back like he wants, or throw her out like he swore he would do…
I only wish I owned any of these lovely characters!
Note: I personally prefer to write with the Julie Andrews/Rex Harrison version in mind; however, if you prefer Audrey/Rex or any other Eliza/Higgins actors, feel free to think of these events happening with them instead.
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It was midnight.
Professor Henry Higgins had just finished marking up a compilation of Latin roots and their descent to English words and was about to head to bed when a faint knock from the front door reached his ears.
Scowling irritably, he glanced at the door and half-considered ignoring it. But curiosity which was demanding to know who was knocking at this hour got the best of him, and he grudgingly set off to answer the door.
"Who the devil could that be at this hour?" he muttered crossly. He opened the door and was immediately annoyed by who—or what—stood there.
The person, a woman, he surmised, from the skirts and small hat perched uncertainly atop the messy dark hair, was a beggar. A guttersnipe. Anger rose in Henry's chest. How dare the wretch awake him at this hour? Well, actually, he had already been awake, but she didn't know that, and any civilized person would assume that another would be in bed at twelve o'clock in the morning, and know better than to knock.
"What do you want, pesky thing?" he demanded harshly. "Do you have any idea of the time?" Before she had a chance to respond he thrust a hand into his pocket and, finding several shillings there, pulled them from his pocket and tossed them distastefully at her feet. Money was all she could possibly want, and he didn't really care to hear an explanation, as long as she left as soon as possible.
But she did not stoop to take the money. Fine. So this one had a little pride; though her head was bowed so he could not see her face, she obviously did not want to bend down and get the money in his presence. He did not care. A few shillings mattered little to him. If she didn't want them, so be it. If they were still there in the morning, he would take them back.
He turned to go back inside.
"Please, sir. I have nowhere to go, Professor."
He froze. She said please. She spoke with an impeccable, clear, upper-class accent. She said she had nowhere to go, when every single other Cockney wretch would have said she got nowhere to go. She somehow knew he was a professor. And…he knew that voice.
"Eliza…" he breathed. He turned slowly, revolving on the spot. A million thoughts clouded his head, and a thousand emotions flooded his consciousness.
They were varied widely, and included…
She's here…
Damn, I'm glad she's all right.
Why is she here?
He wanted to embrace her, gather her close to him. But…his stomach dropped as he remembered one tiny detail: she is married!
He gathered his wits and his pride and sneered, half-heartedly, "What do you want?" He knew he was being rude, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. And he felt she deserved his rudeness, after running away like that.
"I…I need somewhere to stay," she murmured, not looking at him. She had not lifted her face to him yet.
"Oh?" Henry was faintly surprised. "Haven't you a cozy little flat somewhere?"
"I was evicted," she said softly. "Three days ago."
"I see." And then that bit about her being married came back to him. "And where," he said coldly. "Is that good-for-nothing husband of yours? Freddy? Eh? Why isn't he taking care of you?"
She looked up quickly, bit her lip and looked back down. "Freddy's g-gone," she said softly, and her voice shook with restrained tears. "H-he left me when the money ran out. I-I haven't heard from him in three weeks, e-except to say not to w-watch for him, because he's n-not coming b-back. All I got were some papers saying it was final…"
His heart clenched in anger. That low-lying scum! How dare he do this to Eliza!
You deserve better than that bloody fool, Eliza!
That was what he felt. But what he said was entirely different.
"And what," he said with an air of superior indifference, "Do you expect me to do about it?"
"I-I don't know," she said, her breathing hitched. "I just hoped…" She trailed off hopelessly, falling silent.
"Hoped what?" he said coldly. "That you could just run off with him, and when he left you as I told you he would, I would just take you back? Is that what you thought, Mrs. Eynsford-Hill, eh? Well." He crossed his arms pompously across his chest and glared down at her. "I think you hoped wrong."
Her shoulders slumped, and her head fell even lower, if that was possible.
"You're right," she said softly. She turned, not even picking up the silver pieces lying on his front stoop which he had thrown at her. "I was foolish to come back."
She straightened, and looked him straight in the eye. He wasn't sure if he could stand the sadness in their deep brown depths. The spark of hope she'd had before was extinguished utterly, replaced by hopeless resignation.
"I am sorry that I bothered you, Professor Higgins," she said quietly. "I hope I didn't cause you too great of an inconvenience." She turned to leave, trudging down the street, the air of pride wavering and unsteady. He watched her until she disappeared.
He could have kicked himself.
"I had grown accustomed to her face," he whispered. He stared in the direction she'd gone. "But I will never take her back!" he insisted viciously. But he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
"I will slam the door and let the hellcat free!" he said aloud. "That was what I promised…and that is what I did."
Then why did it feel so wrong?
"Damn!" he swore aloud. "Let a woman in your life…"
Privately, and though he never would have admitted it to anyone, he knew this was partly his fault. Damn, why hadn't he just broken down and acknowledged how stunning she'd been at the ball? Why couldn't he have just admitted he didn't want her to leave? Perhaps, said a tiny voice he longed to ignore, perhaps if he had, she would have changed her mind and not married Freddy.
He cursed again, then made up his mind with a rashness not characteristic of the careful professor in him, and made a wild dash down the street in the direction she'd disappeared.
"E-Eliza?" he called in a low tone, tentatively. He didn't really care whether he woke others from their sleep, but he certainly did not want them to know he, Professor Henry Higgins, was literally chasing a woman and thus settled for a quiet, urgent tone.
"Come back, you fool!" he called. He wasn't speaking very loud, and had no idea whether she had any idea he was calling for her. She had left quite a few minutes ago, after all…
Silence met his quietly desperate pleas.
"Listen to me, you little insect, I was wrong…I—I want you to come back…"
He swallowed. It was, after all, excruciating for him to make an apology, and even more so when he had no idea whether the object of his regrets was even listening.
"Oh, damn it all…"
He was utterly discouraged. He'd been searching for what felt like forever, and he was sure she had not gotten so far that she would not be able to hear him now.
He turned to go back home. He hated himself. This was twice now that he'd let her go. He cursed himself a thousand times, and it still made him feel no better. He was still an irritating, proud man sans the one person who had made his existence hundreds of times better. He knew he would never get a third chance, and it was killing him.
"Fool," he said softly, and for once he was not talking about Eliza. "You bloody idiot, Higgins, how could you…?"
He reached his home and dejectedly returned to the study. Damn! What was the matter with him? Every time he came into contact with her he slipped into this utter depression. He had been managing after she'd left the first time, though everyday life was almost torturous, but he thought it was getting easier. Now, however, after this occurrence, he felt as though the hole in his heart which had been slowly mending had now been ripped fully from his chest. He sank into one of the large chairs and held his head in his hands.
A door creaked somewhere.
Henry tensed. It couldn't be…?
Silence. He slumped again. It had only been one of the maids, it seemed.
And then there was the creaking of the floorboards, and the gentle tap of heels against the wood. He heard the uncomfortable rustle of a dress, and silence as a pause.
He sat straight up, hardly daring to hope…
The rustle grew closer, and it was not a maid. He stood up, not facing the noise, not even able to look to see if his suspicions were true, for he would not be able to bear the disappointment if he were having delusions, which he was certain he was having…
Then she spoke, and his heart soared.
"Professor?" It was a tentative, meek approach. He turned ever so slowly, eyes radiating a delirious shock, and found her standing there, found Eliza, staring at him with both apprehension and hope in her eyes.
"Eliza." His breath left him in a whoosh and before he knew what he was doing he had crossed the room and swept her into his arms. He thought he might burst from relief and pure joy.
She laughed nervously, but happily, and he was sure he had never heard a sweeter sound as she relaxed into his embrace.
"You…want me back, then?" Her voice had not totally lost its wariness; she had to make sure.
He pulled back and held her at arms' length, looking down at her sternly.
"Want you back?" he said, and for a moment her smile wavered. He did want her back, didn't he? Then he breathed out slowly and relaxed, and pulled her close again.
"You presumptous insect, don't you dare suggest otherwise," he muttered, hiding his radiant grin in her hair. He could not, after all, let her know exactly how glad he was to have her back. He could let her see he was slightly glad to have her back, but if he told her just how happy he was, she might laugh at him, and he certainly could not have that.
He held her at arms' length again and gazed down at her. "Don't you ever do that to me again, you silly girl," he murmured, tapping her nose affectionately with his index finger. She giggled, and he scowled. She only giggled further.
"So…may I stay the night, Professor?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
He glared at her, but there was no way he could hold that scowl, not with her so close to him.
"Put your things in your room, you are not to go anywhere else ever again," he declared pompously. She bit her lip to keep from laughing, and then her eyes fell.
"What's the matter?" he demanded.
"Well, you see, I have nothing," she said uncomfortably. "I had to sell all my clothes to pay for the rent…"
"I see." Henry was displeased. "Tomorrow, I will take you shopping and buy you a full wardrobe," he announced in a superior tone.
"Oh, you don't have—" she began hurriedly, but he cut her off swiftly.
"Quiet. That is what I want to do and a pack of mules shall not stop me."
She hid a smile, happier than she'd been in months. "Yes, Professor," she said obediently, certainly not about to object.
"Now," he ordered, trying to act pompous and superior to get around the fact that he was actually having feelings. "Go up to your room and to sleep. You look like you need it."
She hid another smile and turned to obey him, when Henry stopped her.
"And, Eliza…" he said, looking suddenly awkward. "I…I'm…glad you're back."
She knew how hard it was for him to say, and dipped her head in acknowledgement.
"I am glad, too. Good night, Professor."
He exhaled as she went up the stairs. That had been difficult, but he was not about to lose her again. If that was what it took, he would do it.
He paused, then did a little jig around the room, a giddy, ridiculous smile on his face.
"In Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen!"
He grinned widely and raced up the stairs.
"Where's that blasted plain? In Spain! In Spain!"
He reached the Colonel's door and pounded on it loudly.
"Pickering!" he bellowed, not caring remotely whether he woke the older man up or not. "PICKERING!"
He tap-danced a pattern on the carpeted floor of the hallway.
"How kind of you to let me come!"
He frowned and pounded louder on the Colonel's door.
"Pickering! PICKER—oh," he said as the door was opened abruptly and the Colonel stumbled out, sleepy-eyed and looking alarmed.
"What the devil is this racket about, Higgins?" Colonel Pickering mumbled sleepily. "Is the house on fire?"
"Not at all," Henry said impatiently. "Even better—Miss Doolittle has returned!"
The Colonel's eyes widened in surprise, then pleasure. "Why, I'm dashed!" he said, and even through his thick sleepiness it was obvious he was pleased. "Why, how on earth did you manage that, Higgins?"
"I—" Henry was about to boast about how she had returned to him and he had graciously accepted her back, but thought that in light of the fact that she might hear about it and become miffed at this slightly different interpretation, he had better stick with the truth.
"She came back, and I…well, never mind it, the point is she's back," he said rather abashedly.
The Colonel yawned. "Well, Higgins, that's the best news I've heard all day—night—whichever we are in—and I will be most pleased to see her again tomorrow. However…"
He glanced pointedly at the large grandfather clock which stood ticking away studiously at the end of the hallway.
"It's back to bed for this old man," he yawned. "Good night, Higgins!"
"Oh, fine," said Henry moodily. But he couldn't be moody, not when she was back…
He actually skipped to his room and announced to his door, "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plains!"
He shut the door and flopped into bed without even dressing for it, falling asleep with an idiot grin on his face and joy about to burst from his chest, knowing he would be able to sleep peacefully for the first time in seven long months.
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I hope you enjoyed it, I have no idea whether it's any good. I wrote it at midnight after having watched Mary Poppins, so here you go. I hope they aren't too out of character.
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