Royal Confession
Eliza was in a dream, though even her dreams could not have imagined opulence like this. She was unsure to start with. Nervous of making a blunder, like she had at Ascot, although that seemed to have gained her an admirer as much as anything else. As time went on and she made no errors she felt her confidence grow. She sounded like a Lady and she looked like a Lady, so they all thought she was. When the Queen of Transylvanian had made her entrance and saw fit to grace her with her attention, Eliza had felt so light headed with happiness she could have floated away. Her eyes sought her teacher's and he stood admiring her openly, with a glow of pride. She felt her cheeks flush just a little and dropped her gaze, smiling to herself.
Do you see me yet, Henry Higgins? She thought to herself. Is that the regard of a man for a woman or a creator for his piece of work?
She felt a cold slice of doubt but resolved to put it to one side. If this were to be her last night in High Society, before she was kicked back out into the street, she would enjoy it.
"Excuse me, Miss?" She turned at the interruption and recognised the man with a little start. "Her Majesty would like a word with you."
She nodded numbly and followed. Higgins' words about her head being cut off if she were caught sang through her blood but she hid the terror. Her eye caught her Professor's as they led her away and he seemed bewildered as well.
The walk to the dais seemed long and she bowed at the end as she ought.
"My son would like to dance with you."
Her eyes flew to the young man behind his Mother. He was giving her a warm smile, albeit slightly embarrassed. A Prince. A Prince wanted to dance with her. Her. The squashed cabbage leaf of Covent Garden!
He took her arm gracefully, leading her out onto the floor, and she felt like she was simultaneously floating and wound tight as a spring.
"Please don't be nervous of me," the Prince murmured as others around them began to dance as well and some of the attention was diverted. Eliza was surprised at being addressed but smiled.
"I am nervous of getting the dance steps wrong," she replied shyly, a little in awe.
"I am sorry for the…," he stumbled over the word, "duty of having my Mother ask you to dance for me. Were I in my own country I would have asked. The customs are strange here." His English was very good, although the accent was clearly in evidence. She wondered what Higgins would think of it. His honesty helped her to relax a little.
"That's better," he smiled, and she felt giddy for a moment before pulling herself back.
"I am dancing with a Prince, you know," she told him with a slightly teasing edge, "I am going to be nervous."
She felt his grip tighten a fraction and then release.
"Miss Doolittle, you are the most beautiful and charming English woman I have ever come across."
She blushed, trying to keep some of her stoic demeanour and failing.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You are too kind."
"None of that," he told her firmly, looking down into her eyes. "If my life were my own I would court you, Miss Doolittle."
She felt her head tingle with shock. "Pardon?"
"You seem unaware of your beauty, your charm. You're a delight. Were it my choice! As it is I should like to get to know you better, even without courting being an option."
"Oh, no, you can't." It came out quite forcefully, full of horror, and the look of insult on the Prince's face was immense.
"Is that so?" He was frosty.
Eliza averted her eyes, kept them downcast, the truth spilling out accidentally. "I am a complete imposter, your Highness. I am not worthy of your regard."
To her relief he laughed, he thought she was joking. She imagined him coming to court her in Convent Garden, in her old clothes, with a basket on her arm.
"Aow! Look. Eliza's got herself a Prince she 'as. Proper fancy man."
The thought made her smile at the absurdity, even as the sadness settled in the pit of her stomach at the truth of it.
"An imposter are you?" he chuckled. "I see. Well, I shan't have you thrown out." His eyes caught something over her head and he became a little more serious. "What of the Gentleman that brought you here? Are you worthy of his regard?"
Eliza wished she could see what he could see over her shoulder.
"Oh no," she shook her head. "The difference between him and yourself, your Highness, is that he knows I'm not."
The Prince dropped his gaze back to her and she got the sudden impression that were they alone he would kiss her. She didn't know how she felt about that.
"He is a fool then." He paused before adding, "However, his eyes have followed you this entire dance so maybe he is not so sure."
The dance finished, and he released her.
"Miss Doolittle, thank you for the pleasure of your company."
"The honour was mine," she replied with a smile and a bow.
"Just remember what I have said," he spoke quietly and pressed a kiss to her hand. "Whether you think you are worthy or not."
As he walked back to his Mother she found herself swamped by people asking her questions. It wasn't long after that Professor Higgins asked her to dance.
She had enjoyed dancing with the Prince but when she danced with the Professor it felt like she belonged there. She allowed herself to imagine, allowed herself to believe, that the Prince was right. She allowed herself to enjoy it.
In the back of her mind the whisper remained, ready for when they got home.