A/N I am setting this very close to the start of Eliza moving in, although I've taken a liberty with the time of year. I have tried my best with portraying the accent but it may not have quite worked. Anyway, enjoy!
A reminder
'All I want is a room somewhere
Far away from the cold night air
With one enormous chair
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?'
Eliza Doolittle was on the edge of tears; the sort she didn't think she'd ever cried before.
She sat in the armchair in front of the fire, buried under blankets, her hands cupping a scalding mug of a chocolate drink. She hadn't known that chocolate could come in liquid form. The fire crackled charmingly, warming her face to a pinkish glow. A wood fire, no less. Not a coal in sight. It was giving off a pleasing smell instead of dirty black smoke. The snow drifted past the window, pure and silent. Beautiful and wonderful. Thick woollen socks in her feet cocooned them so they felt toasted to perfection. Her heart felt so full she could not contain it. She did not deserve this, not her, the dirty guttersnipe, and yet she had been overwhelmingly blessed. She felt a tear spill over her too full eyes and trickle down her cheek, hot and happy. A release of joy.
"What the devil is the matter with you now, silly girl?" Henry Higgins exploded in exasperation at her from the other side of the fire.
Eliza gave a small start but refrained from wiping away the tear. It was a good tear.
"Nufin' at all," she replied steadily, quietly, trying to control her accent and failing.
"Well, there must be something the matter. Women don't go weeping all over the place over nothing. What is it? The chocolate not chocolaty enough?"
Pickering watched the interchange quietly from his own chair a little further away, an inkling in his own mind.
"I'm not weeping all over the place," Eliza snapped in ire. "I'm just…" Her eyes fell away to the fire.
"Well?" Higgins enquired impatiently, a derisive tone lacing the word.
Eliza cupped her drink more tightly and shut her eyes. He would mock her and deride her, but the words spilled out anyway in a prayer of thanks.
"I have a warm face," she murmured, "warm hands," her voice cracked a little, "and warm feet." She opened her eyes and they shone delicately as she regarded her teacher.
"It is more than I deserve. More than…I've ever had."
Pickering regarded the look on Higgin's face. It was the same one he'd worn when Eliza had thrown her basket at him the first day they'd met.
"A reminder," Pickering repeated quietly, without quite meaning to and received a sharp look from Higgins in response but no words. The Professor for once had none to give.
Eliza wasn't listening in any case. Her eyes had found the fire again as her summary whispered from her lips in a single exhaled breath.
"It's loverly."