Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl

By: vcatrashfiend

Summary: A brief history of our beloved heroine. Our story starts off where "My Fair Lady" ended and from then on takes us about fifteen years into the past. Fear not, this will eventually become an Eliza/Higgins romance.

Rated: M for mature content including allusion to abortion, child abuse, some naughty language, and mild sexual content

Disclaimer: Any character that is easily recognizable, such as the title character, do not belong to me. I have thrown in a few fresh faces along the way, though.

Author's note: This story would not be possible without the relentless encouragement of my one of my dearest friends since grade school. Thank you darling, your questions and suggestions are invaluable! Also, I've gained a beta! Thank you Lady Weasleyy!


Her heart was pounding against her chest with such a force that she could scarcely draw breath.

You are heading the wrong way, idiot girl! Eliza squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to smote her inner-monologue. Why did her conscience sound like him? She was definitely heading in the right direction. Off to dear Freddy. Freddy who did not bully, or raise his voice. Freddy who worshipped where others mocked. Freddy of the youthful face and dimples. Freddy of the boisterous laugh that… grated on her nerves really. An insincere staccato rhythm punctuated by the slightest high pitched squeak. The mere hint of his laughter was enough to set her teeth on edge.

His letters were truly awful. Truly. Eliza's education history had run the gamut between negligent and unorthodox, but she was clever enough to recognize uninspired drivel. The spelling errors, the repetitious usage of "darling" and "angel". Disgustingly sweet. It was enough to make her want to be sick.

"But it shows he loves me," she whispered to herself, turning the corner to Freddy's street. More than that. She blushed as she recalled an overly familiar letter he had sent her. It had arrived quite late at night, Eliza being the only one awake to answer the door and retrieve it, as Mrs. Pearce had the night off. It had been delivered by a young boy who looked quite tired, but was clearly clutching a one pound note in his fist. Apparently he had been instructed to run as fast as he could to deliver it safely to Wimpole Street, and a larger reward was promised him if he returned to the pub Freddy was currently sitting at with proof it had been put in good hands. Eliza pitied the rather scruffy child, and sent him on his way with a bit of ribbon for proof, adding a few shillings to line his own pockets.

Eliza, good girl that she was, became light-headed and nearly fainted upon reading the childishly scrawled missive. Such coarse language! She would have expected it from her acquaintances of her father, but not gently bred Freddy Eynsford-Hill! It was a message suited for the lowest trollop in the dirtiest of bawd houses. He expressed his explicit wishes to become acquainted with the most secret part of her anatomy. He waxed poetry about her breasts… perhaps not poetic, but he did mention them. Several times. It was too much for her, and she had made her way to the fireplace, intent on destroying the letter. Clearly he had been drinking. If she destroyed the evidence, it was likely only she would be the only one to remember the incident, if only she had been more quiet…

"Who is the damn fool stomping about this hour of night?… Oh, Eliza, it's you." Henry Higgins descended the stairs and walked over to the pale girl, who quickly, too quickly, hid the letter behind her back while simultaneously pulling her wrapper about her nightgown with her free hand. His suspicions were clearly aroused.

In one quick movement, he reached around and snatched the letter. "Come now, Eliza, it's just another Lettre d'amour from that stupid boy. Pray don't be missish, we've laughed over them before."

"You've laughed, not I… Please, don't read it!" She cried in vain. It was too late. He had straightened the crumpled missive, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he began to read. The light expression on his face fled, and was replaced with something far more thunderous.

"So, the love sick moon-calf has a touch for the perverse, does he?" He narrowed his eyes and looked her dead in the face. "I suppose you've played the coquette, and have been encouraging this?" He waved the letter in front of her.

"No, Professor Higgins, I swear!"

"I suppose you wait until everyone is abed, and come downstairs to wait longingly for letters such as these?" He inched closer to, forcing her to back up. Her heart pounded unsteadily, and the light-headed feeling was returning. She had never seen him so inflamed. Not her mocking, bully of a Professor. A heat crept up her neck, bringing a crimson blush to her cheeks. She shook her head in a violent motion.

"No, this is the first I've received like this! I was going to destroy it!" He came closer. Tears sprung from her eyes, but at the same time she felt strangely exhilarated. She bit her lip, and cast her eyes to the floor. He was terrifying her, and yet at the same time exciting her to a fervor that was totally unfamiliar.

"Yes, lower your eyes with false maidenly modesty, you insect. Pretend you don't really yearn for that fool's kisses. Why wouldn't you want them? He is handsome and young enough, isn't he? Young and ardent. What more could you ask in a lover?" Her back was now to the wall, and Henry was perilously close to having her pinned with his body. "Look at me, Eliza!"

Her eyes met his own, and she was stunned to find them burning with a fire she had never seen before. Not even the time when he had been drilling her on the importance of the English language. So strange to see him as a man and not as a teacher. She was ashamed to find she quite enjoyed it. She did not even pull away when he cupped her face in his hands. Oh lord, he's going to kiss me! The idea was not repulsive in the least. She closed her eyes, and pursed her lips in a manner she supposed was conducive to kissing.

Nearly a half minute passed before she felt his hand leave her face. She opened her eyes and witnessed him destroying the letter.

"You look like a mackerel when you pucker your lips so. It's damned unattractive, Eliza." He gave her a hard look. "Not the face of a seasoned lover, clearly. But you have repeatedly hammered the fact that you are a "good girl" into my brain, and I am inclined to believe you." He shook his head.

"Clearly the boy let the liquor cloud his better judgment, therefore I shan't be calling him out." The last bit was added with a touch of familiar sarcasm that made Eliza chuckle nervously, but comforted her, nonetheless. All would be forgotten in the morning.

"A duel, Professor Higgins? But you are so old, Freddy would kill you for sure!" She retorted jokingly, before realizing she had said the wrong thing. Another dark cloud passed over Henry's features.

"Good night, Eliza," he said gloomily, before stomping up the stairs.

The next morning she received a letter from Freddy, stating that he vaguely remembered sending her a letter at an atrocious hour, and begging her forgiveness. For once, Higgins did not snatch the letter from her to regale Pickering and the rest of the staff with Freddy's love sighs.

Upon conjuring the memory of the ill-begotten love letter, Eliza came to a startling realization. Though the scandalous words in the letter were meant to arouse intimate feelings inside of her for Freddy Eynsford-Hill, they did not. Even at his sweetest and most endearing, Eliza regarded him as one might see a loyal yet pesky cocker spaniel. He inspired no ardor whatsoever, even when writing about kissing her on her… well, the less said about that the better, she supposed.

Professor Henry Higgins. There was a conundrum. They had both put on the appearance of having forgotten that night, never mentioning it, or Freddy's letters again. Well, she had thrown the subject of love letters into his face during the most recent row they had had. The last row. She had resolved never to see him again. And yet…

That damned night. Everything had been left unsaid. He hadn't kissed her, hadn't taken advantage… but from the jealous look in his eyes, he very well could have. How quickly unfamiliar sensations arose from just that one look. More than she had ever gotten from Freddy.

As she stood in front of the Eynsford-Hill residence, a feeling akin to getting punched in the stomach overcame her. This. Was. Wrong. She couldn't take another step in that direction. Not towards a dull, uneventful life as Eliza Eynsford-Hill. She turned, and was tempted to run, flee back to an uncertain future as an inhabitant of 27A Wimpole Street. Months of refinement induced her to walk genteelly.

She attempted to soothe her jangled nerves as she walked into the place she had called home for months. What if he threw her out? For certain his pride had been wounded… would he sacrifice it a bit more to let her back in?

The sound of the gramophone pulled her from her nervous inner monologue. Slowly, a relieved grin spread across her face as she recognized her voice. Confident now, she strode over to the machine and gently turned it off, ready to make her presence known…

How far she had come in her life to arrive at this destination.

Author's Note: Well here it is, the first fan fiction I've attempted to write in quite a few years now. If you are curious about the letter Freddy wrote Eliza in his drunken stupor, I would ask you to leave it up to your imaginations. I would say it's along the lines of the letter Robby accidentally sent Cecelia in "Atonement". Also, if you are wondering about Higgins sudden about face in regards to the "almost" kiss, had it been from his POV it would've have dawned on him the second she pursed her lips like a fish that she was truly an innocent and that he had overreacted.