Eliza Doolitte: The Life and Times of a Good Girl

Chapter two: How these sort of things begin.

Author's note: This chapter strongly alludes to abortion, so if this squicks you, turn away now! However, I assure you, it is not our dear good heroine going through this peril. As tackling the cockney dialect is tricky, it will be done very lightly… unless I find a good brit-picker. Also, thank you again, Lady Weasleyy for whipping my grammar challenged booty into shape!


Catherine Doolittle regarded her small daughter with fondness as they sat together at the kitchen table. Alfred was off working, or drinking; Catherine was not quite clear on which. Perhaps both at the same time. She shrugged off the thought, as she did not care. Alfred was very seldom a violent drunk, especially now that he knew she was carrying his second child. Her last black eye had healed fully, and there was not going to be another, not when she was with child. She absentmindedly touched her still flat stomach, and grinned at Eliza when she noticed the gesture had not escaped the child's notice.

"Is that me little baby bruver?" Eliza inquired in an accent that made Catherine wince.

"My brother, Eliza. And please don't add 'V's where they don't belong." Catherine's own polished dialect had admittedly slipped since her descent from assistant lady's maid in a good home, to common-law wife of a dustman. She could sense her becoming just like the other inhabitants of Lisson Grove, and therefore felt a need to impart little lessons on her daughter, lest someday she had an opportunity to rise above her station. She could hope.

"My brother," Eliza mimicked , and was rewarded with a kiss and a toffee. Catherine delighted in her clever little girl, and had begged on her knees, imploring Alfred to let her go to school. He had relented after bargaining for her seldom given conjugal favors. It was a worthy sacrifice, even though Catherine had tried like hell to avoid bedding with him since shortly after Eliza was born. He spent too many nights spending his money on Whitechapel bangtails for Catherine to bed with him for no reason.

"Yes, Eliza, I am going to have a baby. Perhaps you will have a brother, perhaps a sister."

Eliza wrinkled her nose. "Dad don't want no more girls. 'E told me." She gasped when she realized her mistake. "He told me," Eliza added hastily.

Catherine patted the little girl's hand. "I am sure he wouldn't mind a little girl." She truly didn't believe that, but she didn't want to alarm Eliza. Truthfully, Catherine was apprehensive about this baby. Alfred was a bit of a whore-monger, and those girls often carried disease. She wanted to credit him for being safe, but she knew when he was deep in his cups, precaution wasn't often foremost in his mind. That is how it had been with Eliza. Catherine smiled secretively. How wonderful Alfred had been when she first met him.

Catherine had been on her day off, strolling around London in a pretty gown that had been given to her by her mistress. She knew she was fetching, having such fine features, and golden curls, and he had been so handsome, albeit dirty. So tall, so dark and fit. Catherine had even overlooked his horrible accent and allowed him to escort her about.

How charmed she had been when he produced enough money for fare to take her on a day trip to Brighton! They walked along the pier, and Catherine laughed at his bawdy jokes, although she didn't quite understand them. He had bought her a bag of candy, and she boldly rewarded him with a kiss. Perhaps it had been the pint of ale she had earlier with him, but she was feeling bold all around. She had never imbibed before, and it seemed to be clouding her judgment. So much so that she did not realize how late it had become.

Alfred had taken note, and asked if she had enough wages to cover lodging for the night. She had, and drunkenly suggested that one room would do. The next day she returned to her lady , hungover and in disgrace. She was promptly turned away. Alfred reluctantly took her in , and some weeks later she was with child. Once she had fully recovered from Eliza's birth she was beaten soundly for giving him a girl. Beaten, but still kept on as a glorified house servant. Catherine hadn't the resources or references to leave, so she didn't.

So here she was, wallowing in poverty, and mocked for her fine speech. She reverted to his way of speaking when he or his chums were around, as there were times her way of speaking invoked rage in him. He said it made her think she was somehow better than him. Needless to say, Eliza's speech lessons were conducted in private , and the child was forbidden to let her father know that she was steadily progressing past her Lisson Grove dialect.

This day happened to be Eliza's seventh birthday, although Catherine was sure it would pass unnoticed by Alfred, who got over his disappointment in the girl by all but ignoring her. Catherine had limited means, but had tried to make the day special with small gifts of candy, and a home-made doll. Eliza, naturally sweet as she was, treated the gifts with delight and exulted her mother for being "the best mum in the whole wide world".

It was dark when Alfred returned. To Catherine's astonishment, he was carrying the birdcage that she had brought with her when she had moved in with him all those years ago. She gasped when she noticed the cage now contained a song bird beating frantically against the cage.

"Evenin' me darlin's!" He exclaimed, kissing them both soundly on the cheek. He set the cage down on the table, and knelt next to Eliza. "I 'ear our fair lady is turnin' seven today, and I couldn't resist getting' her a little sumfin'." He was drunk alright, but jolly.

"Aoow, Dad! It's beeyotiful!" Eliza cried. She threw her thin arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, before sitting back to observe her pretty little bird. Her smile disappeared abruptly, and a high pitched scream issued from her lips. Catherine gave a start, and Alfred just frowned.

"What is it, poppet?" He demanded. She didn't answer, only continued to scream. Catherine looked at the bird , and then realized that Eliza had noticed it was blinded.

"Where are it's eyes?!" She cried. The tirade lasted a few more moments before Alfred cuffed Eliza on the head so soundly that it knocked the child from her chair. Her cries silenced immediately.

"'Oo bloody cares about it's eyes? It's alive, ain't it?" He started to reach for the cage. "Unless you want me to break it's bloody neck!"

Eliza gasped and shook her head furiously. "No Dad! D-don't kill it!" Catherine helped the child to her feet.

"Alfred, please, she didn't know. It just upset her terribly," Catherine pleaded smoothly. Too smoothly. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"What 'ave I said about that fine speech?" He asked, menacingly, closing in on her.

Eliza came to her mother's rescue. "Dad, don't get angry at Mum, that's just the way she talks. I like it. I think she sounds lovely, and I am learning to talk lovely too so I can be a lady like her!" It was the wrong thing to say, and the child screamed when Alfred punched Catherine in the face.

"Me bloody daughter too? Damn you Catherine!" Catherine was thrown to the ground and Alfred was upon her, raining his fists repeatedly about her head. The pain was excruciating.

"Alfred, the baby!" Catherine screamed. He stopped abruptly and stood. He glared at his terrified daughter.

"Clean 'er up, I'm going out. If I ever 'ear either of you speak like that again, like your better than me, I'll kill you both." He stormed out, stumbling as he went.

"Mum!" Eliza cried piteously once he was gone. Tall girl that she was, she managed to help Catherine to her feet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to talk fancy. I won't do it again, I promise." She was back to speaking like a true resident of Lisson Grove.

Catherine smiled weakly at her. "He's gone, darling, he can't hear you. Just be more careful next time."

Eliza shook her head. "Nooo, I won't never again. 'E'll kill us both!" Catherine could tell from the child's face that in all likelihood, she would stick to her resolve. It broke her heart.

"You were doing so well, my love. Come now, couldn't you try for me?" Eliza burst into tears.

"Stop it, Mum! Stop it!" Catherine's heart broke as Eliza put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. The child was more than likely ruined. Catherine stifled a sob, and put a hand over her belly. More babies for Alfred to deride and beat.

She finally saw her life stretched out before her. Alfred would never give up the drink. Although for the most part he was a charming and loving man, there was something dark about him that frightened her. Something that would lead to her ruin, and the ruin of her children. Eliza couldn't be helped. She had been born, and therefore was condemned to live under the stigma of being Alfred P. Doolittle's child. More than likely he would pull her out of school and put her to work soon, especially with the baby coming. Her fine brain wasted on whatever vocation she would be forced to perform. Something cold gripped Catherine's heart when she looked at her daughter and observed that she was a very pretty child. Undoubtedly she would someday be an alluring young woman. It was an allure that Alfred would no doubt exploit, if the means became too dire. With another baby on the way, there was no question that the straits would become very dire. With a shaky sigh, Catherine made her decision.

"Eliza, darlin'," Catherine gently pried the girl's hands away from her ears, "Eliza, I want you to 'op right quick over to Melinda's and tell 'er to send for the special doctor. Tell 'er to send 'im over quickly now, and stay there until she says it's awright for you to come home." Eliza brightened at her mother's speech and nodded.

It was morning before Eliza returned. Catherine was in bed, face and lips as pale as a sheet, tears staining her ashen cheeks, and blood soaking the bed.

"I lost the baby, Eliza. It started shortly after your Dad left, and it was the doctor I 'ad you fetch." Catherine lied painfully. It hurt so very much. Alfred had returned shortly before Eliza and had fled in guilt at the news. Best to let him think it was an accident. She was so weak.

"If the doctor was 'ere, why are you bleedin'? Where is 'e?" She was so smart. So hard to fool, even if she didn't know what an abortion was. It had gone so wrong, and the man who performed it took his money and left her to bleed. Took his dirty instruments and left. Catherine was certain she was dying.

"Come 'ere, Eliza, sit by me." Eliza obeyed. Catherine weakly moved her hand to clasp her daughter's. "It was an accident, Eliza. 'E left because 'e can't do nuffink for me." She shook her head. Enough of this mask. "I am going to die, Eliza. But I have something to tell you, my love." She would go with dignity, speaking like she had been taught to.

"Mum!" Eliza cried , afraid her father would walk in and hear Catherine 'talking fancy'.

"It's alright, Eliza. It doesn't matter anymore. I just wanted to confess that your mother is not a very good girl. Not at all." She paused to let the gravity of the confession sink in. "This is what happens to bad girls, Eliza. But it doesn't have to happen to you, love." She squeezed her daughter's hand.

"'ow can I be good, Mum?"

"You must follow these rules. Never let a man take advantage without marrying you first… especially if he offers you money. Do you hear me, Eliza? Do not sell yourself. It is wicked." Eliza nodded.

"Good girl. You must always be wary of men, especially your father. If he tries to get you to do something that goes against your conscience I want you to run." It was becoming more painful to speak. "If someone comes along , wanting to better your situation… a teacher perhaps, take the opportunity. You are so clever, love, and you need your mind to be nurtured. But again, be wary. Be wary, or this will happen to you…" She wanted to add that she was proud of Eliza, that she loved her, but she was so tired. So she slept, leaving her daughter owl-eyed and contemplative.

Many hours later, Alfred arrived with what appeared to be a reputable doctor. The man, usually strong nerved, was aghast to discover the cause of Catherine's ailment. As he looked to the young girl and the man he assumed was Catherine's husband, something inside him told him to hide the true prognosis. Nothing good would come of informing Alfred Doolittle of his wife's crude abortion. He conjured a lie about the miscarriage being of such a violence that it caused a fast acting infection. It wasn't a complete fallacy. He expressed the unlikelihood of Catherine ever regaining consciousness, but resolved to stay with the family to the end. Perhaps he could stop the bleeding, or bring the fever down.

Catherine never did regain consciousness, and the event was quickly erased from young Eliza's mind.