A taxi drawn by an elegant, brown horse stood outside 27A Wimpole Street, with the door open; ready. The dapperly dressed driver had turned from the front of his seat to chat to Pickering in a casual tone. Not quite cockney, mused Pickering. Suddenly, he stopped his musings. Good Lord, this whole project must be making an impression on me, he thought, before turning back to concentrate upon the driver. "Erm, yes, very nice - indeed. Sorry sir; I didn't quite catch that. Where do you come from, perchance?..."
Up a small flight of white steps leading to the front door, stood the Professor. He leaned against the door, glancing at his watch every few minutes. "Eliza, if you don't come out of there soon, the taxi may very well leave without you." He sighed for the umpteenth time with a hint of fatigue in his voice. He stumbled slightly as the door opened behind him. Asserting himself, he chastised "It would be about time."
"A lady has to prepare herself before going out, Professor Higgins. I may never see another mirror before we arrive." Eliza replied primly, trying to stifle a grin.
"Can't all of that shilly-shallying that be done in the taxi? If the taxi driver is of the decent sort, he shouldn't object to sharing a mirror with you." He remarked off-handedly. Eliza snorted.
"Ladies do not snort, Eliza!" He scolded. "Come on, the taxi is about to leave." Eliza nodded and followed. Her coat flowed behind her as she descended the steps. It was a soft shade of pink, but not salmon. The colour and the fur trim around the hem and cuffs of the sleeves matched perfectly with that on the rim of her hat. The coat was long and elegant; it seemed to hug her body perfectly, and the whites of her dainty shoes, elegant gloves and handbag were spotless.
A slight, young man dressed smartly in a light jacket and top hat stood at the corner and stared out at the scene before him. His eyes sparkled as they seemed to dart from one of the three to the other, then back to Eliza again, and a growing urge accumulated inside him to walk over, though he resisted it. In the distance, he could see the taxi driver climb from his seat to the ground to meet the two men, and Eliza hanging around sheepishly. He picked his moment and walked briskly down the pavement, still smiling.
"Pay attention Eliza," Higgins informed. There seems to be a slight problem with the taxi; nothing too much to worry about. A taxi can only accommodate two..." Suddenly, he was interrupted.
"Eliza! Darling, you look beautiful," he exclaimed moving in close and touching her arm, his breathing still not returned to normal.
"Er, thank you Freddie," she smiled weakly, glancing at the Professor and the Colonel anxiously, then back again repeatedly. Freddie gave a confused frown, and she continued. "Ah, erm, how nice to see you, er, Freddie. What brings you here tonight?" she enquired loudly, breaking slowly away.
"Oh, Eliza, I just saw you standing there dressed so beautifully and I just felt so strongly compelled to say..." Eliza closed her eyes to evade what she knew was coming next.
"Er-hem!" coughed Higgins, "As I was saying, a taxi can accommodate two people only. Eliza, you will have to travel on your own," he said abruptly. Eliza's face fell. Higgins watched and continued. "Eliza, if you are to be a lady, you are not to be trifled by such matters. Pickering, go find her a cab," he concluded sharply.
"But Higgins, do be reasonable; she may become lonely," Pickering protested.
"The fact remains, Pickering, that one of us will have to go alone," Higgins persisted, unaffected by Pickering's argument, "And besides, Eliza is not merely a girl anymore; it will be good practice for her to learn how to take care of herself."
"But she is a lady," the Colonel objected. The taxi driver rolled his eyes.
"Could you please make up your minds?" he sighed, "Brighton is a while away, and I don't want to finish too late tonight." Higgins frowned in disgust. Suddenly, Freddie came forwards.
"I might be headed for Brighton, too; it is a pleasant tonight. I wouldn't mind sharing a taxi with Eliza," he suggested hopefully. The taxi driver replied before the Professor could open his mouth in disapproval.
"Great idea, young man, I don't know why I hadn't thought of it earlier. Right then – Colonel, is it?" he questioned. Pickering nodded. "Climb aboard." The Colonel stepped up to the carriage and sat down. "You two will have to find yourselves a taxi," the driver spoke down to Eliza and Freddie. "And you – Sir – are you coming aboard?" he gestured to Higgins. The Professor did not turn around. "Hello - Sir?"
"Higgins," prompted Pickering. The Professor paused briefly, then silently turned to board the taxi. He shut the door slowly. The cab jolted forwards away from 27A Wimpole Street as the 'clip-clop' of horses' hooves echoed, and Higgins stole a last glance out of the window. Pickering watched his companion, thenproceeded to speak."Higgins – are you all right?" he asked, leaning in. The Professor spun around tersely.
"I? Do I not look all right to you?" he retorted hotly.
"Of course, Higgins, of course you look fine... but is there anything the matter?"
"Nothing that you should be concerned about," replied Higgins. Pickering remained quiet for a few minutes, and the Professor returned to his window, then back again, apparently dissatisfied. "Pickering, what do you think of Eliza? After all, she has become quite the lady, despite that little slip- up at Ascot. Resembles little of what she came as, thanks to my hard and strenuous work."
"Indeed. But I am yet to see the day when the streets are strewn with the body shooting themselves for her sake, as you put it, Higgins."
"Freddie seemed interested in sharing a taxi with her," he commented quietly, "He seems to have taken a shine to her," Higgins spoke softly to the window.
"Higgins," The Colonel quickly changed the subject of the conversation, "Seeing as she's improved so much, why don't you thank her, you know, with a little gift or something to let her know how grateful you are? After all, our work would have been nothing had she not made an effort herself," he reasoned. Higgins raised his voice.
"Pickering, I have transformed Eliza from a prisoner of the gutter to a free and potentially charming young lady. I'd doubt that she'd even know what to do with any form of gift," He remarked. "Anyway, what was it that you had in mind?" Not expecting a reply, Pickering hesitated.
"Well, I don't know, maybe something special ... jewellery, maybe? Ladies like jewellery," Pickering reassured gingerly.
"I might consider it," pondered Higgins carefully, "Perhaps at this present time, all things in our current situation considered, some sort of encouragement is due."