"Of course," Spoke Pickering, rummaging in his pockets, then handing over the coins. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," he said, "Hope your trip goes well, especially for your friend and his – er – lady." Higgins smiled in agreement. "I've got to go; it's a long journey home. Walk on, Casper," he gave the horse a nudge with the whip, and it began to walk. "And thanks for your company," He called back as it clopped down the street. The Professor and the Colonel watched silently as the silhouette faded into the distance. The street was shadowed, and the tall shops and closely packed houses created a trench to hide the view of the promenade. The sunset seeped into the shops at the end of the road, and a sign reading "Thornton's Confectionary" reflected the red blaze, which danced in tiny droplets upon the worn cobbles. Surrounded by brick flats and housing stood a small florist's shop (where Eliza might soon be working if this whole experiment works, Pickering thought.), next to a pokey little apothecary. It was hidden away; half embedded into the wall so that it stood back from the rest of the shops. The brick floors of the flats above it created a shelter in front of the shop; just large enough to stand in when rain came, and two walls were built either side of the shop to support the above floors. A small footpath led off the other side of the apothecary into a hidden-away yard behind the various shops and houses. Higgins's eye was caught by a sign gleaming in the light, on the other side of the footpath. It read "Buckingham Jewellers". Higgins was the first to speak.
"Now, Pickering, where the devil could those two be?" he wondered aloud.
"Eliza might not have arrived yet, Higgins. Indeed, it is a fine night; the taxi service must have a lot of business today," he reasoned.
"Oh." Higgins paused. "Pickering, about this 'gift' you were mentioning on the way," he began.
"Yes?" he answered in anticipation.
"What was it again, which you supposed that we should give her?"
"Well – " the Colonel coughed, "Something small, and something that she would like. Something beautiful. Like jewellery perhaps." He added. The Professor nodded in approval.
"So, would that particular shop not be considered appropriate?" Higgins gestured to the Jeweller's.
"Of course. What a brilliant idea! I begin to wonder why I had not thought of it myself – Higgins?" He called until he saw the Professor turn into the shop entrance. "Oh. Okay, I'm – I'm coming," Pickering murmured to himself as he walked over. The shop seemed to have reason to be almost hidden down the street off the promenade: shelves upon shelves of glittering jewels in stones gleamed before the Professor and the Colonel. Pickering marvelled at a particularly extravagant pearl necklace, but Higgins nudged him and spoke in an agitated undertone:
"Pickering; we will go about this business as quickly as possible. There is no time for shilly-shallying! Now, what do you suppose I should get her?" he spoke in a low tone.
"Uh, um... something small and attractive-looking, maybe," he replied hesitantly, "Something 'pretty'," he summarized in a low whisper.
"Excuse me, Sir, may I help you?" Spoke a monotone voice from behind the counter to Pickering.
"Yes –"Pickering spoke out "Yes, we're looking for something for... er... Higgins?" He motioned uncomfortably to the Professor to continue.
"A small gift for a fair lady." Higgins announced confidently with a slight nod.
"A small gift, you say?" The tall, dapperly dressed man inquired in interest, "For a 'fair lady', as you put it, Sir?" He smiled through his thin lips. "I think I know what you might be looking for." Delicate fingers unveiled a box upon the counter top. He carefully opened the lid. Pickering gasped, but the Professor remained unmoved. "18 Carat gold; available in diamond, emerald, sapphire, ruby or opal," he stated proudly with a professional air to his voice. Higgins looked at Pickering, and Pickering took his turn to speak.
"I personally prefer the diamond. I always thought that diamonds looked most beautiful," he advised, "And they say that diamonds are a lady's best friend."
"Do they, now, Pickering?" he asked nonchalantly. He turned back to the man. "Yes, the diamond ring would be splendid," Higgins confirmed.
"That would be seventy pounds, Sir." The shopkeeper informed.
"Seventy pounds..." the Professor repeated. "Seventy pounds, yes, indeed." He reached inside his coat and unzipped an inner pocket, producing a small, leather wallet. He counted the notes feverishly. "... fifty; sixty; seventy pounds exactly." He handed the money over the counter tersely in exchange for a small, brown box.
"Thank you for visiting Buckingham Jewellers." The Professor nodded and turned for the door. "Oh, and another thing," the shopkeeper grinned sheepishly, "I wish you and your fair lady the best of luck, Sir." After exchanging shrugs and puzzled frowns, Pickering and Higgins departed.
They could hear a bell jingle as the door shut. "Thank heavens that's all over and done with," Higgins said as he rummaged in his inner coat pocket to find space for the little brown box, to find that the height of the box was such that it wouldn't fit without forming a considerable cubic bulge in his coat. "Pickering, by any chance would you have somewhere to put this?" he asked, searching his trousers for other pockets, but to no avail.
"Certainly, Higgins. My coat pocket is rather deep," he explained.
"Good, good. Take care of it, Pickering," cautioned the Professor.
"Of course; of course,"
"Good." Higgins broke off, and glanced around. "Haven't those two arrived yet?" he complained, starting to walk up to the promenade. Pickering followed.
"I've not seen them, but it has been almost half an hour. I would have thought that they'd have arrived by now," he agreed. Higgins stopped at the end of the road, and Pickering stopped with him. "Pleasant view, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Pickering. Pickering, why don't you go and find them? Eliza's taxi could have stopped anywhere around here; the pier is a rather common place to stop. I'll wait here, in case she happens to slip by," he added. Pickering nodded, and set off to plod down the road. "Do take care of the ring, Pickering," the professor worded to himself.
"I hope that you and your gentleman enjoy your trip, Miss," spoke the driver as Eliza helped Freddie out of the carriage.
"Thank you," she replied, as the wheels of the carriage began to turn and the taxi headed away down the promenade. To her right stood Brighton pier, upon which were various tents and marquees, including a large circus marquee and the shadowy shape of a helter-skelter ride. "The fair looks interesting," Eliza noted as Freddy observed.
"Positively spiffing, isn't it? I would be delighted to take a closer look." As the sun drew closer to the horizon, the pier began to empty, however, the aroma of candyfloss and the sweetness of the rock lingered in the air. The floor was littered with paper, and the last of the children's swings came to rest. There was the occasional chink of coins as Freddie and Eliza passed each stall, and the coconut shy was being packed away. "Shame," commented Freddie gingerly, "That was always my favourite game." Suddenly, there was a smash from one of the tents, followed by a loud cursing. Both Freddie and Eliza chuckled. She tried to scold herself: ladies do not laugh at such things, were the words of the professor imprinted into her mind. However, she gave in for once; the professor was not here to see her and reprimand her now. She glanced at him and caught his eye and theylaughed again. Suddenly, she stumbled. She felt a pair of gentle arms catch her. They had a soft warmth, holding her trembling body tightly, and she began to relax from her laughter. She smiled contentedlyfor a moment. A gentle breeze siftedthrough the wisps of hair hanging outside her hat and a seagull cried overhead.He held her tightly and nuzzled his head into the soft fur trim around her jacket, but a moment was all she would allow herself, andit hadpassed already passed. She shifted uncomfortably as she watched herself,clad in the arms of Freddie Einstford-Hill, alone together in the light of the sunset on Brighton Pier.Her mind was cast back to the Colonel Pickering and the Professor, whom were undoubtedlyin search ofher and growing increasinglyconcerned.Her thoughts were interrupted as Freddie released her and spokewith a satisfied sigh. "Miss Dolittle, you really do have the right sense of humour. I don't think I've ever met a lady who can laugh at such things," he chortled, glancing for her approval.
"Thank you, Freddie," she replied in a serious tone.
"Eliza, darling, whatever is the matter," asked Freddie, "You were laughing with me just before."
"I'm fine; it's nothing," she dismissed, trying to walk away up the pier. Maybe if she lost him, she could find Pickering and the Professor. But Freddie was so kind; so young, and he meant well. Perhaps another moment wouldn't hurt, she reasoned. He caught her hand, and she turned back to him.
"You can tell me if there's something wrong, sweetheart," he spoke softly, taking both her hands. She flinched slightly, but he did not let go. "Eliza, I pray you tell me what it is."
"Well," she began uncomfortably, looking away from his face, "It's just that... I don't know you very well – I've only seen you at that disaster at Ascot - and I came with Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering," she explained.
"I know, Eliza, but why? Why do you tell me this?"
"I shouldn't be here," she said coldly.
"I... I understand," he spoke. "But Eliza, you can't begin to understand how I feel," he began, "And for all my efforts to put it in words, I find myself having failed. Miss Dolittle, do have patience with my eforts! You see, the birds sing sweeter when you are near; the skies turn bluer, and –"
"But they're red!" Eliza corrected. Freddie smiled at his own error.
"Oh, yes, of course, in the evening. But you don't understand, Eliza." Eliza smiled. Suddenly a flurry of words escaped his lips: "I feel the sun warmer on my face when I think of you, and suddenly I notice the flowers around me that I'd never noticed before; the trees are filled with the youngest green; the wind rustling gently in their leaves reminds me so much of your voice, and suddenly the world is full of – "
"Freddie, get to the point!" she giggled.
"The world is full of happiness when you are around. Suddenly I feel I'm not alone any more; I'm flying free like a swan over a lake of diamond -"
"You'll never be free as a swan if you don't stop crooning like a pigeon! Just say it," she teased playfully. 'Crooning like a pigeon', she thought. She pushed the twinge of guilt away. There was a time and place for repentance.
"... but all I really mean is, Eliza,"
"Yes?"
"I know that you have commitments, but if you could, I just want to tell you the truth..." he paused.
"Go on, Freddie," she encouraged. She knew what was coming. Excitement bubbled inside her. He drew her closer and held her hands tightly. He gazed into her eyes.
"I hope you don't mind, and it might be difficult to say – please don't call me a fool, Eliza – but with all my heart I've yearned just wanting to tell you -" he paused again.
"Eliza, Higgins and I have been worried about you! Where the devil have you... sorry – er, Eliza, is this a bad time?"