Romancing the Guttersnipe
Chapter Six: A Promise Fulfilled
Author's Note: This is the last chapter of my little tale. Well, I shouldn't say that; there will be an epilogue, of course. I am a little sad to let this project go, but I do have another My Fair Lady fanfiction in the works. Look for "A Hole in the River", coming soon to a near you! Once again, your comments and praise have meant the world to me. Thank you, all!
Eliza ruthlessly yanked at the pins holding up her hair, fuming all the while. How dare he? Who was Henry to decide that he was going to come back on his terms? The rest of their lovely evening was spent with Eliza acting very cool towards Henry, and Henry seemingly immune to the frost, a delighted grin on his face practically the entire night. The nerve!
Eliza had turned her cheek towards Henry's amorous lips when it came time for him to take her back home. She thought that perhaps the blatant snub would pull him off of whatever cloud he was residing on. Henry had walked away, whistling cheerfully.
Eliza's dark thoughts swirled about her head, as she brushed out the intricate knots and curls from her hair. It seemed no matter what she did to convey her anger the rest of the that night, Henry steadfastly refused to be deterred. It was as if he were planning something in that devious brain of his.
"Maybe he's been toying with me, after all," Eliza pondered aloud, as she pulled her nightgown over her head. Well, two could play that game.
The next morning, Eliza holed herself up in the study to write out invitations to Elle's upcoming christening. The phone rang excessively, and after the first five refusals to speak to her husband, Mrs. Pearce decided to tell Henry that Eliza was out shopping.
After sending out the invitations, Eliza arranged for several more interviews with nannies. Henry had helped her come up with a bit of a shortlist, after they both went through the letters that had come in response to their advertisement. It was a very short shortlist, unfortunately, and most of the names omitted had baffled Eliza. "Too Irish-sounding; I won't have Elle's first words be 'Ma' and 'Da'. 'Mama' and 'Papa', with plans to evolve to 'Mother' and 'Father', thank you very much." One poor soul had misspelled 'References', while others did not take enough care with their punctuation.
"Well, Henry is not here," Eliza proclaimed, pulling several letters out of the dust-bin and smoothing them.
Henry arrived at 27A, to find a bit of a line leading from the bottom of the front steps, clear into the house. Everyone in the line was of the fairer sex, ranging from their late twenties to their early sixties, as far as Henry could deduce, and most of their apparel seemed to be of a gently worn variety. It was deucedly confusing.
He followed the line into the study, where Eliza was pleasantly chatting with a middle aged woman with ebony hair, who happened to be in possession of one of the thickest Irish brogues he had even heard so far from the Green Isle itself.
"What the devil is going on?" Henry interrupted, causing both women to start in alarm.
"Husband," Eliza greeted coolly. He noticed that Elle was slumbering in Eliza's arms, and felt a bit sheepish for using strong language. It was not his intention for Elle to ever be exposed to coarse language, however unavoidable with Alfred Doolittle as a grandfather.
"Sir," the creature across from Eliza greeted, fairly ready to roll out her 'R' but stopping short. Northern Ireland, then.
"Wife, I don't recall the interview list being so undis-… long." He had been about to say 'Undiscerning', but his better judgment took hold. Best not to insult an Irishwoman; Henry heard that they could be veritable harridans when crossed.
"Well, my dear, I did not feel we had quite the selection I wanted, so I rescued a few letters. This is Bridget Moran; she comes highly recommended from several good families in the area. In fact, I do believe she may be a frontrunner."
"Hmm. Well, if you don't mind, I will categorize her as a dark horse until I've seen the rest."
Bridget glowered, seemingly offended at being talked about as though she was not in the room.
"I believe I am doing quite alright on my own." Eliza spat back, emphasizing the end of the retort.
"Oooh… I see. You are still put out over last night when I refused to come home."
"Henry Higgins!" Eliza cried, hitting his first and last name like they were bloody oaths.
Bridget Moran stood up quite suddenly. "May I please take the babe to the nursery whilst the two of you 'discuss' things? She's sleepin' so sweetly, and I am loathe to have her cryin'."
Eliza allowed Bridget to carry Elle out of the line of fire.
"There now; you've just let a complete stranger walk off with my daughter!" Henry exclaimed.
"She's not a complete stranger; she comes very highly recommended, and you are a ruddy bastard!"
"Madam!"
"Don't you play innocent! Why didn't you come home when I asked you? I thought you wanted to!"
"I did! Erm… that is I do, Eliza, you know I do."
"Well, what's the matter then?"
Henry faltered, and looked about the room.
"Henry?"
"I can't tell you, Eliza. Look… Will you give me until the christening? I swear to you, all will be in place by then. I just- I just can't be here and do what needs to be done."
"Why can't it be done here?" Eliza inquired, her voice taking on a deadly calmness, her thin frame shaking, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Henry grasped her gently by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "Eliza, I can tell by your flashing eyes that you are coming up with ridiculous scenarios that have no basis in fact. I won't insult you or I by naming these fears, of course." He kissed her unyielding lips, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. "Please, just give me until the christening, and I'll never ask another thing of you ever again. Pray, don't snort Eliza."
"I am sorry, but the latter is hard to believe." She searched his eyes for signs of deceit, finding none, she sighed. "Until the christening."
"Thank you."
"And Miss Moran?"
"As long as she is open to some helpful suggestions about her terrible accent."
"Does she have a choice?"
"Not if she wants a position here, I'm afraid."
"Very well."
Henry left, later that day, feeling as though he had narrowly avoided a firing squad.
The christening occurred two weeks later, with Henry, once again in front of a baptismal font. Edward Higgins, having restored his rapport with his older brother, stood with Jane as godparents. Elle was quite serene during the proceedings, her bright blue eyes wide open, as if calming studying her surroundings.
"Holy places don't make her seize up in horror; she can't be a Higgins," Edward whispered to Jane. Eliza was just within earshot, and rewarded her brother-in-law with a swift, sideways kick that caught him in the shins and made him falter. The vicar cleared his throat, and managed to look scandalized, even though he had been baptizing Higgins children ever since Henry had donned the white gown, and such behavior was commonplace.
Soon after, Little Elle was christened Eleanor Jane Higgins, even though few would ever refer to her by that name in her life, unless her mother became very frustrated with her.
The happy group of friends and family began their sojourn back to 27A Wimpole street, where various delicacies awaited them. Henry, who had been carrying Elle, gave the infant to her nanny, and headed over to Eliza, who was keeping stride with Jane.
"I am afraid we will be arriving a bit later, Jane; could you please forgive my breach in etiquette and play hostess for Eliza, for just a half hour?" Eliza looked confused as Henry took her hand and led her in the other direction without waiting for Jane's response.
"Henry, what on earth? Do you know how unspeakably rude that was?"
"Oh, I shan't forgive myself. Come along, wife, it's only a few more blocks."
Eliza soon recognized the path her husband was taking her on as the one they had used on their first walk together after his return. "Why are you taking me back to that dingy old shop?" When they rounded the corner, Eliza stopped dead in her tracks.
"Because it's your dingy old shop now, my love."
Eliza gasped, and covered her gaping mouth with a trembling hand. A fresh coat of paint, new windows, and a cheery hanging sign bearing her name and business now graced the aforementioned 'dingy old shop'.
"It was something I promised long ago, that I never quite delivered. I just wanted to assure you, that my word is my bond."
"It's my flower shop!"
"Well, it will be, once we've gotten you some employees. Oh! Flowers too. It lacks goods at the moment, I'm afraid."
"How will I-"
"You can spend as much time, or as little as you like here. It is one hundred percent yours, all legal. There is even a little flat above the store that you can use if you decide to work late, or, we can let it out to someone else if you'd like a little bit more money on the side."
Eliza was speechless.
"God, you're not going to cry, are you?"
Henry received an armful of Eliza in response. She rained kisses all about his face, and he felt as though a few of his ribs were about to crack, although he didn't mind so much. "My god, Henry! It's the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me!"
"It's only what I promised when we first met." They exchanged enthusiastic kisses for several more moments, before Henry became self-conscious about them being in public. "Erm…"
Eliza understood, and pulled away. "Come home, husband."
"So, purchasing a store is all it takes to win back your favor, eh?" Ouch. The woman could hold her own in a fight; her lady-slaps were almost deadly, even when merely administered to his chest.
"I was going to take you back before you made your damned grand gesture!" She blushed, and smiled. "It is a lovely gesture though."
Henry took her hand. "Silly girl. Batters me senseless, and then is all gratitude, all in the same breath."
They walked back to their home, wordlessly.
The End.