Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl
Chapter Five: Dressing Eliza
Disclaimer: Please don't assume by my negligence in posting these that I think I own "My Fair Lady". I truly don't, and I'm not making any money off of this silly story. It was just the plot bunny from hell and I had to sort it out.
Author's note: Huge thanks to my beta, the incomparable Lady Weasleyy, and my creative consultant Miss T. You ladies are invaluable in the battle against the semi-colon.
Hugh Pickering was a man who had seen love , and then promptly lost it. In his younger days while stationed in India, he had had the immense pleasure of making the acquaintance of the most beautiful woman in existence. Her name was Amita Singh, and she was the daughter of a local carpenter.
Their love affair had been frustratingly brief, and had produced one child; a girl that Hugh had named Anne. Amita hadn't the opportunity to protest the English name of her daughter; she died shortly after the birth.
Hugh hadn't time to mourn his love; Anne was now the center of his universe, and like any doting father, Hugh indulged her every whim. It didn't seem possible to deny her anything. Before long, Hugh Pickering had a tiny tyrant on his hands.
Anne Pickering, at age four, was allowed to sit at the grown-up table during even the most important dinners. While Hugh and his companions talked politics and conquest, Anne sat on her father's lap, ate from his plate, and sipped from his wine glass when no one was paying attention. Anne bullied the servants, and dressed in party clothes to play in the mud. When anyone had the temerity to say 'no' to her, she would square her little shoulders, throw back her head , and let loose a most impressive scream that would put a Wagnerian diva to shame.
Despite the child's deep personality flaws , Hugh adored her. He loved every tantrum , every tear. She was Amita reborn, and he had loved Amita deeply.
When Anne succumbed to cholera it had nearly killed him.
Now Pickering was back in England as a confirmed old bachelor. He did not share Higgins's disdain for all things female; In fact, he absolutely adored women. It was true he would never love another as deeply as he had loved Amita. He felt he was too old for such an indulgence, but he did enjoy their platonic company immensely.
Eliza Doolittle was a woman he felt compelled to spoil. She had a way about her that made Pickering very happy to be alive. Her accent and mannerisms were horrible , there was no doubt about that, but there was a certain charm about her unpolished ways. As he squired her from shop to shop, he delighted in Eliza's wonder at things he had previously took for mundane. A new pair of shoes were enough to bring about an excited flush to her cheeks. Therefore, he purchased ten pairs. When Eliza told him she had no idea what her favorite color was, he made sure she had a gown in every shade available. None of the shop girls seemed to question the very old man taking his young companion on a spree, and Pickering felt a lift of pride when one of the girls complimented him on his lovely daughter.
At the end of the day, Eliza had such an extensive array of new clothes that it took several trips to bring it all back to 27A.
"What a monstrous waste of money, Pickering. I daresay half of that would've sufficed," Higgins commented as the maids scurried up and down the stairs , their arms laden with parcel after parcel.
Pickering smiled, "Eliza's such a dear little thing. You weren't there to see her face; everything little thing delighted her."
"My god, man. Are you in love with the little guttersnipe?"
Pickering shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. She reminds me of somebody that was once--is still very dear to me." From his front pocket he produced a miniature portrait of Anne, he reluctantly handed it to Higgins to study.
"A child, Pickering?"
Pickering took the miniature from Higgins and put it back in his pocket. "My daughter, Anne. Cholera took her about thirty years ago. Her mother died during childbirth."
"Ah."
While the gentlemen had their very grave discussion downstairs, Eliza was unpacking her new wardrobe with Mrs. Pearce and the maids.
"I ain't never seen so many clothes in me life!" Eliza exclaimed while neatly lining up her shoes. "I ain't done nuffin' to deserve it either."
"The Colonel certainly has taken a shine to you," Mrs. Pearce observed. Eliza fell silent, an odd expression on her face. "What is it girl?"
"You don't suppose 'e's gonna want me to pay 'im back for all this? I don't know where I'd start!" Eliza's pressed her lips together into a worried line and sat down on the edge of the bed. "What if it don't work? What if I really am an ignorant girl? I ain't been to school since I was seven years old." Eliza breathing hitched, "'Ow am I gonna pay 'im if I go right back to sellin' me flowers by the curb?" Eliza knew she was ruining one of the happiest days of her young life with incessant worrying, but it came naturally to her. She looked to Mrs. Pearce for some sort of validation. The old woman only appeared to be very uncomfortable.
"Don't carry on so, Miss Doolittle; you have plenty of time to think of your future." Mrs. Pearce handed Eliza a handkerchief to blot at the tears in her eyes.
"You called me 'Miss Doolittle'. Makes me feel like I was a lady already." Eliza laughed at her own statement. "'Miss Doolittle', indeed."
"MRS. PEARCE!" Eliza was so startled by the booming call of Professor Higgins that she fell off the edge of the bed, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. She heard footsteps running up the stairs, and then a knock on her bedroom door. Mrs. Pearce crossed the room and opened it a crack. It was Professor Higgins.
"You tell that vain little imbecile that if she is not downstairs in one minute to begin her lessons, I shall drag her down by her hair."
"Of course, sir." Mrs. Pearce closed the door and turned to Eliza. "You heard him, I suppose." Eliza nodded, and headed downstairs without a word.
"Ah, here she is! How are you enjoying your new things, Miss Doolittle?" Pickering inquired.
"Everythin' is so beyootiful, Colonel! I don't think I'll 'ave enough days in the year to wear it all!" Eliza gushed. Pickering laughed heartily at her unguarded enthusiasm.
Higgins gave a derisive snort. "Sit down you ridiculous girl. We've less than six months to turn you out on proper society, and if we want to make any progress, you need to keep your silly head in the books and worry less about frocks and fripperies…"
Author's note: I realize this is short even by my standards, but once I covered with the chapter title promised I felt there was nothing more to add to it.