Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl
Chapter Six: Mental Blocks
Author's note: Big, big thanks to my dearest beta, Lady Weasleyy, who still finds time to muck through my crappy grammar even though she has finals! Thank you, and stay in school or else you become a functioning illiterate like me.
Disclaimer: I disclaim. One portion of dialogue is lifted directly from the show. I believe you know which one it is.
On a side note: Reviews are VERY appreciated. They let me know how I am doing, or how I may improve.
Two days into the experiment, Eliza contemplated quitting 27A Wimpole street. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Eliza was doomed to fail. Professor Higgins was a harsh task-master who required Eliza to be at lessons from sun up to sun down, and sometimes even longer than that.
Eliza couldn't even escape the lessons in her dreams! The moment she faded into a restful slumber-- there stood the Professor, towering over her at an unreal height, wielding a great gleaming sword in one hand, and a book on the phonetic alphabet in the other. The Professor would throw the book at Eliza, ordering her to read out loud in the manner of a lady. The penalty for not performing this task to perfection was death. Her head would be chopped off and then set on a pike in front of 27A Wimpole street as a warning to others who may be as foolhardy as she. When her eyes fell on the open page, she was horrified to discover that she was staring at a blank page! She turned her head to the sound of retreating footsteps, and watched with a sinking feeling as the letters of the phonetic alphabet scurried away into the distance.
" As your Lord and savior, I order you to read from that page!" Professor Higgins' voice boomed.
Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Professor Higgins shook his head at her mute state, lifted his sword and began to bring it down upon her head.
Eliza would wake from those dreams to find she had not lost her voice. That first night when she woke screaming, the house erupted in chaos. Before she could register that it had been only a dream, her bedroom door flew open; Colonel Pickering and Professor Higgins came rushing in both in their night wear, the former brandishing a pistol, the latter a fire poker.
"Where the devil is the bastard?" Higgins swore.
The Colonel and the Professor looked about the room, and upon finding no sign of intrusion, their eyes fell upon Eliza, stricken dumb with terror.
"Why the hell did you scream?" Asked Higgins.
Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat and replied meekly, "I 'ad a nightmare." Pickering made a sympathetic noise.
Higgins rolled his eyes. "Well, the next time you meet whatever unholy terror is haunting you in the land of Nod , tell the beast that there is a household you belong to that needs their good nights rest. Good lord, we thought you were being--"
"Robbed," Pickering finished. He eyed Higgins warily. "Think on her sensibilities, Higgins," the older man whispered.
"Yes, robbed. Well, if it's only been a silly dream; I suppose this is where we say 'goodnight'." Higgins walked out of the room.
Pickering smiled sadly at the girl. "There, there Miss Doolittle. Whatever it was, it can't hurt you any longer. Goodnight."
Eliza sat alone in her room, unable to will herself to fall back asleep.
The next morning, Eliza ran into Higgins's study preparing to berate him over the lesson plan. She was sleep deprived, cranky , and ready for a fight. Her heart nearly stopped when she beheld her father having a discussion with the Professor. A long forgotten terror awoke within her. He knew Eliza was taking lessons; She was going to learn how to speak 'fancy'. Her father was about to do something terrible.
Alfred hadn't even recognized Eliza initially. He even begged her pardon as they had almost collided in her haste to get to Higgins. When he realized that he was in the presence of his daughter he was all charm; He boasted about what a credit she was to him. He took his leave shortly, but not without giving his daughter a stinging slap on her behind and encouraging the Professor to follow his example.
When Eliza realized her father was not going to do her a real harm, she childishly stuck out her tongue at him as he left. Eliza did not care if she never saw her father again. Higgins spouted some nonsense about morals, then promptly began drilling her on her vowels.
As the weeks progressed, Eliza felt that something was holding her back. She heard the way the words flowed from the Professor's mouth, and her brain registered them as correct, but every time she set out to repeat them, a blackness fell over her mind and the words came out wrong. This hurdle did not mean she wasn't having very small victories. H's now no longer eluded her, and with Pickering's help, she was slowly affecting a ladylike poise.
"I do wish you would stop looking behind you as though someone was going to jump out and slit your throat," Higgins complained as Pickering was leading her about the study on his arm. "What is it about success that terrifies you so? Every time you do something correct you turn pale as a ghost."
"Higgins, be gentle. Isn't it enough that she is doing it right?" Pickering defended.
"No, dash it all, she's got to make it look effortless!" Higgins crossed the room and motioned for Pickering to stand aside. He offered his arm to Eliza.
"Eliza, I once knew a woman who seemed to glide about the floor as if she were floating. She wasn't a woman of quality so to speak, but a mere ladies maid. Imagine if you will, a woman only a few rungs higher than yourself in society, whose very existence required nothing more than holding my mothers yarn and fixing hair. Yet, she carried herself like a duchess. If a little nothing of a domestic can do it, than so can you."
Higgins's words struck a familiar chord. Eliza mind was filled with images of a golden-haired woman gliding about a dingy kitchen in the manner Higgins described. "Try again, Eliza. I know you'll get it right, love." Her mother's sweet feminine voice urged.
Eliza got it right.
The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain. It was the most hateful phrase Eliza had ever heard in her life. It was a phrase she had been forced to repeat a multitude of times over the course of two days. It was the first thing she said every morning, and the last thing she said at night. For the life of her, she could not say it in a way that pleased Higgins.
It was three in the morning and Eliza's head ached with such a fierceness that she feared she was going to be sick all over the couch. Her body positively hummed with exhaustion, and there was no end in sight. Eliza regarded Higgins with bleary eyes, and contemplated throwing herself on her knees and begging him to allow her to sleep, with promises that tomorrow, she would get it perfectly. She found herself too tired to entertain that thought any further, and with a groan, repeated the phrase to no avail. A crying jag loomed on the horizon.
She gave a start when Higgins handed her the cold compress and then began that speech.
"I know your head aches; I know you're tired; I know your nerves are as raw as meat in a butcher's window. But think what you're trying to accomplish. Think what you're dealing with. The majesty and grandeur of the English language, it's the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts that ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative, and musical mixtures of sounds. And that's what you've set yourself out to conquer Eliza. And conquer it you will." Higgins had locked his eyes on her for the entire speech, and Eliza felt a heat creep up to her face. Beneath his pompous and bullying demeanor, there was a man who was truly passionate about his life's work. Eliza was no longer afraid of success.
In a tremulous voice Eliza spoke the words that had been plaguing her for days on end, and she did it like a lady. Something sparked within her when Higgins smiled proudly at her. The spark became a full flame when he danced victoriously with her.