Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl

Chapter Eleven: Upwardly Mobile or Eliza's Dowry

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, guys! I just got a new job, and my beta has been immersed in year end school projects, so needless to say we've been distracted. Here is a mass update of at least four chapters in recompense.

Alfred P. Doolittle's new residence was, as Higgins prophesied, an upwardly mobile monstrosity. The new Mrs. Doolittle adored pink, therefore the entire parlor had been painted- nay! marinated, in the carnation hue. The heavy velvet draperies were fuchsia, and tied to the side with thick red cords. Eliza's eyes widened as she took in the heavy plush carpeting, which was also carnation, and the white overstuffed furniture with pink roses painted into the fabric. Sitting in the center of the room, on one of Mrs. Doolittle's white and pink sofas, was Alfred Doolittle. He had a distinct look of unease, sitting in room that was such a gross exaggeration of femininity, that Eliza couldn't resist hiding her smile with a gloved hand.

"What's this then? Come to give 'er back, 'iggins?" Alfred inquired, his arms crossed in front of him like a displeased child. "Can't you see one female is enough in me life?"

"Actually, I am here to ask your permission to keep her on a more permanent basis," Henry replied. When it seemed the news wasn't registering with Alfred, Henry sighed impatiently and added, "I would like to marry your daughter."

A wide grin appeared on Alfred's face. "Well, well, well!" He stood up and walked over to Henry, vigorously shaking the younger man's hand. "It's about time someone took an interest in me little old maid, eh?"

Eliza bristled. "Old maid?" She glared at her father.

Alfred patted his daughter's cheek, making her wince. "I'm just teasin', Eliza." He turned back to Henry.

"Course you can marry 'er, you paid five quid for 'er, didn't ya?"

Henry blanched. Eliza had never been told about the transaction between her father and himself.

"Well, I'll be taking that five quid then, Dad." Eliza extended her hand, seemingly unruffled by the revelation. Both men looked at her in astonishment.

"'Scuse me?"

"The five quid. Give it to me." When Alfred wouldn't relent, she smiled. "My dowry, Dad. It's tradition. You can't send me out into the world of matrimony without some sort of incentive for Professor Higgins."

"Incentive!" Cried Henry, affronted.

Alfred nodded. "She's right of course. Real ladies need a dowry, and Eliza's gotten 'erself right proper, ain't she?" He took out his wallet and handed Eliza a five pound note. "What's five quid to me, anyway? You could ask for more, only you're too genteel, ain't ya? Lucky I am, to not 'ave a greedy, graspin' daughter."

"How I avoided that, with you as an example, I will never know."

Alfred's cheery demeanor left his face, and for a moment it seemed he would strike Eliza. He quickly recovered, and chuckled good-naturedly. "I see your lessons ain't curbed your cheek none."

"I see marriage has improved your temper. Another time and place, and I would have been walloped proper."

A contrite look came over Alfred's features. "I ain't that same man, Eliza. I 'ave a lot in me life I ain't proud of. You don't even remember 'alf of it." He cleared his throat. "You do your poor, dead muver credit, you do."

Eliza had much she wanted to ask Alfred about the woman who existed only in faint imprints on her memory. She glanced at Henry, who was visibly uncomfortable. Now was not the time.

"Thank you, Dad," Eliza replied, truly meaning it. Desperate to change the subject, she gave the parlor a serious appraisal. "Pink."

Alfred groaned. "That's all your step-muver's doin' it is. The whole 'ousehold too, except for me study. Now she'll be wantin' greek statues, and a ruddy crystal chandelier in the dinin' area! I'm a slave to that woman."

"And where is the lady in question?" Henry inquired.

"Didn't I say? Off orderin' a chandelier. She ought to be back, shortly."

As if on cue, a shapely woman entered the parlor, her arms laden with packages. The woman was just as tall as Alfred, and twice as formidable with her impressive bosom and towering mass of russet curls piled on top of her head. Her waist was cinched almost to nothingness , in a tight, bright purple walking gown, her hips swelling out accordingly. The woman's heavily rouged face brightened at the sight of her step-daughter.

"Blimey, it's Eliza!" Eliza's step-mother rushed over to kiss her, leaving scarlet lip marks on both cheeks. "Look at us all, 'igh kickin' swells!" Mrs. Doolittle grinned at Henry, showing off her losing battle with dental hygiene. "'Oo's this, Eliza?"

"Glenna-erm, Step-mother, this is Professor Henry Higgins, my fiancé. Henry, this is my stepmother, Glenna Doolittle."

Glenna curtsied. "Charmed, I'm sure!" She cackled when Henry took her hand and kissed it with a bow.

Eliza rolled her eyes. Henry would indulge her step-mother's pretensions, only to mock them later.

Glenna ushered her guests to a sofa, and all but shoved them into sitting position. "Our Eliza, a bride! 'Ow exciting'! Never thought we'd marry 'er off, eh, Alfie?" She clapped her hands together. "I want to throw you an engagement party, that's what I want!"

"Oh, Stepmother, that won't be-"

"Don't you try to talk me out of it, missy!" Glenna eyes sparkled as the gears in her head worked. "It's gonna be grand! A big 'igh falutin' affair, wiv four courses of eats, and the entire family." She nodded at Henry. 'That means your side too, young man."

Eliza almost fainted at the thought of the Doolittle family being in the same room as the Higgins family. It would be a disaster. She hadn't even contemplated inviting her father and stepmother until Henry had brought up visiting them. Eliza looked to Henry with desperation. He, as usual, was nonplussed.

"I think that is a fine idea, Mrs. Doolittle. Positively inspired." Henry gave Eliza a teasing, secretive look. Her face burned in repressed indignation.

"No expense spared, either. Me and Old Alfie will foot the bill entirely!" Glenna announced grandly. Alfred paled, but did not contradict her.

Eliza studied her father, quizzically. How was it that Alfred P. Doolittle, lord of all he surveyed, could be so efficiently handled? Her mouth twisted, as if tasting something bitter. It was Eliza and her mother who had deserved the benefit of a gentler Alfred, not this garishly painted woman. She doubted that Alfred had ever raised his hand in anger towards Glenna. Eliza, for the life of her, could not wrap her mind around what she and Catherine could have possibly done wrong.

"Eliza?'

"Hmm?"

"You look pale and distracted. Are you unwell?" Henry was study her with a look of concern.

Eliza nodded. "A sudden headache." She stood and turned to Glenna. "Thank you, Stepmother. I look forward to the party, but I need to take my leave." Eliza nodded at Alfred. "Good day, Dad." She unceremoniously walked out of the parlor, Henry quickly on her heels.

The air outside was cool, and Eliza took it in with large gasping breaths, her hand clutching the railing in order to steady herself. She choked back a sob and composed herself when she saw Henry coming down the stairs.

"Good lord, Eliza! Are you alright?" he cupped her face in his hands, wiping an errant tear with his thumb.

Eliza pulled away from him, and nodded. "I'm fine, Henry."

"Clearly, you are not fine." He offered his arm, and she took it. "But, I'm not going to badger you about it. I just want you to know; Whatever haunts you, it can't touch you when I'm around." Eliza was rendered speechless by the tenderness in his voice. They walked in companionable silence for a while, before Henry spoke again, "Any chance of me getting that five quid?"

"Absolutely not. It's my dowry," Eliza replied, grinning cheekily.

"Well, you see, Eliza, a dowry is something that goes to the husband."

"And the joy of my presence is not dowry enough, I suppose?"

"Whatever do you need it for?

"Shoes."

"Silly girl."