Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl

Chapter Twenty-One: Eliza Tears Down a Wall

Author's Note: So I watched "My Fair Lady" with my best friend today, which naturally caused a writing jag. Enjoy!

Eliza sat broodingly and looked on as Jane Higgins tried desperately to teach the girl how to knit. "What will the child wear on its feet if you don't learn, Eliza?"

"You've made up about five pairs, trying to teach me. Couldn't I just keep those?"

Jane sighed, setting her work down on the coffee table. "I suppose you could, Eliza. I've just always found knitting for my children sweet and fun, and I thought you would feel the same way."

"My hands are cramped, and I almost took out my eye. I think I've had enough fun for one day." Eliza felt a twinge of guilt for behaving so childishly towards Jane, but she couldn't seem to help it. Every thing set Eliza off, nowadays. She was angry over the hours of nausea, the fatigue, the tears, and most of all, the coddling. Jane and Eleanor Higgins were constantly over, badgering Mrs. Pearce about nutrition and scolding Eliza for being too thin. They all but force-fed her at times. Eliza had violent fantasies in which she would batter the interfering hags with the pillows they insisted on fluffing for her, and chasing them out of the house while wielding a knitting needle.

"Are you tired, Eliza? Do you want me to take you up to your room for a nap?"

Eliza had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. It was too much. "Oh! Go away, Jane Higgins, you bloody mother-hen!"

Jane gasped. Not even in her worst mood-swings, had Jane ever resorted to profanity. "Eliza, I am just trying to make you comfortable. I know what a trying time it is, being with child."

Eliza leapt to her feet and began to pace. "Oh, I'm so very comfortable that I could cheerfully drown! No one seems to want to let me do anything on my own anymore, and I can't wait for the day when I am no longer qualified to butter my own toast. Go. Away."

Jane did not linger.

Eliza hazarded a glance at the mirror. Perhaps their concerns were valid. Eliza had been skiving off meals, feeling that it was pointless to eat when nothing liked to stay down. Pickering tried very hard to gently insist that she took care of herself, but next to Jane, he was the easiest to bully.

Eliza covered her stomach with a trembling hand. She was still thin as a reed, but for the slightest bump. It was nearly impossible to tell she was with child, most just thought she was recovering from a debilitating virus. Sometimes, in her darkest moods, she considered it as such. Try as she might, she did not feel the fabled rush of love in regards to her pending arrival. Perhaps the love would come later. Perhaps Eliza would wake up one day, smiling and exuberant, knit for hours, and make conversation with the child growing inside of her.

Eliza warily eyed the pile of yarn on the sofa. With a shrug , she sat down, picked up the needles, and attempted to recall what Jane had taught her. Fifteen minutes of fruitless attempts caused her to hurl the work across the room with a shriek.

Eleanor Higgins armed herself with a business card, and called on her daughter-in-law. The old woman was tired of constantly having her concerns fall upon deaf ears. Eliza simply was not regaining her health as she should be, and Eleanor was suspecting that it was fully from lack of trying. More than that, there was a hint of spite to Eliza's obstinacy, as though she were punishing Henry by willing herself to waste away. It was damned silly of Eliza, and Eleanor was ready to tell her so, with no deference to the girls' delicate feelings.

Eleanor found her daughter-in-law reading in Henry's study. The woman took a few steps towards Eliza, only to step on a tangled mass of yarn and knitting needles. Eleanor picked up the mess with a sigh, and set it on Henry's desk.

"I see you still look as though a strong breeze could blow you away."

Eliza closed her book, and glared up at her mother-in-law. "I've had just about enough-"

"No! I've had just about enough, Eliza. Who do you think you are hurting with this behavior, I ask you? Henry? I don't think it is working, as he has no idea what has been going on for the past two months. I will tell you who you are hurting, yourself, your family, and most importantly, your child."

Eliza looked away from Eleanor, her cheeks pink with shame.

"There's some color, at least. I was beginning to doubt you had any blood left in your veins."

"Stop."

"I will not stop until I am sure you are listening to me, Eliza." Eleanor handed Eliza the business card. Eliza took it, read, and gave Eleanor a quizzical look. "You want to hurt Henry? That's the name of an excellent decorator. I think this study is far too large, and you could do to make room for a nursery, that's what I think."

Eliza smiled for the first time in ages. "Why stop there? I think the master bedroom could be larger. The bathrooms as well."

"That's the spirit, Eliza!" Eleanor sat down next to Eliza, and kissed the young girl on the forehead. "You take down the whole household, if it makes you feel better."

Eliza, Pickering, and the servants were temporarily removed from 27A to usher in a flurry of ladders, hammers and plaster dust. Eliza returned to the house frequently to oversee the work, making easy friends with the contractor, who spoke with a thick cockney accent. In an unguarded moment, Eliza began to converse with him in her old way, much to his astonishment and delight.

Eliza was observing the work being done in the study, when a young man with a sledge-hammer caught her eye. He was about to take down a wall that had once held a long row of Henry's more treasured volumes. Eliza took a deep breath and approached the man. "May I?"

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?"

"The wall, I want to help. May I?"

The boy looked to the contractor, who merely shrugged. "Of course. I just- well, I ain't used to 'avin' the missus of the 'ouse wantin' much to do wiv things of this nature."

"I suppose I am not your usual 'missus'."

A few moments later, Eliza was poised before the wall, with the young man standing closely behind her. They both held on to the sledge-hammer, although the young man bore most of the weight of it. It was common knowledge amongst the crew that one of the projects was a nursery, so out of fear for Eliza's safety, the task was to be safely monitored as per Pickering's request.

"Alright, missus; One… Two… Three!" At the moment, Eliza did not care that she was merely mimicking the actions of tearing down the wall, while the boy did the work. She felt as though there was only her, a sledgehammer, and a wall. Henry had spent hours poring through the volumes at that wall, his hand tracing the paneling in a loving manner. Now it was a gaping hole, and she was glad she could destroy something he loved.