A Hole in the River
Chapter One: Freddy Gets a Clue
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my fellow Brett-head, and beta reader, Teckla. Ever since I told her that Freddy Eynsford-Hill of the movie, and Sherlock Holmes of the Granada television series were one and the same, she has been hounding me to pay homage in one of my stories. So here you are; Freddy Eynsford-Hill with Jeremy Brett in mind, doing what he does best. Much love! -vcatrashfiend
Freddy Eynsford-Hill returned to his post after approximately three hours of sleep. Peter, the butler, made a remark about Freddy's dogged determination to get the girl. Something about how perhaps Freddy had missed his calling as a detective. Freddy had chuckled good-naturedly, and managed to shrug on his coat and eat a piece of toast at the same time before fleeing his mother's house, whistling a jaunty tune.
Chaos had erupted on the ordinarily serene street his beloved lived on. Even from a block away, Freddy could make out the frantic swearing of a man he identified as Henry Higgins. Once Freddy reached the front door, he was nearly knocked down the stairs when aforementioned door flung open, revealing the son of Freddy's mother's dearest friend.
"You!" The older man cried, grabbing Freddy by an arm and dragging him bodily into the house. "Do you know where she is?" Henry inquired, eyes narrowed.
"I-"
"Yes, you. I trust you don't believe that your overtures have gone unnoticed by this household? What have you done with Eliza?"
Freddy stammered, thoroughly flustered by the accusations, and upset that Eliza was not at home. Henry released his vice-like grip from the boy's arm, and Freddy rubbed it, defensively.
"Your well-articulated alibi has been duly noted," Henry spoke sarcastically.
"I swear I have no idea where she is, sir. I only came by to court her favor… with your permission. She is your ward, is she not?"
Henry glared daggers, the look was deadly enough for Freddy to avert his eyes.
"She is my ward, actually." The man Freddy remembered as Colonel Pickering walked into the front hallway, looking a bit worse for the wear. "I must ask if you have absolutely any idea where she might be, young man; she has been missing since very early this morning."
Freddy felt his heart sink. "She couldn't have fled, I would have seen her!"
"What's that?" Henry asked, his voice low and slightly dangerous.
"I was waiting at your front door all night for a glimpse of her," the boy answered truthfully.
"Impertinent!"
Freddy blushed. "I've gone beyond all rules of propriety when it comes to her-… I would cheerfully die for her favor!" There was a touching earnestness to his tone that caused the older gentlemen to clear their throats in discomfort.
"I daresay she could have used the back exit when she noticed you drooling on the street," Henry theorized.
"But why the devil would she leave?" Pickering asked, truly puzzled.
Henry looked away; rather guiltily, Freddy thought.
"Oh, who cares why she left? The thing we ought to be focusing on is bringing her back," Henry stated.
"I am totally in agreement, sir," replied Freddy.
"Oh, not you. Go home to your mother, boy, this is none of your concern."
Freddy lifted his chin in defiance. "Miss Doolittle is the woman I love, and I will see that she is brought home safely!"
Colonel Pickering patted the boy on the back, affectionately. "Of course, young man, of course-Many hands make light work, and all that- you are more than welcome to help." Freddy was led into the parlor by the old man, followed reluctantly by Henry Higgins, and the three of them sat down together and discussed what was to be done.
"Perhaps we ought to get in contact with Mr. Doolittle," Pickering suggested, to which Henry scoffed.
"Eliza can't stand her father, why on earth would she go to him? The man is a terrible blackguard, and a drunk to boot." Henry turned to Freddy. "If you want to take on this young lady, you'll have a pretty interesting family to put up with."
"I will consider her family completely darling until I've seen them myself," was Freddy's rejoinder, to which Henry burst out in laughter.
"Perhaps we ought to take this one on, Pick; his idiotic notions nearly top Eliza's!" Henry exclaimed, wiping the mirthful tears from his eyes with a handkerchief. Freddy bristled; he was always considered the most cheerful of young men, but he did have his limits!
"Here now, old man-"
"Oh, be quiet, for god's sake! I can barely hear myself think as it is, without your silly indignation added to the mess."
The trio fell silent, gears fairly audible as they came up with possible locations for their missing flower girl. It was soon decided that Henry would go to his mother's, Colonel Pickering would keep up his inquiries with the home office, and Freddy would be sent to Covent Garden Market for reasons completely unknown to him. Why on earth would his darling be found hanging about in such a place?
Oddly enough, the name Eliza Doolittle seemed to ring an alarming number of bells in the district. After a few inquiries, Freddy found himself being ushered to St. George's, just in time to witness an elderly couple running down the front stairs, dodging a storm of rice. Newlyweds.
"That there's 'Liza's dad, Alfred Doolittle." Freddy's rough and tumble tour guide explained, he added "'E might know where she is, but I doubt it."
Freddy was pulled to the front of the crowd, and without further ado, introduced to the ruddy faced man, allegedly Eliza's sire. The old man appraised Freddy, taking in his well-made, but gently worn togs. Mr. Higgins concluded his study with a good-natured snort. "In love with me Eliza, are you? Poor bastard."
"You are really Eliza's father?" Freddy asked. When the old man nodded, Freddy decided to push back his misgivings for the time being. Her heritage was irrelevant, finding her was the top priority. Freddy proceeded to question Mr. Doolittle over Eliza's whereabouts, and breathed a sigh of relief when the man revealed that he had, in fact, seen Eliza the night prior.
"Down in the dumps, she was, I ain't never seen 'er so low since the day 'er mum died." The revelation of her mood caused fear to rise up in Freddy, and he pressed Mr. Doolittle for more information. She had been last seen in the square, heading towards St. Paul's Cathedral. Freddy sighed, and made haste to her last known location, desperately hoping that his journey would soon come to a fruitful end.
Before he reached his destination, he was sidetracked by a woman with a dirty face, and rough features, wearing Eliza's white Ascot gown. He stopped the woman with a desperate plea. "Stop!"
"Wot is it, Charlie?"
"Freddy, actually. Miss, may I inquire where you came upon that charming frock?"
"I didn' steal it, if that's wot your gettin' at."
"Of course not! It is just simply imperative that you tell me where you got it; I can't tell you why."
The woman sighed, and smoothed the skirt, leaving dirt smudges on the pristine lace. "I nicked it from the jumble box at church; I never saw such beeyootiful clothes there as I did today, never in me life. One of your society ladies got a kind 'eart, she does."
The news disturbed Freddy greatly for some reason. Why would Eliza flee in the night, and donate her possessions? Apparently, all reports of Eliza's whereabouts ended with her heading towards the Cathedral. Freddy had hit a dead end. Perhaps the Colonel and the Professor were having better luck. With a sigh of resignation, Freddy began to hail a taxi to take him to Mrs. Higgins home, where he had agreed to meet Henry and Colonel Pickering.
Freddy trod on a piece of newspaper, and looked down. It was the day's edition, and an headline immediately caught his eye. Unconcerned with the paper's former home on the filthy ground, Freddy picked it up and read. The contents of the article left him feeling bloodless and dizzy, and with a hoarse cry for a taxi, Freddy shoved the paper into his coat pocket.
Unidentified Woman Pulled From Thames; Comatose and in Critical Condition at St. Thomas