A Hole in the River
Chapter Seven: Routine
"Henry, the girl needs rest!"
"She can rest when this ordeal is over, Mother. Now, kindly rouse Eliza, and I will have a strong pot of coffee brewed for her when she comes down for breakfast."
"Henry, breakfast isn't for two hours!"
"Silly Mother; I've informed Mrs. Leslie of the new schedule, and she has informed the staff…."
Eliza blearily awoke to the sounds of Professor Higgins and his mother, arguing outside her bedroom door. She was instantly sobered when Henry threatened to enter the room and rouse her himself, and pulled the covers over her head to protect her modesty.
"Oh, really! It is not to be borne… Henry, you go downstairs at once, and I will wake her up!"
Shortly after the Professor's footsteps retreated, the bedroom door was opened; Mrs. Higgins entered, and very quietly made her way to Eliza's bedside.
"Miss Doolittle…"
"I'm awake… is 'e gone?" Eliza inquired from beneath the sanctity of her covers.
"Of course. Fear not, I would never allow him to be so ill-mannered as to enter a lady's room."
Eliza pulled the covers off of her head, and scrutinized Mrs. Higgins. "You called me a lady, you did."
Mrs. Higgins lifted her chin with a smile. "Of course I did, Miss Doolittle, for that is what you are." Eliza's face brightened considerably.
"I don't mind the early hours, Ma'am. I 'ad to get up earlier then this to get a jump on the best blossoms when I was workin' Covent Garden."
"It is unacceptable, nonetheless. Forgive me for my son; I fear I had everything to do with him becoming the task-master he is today."
"S'alright, Ma'am. 'E don't scare me- It's almost as though I'm used to it, you know?"
"You did spend the better part of a year with him, so it is not unusual, I suppose."
Eliza nodded. "Me 'ead's a blank as far as the past year goes, but I feel like I know what to be expectin' wiv 'im."
"You were always more patient with my son that what he deserved, my dear."
Eliza giggled. "Well, I better be gettin' meself ready for the day, so you-know-'oo don't come bargin' in to scandalize us all."
Mrs. Higgins leaned forward and kissed Eliza's forehead. "I will send a maid in to fix your hair."
Henry tapped an impatient beat on the breakfast nook table. He never understood how females could spend the better part of an hour getting prepared for the day when it took him little over a quarter of that time. He repressed a frustrated sigh when Eliza finally appeared, clean-faced and well coiffed. Never mind that she was quite charming in white batiste, that was quite beside the point. Henry liked to pretend that he did not notice how consistently attractive Eliza was.
"Mornin', Professor 'Iggins." When she opened her mouth and spoke, Henry found the pretense of indifference to her looks remarkably easy to uphold.
"Good morning, Eliza."
Eliza looked around, puzzled. "Where's Mrs. 'Iggins and t'other blokes?"
Henry frowned. "They are taking breakfast elsewhere. Mother and Pickering are too soft, and that stupid boy, Freddy Eynsford-Hill, is a distraction. You will see them later in the day, when I'm done with you."
So began the tedious task of re-educating Eliza. They spent the better part of the morning going over appropriate greetings for different parts of the day. Eliza stammered and struggled, but did so with an admirable determination to succeed. Finally, the 'nin' was banished from 'mornin', and it became 'morning'. Eliza's complexion was flushed, and her eyes shining with unshed, frustrated tears by the time it was accomplished.
"Well done," Henry remarked before realizing what he had just said.
Eliza regarded him with a strange expression on her face. "Rare, that is. You don't like giving out compliments so easy, you don't."
Henry was speechless. True, she could have very well gleaned that fact from the short time she had spent in his company since the hospital, but still... Come back to me, girl! Henry bit back the urge to give voice to the plea that had been echoing in his brain for the past week. He carefully schooled his features, straightened his spine, and looked down at her imperiously.
"Say your vowels."
It was nearly ten before Henry released Eliza to Freddy Eynsford-Hill. Henry did so with great reluctance, feeling that he could just as easily teach Eliza about the intricacies of equestrianism. Henry had been quite impressive in his youth, when it came to such things, or so he thought.
Unbeknownst to the youthful pair, Henry resorted to skulking about concealed corners and behind obliging trees, in order to spy their progress. He rationalized that it was purely in the interest of ensuring that the simpering whelp was imparting useful wisdom on Eliza. He would not bear to stand ignorant if the boy were to abuse the time as an opportunity to romance Eliza with nonsense.
Henry cringed as he endured the young man's enthusiastic overtures regarding the smartness of Eliza's riding apparel - It was not as though Eliza could be credited for the clothes on her back, after all! .
Henry smiled when Eliza's fervent protests over the option to ride astride became quite loud. It seemed her show of temper was flummoxing her modern and sweet-tempered suitor.
"Side saddle is wot genteel ladies do!" She cried. That settled that.
Henry felt a burst of pride at Eliza's natural inclinations towards riding. She sat tall, and quite elegant once the initial awkwardness had passed. He noticed that the Hill boy was in awe of her as well, gazing up with a dazed expression...
The boy was really too handsome to be allowed. Henry began to feel the faint sting of insecurity as he continued his observations. Eliza seemed to be responding well to Freddy's artifice of good looks; every time he shot her a winning, encouraging grin, Eliza's cheeks would glow with an infatuated blush, and she would charmingly cast down her eyes. Henry was loathe to admit, even to himself, that the two made quite a dazzlingly vital pair.
"Ah, Professor Higgins!" Damn it! The boy had spotted Henry, and was striding confidently in his direction, leaving Eliza on her perch.
"I say - doesn't she look magnificent?"
Henry was very nearly disarmed by the expectant look in Eliza's eyes when he deigned to study her form. The tremulous smile on her well-shaped lips threatened to undo him completely. He suddenly recalled the flirtatious doe eyes she had recently bestowed on her moronic suitor, and the spell was broken. He was very much resolved to knock her off of her pedestal. So he did.
"Oh, the horse, you mean? My mother has the finest eye for horseflesh there ever was; pity that poor Gaia's beauty is being marred at the moment by such a gauche specimen of femininity." Henry's voice dripped with a malicious sort of venom, usually absent from his jibes. Eliza's sharp intake of breath was heard by both gentlemen. Henry immediately longed to take back his words when the light in Eliza's eyes was extinguished, and her features turned ashen. Neither Henry, nor Freddy spoke; one gentleman silenced by guilt, the other struck dumb by the sheer discourtesy of the statement he had bore witness to.
Henry cried out in alarm when Eliza made a sudden, and unfortunate dismount. In her haste, a series of entanglements caused her to slip, and land hard on her gloved hands. Both men moved to help her up, but she rose swiftly to her full, not-unimpressive height, and shoved away the aiding hands, refusing to make eye contact with either of them.
Both men spoke at once. Henry beginning with "Eliza-", and Freddy with "Miss Doolittle-", both cut off by Eliza as she turned and fled. Freddy gave pursuit, and Henry, although fiendishly jealous, hadn't the strength to interfere. Even though his imagination was barraged with images of the boy, caressing Eliza's soft hair and holding her as she wept with the culmination of a lover's first kiss, Henry made no move. What on earth could he say that would stop her tears and ease her pain? Henry was famously undemonstrative, and would probably just end up making things worse.
With a heavy heart, he returned to the main house, determined to forget the events of the day.