A Hole in the River
Chapter Thirteen:
A Man of Action
Henry could not even escape the girl in his dreams, for she featured in them with an alarming regularity. It seemed he was doomed to wake up every single night, flushed, disturbed, and oddly disappointed to discover he was the only person in his bed.
It was after such a dream, that Henry decided to forgo sleep altogether, and enjoy a bit of light reading, with a glass of port. Groggily, he settled into the wing chair, poured himself a glass, and opened his book. He was in the middle of an impressive yawn, when a timid, but frantic tapping on the door required his attention. Damned odd, as it was very late at night, and all the occupants of the house were undoubtedly asleep. Henry wondered for a moment if he was still asleep, as his previous dream had started out nearly the same.
"Professor Higgins, please let me in!"
A dream, then. It was Eliza's voice, albeit it did not quite sound like the tone she usually employed in his dreams. She sounded desperate, frightened, and on the verge of tears. Perhaps it is a different sort of dream, Henry thought to himself, as he crossed the room to open the door. Eliza was standing in her nightdress, and a wrapper, trembling from head to foot. Hardly the wanton seductress that had been visiting his dreams in the night... still, Eliza showing up at his door in the middle of the night in her nightdress was still too incredibly far-fetched for reality.
"Back to torment me?" Henry inquired with another yawn.
"For the love of god, let me in before someone sees!" Eliza pleaded.
Henry obeyed. It was just a dream, after all, and there would be no consequences to allowing Eliza into his room if the scenario was completely fiction. She was so very beautiful, with her hair unbound, in her prim-but-enchanting night clothes.
"There is desperation in your voice tonight, my dear." Henry whispered, stepping behind her, and wrapping his arms about her delicate frame. Eliza turned suddenly, and shoved him away with a surprising amount of strength. Henry gave a start, and was suddenly very much aware that he was, in fact, awake.
"My god, Eliza..." He struggled to find the words to express what a mistake he had made, but then something else caught his eye. "You've blood on your cheek!" He reached out a hand to touch the small smattering on her cheekbone.
"It's not mine. Why on earth did you- ... nevermind, I need your help." Eliza led Henry down the corridor and into her bedroom. Henry's jaw dropped when he spotted an unconscious Freddy Eynsford-Hill, sprawled across Eliza's bed. It appeared that someone had tried to drag him off the bed, for one leg dangled off the side of it. There was a trickle of blood coming from the boy's hairline, and it he were not snoring so loudly, Henry would have wondered if he was not dead.
"Watch your step, there's bound to be broken glass on the floor. I had to strike him with the vase that held your wildflowers." Eliza pointed sadly at the mess of wildflowers, water and glass that peppered the rug and some of the hardwood floor.
Henry did not respond. The anger that coursed through him had tensed his jaw, making it impossible for him to form words. Clutched in one of the boy's hands was a bit of lace. Henry looked to Eliza, scrutinizing her attire, until he found that the left cuff of her nightgown was torn. Eliza took in the black look in his eyes, the rigidity of his bearing, and his hands, which were formed into tight fists, and was suddenly afraid.
"Professor, we need to get him into his own room before someone suspects!" She pleaded, hoping that he would see things from her point-of-view. Her reputation was very much at stake, even though her virtue was still very much intact. No one would care, or believe - however - were they to discover Freddy Eynsford-Hill, unconscious and on her bed.
"I did not invite him to my room, I swear."
Henry blinked, as though leaving a trance, and looked down at Eliza, finding his voice at last, "Of course you didn't; how absurd. Silly girl."
"He is too heavy, otherwise I would have dragged him out myself."
"I see you tried, at the very least," Henry replied with no small amount of pride evident in his voice.
"Will you help me?"
A more romantic sort of man would have responded along the lines of their willingness to crawl through glass, filth, or Hell itself to assist Eliza. Henry merely nodded.
"I am going to need to rouse Pickering. I want you to go to my rooms, and wait for us there. Pour yourself a glass of port, and do so without wasting your breath to explain that no one has ever seen a drop of liquor on you, because tonight you need it."
"But, Professor-" Eliza's protests were cut off when Henry turned to her, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against her forehead.
"You did very well, Eliza, but allow me to take it from here. Go, now."
Eliza obeyed, and walked to his room in a daze.
Henry managed to wake Pickering, and pulled him into Eliza's bedroom after making him swear to keep absolutely silent at the sight he was about to see.
"We've got to get the blackguard out of here," Pickering whispered, once he managed to compose himself.
"Quite right, Pick."
After a bit of stumbling, and maneuvering, the pair somehow managed to get the Hill boy into his room, and onto his bed. The boy stirred, and began to open his eyes.
"Go to my room and see to Eliza, I will join you in a moment." Henry instructed Pickering. His friend nodded hesistantly, but did as he was told. Henry was suddenly alone with Freddy Eynsford-Hill.
"Eliza..." the boy muttered, groggily.
"I am afraid I will have to ask you not to speak her name."
Freddy's eyes flew open to find Professor Higgins sitting on the edge of his bed. Had he imagined the ill-fated journey into Eliza's bedroom? His pounding head told him no.
"Professor Higgins?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"What have I done?" Freddy inquired, suddenly terrified. He recalled sitting on the edge of Eliza's bed, watching her sleep for a few moments, before leaning in to kiss her slumbering lips... it became hazy after that.
"You've done something that will not happen again. I suspect in the morning you will find yourself compelled to take your mother and head back to town. You will call off your suit with Miss Doolittle, citing a change of heart to your greedy mother. You shan't be seeing her again, and if by accident you happen upon her in the street, you will cross to the other side; if she happens to be attending the same function as you, you shall pretend she does not exist. She does not exist for you any longer, is that understood?"
"She must despise me so..."
"I will thank you to keep that assumption. It might make things easier for you."
"What shall I tell Mother about this?" Freddy asked, gesturing to the small wound on his forehead.
"How am I to know? Make up an incident, just leave Miss Doolittle's name out of it. Clean it up when you sober up a bit more, would you? It looks ghastly." Henry stood up, intent on returning to his room.
"Now that you have her, what on earth do you plan to do, sir?" Freddy inquired. The question caused Henry to pause for a moment, but he did not turn back to Freddy, and he did not reply.
Henry returned to his room to find Eliza sobbing in Pickering's arms, as the older man tried to sooth her with assurances that she had been brave, and that it was over now. "Her nerves are positively shot, Higgins," Pickering explained over Eliza's weeping. "There, there, my sweet girl."
Henry poured a glass of port, and gestured to Pickering to settle Eliza into the wing chair. Once she managed to sit down, Henry handed her the glass. Her hands were shaking too violently for her to hold on to the glass with any sort of control, so Henry quickly took it back, and knelt down so he could guide the glass to her lips. "You must calm yourself before you wake the whole house," Henry scolded, but without any real chastisement in his tone. It was enough to get Eliza to manage some semblence of composure.
"Thank you both," she managed, once she found her voice.
"They will both be gone by tomorrow afternoon, without so much as a breath of a scandal," Henry explained. It was not necessary to elaborate on who the 'They' were.
Eliza managed a weak smile at Henry. "I just feel so guilty. What could've driven that poor boy to do such a thing?"
"Spirits, and his mother, I shouldn't wonder," was Henry's reply.
Eliza yawned, suddenly. "Excuse me, I am dreadfully sleepy; although, I have no idea why. A normal person shouldn't be able to find peace after such an incident."
Both gentlemen offered to show Eliza to her room. Once at her door, Eliza thanked them both again, profusely, but kept her eyes on Professor Higgins the whole time. Before falling asleep, Eliza wondered how on earth her professional relationship with Professor Higgins could proceed business as usual after the events of the night. She blushed deeply when she realized that in all actuality, it could not. Her last thought before sleep overtook her was how well his given name would sound on her lips.