A Better Man

Chapter Sixteen

Possession

The last thing Henry remembered before waking up had been dragging himself to bed, hung over - so it was very shocking when his eyes came in to focus, only to behold the tired and stricken face of his mother.

"Really, Mother - you needn't faun over me, I just had too many spirits."

His skin fairly crawled with discomfort when she began to weep. Henry had never done well with hysterical women - either he could not come up with a single word of comfort, or his attempts failed disasterously.

"You have been unconscious for nearly three days, Henry - I thought you were going to die!"

"Die?" He suddenly recalled the blood and his fevered brow. "Was I very ill?" He suddenly wanted very much to sit up and take his mother into his arms to comfort her, but the effort seemed as though it would be supremely monumental - he barely had strength enough to move a hand to cover hers and squeeze.

Eleanor nodded. "We were preparing for the won't remember, but I had Eliza, Colonel Pickering, and Jack sent away to Wimpole Street - Eliza is re-establishing your household.'

"She is not..." Henry's voice trailed off; it was hard to even think about Eliza being ill, let alone put it into words. The idea that this merciless strain of influenza only seemed to kill off the young and healthy had kept Henry in constant fear for his young friend's life.

"'Eliza is very well - as are Colonel Pickering and Jack."

Henry sighed in relief. "That is a mercy." He looked around the room, and then at his mother. "Well, I think I have lazed about long enough; I should like to go home."

Eleanor frowned. "You will have to 'laze about' a bit longer, my dear boy. You are far too weak to be moved just yet."

"Come now, Mother, I very much would like to see-"

"-Eliza?" Eleanor suggested, more than a bit mischeviously.

"My house. I need to ensure that the girl isn't making a complete botch out of hiring servants."

Eleanor let a brief look of disappointment pass over her features for a moment. "You needn't, Henry; Eliza has Mrs. Pearce to help her with the particulars."

"Oh- has she? Well, that's a comfort, I suppose. Mrs. Pearce is damned fine housekeeper."

Eleanor suppressed the urge to throw breakable objects at her recovering son, and smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Tell Eliza that she may pick any room she likes for Jack. I daresay she can even fashion a nursery if she pleases - the house is certainly large enough," Henry added, magnanimously, and then frowned when his mother gasped. "What on earth is the matter with that?"

"Henry - Eliza couldn't possibly live with you."

Her son's face suddenly took on a look that had signified a tempest ever since he was a small child. Eleanor steeled herself, and prepared for battle against his furrowed brow, and the firm set in his jaw.

"Why not?"

"My dear, it simply is not done!"

"She lived with me before and no one said 'boo' about it.'

Eleanor sighed impatiently. "She was your pupil then, Henry. Eliza needs to have some sort of proper reason to live in your house in order for people not to talk... which they already do."

"Hang those gossips - the world has changed, Mother."

"Not really, my boy. People are clamoring for a return to a normal sort of existence, and that includes looking down their noses at a situation that strikes them as unsavory."

Henry merely shrugged, and settled back against his pillows. "It just so happens that I do have a proper reason for Eliza to stay."

Eleanor's eyes widened, and she was unable to supress a curious little smile. "Oh?"

"Well, I shan't reveal it now. The matter requires a good amount of thought, and I'm devilishly sleepy."

Eleanor stood up, now grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Henry!"

"Mother, please." Henry gave a tremendous yawn and closed his eyes, ending discussion on the subject.

Eliza scribbled away at the ledgers, finding herself to be oddly comfortable at Henry's desk, in his chair. Jack was toddling about, tailed by Mrs. Pearce and her granddaughter, Rosemary - a comely girl of sixteen whom Eliza had taken on as Jack's nanny-in-training and a part-time personal assistant.

"Professor Higgins will simply have to do with a smaller staff until more people are well again," Eliza announced, frowning at the small pile of letters to her right. Not many answers to her inquiry, and even fewer that qualified. Getting Mrs. Pearce back had been a godsend, and at least she had managed to find a suitable butler and cook.

"I daresay we can manage; so long as Professor Higgins is fed and can keep track of his appointments, he will be content."

"Do you suppose I ought to inquire about a secretary?"

Mrs. Pearce scooped Jack into her arms, and handed him off to Rosemary, who carried him out of the room intent on settling him down for a nap.

"My dear, isn't that what you are?"

Eliza chuckled. "I am afraid I can't juggle the flower shop and fetching Professor Higgin's slippers. You do not mind my taking Rosemary on as an assistant, do you, Mrs. Pearce?"

"Heavens no! That silly little thing will have to learn how to earn her keep somewhere. Do not be too soft on her - Eliza - or she'll walk all over you.'

"Oh, somehow I doubt that. She's a sweet sort of girl, and is in more danger of my son walking all over her."

"He is a bit of a handful."

"Professor Higgins' influence, I am afraid," Eliza replied with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh?" Mrs. Pearce's curious look told Eliza that the idea of Professor Higgins paying attention to a child enough to mold one's personality was shocking.

"Yes, Jack is practically his little shadow it seems, and the Professor is amazingly tolerant." Eliza chuckled softly and added, 'He must be mellowing out in his old age."

The two women's shared laughter was interrupted by a cough coming from the entrance to the study. They turned in unison, and Eliza colored deeply when she beheld Professor Higgins. He was a little worn about the face, but still appeared in remarkable health, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Old, am I?" His tone was light, but Eliza detected a bit of hurt in his voice, and from the way he proudly tilted his chin.

"Professor, you look very..." Eliza trailed off, at a loss for words when the realization that he was alive and well finally hit her.

"Decrepit? Ancient?"

"Well - you look very well."

Henry felt himself grow warm at the sight of her breathtaking smile. He cleared his throat, and decided to get at the task at hand.

"Oh - well, thank you, Eliza. Mrs. Pearce - would you mind terribly if I asked you to go away for a moment? I have a matter to discuss with Eliza."

The older woman's face went from puzzlement to giddy comprehension in seconds, and she left the room hurriedly, and with a distinct blush.

"Confounded women - why are they all acting so bizarre today? No matter." Henry pulled a chair up next to Eliza and sat down, their knees close enough to nearly touch. Eliza unconsciously tilted hers slightly to one side, as though to give a bit more distance between the two of them. "Eliza, I should like for you and Jack to move in to Wimpole street."

Eliza blinked, and opened her mouth to begin a reply, found herself unable to find proper words and promptly closed it once more.

"You are at loss for words."

"Obviously."

"Why?"

Eliza gave him her most patient-yet-bewildered smile, and shook her head. "How would that be proper?"

Henry studied his fingernails for a moment; after finding them to be slightly stained with ink, and a bit unkempt in general, he meet Eliza's inquisitive gaze. "How? Well, the most logical way possible, Eliza."

Eliza's heart began to pound, and for a moment she forgot how to breath. She tried not to look too coy as she bit her lower lip, and her hands trembled in her lap. It occured to her that it was the most logical way; after all, such a thing would be accepted without question. She had mourned Freddy, and society had since eased up on the acceptable length of said mourning for the women of England... perhaps even the world. She was unable to suppress a shuddering sigh, nor push back the tears that threatened to fall. She wanted this - him - with a violence that tore through her entire being... perhaps she had for some time. How blind she had been to realize that he may have wanted it too!

"Henry..." The name wavered unsteadily on her lips before she breathed it out into the world like a song.

"Pardon?"

The slightly panicked tone in his voice brought Eliza crashing back to earth.

"Is it... it it not proper that I use your given name in such a circumstance?"

"Why in heaven's name would you do that? I am sure you have heard Mrs. Pearce call me 'Sir'. I would never ask you to be that formal- of course - 'Professor Higgins' has always been more than appropriate."

"Oh." Eliza had never felt more humiliated in her life, and found herself inwardly praying that the world and all of its inhabitants would disappear in a wisp of smoke, leaving her to be alone with her shame.

"You could stay on as a secretary of sorts, Eliza. You know how dreadful I am at keeping track of appointments, and all other manner of things. It is actually a bit humbling - admitting to all that- but surely it tells you how desperately I need to have you about."

Years of fetching slippers, organizing mountains of paperwork, putting up with tempers, and soothing said tempers with tea made just-so stretched out before her, and she finally came to the realization that if she were to find a life of fulfillment tempered with mutual admiration, she was woefully misguided if she thought she would be able to find it here.

"I cannot."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am afraid I cannot stay on at Wimpole Street, Professor Higgins."

Henry sat back in his seat so suddenly that it almost appeared an act of violence.

"What do you mean 'you cannot'?"

"Pray don't be thick - Professor - you know exactly what it means. Thank you, ever so much for the offer to become your servant -"

"Secretary!"

"- but I've a business of my own that needs my attention once more, and that business has a perfectly suitable flat above it -"

"-The idea of my godson in that wretched little hole in the wall -"

" - and Jack and I will be moving our things to that residence within the fortnight."

"Oh, will you now?"

Eliza jumped from her seat, and stood straight as a ramrod, vehement pride seething from every pore. "Absolutely I will. I do not like your tone, Professor Higgins - it strongly insinuates that you feel well within your right to stop me, and you should not."

Henry stood then, towering over Eliza, and standing ever-so-close. His eyes were dark.

"I suppose I cannot - Eliza - but what I can do is make my displeasure at the idea known; I think you are a prideful, stubborn fool - something that I think will not help you, or your child at all. Clinging on to this conceited sort of independence will not put Jack in a good school, or even keep him fed -" He got no further before the resounding crack of her palm against his cheek filled the room. They both stared at each other when it was over; Henry's eyes blank as he placed a hand on his stinging cheek, and Eliza's eyes wild with anger, her nostrils flaring slighlty and her lips pressed together in a painfully thin line. Her ragged breathing filled the air, as did his oddly even inhaling and exhaling. Wordlessly, Eliza breezed out of his study, and he vaguely heard her voice in the next room over, shakily requesting that her son be retrieved from his nap.

A few minutes later, the gentle 'click' of the door closing heralded Eliza fleeing from Henry's life once more.

This time he could not bring himself to turn on the phonograph.