A Better Man

Chapter Seventeen

Growning Up

September 1921

Jack Eynsford-Hill blew out the candles of his birthday cake, feeling a rush of pride when the grown-ups cheered him on from the parlour of his Gran's house. He magnanimously allowed his mother, his Gran, his Aunt Clara, Rosemary, and Mrs. Pearce to bestow kisses on his cheek, and felt quite grown up when Grandfather Pickering and Uncle Henry gave him a congratulatory clap on the back. Jack knew quite a few things for certain at his vast age of five years; His mother was the most beautiful woman on earth, although his Aunt Clara wore the prettier clothes, had the most interesting hair, and was certainly the nicest. His mother sometimes got cross, and Aunt Clara never did. In fact, his mother had gotten very cross when she came upstairs from the shop one night to find Aunt Clara, Aunt Clara's beau, and Jack painting a landscape on the southern most wall in his mother's drawing room.

Another thing that Jack knew for certain, was that his Uncle Henry and his mother did not get on. It caused immense sadness in him, because they were both his most favorite people in the entire world. Uncle Henry was so smart, and was always trying to explain great complicated things to Jack which he could not comprehend, but thought it made his uncle look very grand indeed. He also allowed Mrs. Pearce to give Jack sweets whenever the boy requested it.

His mother did not seem to think Uncle Henry was so grand. When Jack would come home with reports of his afternoon with his uncle, his mother would roll her eyes, particularly when Jack relayed a chestnut of wisdom that Uncle Henry had bestowed upon him. When Jack would use language and just generally emulate his uncle's behavior, his mother would berate him soundly. She told him that Uncle Henry was a fool, and to not take the old goat so seriously. Jack did not like it when his mother called Uncle Henry names, or when she would act coolly to him when they were all together in the same room.

Uncle Henry never seemed to answer back to her - though - and Jack often wondered at the sad expression he often saw on his uncle's face when his mother was present. She did not seem to notice his sadness, and Jack was not sure if she would care. It was most distressing.

The generous pile of presents pulled Jack from his train of thought, and for the next ten minutes all he knew was bright wrapping paper, and childhood delight.

Henry found himself watching Eliza, as she beamed at her son with unguarded delight shining in her face. It was rare that he got to witness such a treat, and it was certainly never directed at himself. The gulf that had opened between them that fateful day after his recovery stretched for what seemed to be thousands of miles. He had been too mortified to pursue her in order to apologize. His mother had shown up at his doorstep mere hours later, unable to suppress her fury at Henry.

"What have you done?"

"Mother..." Henry trailed off, galled into silence by the the irrate woman as she sat down on the sofa in his drawing room, seething with anger.

"You've made a botch of things with Eliza, as usual, and I demand to know what happened!"

Henry walked across the room so that he towered over where his mother sat, glowering down at her.

"What has that baggage told you?"

"She told me nothing, Henry! She returned to my house fighting tears, and immediately packed her bags, and arranged for the rest of her things to be sent to her flat. Now, I was under the impression that you were going to propose marriage to Eliza-"

"What?"

"Do not say 'What?' - Henry - say 'Pardon'."

"I will say what I jolly well like, I am a grown man after all!"

"Evidently not when it comes to her; Henry, does everyone know that you are in love with her but you?"

Henry was speechless. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, filled with a fear he had not experienced for decades, the last time being when he had been sent home from school for fighting when he was ten years old; a fear specific to when one knows one is caught.

"I asked her to by my secretary. It did not go well."

"'Secretary'? That was your plan to keep her?"

Henry did not answer. There had been moments when he had entertained the thought of solving the problem of Eliza with marriage. He thought on that the time before, when he thought her dead, and wanting nothing more than to express his wild joy when she wasn't by pulling her into his arms and kissing her, or by demanding to hear his given name on his lips. He had long given up on the hope that such a thing would happen...

Good god, she had called him 'Henry'.

The realization that he had had all before him, and that he had been completely blind to it staggered him.

Surprisingly, Eliza did not cut herself off from the Higgins' household, and had begun to visit Eleanor mere weeks after her flight. Henry was allowed to be present for those visits, although it took him a long time to actually bring himself to show up. The acute pain of missing both Jack and Eliza drove him to finally lose his resolve to avoid them. A chilly Eliza was better than no Eliza at all, and Jack's regard never seemed to waver.

They had gone on in this fashion for nearly three years, and the loss seemed to never lessen for Henry. If he had been a sentimental sort, he would have confessed to be 'dying of love' for her - alas, he was not as such, and could only profess to 'miss her greatly'.

He was devilishly happy that she had not yet joined the short hair club, as Clara had done. Most people found Clara's sleek black bob to be chic, but Henry only imagined that her exposed neck must grow very cold in the winter. He recalled overhearing Clara inquire as to why Eliza would not cut her hair, and the woman had replied that she was getting far too old to be a 'bright young thing'. He certainly hoped not. It was hard to imagine hard-working, painfully prim Eliza with that set; drinking until dawn and drunkenly roaming the streets on youthful treasure hunts. She had not thrown herself into the new world as Clara had - instead she focused on her small enterprise, and her son. Henry commended her for refraining from such silliness... privately, and never directly to her, of course.

Eliza caught him staring, and his face flushed with shame as he directed his gaze to the floor. If he were to let down his guard and humble himself before her, she would surely laugh in his face. He knew he had killed any regard she held for him, and the mere fact that there had been something on her part, and that he had overlooked it entirely, caused him no end of pain.

He suddenly wished that he could excuse himself from the party and return home, where he would bury himself in his work and forget about the little guttersnipe that got away.

Eliza had felt his gaze, and turned to meet it, curious if she had some sort of flaw that was offending him. For a moment, she observed his unguarded gaze. He seemed to be off in another time and place. Surely he was too young for senility! Finally, he noticed her noticing him, and she wondered at his red cheeks, and humiliated look.

"Thank you very much for the book, Uncle Henry!" Jack's voice chimed in, holding up a copy of Alexander Meville Bell's Sounds and Their Relations. Eliza wrinkled her nose at the book, thinking it far too advanced for a child still in infant school. Still, Jack was thrilled with any offering from the professor, and Eliza found herself grateful for his presence in her son's life, despite everything that had gone wrong between the two of them.

"You are very welcome, Young Jack."

"What a dry sort of gift, Higgins! Don't you know little boys want train sets, not phonetics books?" Pickering inquired, waving a hand at still-packaged model train set he had purchased for the boy.

"I like trains and learning, Granddad," Jack replied gravely. Eliza smiled fondly, pleased that her son had matured into a thoughtful young man, mindful of the feelings of others. There were times when he was so much like his father, that Eliza would have to excuse herself from his presence in order to weep silently, and alone.

"You show very good sense, my boy,"Pickering complimented.

The party died down shortly after dinner, and Eliza took a sleepy Jack back to the flat. On the way there, she wondered that no other children from school had come to the party. It seemed strange.

"It is a shame none of your friends were able to attend, darling."

Jack did not answer as they walked hand-in-hand, and the implication weighed in heavily. Eliza feared that the old rumours had followed her son into the schoolyard, and he was being ostracized for it. While her flower shop was figuratively blossoming, she could sense the judgement in each and every one of her patrons of the middle class persuasion.

"I am so sorry, my love. Perhaps next year -"

"I did not give out the invitations - I chucked them in the dustbin," Jack confessed.

"Whatever for?"

"I don't want any of them at my party. They said horrid things about you, Mum."

"Even Piers Stone?"

"He's a dullard."

No more was said on the subject of Jack's show of loyalty.