A Better Man
Chapter Twenty
A Party
"Absolutely not; I won't be seen in public in that."
Eyebrows shot up at Eliza's horrified comment, most notably the eclectic little designer whose shop Clara had taken the prudish woman too. All four foot and eleven inches of Elsie Hannon trembled with indignation. She may not have had a shop in a more chic district, but her patrons rarely reacted to her creations with such disgust.
"Elsie, darling - Eliza simply means that the hem is far too high for her." Clara explained, adding, "She's nearly thirty," in a conspiratorial whisper that earned a sharp look from Eliza.
"Hems are getting higher, Clara - It is simply the way things are!" Elsie explained, still irritated.
The gown was quite lovely, even Eliza could not argue with that. The underslip was made of a soft, silk-like fabric, and gold in hue, falling to about mid-calf. Over the slip was a see-through gown of black lace, embroidered in a floral pattern, with hints of metallic gold within the petals of the flowers. The neckline of the gown was boatnecked, which lent modesty to the plunging neckline of the underslip, and the sleeves were capped, leaving the arms bare, but for the black silk opera-length gloves that Elsie offered with the gown. The hem of the gown was uneven, the front falling just slightly below the hem of the slip, and the back nearly skimming the ankles. It was not the hem that caused concern for Eliza - no, she was almost sold on the creation until she chanced a look at the back. It was open straight down to the point where one's waist was at its' narrowest, right before the natural flare of ones' hips, where it was belted. The underslip had been modified to suit the cut of the gown, and the only thing Eliza could discern that held the top in place - besides the tiny, insubstantial sleeves- was a thin chain of gold running from one shoulder the the other.
"What ever would I wear underneath it?" Eliza inquired. Clara and Elsie's smothered giggled, and blushing faces provided the answer.
"Come now, Eliza - you cannot deny that it is a stunning dress."
"I cannot."
"And you have such a stunning figure - really, you could pull it off so nicely," Clara cajoled.
"So could the man she is trying to impress," Elsie added suggestively, causing Eliza's breath to catch in her throat, and her face to flare up in the most impressive blush.
"Elsie, hush! You must not embarass her so - she is not used to that sort of talk!"
This was untrue, Eliza had been subjected to 'that sort of talk' for most of her life, leading up to her transformation at the hands of Professor Higgins. However, she had never spoken thusly, even when she lacked the polish and graces that one thought of when the word 'lady' was spoken.
"I did not mean to insult your work, Miss Hannon - the gown really is stunning... absolutely gorgeous. Could you forgive an old prude?"
"Only if you purchase it, and do it justice."
"May I at least try it on first?"
Much later, Eliza was dressing in a guest room at Mrs. Higgins's home. Clara informed her that she would be getting ready at her own home, but promised to bring a guest with her to the party. Eliza supposed that it was a new beau by the mischevious way the younger girl's eyes sparkled. She sighed at the thought,and was more than a little jealous that Clara had time for such things.
Jack was being cared for by Rosemary that evening, and for the first time in a long while, Eliza allowed herself to be pampered and prepped by one of Mrs. Higgins's able maids, who happened to be adept at hair. Eliza's hair was piled artfully in a psyche knot, modernized slightly by having the front of the hair not styled out in a pompadour, but sleek and tight, with a few chic waves. A gold lame bandeau played nicely against the natural highlights in Eliza's hair, unadorned by the superfluous feathers and rhinestones that seemed signature amongst the fashionable elite nowadays.
Eliza admired herself in a full-length mirror, suprised to see the glamourous creature she had once had a nodding acquantaince with mere lifetimes ago. Being a mother and a budding entrepreneur left little room for glitz and glamour. Her clothing was never poor quality anymore, only a simple and more serviceable cut. Now, she felt as though she was ready for a night of smoke-filled rooms, and dancing, and -
She never realized how very shapely her legs were. Eliza impulsively did a conceited little twirl, and then struck a dramatic pose with one leg extended slightly, so that she could admire her nude stockings, and clever black satin heels. They were not terribly high, but the toes were dramatically pointed, and there were flirty black and gold rosettes on one side, where the straps met the buckles. The maid giggled at her vain little show, and Eliza found herself giggling as well.
"What silliness," Eliza sighed, pulling on her gloves. Her neck, earlobes, and right wrist were adorned with mock, gold painted pearls, provided by Clara. She hoped Professor Higgins would not laugh at her, or think her silly for dressing up like a silly, young thing.
Henry Higgins felt stifled in his evening coat. It was a silly birthday, after all - why did he have to torture himself so? He supposed he ought to humour his mother, she did love her fancy dress parties, especially now that the war was over and one could have them again. Still, he would have much rather come to the party in his trustworthy tweed.
Eliza was taking a devilish long time to get ready, he thought with some annoyance. Pickering had already had two pre-dinner drinks, and was talking animatedly with some of the female guests. How one be a confirmed bachelor, and still a shameless old flirt, Henry could not figure out for the life of him. The whole thing was almost -
His reverie was broken by the sight of Eliza entering the parlour, almost hesistant in her arrival, as though she had something to be ashamed of. He was suddenly aware of the fact that his drink was sloshing about in its' tumbler, due to a slight tremor in his hand. A heat rose to his cheeks, and he was positively fixated on her, all other inhabitants blurring into the background, so insignificant to him were they. She was remarkable, and not a day over nineteen in his eyes... no, that was not true. Motherhood and responsibility had lent an elegant wisdom to her form. He could not have taught and cajoled that air into her, she had done so all by herself. Suddenly, the other guests came into focus - the male ones, that is. Henry became painfully aware that he was not the only person stunned by her appearance, but he was the only one without the courage to approach her. She was soon flanked by gentlemen, like bees around the sweetest flower. He noticed his mother intervene on this possible breach of etiquette, and began introducing Eliza to them, one-by-one. All of them so's of her friends, and most of them middle-aged, with a few young ones in the mix. She greeted them all with her usual polite warmth, and suddenly her back was to Henry, and he found himself positively inflamed.
There it was. Shocking in its' nakedness, and all smooth ivory. What could she possibly be wearing beneath it? Henry nearly dropped his drink entirely when the answer came to him. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to sit down, anything to spare himself the humiliation of discovery. Not that anyone would be looking there of course, how absurd! Still, he spotted the nearest armchair and sat down upon it. His pulse quickened to a dizzying pace when she approached him.
"How do you do, Professor Higgins?" She greeted, her tone a mockery of the way it had sounded at Ascot, even gasping out the 'H' in 'Higgins'. She was giving him an odd half-smile, expectantly waiting for him to stand and greet her.
"Eliza," he managed, but did not stand up. He fervently prayed she would accept this as one of his personality quirks and move on - she did, but not without allowing her face to flicker with disappointment. His stomach lurched with dread - he did not want her angry with him, not when...
"Hullo everyone!" Came a sing-song voice from the entrance of the parlour. All eyes flew to Clara, who arrived on the arm of none other than Linton Pryce. Clara was a vision in mauve chiffon, contrasting dramatically with her fair skin, and black hair. She wore a matching headband across her forehead, with white feathers gracing one side. She spotted Eliza immediately, and dragged Linton across the room to greet her, holding out a white gloved hand to grasp one of Eliza's, nearly pulled the two face-to-face, with herself in the middle, petite and nearly unobtrusive. Henry glowered when Clara's eyes met his, rewarding his sour countenance with a sly grin.
"Mrs. Hill, you take my breath away." Linton greeted boldly, and Henry wanted more than anything to strike the man's head against the mantle repeatedly.
"Thank you, Mr. Pryce - How do you do?"
"Fantastic, now that I am seeing you."
Henry stood up, finally able to control his 'problem'. "Excuse me, Mrs. Hill, Miss Hill, and... I am sorry, I cannot remember your name for the life of me."
"Linton Pryce."
Henry fairly grunted in response, and stormed off to his mother's side of the room.
He overheard Eliza inquire about Mr. Pryce's engagement with the opera, and rolled his eyes when the man gave his excuse in the form of another vomit-inducing compliment. Henry found himself unable to tear his eyes away from their conversation, and was pleased to see that Eliza did not seem altogether comfortable in Mr. Pryce's presence. The dinner bell interrupted all conversation, and Henry was suddenly compelled to cross the room once more and approach Eliza.
"May I?" He offered his arm, and heard Eliza's astonished gasp, even though she tried to suppress it. He watched her visible battle between the prospect of turning him down or playing nice for his mother's sake. He could read every expression that played across her fine features, and was pleased when he saw the 'playing nice' option win out before she even linked her arm in his.
"Are you cold, Professor Higgins?" Eliza asked, as they walked towards the dining room.
Quite the opposite. "What a notion! Why on earth would I be?"
"You are trembling, it seems."
Henry inwardly cursed his traitorous body. Everything down to her scent was enticing him that evening, it would seem. His peripheral vision caught the sight of a male guest giving Eliza's bare back an appreciative gaze, and Henry shot the man a look that was dripping with venom and reproach.
"I could ask you the same question. Were you given a discount from your seamstress for her neglect in finishing your gown?" He was rewarded with a very unladylike elbow to the ribs.
"Be quiet, or I shall walk with Mr. Pryce."
"You say that as though it were a threat."
"Is he not?"
They arrived at the table, and nothing more was said as Henry gallantly pulled a chair out for her. Once she was settled, he found himself unable to resist leaning over so that his mouth nearly brushed her earlobe. "You are playing a very dangerous game, Eliza - Mr. Pryce is a well known ladies' man, and you would do well to avoid him." His intimate tone caused a Eliza to shiver slightly, despite the fact that he was giving her a warning, and not an endearment.
Dinner went off without a hitch. The company was friendly, and engaging. Henry even managed to converse without causing insult, although he wanted to very much when he found himself talking to Linton Pryce. He hated the way the man always seemed to catch Eliza's attention with some sort of stupid anecdote, even though he noted that most of her responses seemed to be more of the polite variety.
"My mother-in-law told me that she happened upon your Professor Higgins in the park with little Jack."
Eliza's eyes widened, and she looked to Henry for confirmation. He had not told her of the encounter, believing that such news would upset her. Henry nodded at Eliza's silent query.
"How astonishing," was Eliza's reply.
"She said she was very struck by how like -... that is, she was very touched by your young boy. I believe she would like to extend an olive branch in the future."
Eliza's smile was tight, and forced. "I daresay that would surprise me greatly."
Henry spoke up. "Dreadfully sorry about not bringing it up, Eliza - I didn't think the encounter was of any consequence, nor that it beared repeating."
"You did not have a conversation with her?" Eliza inquired, her tone an edgy one.
"No, I did not. Jack and I had a very busy schedule that day, and I did not want to deviate from it." Her expression softened, and Henry was relieved to note that she did not bear any anger towards him for the omission. That was a mercy.
After dinner, the men all retreated to the study for cigars and brandy.
"That young widow is quite fetching, what was her name? Mrs. Hill?"
"Yes, she is my mother-in-law's daughter-in-law. I have been trying to court her for ages... damned pretty thing."
Henry felt his anger rise at Linton Pryce's admission. However, it was nothing in comparison to what was said next.
"What say you, Higgins? I heard a rumour that you've sampled a bit of her. I am sure that frock brought back some fond memories." A man - younger than Eliza, enough to the point where he had been too young to serve in the Great War, and far into his cups to boot -. was the one who made the bold statement. "I could just imagine what I would see if I unlatched that clever little chain on the back of the thing and -"
Henry had not engaged in fisticuffs since his schoolyard days, but he did not hesitate to bring his fist against the boy's face, slamming it against his fine nose. Years of reserve, and longing came bubbling forth in a hot rage, roaring like a freight train in his ears, causing his vision to go red. He was suddenly held back by a strong grip on each arm.
"Steady, old man!" Pickering urged. Suprisingly, the other man holding him back was Linton Pryce.
"Get him out of my mother's house!" Henry raged. Two men of the boy's acquaintance rushed forward, and assisted their wounded friend to his feet, ushering him from Henry's presence. The room was deadly quiet until Eleanor Higgins came rushing in, followed by several curious ladies, one of which was Eliza.
"What on earth is going on in my home?" Eleanor demanded. "Why is William Perry being dragged from here with a bloodied nose like this is some sort of cheap pub?"
Henry found himself unable to make eye contact with his mother, and the confused look upon Eliza's face caused him to flush with shame, and suddenly he was quite sober.
"I-..." He could not finish his sentence. Wordlessly he fled, followed closely by Colonel Pickering, who was similiarly tight-lipped about the incident. The rest of the men could only cough nervously, and avoid eye contact with the ladies.
"I never!" Eleanor huffed, slamming the door shut on the study, and effectively ending her birthday party.