A Better Man

Chapter Twenty Two

The Ballet

Author's note: Sorry about the delay... again. I've been going through a move. Unfortunately, there might be another delay as I have to rely on using my roommate's computer to write and they need it primarily for school. However, I should have my very own laptop by January! ... I will try to update before then, though.

PS: Have fun spotting the slightly altered quote from "Gigi"! :)

"What are you going to wear?" Clara inquired from behind her fashion periodical. She was sprawled on her stomach on Eliza's bed, kicking up her stockinged legs in a childish gesture. Eliza was seated at her vanity table in a robe, brushing through her long dark hair. She pointed across the room to a chair where the gown from Eleanor's birthday party waited.

"That."

"Oh."

Eliza set down her brush, and turned to the girl, who was still browsing obliviously.

"Oh?"

Clara looked up and gave Eliza a contrite smile before setting down the periodical and pulling herself into a sitting position, smoothing over her skirt.

"Well, darling, he's seen you in that, hasn't he?"

Eliza nodded, frowning. "Yes, he has, what of it?"

Clara shrugged, picking off an invisible piece of lint from her skirt. "Oh, the old thing is lovely, of course-"

"'Old Thing'? Clara, I've only just purchased it!"

"Yes you did. It's a very lovely, daring gown and the professor was quite enchanted by it I am sure. However, he's used to seeing you in it, isn't he?"

"I daresay he's seen me in a great deal of gowns several times, I don't exactly have a grand wardrobe."

Clara got up from the bed and approached Eliza, taking up the brush and running it through Eliza's hair with a gentle expertise. "Oh, I know darling. Perhaps it does not matter."

"Why wouldn't it matter?"

Clara shrugged, and sighed. "Oh, he's such a stodgy old fellow. I am sure he wouldn't even pay attention to such things, buried in Academia the way he is."

Eliza turned her head in a violent gesture that caused the brush to catch and tear at her hair, bringing tears to the corners of her angry eyes.

"Stodgy? You can leave right now if you are going to slander him!"

A grin lit across Clara's features as she stepped back from Eliza's rage.

"Can I not? It was all quite fashionable for you to do so not so very long ago- what has changed?"

"I lo-..." Eliza stopped herself, and covered her mouth in horror at the words that nearly tumbled out.

Clara threw down the brush with a cry of joy, and pointed an accusatory finger at Eliza. Her expression screamed 'I Have You Now!'.

"Aha! There it is!"

Eliza picked up the brush from the floor and turned back to the looking-glass, attacking her hair with vehemence, a very put-out expression on her face.

"I can't imagine what you mean."

Clara burst out into giggle, and wrapped her arms about Eliza from behind, resting her head on the angry woman's shoulder.

"Oh, how quick you are to anger! Don't be ashamed, Eliza... I knew it all along."

"Knew what?"

"Why - that you loved Professor Higgins of course!"

"Don't hug me so tight, Clara, I can't breath."

Clara pulled away, still grinning. "You silly goose! What fun you are to tease! I am sure Professor Higgins absolutely adores baiting you."

"He revels in it."

Once Eliza calmed down a bit more, Clara finished placing her hair into a charming chignon, decorated with a crimson silk band.

"Now, stay here for a moment, and do not put that dress on. I will be return shortly," Clara instructed, before leaving Eliza alone to her thoughts. So she loved Professor Higgins.

"How shocking," Eliza murmured, dabbing a bit of perfume behind her earlobes.

Clara returned twenty minutes later, bearing a garment bag, and a jewelry box. The jewels were small diamond studs, and a diamond choker reminiscent of the one she had worn at the embassy ball, albeit less elaborate. Eliza raised an eyebrow at the finery, sending Clara an inquiring look.

"Oh, it was just a trifle from some dull prince I was chummy with."

"Was he a great prince?"

"No, a little one. Great princes do not give very large stones."

"Why not?"

"In my opinion it's because they don't feel they have to."

Eliza blushed. Clara lived a much more colorful life than Eliza could ever conceive of.

The gown was lovely, and of a simpler cut than the one Eliza was planning on wearing. It was crimson silk, like the band in her hair. The neckline plunged into a daring 'V', as did the back. The sleeves were non-existent, instead the gown tied at each shoulder, and was accented with matching rhinestone roses. The gown was fitted slightly from below the bodice to the hips, where the skirt flared out and fell to just below the knee. Clara provided matching mary jane heels, with the same rhinestone roses at the buckles. Eliza marvelled at her friend's resourcefulness.

"You are made for fashion, Eliza. It's a shame you won't let me bob your hair..."

Eliza smiled at Clara. "It would be more convenient, to be sure, but I just can't bring myself to part with it."

"Mummy! Uncle Henry is here and he looks like a real toff!" Jack's boisterous announcement filled the air. Clara gave Eliza an astonished glance.

"Dad paid one of his rare visits the other day, and Jack's vocabulary hasn't recovered since."

"Ah... well, shall we go greet your stodgy old professor?"

Eliza blushed. "Yes."

Henry gently scolded Jack for the boy's use of slang, and ruffled his hair. The sound of Eliza's bedroom door opening pulled his attention in her direction and he was stunned with what he saw. True, the dress at his mother's party had been of a much more daring cut, but this... he had never seen her in crimson. Such a shade never failed to engage the mind of every unsuspecting male that came across it. The way the silk whispered and danced across her curves, and the realization that once again she could hardly be wearing anything substantial beneath the gown...

"Uncle Henry, your face has gone all red!"

"Only because your mother keeps this flat like a furnace... h-hello, Eliza."

"Hello, Professor Higgins."

His name on her lips affected him like the most exquisitely composed symphony. Damn! He was becoming foolish in his old age. He was vaguely aware that Jack was trying to shove a cloak in his hands. Snapping himself out of his reverie, Henry took it from the boy and held it open for Eliza. She was his for the night. His.

Eliza smiled before approaching him and allowing him to place the cloak about her shoulders, and Henry wondered if one could suffer a heart attack from such a sight. Impulsively, he leaned forward and whispered in a voice he knew only she could hear, "You look lovely."

She blushed to the very tips of her ears, a sight Henry found damned irresistable.

After saying their goodbyes' to Jack and Clara, Henry offered his arm to Eliza, and led her out into the night.

The taxi ride to the theatre was made in companionable silence. Henry thought he felt Eliza make a few tenative glances in his direction, and he tried desperately to catch her eye. She resisted, shy as a butterfly. He looked down at their gloved hands, so close that a pen would scarcely have room to set between the two. The slightest twitch of his pinky would bring him close enough to caress her own. His hands trembled from the effort to resist doing just that. God in heaven, she smelled divine!

Quit becoming everything you hate, you goat!

The taxi came to a halt in front of the theatre, and the pair was ushered out into the chilly air. Eliza held Henry's arm a little tighter, as though to steal his warmth.

He was not at all invested in the ballet. Not only did he find the art a bit dull, despised 'Giselle', he was also distracted by the pleasure of watching Eliza's reaction to it. He realized that he and Pickering had never taken her to the theatre, and that she had not had the money, nor the opportunity when married to Freddy. He was witnessing a first, and it was endlessly entertaining.

Eliza refused to hide her enthusiasm at the show before her. Everything she found thrilling was punctuated with a romantic sigh, or a gasp. Henry found himself shooting glares at the nearby entreaties for her to contain herself. Let them hiss at her for silence at their own peril.

Henry nearly jumped out of his chair when Eliza's hand shot out to grasp his. Her face was ashen and tearful, and he was tempted to ask what ailed her, until he noticed that their was a death scene being portrayed on the stage. She really was a tender thing.

Regrettably, the ballet ended, and Henry was faced with the unhappy task of returning her to her flat.

"Why don't we walk, Professor?" Eliza asked, as they waited for a taxi.

"Walk? It's damned cold out, woman."

Eliza smiled, and tilted her head to one side. "Ah suppose it would be cold to a toff like you, sir," she teased in her old way.

"Filthy little guttersnipe," he replied with a laugh.

"Ah washed me face and 'and 'fore I come, I did." At that, the mood became tense. Henry was struck with the memory of all the nights he spent listening to that very phrase on the phonograph. He coughed, and averted his eyes, unwilling to let her see the hurt within them.

"It's damned cold, Eliza."

"Professor?" She had sensed it. Of course she did. Clever girl.

"Here comes a taxi, now."

He felt her hand on his shoulder, and his first instinct was to shrug her off. He resisted, and instead hesitantly turned to face her.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Her eyes were large and pleading.

His resolve to wait for the 'right' moment was beginning to fail.

"We've missed the taxi."

"Hang the taxi, Professor! What is the matter?"

A couple passing by gasped upon overhearing Eliza's abuse of the english tongue.

"Oh for heavens sake, move along!" Henry shouted at them, causing them to flee. He turned back to Eliza. "I should have thought it obvious by now."

"Pardon me?"

"'The Matter' is you, you stupid girl!"

Eliza gasped angrily, and turned from him in order to make a retreat. Henry grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Their noses nearly collided from the force of his pull. "Don't run from me, Eliza. Not anymore."

"I won't be insulted by you after I've shown concern for your well-being!"

"Hang your concern, I don't want it." He spat back, releasing her.

Eliza took a few steps back raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and what is it you want?"

Henry looked around to ensure the street was deserted, or at the very least, there were no interested parties watching. He stepped foward so that they were in close proximity once more.

"You."