Eliza loved the outdoors in Autumn, especially when it gave her an escape from the veritable revolving door of callers to Mrs. Higgins' townhome. Battersea Park was walking distance, and contained the prettiest bit of wilderness in the entire city, in Eliza's estimation. As a child, she had often played around the great red trunk of the strawberry tree,and pretended she was a lost princess in a fairy story, though sometimes she preferred playing a gallant knight, ready to slay the great red dragon. As a grown woman, the sprawling landscape provided an ideal place to study while the weather stayed pleasant.
She was about a fortnight into her stay with Mrs. Higgins, and while the woman was all loveliness, and grace, Eliza found the home to be almost hospital-like in both order and cleanliness. Mrs. Higgins possessed both a great love for company, and a great fear of germs, and there always seemed to be a member of the household staff ready to wipe down the odd surface in order to please the discerning eye and banish the lurking bugs – vases bursting with honeysuckle, lavender, and peonies did their best to mask the underlying antiseptic scent of vinegar. Between the visitors, and the elegant sterility, Eliza could see how Henry (which he insisted she call him, now that they had leapt over that invisible line - calling him 'Professor' made him queasy in a way he had been unable to fully explain to her) would rebel and revel in a home that was both lived in and solitary. She found herself aching for her previous situation in more ways than one.
Eliza mused on her situation, as she smoothed the lumps in her flannel picnic blanket. She had found a perfectly lovely bit of earth on the edge of a wooded area, where she could study for exams, and finally try out the bird field guide Pickering had given her on her past birthday. Bird identification was a passion for the Colonel, and he had been completely bowled over when she had shown interest during a walk around Paddington Square Park, early in . Sufficiently comfortable, she pulled several texts from her little wicker basket, as well as a cheese sandwich, and a plump red apple. All was peaceful, save for a raucous pack of children playing pirates on the wooded path, several yards away.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman who appears wholly occupied and alone, must be in want of unsolicited attention – or, that is what Eliza imagined the approaching young man must have been thinking as he plopped himself down onto her blanket, just as she had been observing a charming goldfinch hopping along the grass nearby. The boy appeared to be about seventeen, all long limbs, elbows, and an air of importance that matched his tailored attire. He blew a strand of sandy-blonde hair from his eyes, and grinned.
"How d'you do?"
Eliza snapped closed her field guide with a sigh. She gave the boy a faint smile that did not reach her eyes, and completely ignored his extended hand.
"How do you do?" She echoed. Eliza hoped the iciness of her countenance would scare him off. She had little patience for youthful impudence.
"My name is Bruce Corden, what's yours?"
Eliza squared her shoulders, and looked down her nose as Mr. Corden stretched onto his side, letting the toe of one boot graze her geometry textbook. Disregard for books, even a book that contained vile equations, was too much for Eliza.
"I am not in the habit of giving my name to people outside of my acquaintance."
Mr. Corden whistled low at her dismissal, but did not budge from his spot. Eliza bit back the urge to kick him in the face.
"I don't see how you'd meet anyone new with that attitude. Come now, a few chaps are going to be renting rowboats with some other girls in a bit-"
"Bully for you," Eliza interjected.
"Yeah, except I'm the only one not paired off."
"Condolences."
Bruce pulled himself to a sitting position, as he chuckled at her refusal.
"Come now, old girl, it'll be great fun. We've even got a bit of the sauce; ever get kaylied up on a rowboat?"
Eliza had been around the older set too long, and some of the more youthful slang was beginning to slip from her lexicon – her brow furrowed as she sought clarity, despite ultimately wanting to end the conversation entirely:
"Kaylied up? Do you mean drinking?" Her nose wrinkled with disgust, when he informed her that she had gotten it right in one.
"Sounds like a crashing bore," she replied, before opening her book once more. When the boy snatched the book from her hand, she lost all reasonable patience.
"Ain't ya got ears, Charlie? I told you to bugger off!" She thundered, as her genteel mask dropped entirely. She reclaimed her book, and smacked him on the side of the head with it. The message was received loud and clear, and Bruce Corden scampered off.
Eliza steadied her breathing, and opened her book once more. She was only able to find her previous page, before her attention was pulled by a light tap on the shoulder. She turned to see three bedraggled children - one boy, and two girls - who appeared to be about seven years of age, staring at her in wonder.
"Yes?" Her inquiry was gentle, because Eliza had a soft spot for children. She keenly remembered her own youth, and how she would have liked to have been treated by the adults charged with caring for her, and it made her mindful, during the rare interactions she encountered as a grown up.
"Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am," the boy began, as he took of his little wool cap out of deference, revealing a mop of raven hair "but are ya an actress?"
Eliza smiled and shook her head.
One of the little girls - a skinny little thing with a cloud of tow-headed blonde curls - spoke next:
"Well 'ow ya do it, then?"
"How do I…?"
"Speak so fine, and look so nice, when ya…" the other little girl - dark haired and hollow cheeked, like the boy - trailed off. Eliza caught on.
"Well, would you believe I didn't start out looking and talking fine? I was taught to speak this way, so I could better myself. Much like you better yourself by attending school."
The trio shared a guilty expression, and Eliza recalled that this was the time of year, and time of day where children were usually in the classroom.
"Oh dear."
""Oo are ya, anyway – The truant officer?" The boy asked, defensively.
"No, I'm Eliza Doolittle. Who are you?"
"I'm Kenny." He pointed to the dark-haired girl, "That's Rosie, me sister."
"And I'm Judith," the blonde added.
Eliza set her book aside and swept an inviting hand over the blanket.
"Kenny, Rosie, Judith - won't you sit down?"
They accepted the invitation without hesitation.
"Now then, why aren't you three in school?"
Judith scoffed. "Because it's dead borin', and the coal stove broke, so they ain't able to cook our lunch potatoes."
"They told us to leave t'find food at home, but there ain't no lunchtime food at home." Rosie added. "It ain't easy to learn on an empty stomach."
Eliza nodded, understanding their positions all too well.
"But it's quite easy to play pretend on an empty stomach."
Kenny nodded vigorously at her show of understanding. Eliza hummed and plucked a knife from the picnic basket – she divided the apple into quarters, and did the same for the sandwich.
"I don't suppose you'd agree to return to school if I shared my luncheon with you?"
"Could you frow in a quick talkin' lesson?" Kenny negotiated. He shot a glance at the girls, who were eyeing up the food with wide eyes. "These two always be wantin' to play Bucking'am Palace, but it ain't no fun when we can't sound like toffs."
"Certainly," Eliza agreed. "But do eat first."
Ultimately, Eliza could not bring herself to eat her portion of the meal, and ended up further dividing the sandwich and apple, ignoring the polite protests of Kenny, who was playing the gallant in face of Eliza's decency. The children were quick studies, and by the end of lunch, their haitches were firmly in place. Kenny insisted Eliza was entitled to compensation, and she became the proud owner of a jack, a bit of green ribbon, and a piece of black licorice.
"Miss Doolittle, will ya be h ere tomorrow?" Rosie inquired.
"If the weather is pleasant. I have lessons in the morning, but I like to do my studying outdoors."
Judith gasped at Eliza's reply.
"Blimey, yer in school too?"
Eliza nodded.
"In a manner of speaking – I like to keep learning, and I loved school when I was your age."
Kenny whistled at her confession.
"Jesus wept, I don' think I could keep learnin' clear into old age!"
Eliza laughed at this, despite herself. She found his honesty to be absolutely charming, despite it being mildly insulting.
"I don't think anyone ever stops learning, if they pay attention to what's around them."
"Too right, Miss Doolittle," Kenny agreed. "Well, goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Henry had hoped to find Eliza at home with his mother – instead he found a drawing room filled with silver-haired bores, and word that the woman had fled with a picnic basket towards Battersea Park. He fully understood her reasoning, but it was still irritating to not find people in the places he expected them to be. Also, the park was enormous. He searched a bit, and was determined to only search a few minutes more before returning to his own home - he'd rather perish than wait it out with his mother's chums - when a trio of scamps nearly ran him down as headed towards a wooded area.
"Impudence!" he growled after the three. The boy turned to Henry without stopping, and threw up a two finger salute, before continuing after the two little girls who accompanied him. Henry glared over his shoulder as he continued forward, before he tripped over a picnic basket and nearly hit the ground. He righted himself, and then looked down, ready to give a curt apology to the owner. Eliza smiled up at him, amusement setting her eyes to twinkle.
"Oi, watch out, you!" She teased, as he settled onto the blanket next to her. She cut a pretty figure on her claret colored wool dress, with an accordion pleated skirt that fanned out across the blanket, and Henry took a long moment to appreciate her.
"I was nearly accosted by ruffians," he finally complained as she plucked a piece of fluff from the front of his coat. His attention fell to the curious assortment of nonsense at Eliza's side.
"Where on earth did you get those trinkets? Have you been feeding the crows again?" He opened the picnic basket and groaned when he saw it only contained books and crumb speckled wax paper.
"No, just the ruffians – really, Henry they're just children."
It gave Henry no end of pleasure, to hear her speak his name. Despite their scorching interlude in the library several weeks ago, the pair had not seen much of one another… not without a chaperone. Eliza still helped with lessons on the odd day, but Pickering - perhaps under instruction from Henry's mother - had kept a cool watch on the pair. There certainly had not been any more breaches of decency, at least not outside of his dreams. He missed her desperately, though he'd go to the devil before admitting it.
"So they charmed your lunch clear from your hands, eh?" Henry teased, after Eliza had a chance to explain her extraordinary afternoon, as they strolled through the woods, arm-in-arm. Henry had been tasked with carrying the picnic basket.
"And they shall again tomorrow. I promised them quite faithfully."
"Next they'll be taking your pin money."
Eliza halted, and by the stormy expression on her face, Henry knew he had erred. His mind raced to find the best way to extinguish the potential tempest before he drowned.
"Why, because they're poor?" Her inquiry was low and dangerous.
"Not at all, darling." he inwardly cringed at himself for using an endearment, but noted that it shifted Eliza's expression from outrage to puzzlement. "I was merely implying that you are tenderhearted, and children are grasping by nature. I've only had experience with well-off children, though."
Eliza shrugged, and allowed him to continue leading her about the wilderness. Relief washed over Henry, grateful that he had managed to sidestep a semi-public row. A companionable silence washed over them as they strolled, and he marveled at how downright lovely it was to spend time with someone, and not feel pressured to keep up a stream of conversation. It was rather like pulling on a familiar jumper.
Eventually, they found their way to the pond, where the peaceful silence was broken by the raucous sound of youthful exuberance. Eliza paused, and glanced across the pond – Henry did the same. There were three rowboats in the middle of the water; all three were rocking perilously about as the occupants - three men, three women - stood and yelled incoherent things at one another, laughing as they did so.
"Ah, I see he found his partner," Eliza remarked as she rolled her eyes at the foolishness.
"Beg pardon?" That she recognized anyone from the group was astonishing. They didn't appear to be related to any of his mother's friends, and despite outward appearances, Henry did pay attention to those kinds of details.
"Oh, one of those silly chaps asked if I wanted to drink and row a boat. I scared him off."
Henry chuckled lightly, but found himself lost in a faintly guilty feeling that wrapped its way around his brain; Eliza was a young person surrounded by not-so-young people. He wondered if in another life, under different circumstances, might have been more keen to join such a revelry. He personally found their antics distasteful, and stupid… but she was young, so much younger than he was.
"Which silly chap was it?" He found himself asking, as the old, cold feeling of insecurity traveled up his throat. When Eliza pointed out the obnoxious, floppy-haired blonde fellow who was just about to dive into the pond after a straw boater hat, Henry felt the ugly feeling begin to wane. Goodness, he thought, that boy was undoubtedly still in the schoolroom.
"Oh, that infant," Henry sneered. "Are you sure you don't want to - what was it the young people are saying? - get Chelsea-ed up?"
"Kaylied up, actually – and no thank you." Eliza tugged at his arm and they walked on.
"Come now, Eliza; you're young enough… don't you ever yearn to engage in a little bit of youthful indiscretion?" Henry needled.
Eliza looked up at him with a saucy grin.
"Presently? Only if it's with you."
His ears burned at the confession, and his mind traveled back to their moment in the library, conjuring the feeling of her lips, soft and pliant against his own, and her curves, as they pressed against him. That early morning had been a tentative, shy exploration that quickly turned hungry and desperate when she boldly walked them back to the sofa, and straddled his lap. The pattering sound of footsteps in the hallway had forced them to part, panting and disheveled. With a final, bruising kiss, Henry had quickly excused himself to his room where he could take the situation in hand, so to speak.
Until Eliza's little remark, the incident had never been even alluded to, and Henry sometimes wondered if it had been a fluke.
"What?"
Instead of offering clarity, Eliza pulled him back towards the woods. They followed a winding path for several minutes, until she led him off path, and into the unknown. Henry cursed sharply as he stumbled over a twisting root that had been camouflaged by the orange and red leaves that had just begun to blanket the ground. Eliza giggled an apology, and finally paused their journey when they came upon a small clearing. The surrounding trees were thick and twisting towards the sky, nearly blotting out the sun, and completely obscuring the path behind them. The silence would have been eerie, if it hadn't been for the trilling sound of the–
"Waxwing," Eliza stated in awe, before she turned to Henry. "They kind of sound like a sigh, you know."
Henry dropped the picnic basket, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a cross expression darkening his features.
"Did I almost shatter my ankle traipsing through this… this jungle just so you can identify birds? This is your youthful indiscretion? I think I'm becoming a bit concerned with how much time you're spending with Pick – he's becoming a deuced bad influence!"
"Quiet you," Eliza shot back before she closed the distance between them, and gently placed her hands against his chest. He inwardly cursed himself for a weak man when his hands were resting on the curve of her hips almost immediately after her first move. Eliza's hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, which she used to anchor herself as she leaned up and brushed her lips against his in a brief glance of a kiss. She pulled back immediately, and her wide eyes appeared to be searching his face for some sign or blessing.
"Eliza you… you're looking very pretty today," he remarked, rather awkwardly. He suddenly wished he was better at this, that he had taken the time to sow his wild oats in his youth in order to gain the experience he needed to court and romance this remarkable woman in the way she deserved.
"I've missed you," Eliza confessed, her gaze falling to his lips. A year ago, Henry would have laughed off such an open, and earnest bit of soul-baring – he probably would have laid down a scorcher of an insult once the initial absurdity of the statement wore off. A year ago, yes, but now…
"What a silly thing to say, you were only just visiting yesterday." Henry quickly realized his error when Eliza's hands fell back to his chest and gave him a shove; she plucked up the basket and began to stomp away towards the path. He hurried after her, the same damn root catching his ankle before he could catch up.
"Wait, stop! Eliza… - damn you I'm sorry!"
Eliza paused, but kept her back to him as he stumbled forward, and eventually caught up. He stood behind her and brought his hands up to massage her shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. She kept her back to him, her entire body tense and icy.
"I'm terrible at this, you know." He confessed, softly, before he brought his hands down and forward, pulling her into an embrace. She did not struggle against this overture, but instead turned and relaxed in his arms, the basket hitting the ground with a thud and a rustle. Eliza's short, chestnut curls smelled vaguely of the peonies and autumn leaves. Sweetness and earthiness.
"I'm a bit of a novice myself," she murmured against his chest. Henry peppered her forehead with kisses, before she tilted her face, to allow their lips to meet. The madness from the library overpowered him once more, and something feral was unleashed in him as he deepened their kiss, and slide his hands down to her firm soft moan that escaped her mouth as their tongues briefly caressed sent a bolt of heat straight to his loins, and he pulled away with a nervous burst of laughter. He needed to feather the brakes, before they ended up rutting on the ground like a pair of wayward youths..
"Forgive me?" Henry asked, before picking up the picnic basket, and holding it in front of his trousers.
Eliza shrugged as she smoothed her hair, and straightened her skirt.
"What for?" She inquired innocently. Henry offered his arm and she took it. She was trembling ever-so-slightly, which gratified him for some strange reason. They said nothing more as he led her back to the footpath.
They were a block away from Henry's mother's home when he finally spoke:
"It's too damn quiet at home without you. I don't like it at all."
Eliza squeezed his arm, and rested her head against his arm in response. It was a risky public display, but Henry didn't dare discourage it. Two grave offenses towards Eliza, and her romantic sensibilities were more than enough. He suddenly remembered what was waiting in the front pocket of his coat. He paused and turned to her:
"Now, this isn't a proposal or anything, I just thought you might want it back." He pulled a small pearl ring with a delicate, gold band from his front pocket, and held it up in front of her.
"My ring." Eliza murmured softly, as she allowed Henry to slide the ring on the third finger of her right hand.
"You rescued it from the hearth."
"Perhaps Mrs. Pearce did," Eliza teased as she lifted her hand towards the sunlight, and gave the ring an admiring little smile.
"Hush, you sly thing."
Eliza turned to him with a serious expression.
"But it's not a proposal? Because I've been very clear about my-"
"Yes, yes, I know; you're an independent woman on a quest for knowledge… you only mention it every ten minutes in my presence."
"Too right."