I decided to pick up the pen once more. I think this will be the last piece I write on this topic. It won't be a one-shot but I don't know how long it will be. I wrote my first piece following in the example of 'Shy', but since that has now been finished, I decided I should write my own thoughts on what immediately happens after My Fair Lady ends, a gap that I have in my own story 'Let a Woman In Your Life.' The title of this comes from a Wendell Berry poem I read some years back, which is clearly anachronistic, but serves my purpose well.

Higgins sat in his armchair listening to the scratched record of her voice. Static crackled and popped from the mouth of the bronze phonograph. Strange that the voice that had once seemed like nails on a chalkboard now comforted him like a blanket. He thought of how the warmth in her eyes turned to cold steel as he professed that he enjoyed her strength of character and implored her to stay with him. He heard the click of her heels as she turned her back on him and marched away from him. And he felt the distance between them grow further until the door of his mother's house slammed and his was alone. That statue he had created had came full force with joie de vivre, as angry blood pumped through her veins. And she had lashed out at him. At first he was so angry, an anger that no woman had ever evoked from him, then the closer he came to home he panicked at the notion that his home would be sans Eliza.

She was going to marry Freddy Eynsford-Hill, that snide and pompous wallflower who would wilt in the mere presence of his consort battleship, Eliza. His battleship, he thought briefly for a moment. He thought of her presence and how he had grown so used to her as his shadow and all her idiosyncrasies; the way she poured her tea, her footsteps and the way her gowns would rustle slightly as she moved. And then he thought of her in that sniveling Eynsford-Hill boy's arms as he muddled through metered verses in her ears and Henry felt something not quite anger and not quite sadness fill his heart. The record was almost finished and he realized he had so little of her left.

'Damn stupid girl.' He muttered to himself.

Then there was a click.

"I washed my face and hands before I came, I did." The voice of a lady picked up where the sounds of a guttersnipe had finished.

He maintained composure and attempted to catch a reflection of her in the glass panes of the window, but to no avail. He could not turn around. Had this been a great play or an opera, he would have turned to her and grabbed her in his arms and pressed his lips against hers. But this was not his way. Henry Higgins had never made a spectacle of himself to any woman. Instead he stiffened his posture defensively and lowered his hat around his hopeful eyes and posed a half-hearted question about the location of his slippers, when he knew exactly where they were.

He held his breath for a sign that she was really there in the silence. Then her heard a step in his direction and the rustle of her gown. He exhaled softly. There was still no answer but he heard more steps as she crept towards him and he inhaled the fragrance from the rose scented soap she used. He waited, unable to bring himself to peek from under the brim of his hat, for what seemed like several moments before she answered.

"I do not know." He heard what sounded like tears in her voice.

He paused, forgetting what he had previously asked. "Beg your pardon?"

"I do not know where your slippers are. You took them upstairs last night, after... our words." Eliza maintained composure.

He felt her sit down on the ottoman next to him. And he exhaled again. He finally took off his hat and stared at her face. There were, indeed, tears welling in her eyes. Unsure of how to proceed, he silently wished she would leave him so that he could compose himself. Higgins was not used to being caught at any vulnerable time in his life. Come to think of it, had he ever been vulnerable before? He would have excused himself, but he was worried she might leave again, so he was compelled to sit there in awkward silence until she spoke again.

"May I come home? I have called off my engagement with Mr. Eynsford-Hill and do not have anywhere else to go."

"What about your father?" Higgins spoke and instantly regretted it.

Eliza laughed and said with Cockney inflection. "My father...is an arse."

The swear word from her demure lips made Higgins chuckle. "Well that is the most reasonable thing you've said all day. Well, your room is still vacant and though you've inconvenienced me most gravely today, I suppose you might come home." He spoke the last word with so much emphasis that Eliza smiled.

"Thank you." She mouthed with tears brimming in her eyes. In spite of herself she reached over and touched Higgins's hand briefly. He averted his eyes and muttered something about being sleepy under his breath.

She stood up and began to leave the room when he called her. "Eliza?"

"Yes?"

"I suppose I should give you some sort of socially acceptable reason for continuing to stay with me...some sort of title. It would make my mother happy, indeed."

Eliza's mouth began to drop open in shock, but Henry snapped his fingers.

"Ingenious. I need an organiser, a secretary, if you will. Very well. That is your title. I will pay you of course and you will have your room and board. That settles it. Fifteen pounds a week is your salary and you will start bright and early tomorrow morning. I'm advising some members of the French embassy tomorrow. You can take notes for me."

And with that, Higgins exited with gusto leaving a very disappointed Eliza in the door of the study. She stood for a moment and then collected her thoughts. She had thought that perhaps... She stopped herself from thinking. She was home with her professor and even though his feeling might be strictly platonic, he was hers. And she would rather be miserable with him than miserable without him.

Sighing, she went upstairs to her room and began unpacking her things.