Pygmalion Revisited - Part One free porn video

Pygmalion Revisited - Part One By Christine Myles The leaden clouds had lowered and darkened since midday, and finally, around four in the afternoon, the skies opened and a torrential London rain, the wettest in the world, began to fall. Within minutes the cobbled streets ran with streams of muddy water, through which the horses and carriages splashed, and pedestrians ran for whatever shelter was available. Beneath an awning outside one of the many shops lining Piccadilly Circus, a crowd had gathered. As the rain thickened, two gentlemen appeared at the run, clutching umbrellas, and joined the throng. To look at, but not just to look at, they appeared a study in contrasts. Both were middle-aged, but one was tall, lanky and clean- shaven, wearing a frock coat and top hat, while the other was shorter and slightly rotund, with a bushy mustache, wearing a pea coat of military cut, and a bowler hat. "I say, Higgins!" the shorter of the two exclaimed as they sought a clear space in the crush, "We'll have the devil of a time hailing a cab in this muck!" "To be sure, Pickering," the other replied amiably, "We must reconcile ourselves to waiting here for a time. We can continue our conversation!" "No need." the other declared, "Higgins, I believe I have made my point adequately already. You're wasting your talents! A man of your education and skill should be conducting research! You should be writing learned papers, not spending your time cosseting these... these social climbers, who seem to make up the greater share of your clientele! Why, you said it yourself. These ing?nues with ideas above their station will be the death of the class system that has been the foundation of the very fabric of our society! The ideals that we have held sacred since the British Empire was established are at risk!" "Pickering, as usual you overstate your case. My clients seek merely to better themselves... to better suit themselves to the high-society to which all aspire. Times are changing, my friend. It is true that the class system is under siege. But, we must ask ourselves, is this not a good thing? Who can fault someone for wanting to improve their station in life, and if I can provide such a service, why should I deny them the benefits of my training and experience?" As they spoke, the crowd around them thickened and the rain showed no sign of letting up. Some yards to their left, against an ornate pillar that supported the roof under which they stood, a ragged flower seller hawked her wares. "Fla'hs!" she cried in a broad cockney accent, "Pretty fla'hs! Only ha'penny!" Spying the pair and marking them as gentlemen, she approached, proffering a bunch of rather wilted begonias and carnations. "Boo-kay o' fla'hs, gen'lmen?" she asked loudly, "Pretty fla'hs for your ladies?" "Thank you," replied Pickering, "my good woman. But no." "'Ow about you, your worship?" she asked, turning to Higgins. "Thank you, no," he responded, "I have all the flowers I require." Disappointed, she turned away, then spotted other possible customers in the crowd and hastened toward them, crying, "Fla'hs! Pretty fla'hs!" "Pickering," Higgins went on, "I can take someone, anyone, I believe, even such a one as our young flower seller there, and in a few short months of training at my hand, turn them into a lady fit to sup with the queen! There are many who, simply by a misfortune of birth and upbringing, lack the... how shall I say it? the social graces, the language, the bearing, to comport themselves in polite society. But why? Why should they be ever denied the company of their betters, merely because of an accident of circumstance?" "Higgins, you come perilously close to blasphemy, and you of course have just answered your own question. ?Their betters!' You said it yourself. Nonetheless, I discern your heart is in the right place." "It is indeed, Pickering!" Higgins replied, becoming excited, "I can provide all of the niceties, all of the skills of deportment, carriage and voice. With the aid of Miss Deverel I can impart the finer points of dress and fashion, and provide them with a stock of agreeable, inoffensive conversation besides. They leave my care fully equipped to enter a social stratum of which they previously could only dream of attaining. "Take our young flower seller there," he went on, nodding in her direction as she wove in and out of the crowd, still proffering the same bunch of dilapidated blossoms, "Even she would not be beyond my skills, I'll wager." A mellifluous voice sounded behind them and they turned to behold a young street urchin presenting before him an armful of sodden newspapers. "Extra, extra!" he called, "Ripper strikes again in Whitechapel! Read all aba't it!" "Did I hear you say ?wager', Higgins?" Pickering asked, his eyes lighting up. "Ah, you never could resist a game of chance, could you, my old friend!" "My military background, I fear," responded Pickering, wagging his head ruefully, "Nonetheless! Were you serious about a wager?" "Well..." Higgins pondered, "Yes! I say! Why not? Why not indeed! I'll wager that I can take anyone, I'll leave the choice up to you, and in... let us say, four months, turn them into such a lady that one might well mistake her for a princess. The sharpest eye and the keenest ear would be deceived!" "My choice, you say? And the bet?" asked the other. "Fifty pounds, no, fifty guineas, by Jove!" exclaimed Higgins, warming to the idea. "Fifty guineas, Higgins! That is a princely sum! Or should I say, ?a princessly sum!'" "That is the wager. Do you accept?" The other paused. "How shall we decide upon the success or failure of our venture?" he asked. Higgins mused for a few moments, then, "I have it! By George, Lord and Lady Upton's annual ball! We are both invited. I shall bring our prot?g?e along as my guest, and we shall see if she passes the scrutiny of some of London's most distinguished, and I may say, sharpest-eyed critics! It is about four month hence, and should be the perfect venue for our young ing?nue's ?graduation'!" "Agreed! So the wager is, you shall take on a prot?g?e of my choosing, and in three months, create a young lady fit for the highest and most exclusive society. Do I have it right?" "Absolutely! Fifty guineas, then." They shook hands solemnly. "So," Pickering went on, "all that remains is to choose a subject." "Extra! Extra!" came the young newsboy's voice again, "Read all about The Ripper's latest victim! Another slain in Whitechapel!" "Well then, how about him?" said Pickering, pointing. "What?" exclaimed Higgins, "Let us not joke about this, my friend. There is a tidy sum at stake. Now, I rather fancy that young flower seller might present an interesting challenge. You heard that appalling caterwaul she made..." "I believe the condition of the wager was that I choose the subject. I choose him." "Pickering!" the other spluttered, "Please be serious! When I said ?anyone' I of course meant a woman..." "Perhaps, but you did not say so. You said anyone." "But I have little experience training a man to enter society. My clientele, as you well know, are typically of the fairer sex." "I do know. But even so, you said, and I quote, ?I could take anyone and turn them into a lady fit for the best company,' or words to that effect. That was your boast, and that is the wager." "But this is absurd!" "I'll take my winnings in ten-pound notes, if you please..." "But Pickering!" Higgins began weakly, "A newsboy...!" "Higgins," responded Pickering earnestly, "see here. I propose a real test of your abilities. A REAL test," he repeated firmly, "Of course I know you can take a willing female student and teach, beg, cajole, threaten, and otherwise force her to become a lady. That is not in dispute. However, you did boast that you could do the same with ANYONE! Think of the feather in your cap if you proved that you really COULD mould anyone into a lady of society." "But what would Miss Deverel think? How could she... No, it's ridiculous!" "In that case, Higgins, I am forced to conclude that you have defaulted on our wager. Shall you pay me now?" Higgins was silent for a time. "Damn and blast!" he expostulated at last, "I still think it's foolish, but no, I do not propose to default on our wager. But..." "Splendid!" the other exclaimed. He turned and raised his voice. "Boy! You there! Come here a moment, please!" The boy ran over and held a newspaper out toward Pickering. "Lat'st edition, guv! Only tuppence!" The boy was perhaps fifteen or sixteen years of age, medium height with a slim, almost emaciated build. Tousle-headed, his long straight hair protruded from under a ragged cloth cap and over his ears and collar. And now, up close, the two gentlemen saw that he had an almost angelic, if none-too-clean, countenance, and large, deep blue eyes. Pickering extracted the coin from his pocket and gave it to the lad. He took the offered paper and commented, "I say, it MUST be the latest edition. The ink is still wet!" The boy didn't get the jest. "Oh no, suh! It's the rain, suh!" "Quite." The boy turned to leave but Pickering stopped him. "Young fellow, a moment, please!" The lad turned again and looked at Pickering expectantly. "Boy, how much money do you make, selling these newspapers?" "Last week, I made one and ninepence, suh!" he said proudly. "Well done!" Pickering replied, "And on what do you spend your earnings?" The boy was clearly mystified by this inquiry. "Well," he began, doubtfully, "On me room and board." He looked at the two as if they were daft. "You have no family?" "None in this world, guv," the boy responded promptly, "Me mum died when I was borned, and me dad died of the coughing sickness when I was but a babe in arms. I was raised in the orphanage, but I ran away when I was twelve." "I see. Now, what if I were to tell you that we could offer you comfortable lodgings in a large house in Harley Street, good food to eat, and a small stipend, perhaps..." "Garn!" the boy scoffed, "Yer barmy! They wouldn't let the likes of me NEAR Harley Street!" "Perhaps, but nonetheless, I am in earnest. What would you say?" The boy looked rather puzzled, then his face cleared and his baffled expression was replaced suddenly by one of deep suspicion. "'Ere!" he said warily, "Are you lot gingers? I'll ?ave none o' that, let me tell you..." "Don't be ridiculous, boy! We're certainly NOT ?gingers,' as you put it," Higgins interrupted angrily, then calmed himself. "Look," he continued reasonably, "Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Professor Higgins, a teacher of... well, a teacher of language and deportment. My associate is Colonel Pickering, retired. We have made... we have a wager between us..." "A bet?" the boy interjected incredulously, "You toffs make bets, like?" "Yes," Higgins continued patiently, "As you say, a bet..." "'Ow much?" the boy asked. "A gentleman never discusses such things," Higgins admonished, "and please don't interrupt, young man! I don't want to be here until nightfall!" "So where do I fit in?" the boy inquired, clearly interested now that the wager had been mentioned. "Let me explain the wag... bet," Pickering began, "My associate has made the claim... boast, I may say," he added with a glance at Higgins, "that he could take anyone, no matter what their current social condition, under his wing, and in a mere four months, make them fit to enter high society." The boy merely looked puzzled. "Put simply," Higgins took over, "I intend to use you to win the wager." The boy digested this for a few moments, then, "Wot? You mean, turn me into a toff? Yeh joking!" He began to laugh. "Not at all," said Higgins. "Wot yer gonna do to me?" asked the boy when he'd ceased chuckling. "Why, educate you! Educate you in the art of conversation, language, poise, deportment, confidence! You'd be able to enter any social situation, in the company of paupers or kings, and acquit yourself without fault! You could attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace, or an afternoon at Ascot, and no-one would ever be able to detect you humble origins!" The boy considered this, his brow furrowed as he worked his way through this rather complex utterance. "I fink you're daft," the boy stated flatly, "And any-road, wots in it for me?" "You would have room and board at a comfortable residence, my residence, in fact. Good food to eat, as much as you want. A comfortable bed, and a small stipend, shall we say, five shillings a week?" The boy's eyes goggled. "Five shillings?" he spouted incredulously, "you'd give me five shillings a week?? And all I ?ave to do is act like a toff?" "Ah, well, not like a ?toff,' exactly... but yes, that's the general idea." "Wot yer mean, ?not like a toff?'" "Ahem... all will be revealed in due time, boy. The question remains, will you agree?" The boy eyed Higgins dubiously. "Five shillings a week?" "Guaranteed," the other declared. "I want it in writing," the boy stated. "Well!" Higgins exclaimed, looking at Pickering, "The young lad's a real businessman! Tell me, young man," he went on, looking back to the boy, "Can you, in fact, read?" The boy looked at his ragged shoes, "Well, not really, guv," he admitted. "I see. Nevertheless, I shall put our agreement in writing, and if you like, you can take it to someone who can read, and see if it meets your approval." The boy said nothing for a time. Finally, he looked up and said, "But what of me job? What'll happen wiv me papers?" "My lad, let me take care of that. WILL YOU DO IT?" He pondered for a long moment, then looked up at Higgins. "Well, awright! I'll do it! But if there's any funny stuff..." "Put your mind at rest on that score," Higgins responded, somewhat hesitantly, "Now, let us hire a cab, it looks like the rain has let up." They moved onto the pavement as a group, and Pickering held up his hand as a cab pulled over to the side of the road. --- As the trio walked up the broad stone steps to Higgins' Harley Street residence, the boy goggled at the sheer size of the dwelling, and its imposing fa?ade. He was particularly fascinated by the ornate brass gargoyle doorknocker and the tasseled bell pull. Once inside, he gazed around in awe and his fascination quickly turned to alarm. He hastily snatched his cloth cap from his head and held it to his chest, walking stiffly down the hallway, keeping as far away from the furniture as possible. By the time the three had gained Higgins' study, he was standing rigid in the centre of the room, his hands by his side, as if his slightest movement might send one of the many paintings, sculptures or antique curios tumbling to the floor. The room was well appointed. A low but welcoming fire flickered in the grate. Many oil paintings graced the walls, the mementos of a lifetime of collecting filled the many display cases; a large roll- top desk filled one section, flanked by dark mahogany bookcases crammed with volumes of every kind. A matched set of leather armchairs huddled together facing the fire, separated by a low circular table on which a pair of brandy snifters might rest. On either side of the broad entrance to the study were stands, fashioned to look like marble columns, on which rested a pair of slim, elegant porcelain vases of oriental design. Higgins and Pickering doffed their coats and hats, and stood for a few moments with their hands outstretched to the fire. Then he turned to the lad. "So, my boy," he began jovially, "What do you think of your new digs, eh?" "I fink it's a bit grand for the like of me, suh," the boy responded dismally. He had yet to move from his spot in the centre of the carpet, as far away from any fragile-looking item as he could manage. "Nonsense!" Higgins said, "I assure you you'll feel at home here in no time. And remember, our task is to educate you to be at home in places far grander than this. By the way, please call us ?Mister Higgins' and ?Colonel Pickering'. Which reminds me, we've never been properly introduced. What is YOUR name?" "Clare, suh, Mr. Higgins, suh. Clare Stebbins." Higgins and Pickering exchanged significant looks. "Splendid! Simply splendid! Now, Clare," he went on, "we must begin. Do you know where Earlscourt Gardens is?" "Yes suh... sorry, Mr. ?Iggins," he responded eagerly, "Yes, it's just round t' corner!" "Precisely. Now, I am going to give you a note..." here he went to his roll-top desk and extracted a sheet of paper and quill, "I want you to take this note to a friend of mine who lives on Earlscourt Gardens. Her participation will be instrumental in our endeavour." Higgins wrote for a long time, filling both sides of the paper, while Pickering relaxed in one of the armchairs, pouring himself another sherry as he did so. At last Higgins folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope. On the outside he wrote in large letters, ?Miss Helen Deverel. For her receipt only.' "Now," he said to Clare, "I want you to take this letter, and deliver it to this address..." He wrote a number on the back of the envelope in large numerals. "Look for this number in Earlscourt Gardens. When you see it, knock on the front door, and tell whoever answers that it is from me, and that you are under strict instructions to place this letter into Miss Deverel's hands only. No one else's, mark you! Do you understand?" "Yes, Mr. ?Iggins!" the boy was obviously eager to start proving himself useful. He seized the letter and turned to run out the door. As he did so, he struck the marble stand on the left of the archway and the vase on top swayed perilously to and fro. For a frozen instant it seemed to balance on one rim of its base, then with an almost eerie grace it toppled from the stand and crashed to the floor, smashing into three or four large pieces. Both stood motionless. The boy looked stricken, utter horror writ large on his face. Higgins, his own face quickly draining of colour, stared fixedly down at the shards while Pickering twisted around in his seat to see what the commotion was about. "That was a very, very old vase..." said Higgins in a small voice, "Chiang dynasty..." The boy looked enormously relieved. "Whew!" he gasped, "Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid it was brand new!" And in a flash he was out the door. He was back about twenty minutes later, flushed and excited at having completed his first errand. "The ?ousekeeper answered the door, guv... I mean, Mr. ?Iggins! And she wants me to give ?er the letter. But I says, ?Not a chance! Mister ?Iggins told me to put this letter into Miss Deverel's ?ands personal, like!'" "Good for you, my boy," said Pickering, "Oh, and by the way, here is your first week's stipend." And so saying, he pulled a five-shilling note out of his pocket and handed it to Clare. He seized it and looked upon it almost reverently, but then, surprisingly, his face fell and he looked crestfallen. "What ever's the matter?" Higgins asked somewhat petulantly, "That's likely more money than you've ever seen before at one time!" "That's just it, suh," said the boy, "Nobody would ever believe I came by it honest, like. Everyone would just think I stole it..." "In that case," said Pickering, taking the note back, "how about shilling pieces?" He counted out five coins from his purse and handed them over. Clare gazed at them in his hand as if he had just won the lottery. "Cor! Thank you, Colonel Pickering, suh! Thank you!" "Now bear in mind, Clare, that your room and board are being provided for you free of duty, as will most everything else you will require during your stay here. I suggest you bank your earnings, and have a nice little nest egg when your adventure here is over." Clare didn't quite know what to make of this utterance, and after a short silence, carefully pocketed the coins, then changed the subject. "Mr. ?Iggins," he asked tentatively. "Yes, Clare?" "Well, it's just that... well, I waited while Miss Deverel read your letter, and when she'd finished, she started to laugh, like. She looked at me kind of funny, and said, ?I think you and I are going to become good friends, Clare. We're going to ?ave lots of fun together.' That's wot she said, suh. And well, I was wondering, wot did she mean by that?" "Clare," began Higgins after a short silence, "Clare, perhaps it is time we discussed our upcoming endeavour in more detail. Please sit down." Clare sat down gingerly on the edge of a straight-backed chair and looked up expectantly. Higgins paused, seeming at a loss as to where to begin. Pickering packed his pipe and lit it. "You see, Clare, up to now, most of my clientele have been of the fair sex..." "Ahem," Pickering cleared his throat significantly. "Well alright, ALL of my clientele have been of the fair sex. They come to me seeking to enhance their social station. They want someone to teach them to behave as women of breeding and culture. They wish to learn the niceties of dress and deportment, poise, and of course how to speak in polite company. As a professor of linguistics, I teach them how to speak with the appropriate accent, inflection and so forth, how to address and greet others, depending on their relative station, which topics to discuss and which to avoid, what opinions they ought to have on the affairs of the day, and provide them with a stock of agreeable conversation. With the aid of my associate Miss Deverel, whom you have just met, my clients learn how to dress, and how to shop for the right clothes, how to walk and gesture, in fact all the niceties of cultured deportment in the company of our social elite; everything from how to shake hands and curtsey, to how to how dance and how to eat with grace at table. Everything." The boy looked at Higgins expectantly. "Ahem. Well now, I have been doing this for many years, and I have had many successes. I happened to say to Colonel Pickering that I could take anyone... any ONE, mark you, and in four months of training turn them into a lady. Pickering seized upon this momentary lapse of precision in my speech..." "I wouldn't say, seized upon it, old boy," huffed Pickering from his armchair, "I merely took the opportunity to teach you to be more accurate in your pronouncements." "Well, whatever the motive," Higgins went on, "Pickering and I wagered that I could teach anyone of his selection how to be a lady." The boy nodded. "He chose you." Clare nodded, still looking expectant. "He chose YOU, you see," Higgins repeated, "to be the object of our... our wager." Clare nodded again, and continued to gaze at Higgins for a few more seconds, then abruptly his face contorted into an expression of disgust. "'Ere! Yeh WOT?" he said loudly, "Wot yeh saying? You want to turn me into a... into a... a LADY???" "Precisely." The boy spluttered helplessly for a few seconds, beginning several sentences and then abandoning them before the first word was uttered. Then finally... "But, I'm not a bird, I'm a bloke!" "Exactly. And therein lies the greatest challenge of my career." There was a long silence. "A lady???" Both men nodded solemnly. "I think yeh both daft," Clare stated flatly, "And I'll ?ave none of it." He stood slowly, but curiously, he did not turn to leave. "That of course, is your prerogative," Pickering began as he stood up from his comfortable chair by the fire, "But think of all you'd be giving up, lad. The run of this magnificent house..." "Well, not the RUN, exactly," Higgins muttered. "A big warm bed to sleep in, clean, crisp sheets, thick blankets, a fireplace of your own... the nights are getting colder, remember." "Five shillings a week," put in Higgins, "Much more than you'd make selling newspapers. And think of the food!" The boy looked woefully confused. "Roast beef and gravy," Pickering went on, lowering his voice seductively, "Yorkshire pudding. Steak and kidney pie with a thick, flaky crust. Sausages with your breakfast..." As if to underline Pickering's remarks, at that moment the faint smell of baking bread wafted into the room and Clare raised his head like a hound scenting its quarry. "Thick slices of warm, fresh-baked bread, dripping with butter," Higgins took over. "Chocolates. Tea and biscuits in the afternoon..." "Or, you can go back to your damp, draughty little room and sleep on your tiny sleeping pallet," Pickering went on, "Then tomorrow morning you can stand out in the rain and wind and sell your newspapers for one and six a week..." The boy's face clearly showed the agony of his indecision. He was salivating so much he appeared in imminent danger of drooling. He swayed back and forth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if he needed to go to the bathroom. His eyes swung restlessly throughout the room, coming to rest on the fire that flickered in the grate. "Would I ?ave to... to dress like a lady... yeh know, wear dresses and such?" "Certainly," declared Higgins, "You would have to live the part twenty-four hours a day until our experiment is complete. How else would you learn?" "Would I ?ave to, yeh know, go outside like that?" "Of course, of course! You would have to experience all manner of social situations in order to test your competence. Everything from afternoon teas to formal dinners to balls to afternoons watching the ponies at Ascot." "Balls?" the boy screwed up his face, "Would I ?ave to... like... dance with blokes?" "I expect so," responded Higgins, "That is, of course, part of being a lady of society." There was a long pause while Clare apparently wrestled with his internal dilemma. "I wouldn't ?ave to... like... kiss ?em and such, would I?" "Well, that would be entirely up to you. But of course a woman of breeding does not give out her favours lightly." Clare looked down at his feet; just then, as if on cue, a fresh gust of baking bread scent wafted into the room and he raised his head and inhaled deeply. Then he looked up at Higgins. "I'd ?ave to dress and be'ave like a lady all the time?" "That is the condition of our contract." He looked down at his shoes again. "Cor..." There was a long silence. "Alright... I'll... I'll do it," he muttered at last, in a voice barely audible. "Splendid!" exclaimed Higgins and Pickering in unison. At that moment, a chime came from the door bell, and moments later a rather rotund, middle-aged woman with graying hair done up in a neat bun hurried by the drawing room entrance, tearing off an apron as she went. There was the sound of the front door being opened and they heard snatches of conversation. Then she appeared in the doorway again and said, "Mr. Higgins, Miss Deverel is here to see you." "Excellent! Show her in please, Mrs. Tidwell." A few seconds later Miss Deverel entered the room. She was a striking young woman of perhaps twenty-five, tall and slim with a pretty face and shining auburn hair done in a sweeping up-do. She was dressed in the height of London fashion in a pale lavender afternoon dress trimmed with black satin, with a broad-brimmed black hat set at a rakish angle atop her head, and matching black kid gloves. She wore a beaded jet necklace at her throat and matching earrings. Her face lit up upon seeing Higgins and Pickering. "Ah my dear!" exclaimed Higgins as she entered. He strode over to her, taking her hands in his, and kissed her on both cheeks. Pickering shook her hand and bowed slightly, and as she leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek, he coloured in mild embarrassment. "I believe you've already met our young prot?g?!" Higgins said, gesturing toward Clare. "Certainly," replied Miss Deverel, extending her hand, "How do you do, Clare." Clare was clearly discomfited by her beauty. He hesitantly extended his hand, not meeting her eye and said, "Miss..." "Oh, please call me Helen," she said, "Clare and I are going to become great friends, aren't we, Clare?" He made some sort of noise that sounded like assent. "And we're going to have lots of fun, aren't we?" He nodded mutely. She turned to Higgins. "Have you explained the situation thoroughly to young Clare?" she asked. "Absolutely." Higgins declared. "And he is in agreement?" "He is." She broke into a smile. "Wonderful! I'm sure Clare will be a most able pupil." She went to where he stood and examined his none-too-clean face appraisingly, then ran her fingers lightly through his tangled mop of hair. "Then perhaps we should begin," she murmured, then raised her voice, "Mrs. Tidwell!" In a few moments, the housekeeper appeared at the doorway. "Yes, m'um?" she inquired. "Mrs. Tidwell, please run a bath for our young guest here. He will be up directly, and I shall follow after I've had a word with Mr. Higgins and Colonel Pickering." The other nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Mrs. Tidwell... When Clare has disrobed, I want you to take his clothes... and burn them!" "'Ere! Yeh wot? Them's me clothes! They're all I've got!" Clare burst out suddenly. "Now, now, Clare. You mustn't worry," Helen said soothingly, "We shall take care of all that. You won't be needing those clothes again, so please give them to Mrs. Tidwell when you've disrobed. You must trust us, Clare." Looking far from mollified, Clare nevertheless decided that now was not the time to turn difficult, so with a hurt backward glance he turned to follow the housekeeper's bobbing gray bun up the stairs to the second floor. "Oh, and Mrs. Tidwell," Helen called, "Make sure he washes behind his ears!" --- An hour later, after Helen had ascended to take Mrs. Tidwell's place and the latter had once again retired to the kitchen to ready the evening meal, Higgins and Pickering were sitting by the fire, each with a book in their hands, when a movement on the stairs caught their attention. Helen was descending with Clare in tow. When they entered the drawing room once more, the two men turned to greet them. But then they both sucked in their breath as Clare stepped in beside Helen. Gone was the ragged clothing, the smears of some unnamable dirt on his cheeks and chin, gone was the rat's nest of grimy, unkempt hair. Instead, his cheeks were scrubbed and pink, his hair which, now that it was clean and brushed, fell past his shoulders in a lustrous, gleaming cascade, and most strikingly of all, he was now wearing a long, satiny night dress of some pale blue, diaphanous material, trimmed with champagne lace at the bodice and cuffs, over which he wore a peignoir of similar design. Even standing as he was in an awkward boy's pose, his eyes cast downward, it was surprisingly difficult to discern that he was, in fact, a boy. Rather, he resembled some tomboyish adolescent girl, more used to jodhpurs and riding boots than dresses, who was for the first time wearing some frothily feminine garment in which she still felt uncomfortable. Helen stood beside him and beamed, while Pickering and Higgins exchanged silent glances. Pickering's face, at least for an instant, betrayed some emotion that might have indicated a sudden doubt that the fifty-guinea wager would automatically come to him, as he'd previously assumed. "Well!" Higgins exclaimed, "Clare you look... you look simply smashing! Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" The other nodded, "I thought I looked right silly, too, suh." "Well you certainly don't! You look... well, quite lovely, really. Helen, your first efforts have been a triumphant success I must say! The young lad's transformation is simply astonishing! I cannot wait to see what surprises the next few days and weeks hold! Congratulations, my dear!" "Perhaps it might be time to begin referring to Clare as ?she'," Helen responded, "And perhaps we should continue to call her ?Clare' for simplicity, but we ought to spell it, C-l-a-i-r-e, that being the way a girl would spell it," she concluded, by way of explanation, turning toward her young prot?g?. He nodded uncertainly. "Well, Claire it is, then!" exclaimed Higgins jovially, "And I agree. To inculcate the correct, how shall I say, attitude in our young ?lady' here, we should certainly begin using the feminine pronouns! And now, how about a spot of supper, what?" "Capital, Higgins," agreed distractedly Pickering, still looking somewhat stunned by Claire's transformation. They adjourned to the dining room, led by Mrs. Tidwell, who seated Claire at one corner of the table, between Miss Deverel and Higgins, who sat at the head. Prudently, she then fastened an apron around Claire's neck and adjusted it to cover her nightclothes. It was well she did so, because although the young ing?nue attempted to mimic the others at table and eat with some decorum, she was rather less than fully successful, thus giving the others a keen sense of just how much work they had ahead of them. When she first entered the dining room her eyes bulged at the sight of the table, laden with such food as she'd never seen before, a roast of beef dripping juices, Yorkshire pudding with a crisp, golden crust, a tureen of rich gravy, fresh-baked bread, bowls of steaming vegetables, fresh fruit. She licked her lips, and an unmistakable stream of drool ran down her chin, which the others pretended not to notice. During the meal, Helen would periodically reach over and quietly demonstrate, by holding Claire's hands in hers, the right way to hold a knife and fork, the proper way to obtain and dish out helpings and, by example, how to take small, dainty bites, and chew with one's mouth closed. In this she had limited success, but Claire was clearly trying. Her embarrassment at being seen wearing a pretty nightgown and peignoir was temporarily submerged beneath her desire to eat her fill, and then some. But even with her atrocious table manners, the others couldn't help staring in admiration at the stunningly transformed Claire, whose striking, ethereal beauty was startlingly evident. Following dinner, Higgins and Pickering adjourned to Higgins' study to smoke and enjoy a snifter of brandy. Helen and Claire followed a few minutes later, after Helen had mopped Claire's face and hands with a wet flannel. Helen announced, "Well! Claire and I have certainly had enough excitement for one day, I should think. I believe we shall retire now, for tomorrow our work begins in earnest, do you agree Claire?" "Yes, ma'm," she replied diffidently. She and Helen disappeared up the stairs. "Well!" Higgins exclaimed, "What do you think of our ing?nue now, Pickering?" "Stunning transformation, Higgins," the other exclaimed, "Simply stunning. I must confess, I fear that the wager may not automatically come to me after all." "Quite! However, there is still the matter of her training in the niceties of behaviour. I fear I may have a difficult row to hoe in that matter. Still! I discern we have quite an adventure ahead of us! I think it would be well if you were to stay here in one of the spare rooms, the better to keep apprised of our progress, what say you?" "I say, I think that's a splendid idea, Higgins!" the other responded enthusiastically, "I'll send for my things directly in the morning. I am sure my housekeeper can maintain my apartments perfectly well in my absence. Jolly good!" They stayed up late, talking. --- The following morning, the two were taking coffee and crumpets in the study when a movement on the stairs beyond the doorway caught their attention. A few moments later, Helen and Claire entered. Both were well dressed in the height of London fashion, but as before it was Claire who commanded their attention, and stunned admiration. She (it was already difficult to think of her as anything other than "she") was dressed in a slim, graceful morning suit of palest lavender silk, trimmed with black velvet at the collar and cuffs. Her tapered skirt fell past her ankles, just revealing her black leather, buttoned high-heeled boots. This was paired with a matching jacket, severely nipped at the waist and moulding the swell of her breasts, and matching lavender elbow-length gloves. Her hair was done in a sweeping up-do, and on her head she wore a wide brimmed black woven hat tipped at a fashionable angle. A jet choker and earrings completed the ensemble. She looked a trifle breathless, no doubt the result of having been laced into a corset for the first time. There could be no other explanation for her slim waist and swelling bust line. The two men stared in open-mouthed awe. "Good lord, Claire!" Higgins exclaimed when he'd recovered his voice, "You certainly look... well, you look positively smashing!" "Agreed!" the other gentleman put in, "Positively... smashing!" he finished, rather lamely. "Claire is still getting used to wearing a corset for the first time," began Helen, to which Claire added, in a somewhat strangled voice, "Cor! But I didn't know they was so tight, Mr. ?Iggins! I can't hardly breave!" "Oh, I'm sure you'll get used to it in no time!" Higgins replied dismissively, "But now, we must get down to work!" Claire looked a little miffed, but nodded uncertainly as Helen took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Now Claire," Higgins began, "Allow me to explain: My role in our endeavour will be primarily to teach you the niceties of speech, that is, your diction, language, vocabulary, and of course, the style and content of your utterances, which must befit the situation. Miss Deverel's task will be to teach you all she can of fashion, deportment, poise, all the mannerisms that befit a young lady of stature. Do you understand?" "No..." Claire said in an anguished voice, "I 'aven't a clue what you're on about, Mr. 'Iggins! I'm sorry!" He sighed. "Yes, well, perhaps it might be best if we simply began, and trust that you will pick things up as we go... We'll begin with some simple elocution exercises, if that is agreeable to everyone..." Miss Deverel nodded, and placed a hand reassuringly on Claire's shoulder. When Claire looked up at her apprehensively, she looked back and winked, wearing a slight, conspiratorial smile on her face. "Now Claire," began Higgins, "Repeat after me. ?The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain,'" he chanted, enunciating each syllable carefully. "Wot?" said Claire, clearly puzzled, "Wot aba't the rine?" "No, no, RAIN," corrected Higgins, "Now listen: The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain." "The rine in Spine falls minely in the pline," echoed Claire, looking rather pleased. "No, not RINE!" exclaimed the other, some what loudly, "Now please listen carefully this time: The RAIN in SPAIN falls MAIN-ly in the PLAIN..." "But," replied Claire, obviously confused, "That's wot I keep sayin'. The rine in Spine..." "No! Please listen to the difference. Not rain, RINE. Oh, damn and blast! I mean, not rine, RAIN! Surely you can hear the difference! Ay, not aye!" "But...I don't quite..." "Oh alright, then. We'll come back to that. Try this then. ?In Hartford, Herriford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen," pronounced Higgins, emitting a perceptible gust of air with each ?H'. "Well of course they ?ardly ?appen," interrupted Claire with high amusement, "They's in England ain't they?" She began to chuckle. Higgins put on his sternest face. "Claire! Please, this is very serious work. We have much to do, and we've scarcely begun. There's no time for jokes. Now please listen carefully and repeat after me: In Hartford, Herriford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen..." "But, really Mr. ?Iggins," she said, attempting again to be serious, "I thought I was learnin' to talk lyke a... lyke a lady, then. So wot's all this about the weather?" "Claire! Just repeat it, if you'd be so VERY kind," Higgins was beginning to speak in clipped tones. "Alright," she replied hesitantly, "In ?Artford, ?Erriford and ?Ampshire, ?urricanes ?ardly ?appen..." "Good Lord, Higgins," Pickering exclaimed, bursting into laughter, "Perhaps the fifty guineas is mine after all!" Claire, looking abashed, cast a stricken, pleading glance at Helen. "Good Lord indeed, Pickering," muttered Higgins, wagging his head in histrionic disbelief, "But it is still rather early to be determining winners and losers, I say!" "But Suh!" wailed Claire, trying to cooperate but plainly mystified, "I'm doin' as you ask, ain't I?" And so it went. Some time later, Helen interrupted, saying, "Perhaps it would be a good time to give Claire a rest from her elocution lessons, and we could move on to poise and deportment." "Poison department?" burst out Claire, horrified, "Wot poison!?" She took a few steps backward, her hand straying to her throat. "Oh no, Claire!" Helen exclaimed, laughing in spite of herself, "POISE and DEPORTMENT! You know, how to walk, how to move, how to sit, stand, gesture, and so on. These are things you must know if you are to be a lady of breeding and culture; indeed, they must become second nature! So, the sooner we get started, the better! And I'm sure you'll find it MUCH more enjoy..." she glanced at Higgins and caught herself, "I'm sure you'll find it every bit as enjoyable as your other lessons, and perhaps even fun, besides!" Claire looked far from convinced. "Come, let us get started." And so they began. Helen had Claire walk from one side of the study to the other with a book balanced on her head, an exercise at which she unexpectedly excelled, despite wearing high-heels for the first time; she practised curtseying and shaking hands, she rehearsed holding empty (and inexpensive) teacups and mimed drinking tea. She doffed and donned her hat several times, posing prettily before the mirror as she adjusted it on her head. She even practised removing and putting on her gloves. Helen demonstrated how to make small, dainty gestures instead of the expansive, rather clumsy movements that were her wont, and all the while Higgins and Pickering sat by the guttering fire and observed. For all Claire's anxious hesitancy and puzzlement at much of what she was asked to do, nonetheless, it was evident that she had an innate talent for... was it mere mimicry? Or were they somehow tapping into some latent, natural femininity in her makeup? They wondered, even as they marvelled. At last, Helen said, "Goodness! Look at the time! I'd no idea it was so late. You gentlemen should be more solicitous of Claire's needs! It's well past lunchtime, and she must be starved!" "Poppycock!" Higgins rejoined, "Claire is able to express her wants quite adequately, aren't you, Claire?" She nodded silently, but looked far from sure of herself. "Nevertheless, I think we should break now for a spot of luncheon," declared Helen, "Claire, you must be exhausted!" "Oh, yes m'am!" replied Claire earnestly, no doubt thinking of the roast beef they'd enjoyed the previous evening. They dined on sandwiches and tea served by the ubiquitous Mrs. Tidwell, followed, to Claire's delight, by some delicious lemon tarts. The afternoon began with some lessons about fashion and dressing. They adjourned to Claire's chambers, where a selection of dresses, lingerie, jewellery and accessories had been moved from Helen's residence by her chambermaid and installed in the room's capacious closets and armoires. "Now Claire," Helen began, "To become a lady, you must thoroughly understand how to dress the part, as well as how to present yourself. Don't make the mistake of thinking this is a trivial exercise! It is every bit as important as your deportment and speech!" she admonished wagging her finger. Then she smiled. "But, if you pick it up as quickly as you seem to be learning everything else, I can well imagine you will be the toast of the London dress shops and milliners in no time! "Now," she continued, "Let's start with this dress..." She pulled out from the closet a frothy concoction of champagne lace and pale pink satin, low cut and sleeveless, with a flounced and crinolined skirt, so that, while the bodice was quite form fitting, below the waist the dress flared out dramatically. "So Claire," she prompted, "This is something that one would wear to a formal dinner or ball. Now please open the jewellery box on the dresser, and choose something that you think would go with this." Claire opened the box carefully, and stared wide-eyed at its glittering contents. After a few moments, she pulled out a multi- strand pearl choker, and a pair of delicate pearl drop earrings. She held them up and looked at Helen inquiringly. "Very good, Claire!" Helen exclaimed admiringly, "Those are certainly some items that I would have chosen myself. Now, how about these?" And with that she selected a pair of white rosette earrings and a matching silk ribbon choker. "Well, Miss..." "Please, call me Helen," she put in. "Well, Miss ?Elen..." "Claire! We're going to be good friends! Please, it's just ?Helen'!" Claire looked doubtful, but continued, "Well... ?Elen, I wouldn't fink they's going to look good together, like. I mean, the colours ain't the same, is they? This white and that white... They doesn't look good together at awl..." she concluded, pointing in turn to the white jewellery and the champagne lace trim on the dress. "Claire!" exclaimed Helen admiringly, "Very good! Very good indeed! You're quite correct. It would be a terrible fashion FAUX PAS to wear this jewellery with this dress." "Foe paw?" Claire repeated, looking puzzled. "A FAUX PAS is mistake," Helen explained, smiling, "Don't worry, Claire, you'll pick it all up, I promise. In fact, I think you'll pick it all up VERY quickly!" And so it went. Helen and Claire went through much of the closet, examining dresses, suits and shoes, then perused the dresser drawers, looking at lingerie, stockings, corsets, bustiers, merry widows. Finally, they inspected the contents of the jewellery boxes. Helen chattered on about each garment and accessory, discussing when and under what circumstances it would be worn, which were very much in fashion and which were not, which items went together and which didn't, what clothing was appropriate when, and so on. Claire proved to be an attentive and quick-witted student. At about four o'clock they descended to the drawing room for tea. Helen took the opportunity to teach Claire how to sip her tea discreetly, with one pinky fashionably cocked, and how to take dainty bites of the sweets and pastries that had been arrayed on a silver platter by the ever-present Mrs. Tidwell. Claire, who by now had the edge removed from the hunger that had been her near-constant companion in her previous life, was much the more able and willing to oblige. "Cor, Mr. ?Iggins, but these lemon squares is right fussible!" she proclaimed, helping herself to yet another. "We'll deal with the abominable accent later," Higgins rejoined, but I'll thank you to refrain from using such an uncouth expression as ?fussible.' If you feel you must comment on the food, and in polite company this would be well recommended, I would suggest that you say something like, ?Goodness me, Mr. Higgins, these lemon squares are most delightful.' Or you might substitute ?delicious' for delightful." "Goodness me, Mr. ?Iggins," Claire repeated obediently, "These lemon squares is..." "Are!" "...ARE... most delightful," Claire finished proudly. Higgins winced a little at Claire's pronunciation of ?DELOYTFUL', but nonetheless smiled encouragingly. "Very good, Claire. We'll make a lady of you yet!" Claire blushed. Following tea, Higgins once again began on elocution lessons, while Helen returned to her flat to attend to some other business. They went through "The rain in Spain", "Hartford, Herriford and Hampshire," "She sells sea shells," and numerous other vocal exercises. By dinnertime Helen had returned and ushered Claire upstairs to change, explaining as they went that "Ladies ALWAYS dress for dinner." Upstairs, Helen bade Claire doff her dress and hang it in the closet. "But Miss... but Helen... I'd be in me knickers..." "Oh Claire," scolded Helen good-naturedly, "We're all ?girls' together, aren't we? You're so bashful! It's rather sweet, really, but honestly my dear, your underclothes are nothing I haven't seen before so, off with your dress, please!" Reluctantly, and with colour coming to her cheeks, Claire slipped off her day clothes and stood, somewhat hunched over in embarrassment in her corset and bloomers while Helen hung the dress neatly in the closet. "Now," she continued, "I rather fancy you in this, this evening," and so saying she pulled a sumptuous gown from the rack, a floor length, flounced and crinolined dress in rich emerald green satin, trimmed with lace, daringly low cut, with tiny cap sleeves. Before having Claire step into it, Helen first showed her how to push the flesh of her pectoral muscles up over the cups of her corset to simulate cleavage. The result was eye-catching, to say the least. Claire then stepped into the dress, and Helen buttoned it up the back and adjusted the neckline to show off her new cleavage to good advantage. "This will have the Major's and Higgins' eyes popping!" she said excitedly, "Just you watch!" She clipped a pair of emerald and pearl drop earrings to Claire's ears, then slipped the triple-strand pearl choker around her neck. "You have such a slim, graceful neck, Claire! Necklaces such as this one truly show it off to good advantage." Claire nodded silently, looking at herself in the mirror, an almost trance-like expression on her face. "Tomorrow," Helen went on, "We'll talk about cosmetics. A lady these days can use some items of cosmetics, such as powder, rouge and lip colour, but you must be most discreet, to avoid looking like a painted whore. I'll show you all in tomorrow's lesson!" Claire nodded again, still looking pensively into the mirror. They supped with Higgins and Pickering on an excellent Shepherd's Pie, which Mrs. Tidwell had made from the remains of the previous evening's roast. Claire's table manners, after only twenty-four hours, had vastly improved. Afterwards, they once again adjourned to the study, where the men sat by the fire with snifters of Cognac, and Helen offered Claire a small glass of Sherry, while pouring one for herself. Claire took a small sip, then sputtered at the unaccustomed burn of the fiery liquid. "Cor!" she exclaimed when she'd recovered her breath, "I ain't never had nothing like this before! It's like it's hot, only it ain't!" Higgins winced repeatedly at each of the grammatical atrocities in this utterance, and then spoke up. "Claire, ?Cor' is not a fitting expostulation for a young lady." He steepled his fingers and assumed the air of one embarking on a lecture. Pickering sighed histrionically, but Claire and Helen turned attentively. "'Cor' is a contraction of ?cor blimey', which in turn is a corruption of ?God bless me', or ?God blast me', as you prefer. Neither expression is particularly well met. If you must use an interjection of that sort, you may say, ?heavens' or ?goodness' or ?goodness me'. "Moving on, ?ain't', as they say, ain't in the dictionary, so you ain't gonna use ain't no more." He laughed at his own jest, while Claire simply looked puzzled. "I apologize my dear, that was confusing, wasn't it?" he went on, "What I mean to say is, the word ?ain't' is not appropriate. It's not even a word, really, despite its wide usage. You should say ?isn't' or ?aren't' or ?haven't' as the context dictates. In the present circumstances, you should say something like, ?I've never had anything like this before.' Do you understand?" "I think so," she furrowed her brow in concentration, then began, "I've never had anything like this before..." Higgins sat bolt upright. "Say that again please!" "I've never ?ad anything like this before," she repeated obediently. Higgins slumped back into his chair. "Ah. Quite." "No no, Higgins! I heard it too!" spoke up Pickering, looking up from his book, "She distinctly said ?had', not 'ad!" "I thought so, by Jove!" Higgins exclaimed, "That's good, Claire! Very good! Now, just keep it up!" Claire blushed, and could not conceal her pleasure at this praise. They conversed for a time longer, then Helen announced, "Well! Claire and I have certainly had a busy day. I think we ought to call it a night. Good evening all. See you in the morning!" Higgins and Pickering rose, and Higgins said, "Well, good night, ladies. Pleasant dreams." Pickering gave a slight bow and added, "Yes, a very good night to you both! I had a very pleasant day in your company!" "As did we in yours!" smiled Helen in return. She and Claire retreated upstairs. A short time later, Helen was assisting Claire in slipping out of her dress, jewellery and undergarments. Claire heaved an enormous sigh of relief as Helen undid the laces on her corset. "Lord save us, Miss ?Elen," she gasped, "I don't know how you do it, day after day." "Please, just Helen, not ?Miss Helen'. Oh, you get used to it, Claire," Helen responded, "I daresay after a few days you'll scarcely notice it." "Well, I noticed it today!" Claire grinned shyly. Helen helped her wash up in the hand basin that had been placed on the commode beside the bed, then helped her into a long, diaphanous cream coloured nightie, trimmed with lace. Claire snuggled up under the covers and Helen sat on the bed next to her. "You did very well today, Claire," she said, resting her hand on the other's as it lay on the crisp white sheets, "I know Henry is very pleased, despite his gruff manner. You mustn't let him frighten you, you know! It's just his way. Inside he's really very nice, very kind, and an excellent teacher." "He don't frighten me, Miss... I mean, ?Elen..." she paused, "Well, per'aps a little..." she finished. "You mustn't worry, dear, really," Helen reassured, "You'll do fine, and I'll look after you. I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise! Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another busy day." She stood up, turned off the electric light and then, as she reached the door she turned around and returned to the bed. She bent over and kissed Claire's forehead gently. "Good night, sweet Claire," she whispered softly, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Claire lay awake for a long time, thinking. End of Part One