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Eliza Doolittle Higgins stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. The tree was not perfect but the clock had chimed three and it was time to move on to other things if she was to get ready for tea in an hour. She was nervous about this Christmas. It was to be her first both as a member of society and as a married woman. She wanted to do her husband, Professor Henry Higgins, proud. She twitched one last red velvet ribbon bow into a more perfect shape and left the drawing room.
She scurried down the hall and into the kitchen to confer with Mrs. Pearce. This was not only her first Christmas as a married woman but as Lady of the House, where she had a staff to do the hard work. Last year it had been left to her and her step mother to make Christmas. It was funny what a difference a year could make. Her father had finally married her step mother and Eliza herself had a house on Wimpole Street.
“Mrs. Higgins,” Mrs. Pearce said. “Is everything ready?”
“Everything but the tea,” Eliza said.
“And the tea is ready,” Mrs. Pearce said. “Just as soon as the Professor and the Colonel get home.”
Mrs. Pearce escorted her to the door of the kitchen, “Why don't you go have a little rest before you get dressed?”
Eliza climbed the stairs to her dressing room and lay on the chaise lounge for a little while. The clock in the hall chimed half past the hour when Eliza's maid entered the dressing room.
“Time to be gettin' dressed,” the maid said.
Eliza got into a new crimson velvet tea gown trimmed in white lace. Eliza sat through the ministrations of her maid as she did Eliza's hair in a more complicated style than was usual for tea at home. It was Christmas Eve after all and Colonel Pickering was coming home from his extended tour of military friends in far flung places. She appreciated the Colonel's thoughtfulness in giving her and the Professor the first several months of their marriage to themselves, but if anything had been proved by the last months, it was that in order for peace to be kept in the household, Colonel Pickering's presence was required.
The maid placed the string of pearls, that had been a wedding gift from the Colonel, around Eliza's throat.
“There,” the maid said as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Don't you look a treat.”
“Thank you, Mary, “ Eliza said as she gazed into the mirror. Time didn't just change the circumstances of her life but the circumstances changed her appearance. The first time she had been in this house she'd been afraid of the water and clean clothes. She'd been dirty and dusty and had her hair falling out of the simple knot she had pinned it into at the back of her head. Now she was dressed in velvet and lace, clean from top to tails, and wearing jewels worth more than several years income in her old life.
Eliza looked at the clock, five minutes to four o'clock. It was time to descend the stairs and wait. She hurried to do just that. She had reached the drawing room and settled in her chair when she heard the outer door open. She rushed into the hall to find her husband unwrapping his outer garments and handing them to the butler.
“You're home,” Eliza said as she crossed to him and kissed his cheek in greeting. “Colonel Pickering is due any moment.”
“Excellent,” the Professor said as he strode into the drawing room.
Eliza followed him in but paused in the door frame, right under the mistletoe. Henry turned and looked at her and them spied the sprig above her head. Tradition was tradition, and he walked over to her and kissed her. He had meant for it to be a simple kiss but his wife had other ideas. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kept him in place until a throat cleared behind them. They broke apart to find Colonel Hugh Pickering standing there.
“I'll be dashed,” the Colonel said. “I can go and have tea else where.”
“Don't even think of it, Pickering,” the Professor commanded as he went to his chair. “Just a bit of seasonal foolishness.”
Colonel Pickering looked up and spotted the mistletoe. “Oh, I see.” He walked over to Eliza, who was still rooted to the spot. “Mrs. Higgins, if I may.”
“You may,” Eliza said with a smile as she accepted the Colonel's seasonal salute. It was a small peck. “Won't you sit down?” she said as she led the Colonel over to the chairs before the fire.
Eliza took the chair opposite of her husband's and Pickering took the on on her other side. Once settled, she reached for the bell pull and rang the bell.
A few minutes latter, Mrs. Pearce bustled in and set the tea tray on the table between Eliza and the Colonel.
“May I say it is good to have you home, sir,” Mrs. Pearce addressed herself to the Colonel.
“You may,” said the Colonel. “As good as it is for me to be home.” He looked over the tea tray. “Is that one of your special fruitcakes, Mrs. Pearce?”
“It is,” that good lady replied. “I remembered how you like them.”
Eliza busied herself with the pouring of the tea and handing around the cups and slicing the cake and handing around the plates, while the Colonel and Mrs. Pearce talked. The Professor sipped his tea as he watched the Colonel with the housekeeper, ever vigilant in his study of the humans around him.
Once the housekeeper had returned to her duties and the Colonel had sampled the fruit cake, Eliza set her cup down. The two gentlemen turned their attention to her.
“Colonel,” Eliza began. “It is good to have you home. You have been missed.”
“Thank you, my dear,” replied the Colonel. “It is good to be home.”
“I think this is going to be the happiest Christmas I've had,” Eliza said. “But next year's will be happier still.”
“Happier still?” Henry said puzzled. “For a woman who usually shows uncommon good sense you are making no sense.”
“Then I shall speak plain,” Eliza said. “Next year our little family will not be three but four.”
“You mean...” sputtered the Professor.
“By Jove,” exclaimed Pickering. “I believe she does.”
Eliza sat back and drank her tea as she watched the two most important men in her life plan out the child she was expecting's future. They may have plans for the child but she was not going to let them bully the child into anything the child didn't want to do. If anything, the last year had taught her that anything was possible if you worked for it. The bickering of the Professor and Colonel was music to her ears. This Christmas, and all the fallowing ones, were going to be loverly.