Passing as Elias (11 page)

This continued for another month, and Elizabeth found herself becoming miserable. The shop was not making any money, and word had spread that Elizabeth was the one brewing, and concocting their remedies. Of course, Elizabeth had funds to purchase what she needed, for Captain Greenwood had ensured that she would be well provided for while he was away.  The townspeople did not seem to care that Elizabeth had a perfectly capable mind when it came to the science of medicine. All they saw was a little girl with a tiny brain, and ambitions above her station.

Elizabeth was lonely without her Professor, and now that she was living out of home, she realized she had not had a conversation in weeks. The only interaction she had  was with the surly customers, who refused to pay full price for the work of a female.

Soon, Elizabeth found herself thoroughly depressed. Some days she did not wish to get out of bed because she knew that it would be another day of complaints from customers, who were adamant that she had made a mistake with their order. She knew that she had not made a mistake with a single one of those customers.

Finally, another Sunday came, and Elizabeth lay in bed until mid morning. She had not felt like going to church today – something which she had never done before. She knew her mother would have something to say about it, but Elizabeth did not care. She was beyond caring. Today she was going to clean out all of Professor de Bard’s old clothes and give them to charity. She had no use for them, and they only made her sad when she saw them.

She had a huge suitcase open on her bed, and was piling clothes into it. Some of them were rather old, and worn, but some looked brand new as though the Professor had never worn them. Elizabeth amused herself, trying on  his hats and ties. Even some of his shoes fit, for he had been quite a small, thin man.

Elizabeth caught sight of herself in her full-length mirror whilst she was wearing one of Professor de Bard’s older top hats. She paused, and stared. Suddenly, she was stuffing her long hair out of sight and into the depths of the hat. She grabbed a bow tie that she had already packed into the suitcase and hurriedly put it around her neck. Elizabeth approached the mirror with a look of awe upon her face. A brilliant, crazy, ridiculous idea had occurred to her. But … no … she could never pass it off. Yet, she could not take her eyes off the vision before her. Without thinking, Elizabeth began to undress. She stripped right down until she was completely naked and began rummaging through the suitcase, pulling out various garments. Shirts, vests, breeches, socks, shoes.

A few minutes later Elizabeth was dressed completely in mens attire, posing in front of the mirror. She pulled various expressions before deciding that men did not pull many facial expressions, and she kept her face set.  Her hands moved to her chest, where her bosom was still obvious. She thought, looking around and fixing her eye upon an old, ragged shirt that she had planned on throwing out, as it was in too poor condition to donate. Without thinking she began to rip it into strips.

Grabbing the strips of shirt, she began to wrap them tightly around her chest. She did it so tight she almost had trouble breathing, yet she smiled when she saw her flat chest in the mirror. This was it. This was the answer. Elizabeth could dress as a boy, run the apothecary, and gain the trust of her clients again. They would think a young lad ran the shop.

Elizabeth put on a deep voice, “Good day, Ma’am,” she said with a tip of her hat, “no … ahem … Good
day
ma’am.
Good day
.’ She repeated the words over and over again until they did not sound like words at all.

Her body looked like a boy. With a flat chest, and baggy clothes Elizabeth found she looked quite lanky. Stuffing a pair of socks into her breeches, she stood back to admire the bulge, and could not help but laugh. It was the first time she had laughed in a month.

Elizabeth amused herself for over an hour, trying on different clothes, packing socks into her pants, and talking like a man.

“Well hello there, Miss,” she flirted with the mirror.

Thinking about George, her father, and the men that had come into the store, Elizabeth noticed many similarities. She must talk in a low voice, with fewer words in each sentence, and keep her hands in her pockets whilst pulling less facial expressions. Single word responses would be most efficient. She must also stand with a straight back, and a high chin to show confidence, something which many women lacked.

Elizabeth’s hair was not masculine at all. She had so much of it that she would not be able to hide it inside of a hat all day. Some men did have long hair, but not down to their buttocks. The other option was cutting it short, but if she did that then she would have trouble transitioning back into a woman while she was not at the apothecary. She did not want to be a man all of the time.

A wig would be her best option, and she was sure there was a men’s wig-shop on Baggot Street. She would visit it early on the morrow.

Next was the problem of her face. Her eyebrows were thin and light, and her jaw was quite feminine. She thought about the way the Captain’s face felt. Rough, like sandpaper. His jaw and cheeks were slightly darker than the rest of his skin because of the stubble.

Elizabeth spent the whole day experimenting with her male identity. She tried several different methods to darken her eyebrows, and make them appear bushier. Finally, she settled upon using a wood-cased pencil to colour them several shades darker, giving her a more stern expression.

Elizabeth found it very amusing to chop up pieces of fabric so finely that they were almost powder and stick them to her face. She gave herself a ridiculous moustache and laughed for several minutes before removing it. Nothing she did looked realistic until she chopped of a small piece of her own hair, scrunched it up into a ball so it was frizzy and frayed, and stuck it to her jaw line with an adhesive made from wheat flower, sugar and water. It looked quite convincing –but even more so when she trimmed it with a pair of scissors until it resembled fine stubble.

Elizabeth had a strange feeling in her stomach, as though she had discovered something incredible. A strange sense of freedom was washing over her, as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror in all of her attire. Shirt, vest, breeches, socks, shoes, hat, darkened eyebrows, and facial hair. Her chest was bound, and her pants were stuffed with socks. She did indeed look like a boy.

Chapter Six

Passing as Elias

Elizabeth went to the closest wig shop first thing on Monday morning. She browsed for several minutes, pondering over what kind of hairstyle her alias should sport. A friendly older gentleman in a toupee bustled over to assist her.

“May I help you Miss?” he said in a quivering voice.

“Oh yes. My … my
father
, he requires a wig,” Elizabeth said glancing around.

“Getting a bit thin up there, is he?”

“Mmh,” Elizabeth said noncommittally, “I want … he wants something that is not too flashy. Simple.”

They went through numerous boxes of wigs until Elizabeth found the perfect one. It was dark brown, in a common style, but not too flashy. Elizabeth thought it might look quite good with a tricorn hat.

“I think this one would suit him the best,” she decided.

She paid a pound for the wig, and left the shop hurriedly in order to go home and try on her new outfit.

It took her an hour to transform herself into a man. The facial hair was the trickiest part, for it required careful attention in looking realistic. She had decided against sporting a full beard, and went with a younger look. She used trimmings from the wig to glue on patches of hair at the side of her face, beside her ears.

Elizabeth cut over a foot of her own hair off in order to fit it all inside the new wig.

Feeling nervous, she set out for her first day of work as a man. She planned to advertise the fact that the shop was now being run by a man. No one looked at her as she walked to the apothecary. A young lady smiled politely as she passed, but Elizabeth felt that no one saw her for what she really was.

Elizabeth put a large sign in the shop window stating: “UNDER NEW OWNERSHIP” with a little drawing of a top hat. Once the shop was open she stood behind the counter, and put on a straight face. She must remember to control her voice, facial expressions, and movements. She took a deep breath and tried to control her racing heart. She was not sure why she was so nervous. She figured that she was frightened of someone recognising her. But, she thought suddenly, she did have a half brother … somewhere. She could pretend to be related to
herself
.

Elizabeth jumped when the shop bell tinkled. A very pregnant lady had waddled through the door.

“
Good
-good day ma’am,”  Elizabeth stuttered. She cleared her throat.

“Good morning,” she smiled as she approached the counter.

“Let me guess,” Elizabeth said in a slightly deeper voice, “something for the pain?”

“Oh, yes,” the lady said with a smile, “my feet – they are aching.”

“And your husband made you
walk
here?” Elizabeth said with a slight hitch of her chin.
Confidence
, she reminded herself,
men are confident
. She also cursed herself mentally for using too many inflections in her sentences.

“He is a very busy man,” she replied, looking curiously at Elizabeth. “So, you are the new owner, I gather?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Elizabeth gave a tip of her hat.

“I have never seen you before.”

“J-just moved to town a week ago.”

“Hm. A girl used to own this shop,” she said delicately, fingering a doily on the counter.

Elizabeth decided on a quick change of topic, “So, your feet, miss?”

Elizabeth spent the next ten minutes recommending and explaining various herbs, and lotions for the pregnant lady. She was pleasant enough, and took Elizabeth’s advice without question.

The rest of the day continued much the same. It was still nowhere near as busy as it had been in the days of Professor de Bard, though Elizabeth felt that it would get better, for today had been a large improvement over the last month. She had sold twice as much as she had within the last week.

Females that walked past the apothecary looked in through its windows, spotted Elizabeth and sidled inside, pretending to look at the products on the shelves. Most of them did not buy anything at all, and Elizabeth figured they were only entering the shop to spy on the new owner. One young girl stared at Elizabeth unashamedly, as though she could tell there was something strange about her.

Later that day, a rather familiar busty lady caught Elizabeth off-guard with a rather obvious question.

“So, what do they call you?” she asked, leaning on the counter and pressing her large breasts together.

“El-” Elizabeth stopped. She had not thought of a name for her male alias. How could she have been so stupid? No one had asked her name yet.

“El?” the woman repeated with one raised eyebrow.

Elizabeth did not feel she could backtrack after almost giving away her real name, “El … Elias,” she invented, “Elias Searson. What may I call you, Miss?”

“You may all me Minnie, Mister Searson. Now, I am in need of a poison to use on my garden. The snails are ruining my vegetables. Can you help me with that?”

While Elizabeth was concocting a custom made poison for the lady, she leant very close to Elizabeth across the counter, and asked lots of questions about what she was doing. Suddenly, Elizabeth realised where she recognised the woman from. She had seen her numerous times as she walked passed the Upper Baggot Inn on her way home. This woman was a whore. Elizabeth suddenly felt very warm, and it became very clear that Minnie was flirting with her.
Well
, Elizabeth thought,
this is a great compliment to my disguise.

“Are you married, Mister Searson?”

“No Ma’am,” Elizabeth said automatically.

“But you wear a gold band on your ring finger?” Minnie pointed out.

Shit
, Elizabeth thought. She had forgotten to remove the ring that Captain Greenwood had given her.

“My … uh … my wife died a year ago,” Elizabeth invented, “I just wear the ring.”

“Oh how sad.” Minnie rubbed Elizabeth’s arm soothingly. “You poor man.”

Elizabeth nodded and continued with the order.

“You must be lonely,” Minnie continued, staring determinedly into Elizabeth’s face.

“I manage,” Elizabeth said shortly. She wanted to change the subject.

“So strong,” Minnie admired, rubbing “Elias’” arm affectionately.

“And done,” Elizabeth said, packaging up the snail poison and forcing it into Minnie’s hand.

She looked rather affronted, but did not say anything. Minnie paid for the poison and bade farewell to Elizabeth.

So her new name was Elias Searson. Elizabeth said the name to herself over and over again.

~

With her newfound freedom, Elizabeth felt liberated. She could go where she liked, and do as she pleased. No one could tell her what to do anymore, and she’d be damned if anyone would question her intelligence.