Passing as Elias - By Kate Bloomfield Page 0,13

rug before her.

‘Help!’ Elizabeth cried at the top of her lungs, ‘Murder!’ She scrambled to her feet and sped down the flight of stairs, slipping at the bottom and crashing to the floor in a heap.

Elizabeth began crawling towards the open front door. Once on the lawn she propped herself over the flowerbed below the sitting room window and was violently ill into the dirt. The smell of death was upon her, and the image of the Professor was imprinted vividly in her memory. People were starting to come out of their houses now to find Elizabeth sobbing in Professor de Bard’s front garden. Two men asked her what the matter was, and when Elizabeth pointed inside the house they allowed themselves inside to investigate. The world seemed to speed up at that moment. Strangers were asking her questions, ushering her away from the house, and bringing her cups of tea. She was dizzy, and a Constable was questioning her. Some doctors came to examine the body, and took the Professor away in a big, black bag. All the while Elizabeth sat unmoving on the front lawn of her once dear friend and teacher, Bernard de Bard.

Chapter Three

The will of Professor de Bard

In the days that followed the coroner revealed to Elizabeth that Professor de Bard had died from poisoning. He told her that there had been no marks upon his body, nor was there any evidence to suggest a struggle of any kind.

‘This,’ He had said, ‘Indicates that Bernard de Bard was not murdered, but did in fact take his own life.’

‘No.’ Elizabeth had said firmly, ‘He would not have taken his own life. It was an accident. He … he liked to experiment.’

‘The paperwork found in his home suggests that he was working on some kind of antidote, though we are having some trouble figuring out his methods and calculations. Do you know anything about this?’

‘The Professor worked on many things, and did not reveal all of them to me, Sir. Though he liked to document his remedies and the effects they produced.’

‘You were his assistant, yes?’ The coroner had enquired.

‘Professor de Bard was my teacher. I was his apprentice.’

‘Women are not to dispense medicine.’ The coroner noted, ‘Surely you must know that.’ The coroner had said shrewdly.

Thinking back upon this conversation angered Elizabeth to a great extent.

~

Elizabeth did not get out of bed for two days. She did not wash, and only ate what her mother forced her to. The parish of the local church stopped by on Tuesday morning to tell Elizabeth’s mother that a burial had been arranged to commemorate Professor de Bard’s contributions to medicine. When Professor de Bard’s former apprentices heard of his death, many of them travelled back to the town to pay their respects. As Professor de Bard had no family, Elizabeth was unsure as to what would happen to his apothecary. No one had sought to collect the key from Elizabeth, which she was now keeping under her pillow.

Captain Greenwood had dropped by to bestow his sympathies upon Elizabeth, however she had refused to receive him. Once he had left, her mother had brought an extremely large bouquet of lilies to her bedside table. A small card was hidden amongst the flowers, which her mother read to her.

‘Captain Greenwood wishes to escort you to the funeral.’ Her mother said in a light voice.

Elizabeth did not respond and simply lay there sprawled on the bed, her hair a horrid mess, the sheets twisted around her ankles.

‘He said he will come by on the morrow to find out your response. Sweetheart, I think you should accept. He is awfully worried about you.’

‘I am sure he would enjoy being the shoulder I cry upon.’ Elizabeth said in a muffled voice, for half of her face was concealed by the pillow, ‘You can tell him that I shall accept his proposal.’

On the day of the funeral Elizabeth felt like she were in a kind of trans, looking out at the world as though behind a pane of glass. She dressed silently in her only black dress, brushed the knots from her tangled hair and sat upon her bed, waiting for the moment Captain Greenwood would knock upon the front door. On cue, as expected, there was a rap at the door downstairs, followed by the sound of her mother greeting the captain solemnly.

Their voices carried upstairs and Elizabeth caught a few snippets of what they were saying.

‘Good Morning, Captain.’ Her mother said in a