Passing as Elias - By Kate Bloomfield Page 0,14

soft voice.

‘Good Morning, Missus Searson. I trust you are in good health?’ The Captain spoke in hushed tones, as though he were in the house of a dying relative.

‘As well as I can be.’

‘How is Elizabeth?’

Her mother sighed, ‘Not well I fear. She has eaten naught for three days, Captain, and has barely spoken a word.’

Elizabeth crept to her door to listen to the hushed conversation that was taking place downstairs.

‘I imagine they were very close.’ Captain Greenwood was saying.

‘Oh yes. Elizabeth began working at the apothecary not long after her father died. I expect Bernard was a kind of substitute father in a way. She spent six days a week with him for three years.’

‘She has suffered a terrible loss.’ George Greenwood said softly.

‘Indeed. I believe she is almost ready, Captain. I shall go and fetch her.’

Elizabeth heard her mother’s footsteps upon the stairs, and she hurriedly backed away from the door so she would not be discovered eavesdropping. She busied herself in front of the mirror as her mother entered the room silently.

‘He has arrived. Are you almost ready?’

Elizabeth did not turn around, but nodded, ‘I will be downstairs in a minute.’

Her mother left with a small smile.

Elizabeth waited a few minutes before she could not put off going downstairs any longer. She turned from her pale, gaunt reflection in disgust. She had acquired large shadows under her eyes from crying on and off over the last few days. As Elizabeth swept downstairs she found Captain Greenwood and her mother in the sitting room. The Captain was sipping a cup of tea politely, but jumped to his feet when Elizabeth entered, slopping tea down his front. She pretended not to notice this, and gave him a small curtsey, looking at the floor. As she did this her mother exited into the kitchen in order to give them some privacy.

‘Miss Searson.’ Captain Greenwood put his half empty saucer upon the table, and wiped hurriedly at the damp mark upon his vest, ‘My deepest sympathies for your loss.’ He crossed the room and stood before her in three short strides.

‘Thank you for your kind words.’ Elizabeth nodded, ‘And thank you for the lilies.’

Captain Greenwood seemed to be fumbling with something in his pocket. He pulled out a small brown package tied with red string.

‘I do apologise, I had no time to wrap it.’ He said, handing the light package to Elizabeth.

‘You have … bought me something?’ She enquired in a shaking voice, feeling quite emotionally unstable.

‘It is nothing.’ He waved it aside, though Elizabeth could see that he was extremely nervous.

Elizabeth untied the package with shaking hands, and let the wrappings fall open to reveal a pair of petite, silk gloves that seemed to shine brightly in light pouring in through the sitting room window. Elizabeth touched them with her fingertips. The white silk was as soft as a gentle breeze.

‘They are lovely.’ She said gazing at them.

‘I thought … white … to represent purity.’ He explained hurriedly, ‘I thought you could wear them to the funeral.’

Elizabeth looked up at him, ‘Thank you.’

Captain Greenwood reached out a hand and took the package from Elizabeth and placed it upon the mantelpiece. Ever so gently he took one of her hands and straightened out her fingers with the ball of his palm. His skin was hot, and Elizabeth felt an absurd quiver somewhere below her abdomen. Taking one of the gloves, Captain Greenwood proceeded to slip the silky material over Elizabeth’s fingers and gently pull it towards her wrist. He took great care in fitting each finger precisely in the gloves, and allowed his hands to linger in hers, massaging them gently with his thumb. Once both gloves were on, he let go of her hands, and smiled at her.

‘How do they feel?’ He whispered.

Elizabeth’s mouth felt dry, and she had a strange sensation occurring in the pit of her stomach. The way he had touched her hands so gently had sent shivers right through her spine.

‘They are perfect.’ She smiled and turned her hands this way and that to admire the gloves.

‘I am glad you like them, and at the same time I am very sorry about the occasion for which they are being used for.’

Elizabeth’s throat felt tight, and she swallowed hard. She did not wish to cry in front of Captain Greenwood for she had tried so hard to maintain the image of being a strong and independent woman. However, in this position she felt extremely weak and vulnerable.

‘Shall