Passing as Elias - By Kate Bloomfield Page 0,33

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. 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 Elizabeth. 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 his 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 new found 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 be damned if anyone questioned her intelligence.

She felt rebellious, and daring. Elizabeth wanted to test her new disguise on the public to see its effect. But where to go? She could go to the market and strut about the stalls. No, that would not do. No one would notice her there.

She needed to go somewhere where she would be judged; somewhere that she had never been before. Where had she avoided as a woman?

And then it came to her. Elizabeth had never been to the Upper Baggot Street Inn around the corner from the apothecary. It was full of drunken men, and loose women. Who better to test her get-up on? Elizabeth would visit the Inn that very night.

She had her reservations, of course. What if her disguise fooled no one, and she was thrown from the Inn? Would the men beat her, and the women spit upon her? Perhaps they would run for the mad house, raving about a lunatic woman who dressed as a man! Oh, the shame if she were discovered. But the apothecary was worth the risk.

When work was finished, and the sun had set, Elizabeth locked the apothecary doors and made her way up the lane towards the Inn. Her legs shook as she approached the corner, and once she rounded it she instantly heard the chatter. Music emanated loudly from the open door, and a warm yellow glow saturated the pavement.

When she walked inside, she noticed the floor was rather sticky, and it was quite crowded. Men edged around each other, talking loudly over the music, and laughing while busty women hung from their arms.

There was a small band consisting of an accordion, tuba, and flute player, which drowned out most of the chatter. No one looked at Elizabeth as she walked through the crowd, except an older woman who leered, showing several yellowing teeth. Elizabeth made it to the bar and sat herself upon one of the seats nervously. She knew she must seem quite odd, sitting straight backed, and looking around nervously. Everyone else within the premises slouched, yelled, and sat with their legs open. Elizabeth tried to imitate them. She leant one arm on the bar, hunched her shoulders, and sat open-legged. She saw a burly man scratch his crotch unashamedly. Elizabeth imitated him.

‘Wotcher, Darlin’.’ The barmaid said.

‘Uh, Hello.’ Elizabeth said in a rather high