Elsie gasped, covering a gloved hand to her mouth. Sure enough, scrawled on paper in hurried handwriting was a diagram showing the small, clock-shaped device. The same device that rested on master Charles' desk. Next to the diagram were notes, some scratched out and edited, some revised and re-revised like the ravings of a madman.
A body exchanger?
All the lights in the laboratory were off save for the lantern Elsie brought in with her. She turned the flame lower, watching the light dance dimly against the paper. She had to be quiet; six months ago the professor began resting here, next to his laboratory, rather than his bunk on the second floor of the house. He made Edward transport downstairs his bed, dresser, and personal effects to a closet adjoining the laboratory. Martha wouldn't allow it, God bless her, but her master was possessed to finish his invention and his body had begun to fall ill of late. Now, Elsie understood his haste... the device was almost complete. Just a few more materials to gather, importantly some strangely powered dynamo to give power to the contraption.
Elsie felt a chill run down her spine. But the windows were closed this unusually warm September night.
In that moment she realised she never knew much about Professor Charles Bennett. Of course, early in her employment Martha had told her about his education, his time in the city, his recurring profits from his inventions. Everybody knew those things. What Elsie didn't know was who Charles actually was as a person.
Where did he come from? He had lived in Eversham as long as she had been alive. Had he always lived here? Did he have family? Again, Martha spoke of her time working for him these past 25 years, but he was already a man at that point. The portraits decorating the guestroom and vestibule he acquired from auctions in the city. The paintings adorning the study he commissioned, and all involved the scenic English countryside. What are his passions? Toiling in this laboratory night and day. But Elsie thought there might be something deeper behind it all. Charles Bennett is no recluse, of that she was sure. He visited London regularly, patronised the pubs in Eversham on Saturdays; he invited friends to the house for tea, prayed to God on Sundays. Martha said he used to breed horses for sport, back when he had much more energy.
So entranced by the notes and the mystery surrounding her master, Elsie didn't hear the creaking of the wooden boards coming from the closet.
She turned around, affixing her eyes at Charles Bennett at the doorway. How long had he been there watching her??
"Silly woman! You pest! Begone!" He rasped, fumbling for a cane resting against the wall. "You're not allowed in here!"
Elsie yipped, her heart leaping into her throat. She grabbed the lantern's handle, careful not to disturb Charles' work, and rushed for the laboratory exit. Whimpering, she shut the door and galloped to her room, nearly tearing her stocking in the process. It was so late that nobody was stirring, but Elsie thought the house was going to collapse upon her.
For the next ten minutes she paced her room like a caged animal. Was this the end? Surely she would be fired; nobody except Martha was allowed in to the laboratory, and even she had a strange reluctance to disturb him there. The morning would come, Martha would discover her intrusion and order her to pack her bags. Where would she go? What would she do? There weren't many options for an unmarried woman in the countryside. Her parents were both deceased, and she wouldn't tolerate living with her playboy brother in the city. Her sisters were all married off somewhere.
And then morning came.
"Deary! 'Ave you seen a ghost, luv?" Jonas, the cook, asked after breakfast. Elsie was helping Edward clear the table as Jonas set to work dressing a roast pig for dinner that afternoon.
"Not a wink of shuteye, by the looks of it. Poor thing." Doted Edward.
Elsie straightened her posture, smoothing out the wrinkles in her apron and dress from the night before. She stayed up all night wondering what fate awaited her in the morning. Sitting at the table opposite Charles, watching him spread jam on his bread, she waited for his pronouncement. But he seemed calm, relaxed, tranquil. He seemed like he forgot about the encounter with Elsie in the laboratory the night before. The warm smile he paid her upon entering the kitchen that morning confusing the poor young woman.
"It is nothing!" Elsie laughed. "If anything I would say Jonas saw the ghost this morning... watching master Charles inspect that new recipe of yours."
Edward nodded serenely as Jonas folded his arms. "I heard it from that lass over yonder last Saturday. She's from the Orient. She says a right stuck pig this time of year brings good luck to the master."
"She says a lot of things," Edward whispered politely, his butler's attire hanging loosely off his gaunt figure. Edward and Jonas banter back and forth, leaving Elsie to attend to her daily chores: whatever Martha assigns her to do.
Making the beds, plucking fresh flowers in the field, and gathering supplies from the local market gave Elsie time to think. As the day progressed, she began to think the encounter with the professor the night before was a fantasy. Something she made up in her mind. A fevered manifestation of her guilt at snooping around in there? That must be it, she reasoned, given her master's cheerful attitude today. He never saw her in there because he was asleep. Just her overactive imagination once again.
As she laid in bed and tried to get a quick nap, Martha interrupted her thoughts. She called into the maid's room.
"Elsie! Master Bennett wishes to speak with you!" Elsie couldn't tell Martha's demeanor, but all the foreboding returned once again. This was it, she feared.
***
Charles rested in a chair next to the fireplace when Elsie appeared across the room. Since it was mid-day, there was no fire in the hearth. Only in his eyes.
"Elsie, my sweet." He gestured her to come closer. "To begin, please accept my apology for my outburst last night. It was quite unbecoming of me."
Elsie gasped. So it happened after all! His harsh voice rang in her ears: Silly woman! You pest! Begone!
"I can see I've traumatised you, poor girl." He continued, sighing deeply. "You had startled me. There, there! It's nothing to fret over, perhaps there was a greater meaning behind our chance encounter. Do you know what kind of device I am working on?"
"No, sir!" Elsie lied. "I was... was just... opening the window to let the heat out. It was dreadfully warm and stuffy last night."
She felt his glare for a moment, then his face softened again. "Of course, Elsie. The device I am working on... well, have you heard of electricity? It is a new power source, much better than oil or coal they say. If I am to get this device working it will need a lot of power, something only electricity can provide. So I am to travel to London and meet with some friends, see if they cannot procure such a contraption."
He waited for a response. She gave none, simply standing there as they studied each other. He noted her youthful, fair skin. Supple waist. Long brunette hair.
"You look disheveled." Charles stated matter-of-factly. "Martha says she heard you pacing last night."
"Did she?" Replied Elsie. "You know that good woman has a heart of gold sometimes! It's so heavy it weighs upon her thoughts."
"Of course. She has served me well over the years." Out of his pocket, Charles drew a paperback book. It was thick, well loved, dog-eared, and one of Elsie's favourite novels. He looked at the cover. "Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. You've read this?"
Elsie nodded.
"I've seen you reading a lot. Good thing to be properly educated."
"Yes, it certainly is, sir." She nodded again. "Begging your pardon, sir, but may I ask what it was you used to teach?"
"What's that, now? Teach?" He frowned.
Elsie clutched her arm. "Well, if I'm not talking out of turn, Martha says you used to be a professor." She trailed off.
"Oh yes, that was another lifetime ago." He muttered. Clearing his throat, he asked, "I realise there is a lot you don't know about me. Nor I, you. We should learn more about each other... from a strictly professional standpoint of course."
"Of course," Elsie echoed.
"Not now though. These bones ache... please help me up, will you?" Charles said, as she helped him rise from his chair. She handed him his cane, and he steadied himself. "Fetch me a carriage. I'm going to London. But before you ready my personal effects, I do have one more request of you."
Elsie braced herself. What might the professor want of her?
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