That I shall strike her on the head*

Jess Ann Trueman — Sun, 18 May 2008 01:13:38 GMT

Claudia was in a fit of peevish annoyance with the world. It was not a good mood to be in with a party swiftly approaching. Yet it couldn’t be helped. She’d been in a state of high nerves since it occurred to her that he would be in attendance. For of course he would be invited. He was an eligible young rich man.

Or semi-eligible. No mother Claudia knew would affiance her daughter to him. Bennett was a rake and a rake with money was still a rake. He’d have to go to a more remote part of town to find himself a proper bride.

Still he would be invited. She would come face to face with him again. After over a week of waiting for him to appear around every corner the sudden realization that he would appear threw her off kilter. A flurry of realizations stalked her, not least of which being that this could be the most important night of her life.

Everything mattered. A single petal falling to the floor from the vases could easily set her into a fit of tears. What if the house was too warm? What if Bennett was apposed to blue? What if he already had eyes for someone else? What if, after all, he had not been invited? What if’s haunted her.

The fact that the other girls, who crowded in her room, had the gall to be nervous or fluttery made her want to slap them. That they existed at all was inconsequential and she wished them away as fervently as she could (though never aloud.)

In fact the only thing that Claudia did not worry about was Victor. He like the other women did not matter. He was a fragile thing of dust and propriety. He was not real. Only two things in the world were real- herself and Bennett. The world was made for them and everything else was either and annoyance or a thing of light and shadow-an illusion.

Claudia plucked at the fragile rose in her hair. Its soft petals brushed over her fingertips like a kiss. She sat amid a bustle of girls who filled the air with scent and sound. They were all in soft pastel shades- or perhaps Claudia’s disinterest had faded them. In any event Claudia’s dress was a bright blue with little pearl buttons. About her wrist she wore a strand of pearls that Victor had given her. With a flush upon her cheeks and passion in her eyes she stood out among the other’s like a flame. She sapped them and bloomed on their strength and their envy.

Oh, they all thought her bloom was for another. They had been whispering and clucking for weeks over Victor. Victor who should have belonged to someone else. Like me, said Vicky, for I am lovelier (and aren’t our names a lovely match? Just showing how we are meant to be.) No me, said Helene, for surely the words of poetry he speaks are meant for someone brighter than she is. Surely not, said Constance , he deserves someone gentle like me, Claudia has far too much fire, and it’s sinful. People do not like to be outshone, and women were certainly not exempt from this though they loved to think themselves above petty jealousy.

“A present from Victor?” Constance asked, touching Claudia’s bracelet. Her husband never bought her such gifts. He got her inscribed bibles and sensible head coverings. Surely he knew she didn’t need help being righteous? Why couldn’t he understand that the soul of God was beauty?

Claudia smiled, it was cold and distant. It was as if she had bit into the flesh of the offending hand. Constance drew back but she did not understand why. “Yes.”

“It fits well.” Helene said. You don’t even appreciate it, she thought, were you so eloquent in your acceptance as you are now in your comments? I should have known how to accept such a gift from such a gifted man.

Claudia shrugged. She wanted them to stop speaking. Perhaps she would be able to hear him approach if only they would hush. She did not want to miss a moment of him. It took all her effort not to snarl at them.

“Have you seen Philomela’s brother?” Vicky offered up. Clearly Claudia did not want to talk about her pearls. So then, why not discuss the delicious new scandal waiting to happen.

“Bennett.” Claudia said. Blood rushed through her in a surge. He was not for them. But they didn’t know, couldn’t know, she settled back. She must be quiet and not cause the world to see it had ceased to have meaning. It might get belligerent and steal her joy if she was too obvious. “He was at one of my lessons.”

“My mother won’t let me go any longer.” Helene said. Claudia looked into her friend’s plain acne prone face. She could not help thinking that there was really no need to shield Helene from untoward male attention. She wasn’t about to get any even if you tossed her in the street. “Did you hear what happened last time he was in town?”

“Oh let’s not speak of such things. It is too much, just too much.” Constance said. Her fan fluttered.

Claudia stood and moved over to the window. The other’s continued to talk but she ceased to hear. Even when they spoke of what was real they sounded like faded fools. Oh how she hated them. How she wanted them to go and let her be.

There were days when Claudia adored her friends. Especially Vicky who’s shallow prettiness was like a delightful toy and who could be easily distracted by mirrors. Today all of them set her teeth on edge. Especially Vicky who turned male heads a bit too easily despite the ring on her finger (which in actuality was no deterrent at all.) So instead of listening to their infuriating prattle Claudia stared out the window into a bleached world. How had everything lost its color?

Like the girls the world around her seemed to be only a vague cover for reality. She wanted to reach out and peel it back. How certain it was that he would be standing there waiting to take her in his arms. She stood trembling by the window until, with words she did not hear, they were called downstairs.

The servants knew with some internal timing that she did not understand when it was time for the girls to emerge. They could not come down to soon because then there was no one there to witness their arrival- so they had to wait patiently upstairs after they arrived. Then once enough of a crowd had gathered the girls were brought down. Yet it could never be too late. They had to come before the last of the guests surely. Claudia had often wondered at the art it took to know when to call. Tonight she did not. She practically bolted to the door, and walked in a half dream to the top of the stairs.

There she was greeted with a cruel surprise. Victor looked up at her with a smile that could have charmed any other, but did not touch his betrothed. Bennett, also, had already arrived. His arm was fixed irrevocably to that of his dour faced sister. Perhaps the other girls were disappointed because they would not get to refuse any lude proposals from him that night. Claudia felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest.

He was once again kept from her. The strength and substance of both Philomela and Victor stood between her and her beloved. Only the force of the other girls walking behind her drove Claudia down the stairs at all. So one step at a time she was driven down the steps toward Victor.

As she approached he outstretched his hand. His smile could have outshone the glory of God. It meant nothing to a woman who’d sworn her soul to the devil. Claudia loved with all the strength and spirit of her fifteen years.

Title Reference:
*Dostoevsky, Fyodor. “Crime And Punishment” Bantam Books, co 1866: 57

Deprivation - Chapter 10

That I shall strike her on the head*