Deprivation- The Feast and the Famine

Chapter 24- Wedding Gown

Dorothea packed Claudia into her white dress. While Claudia felt the tug of the corset tightening and the breath as it pressed past her lips, it never intruded into her thoughts. Every thought she had, every thought she could manage, was of Bennett riding away or of Bennett outing their relationship. It was all just a lump of fear and regret.

She half hoped he did tell the world about them. Then she could let the whole charade go. How quickly, she would run to him. Even if he never forgave her at least, she would be with him not in this world.

Julien ran into the room and rushed over to his sister. Claudia smiled at hi, almost letting the smile reach her heart. Poor little Julien, he would be all alone with their parents now. At least he was a boy. That would make it easier. The world loved boys even when their parents were heartless.

He jabbed the note into her hand several times before she caught the gist and took the paper from him.

“From Victor!” Julien said, then confidentially, “He gave this to me too!”

Claudia looked with forced appreciation at the candy he secretively showed her. “Go, go,” she urged. “Before Mother returns and catches you with it.”

Only when Julien disappeared into his room, to suck furtively at the sweet, did she unfold Victor’s note and read it: Dear Claudia, I await your arrival in high spirits. This day is yours, make the most of it. Victor.

Claudia tossed the note aside and sighed as deeply as her corset allowed. Out the window, the sun began to rise. Soon her entourage would show up and then she would be ushered to the church.

She heard Roderick’s brash voice booming below, and only slightly quieter her step-father’s rumble. They would be at the church before her. Those two paragons of male husbandry.

A vision of the day rose in her mind. Victor would be there, like an angel sent from heaven just for her, in a white waistcoat and blue jacket. All her bridesmaids in their white lace and a sea of white flowers and orange blossoms pinned in her hair. She felt ill.

That was today but what if all of her tomorrow, comprised not of angels but men like Roderick? What sort of man would Victor be once he owned her?

“Dorothea,” Claudia pulled away, “Please, I feel sick.”

Dorothea fled the room presumably to fetch a restorative. Claudia didn’t plan. She hadn’t even known that Dorothea would leave, so how could she? Instinct took over, and Claudia let it. Her brief spell of thinking had done her no good at all. She was a creature of emotion.

Claudia ripped off the most confining of her petticoats, loosened her corset and ran to her windowsill. Dawn was only just arriving, and the garden was empty. Many times now, she had descended her trellis. It was no longer as difficult for her as it had been the first time.

Her arms were strong, and her feet knew what to do. It took her only a few moments to reach the ground and hop from the flower covered trellis.

Claudia looked from side to side expecting demons to erupt and denounce her. When they didn’t, she ran for the garden gate. The lucky sixpence that rested in her shoe slid around as she ran. She did not stop once she was out the gate; she had gone too far now ever to stop.

How could she return? What would she say? She ran.

Bennett and his sister were due at her wedding. That was the only thing that gave her hope he had not already fled town and her. Despite his words, she believed he would wait for her. Their souls were bound.

She stopped only once, wheezing for breath, and made another attempt to loosen her corset. The streets were still relatively empty, but servants were starting to trickle outward. Claudia felt immensely conspicuous bent over on the side of the road in the early dawn light wearing a partially dismantled wedding dress imported from Paris.

But she couldn’t turn back, so ignoring the burning in her lungs, she began to run. It wasn't until she saw Philomela’s soulless house that she allowed her steps to slow. All she had to do was get there. Her chest burned and each breath she took was agony.

Every footfall rang in her ears, and every breath burned her lungs. The ring was Bennett’s name, and the burn was his cold eyes dismissing her. How had she ever thought she could survive without him?

She came to the door and for a moment stood stupefied by the wooden object barring her path. Then she lifted her fist and rapped three times on the door. It didn’t open.

Claudia stumbled back into the shadows of the porch unsure what she should do. Her plan did not extend beyond this—beyond throwing herself at Bennett’s feet. The sound of wheels and the clip-clop of horse's hooves made her look up from her hands.

The carriage stopped, and the door opened. Claudia was smiling. It was Bennett’s carriage, or perhaps she should say Philomela’s carriage. Indeed, it was Philomela’s face that popped out and leveled its stern gaze on her.

“Bennett?” Claudia asked directing her voice at the dark interior. “I’m here. I cannot go home. Please.”

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