The photographer’s chair

An original fiction passage set in the nineteenth century.

Rain tapped against the photographer’s skylight, beyond which the morning appeared to have been washed of all colour. Clara sat beneath it while her aunt moved around the chair, adjusting what the photographer had already adjusted.

‘A little further to the right,’ Miss Vane said. ‘The other side is softer.’

The photographer shifted the chair so that Clara’s left cheek faced the camera. The pale scar running from her right temple to the corner of her mouth disappeared into shadow. Miss Vane stepped back and gave a satisfied nod.

‘There. Nobody could object to that.’

Clara looked towards the framed portraits covering the studio wall. Soldiers, brides and solemn children returned her gaze. Each face seemed smooth and undisturbed, as though nothing unexpected had ever happened to its owner.

‘Who is expected to object?’ Clara asked.

Miss Vane began arranging the lace at Clara’s throat. ‘Must every kindness be examined before you accept it?’

Clara allowed the lace to be pinned. The photographer carried a lamp from one side of the room to the other and watched the shadows move across her face. He said that the exposure would last twenty seconds and that complete stillness was essential.

‘You see?’ Miss Vane said. ‘Even the gentleman agrees that we should take care.’

The photographer opened his mouth, but Clara spoke first. ‘He said I must be still. He did not say I must be hidden.’

Miss Vane’s hands dropped from the lace. For a moment, the only movement in the studio came from the rain slipping down the glass.

‘The portrait will hang in our drawing room,’ she said quietly. ‘People will see it.’

Clara turned towards her. The movement brought the scar into the cold light from above. ‘Then they may practise looking.’

She reached down and rotated the chair before either her aunt or the photographer could assist her. Now she faced the camera directly. Her fingers gripped the folds of her skirt, and when the photographer asked whether she was certain, she swallowed before answering.

‘My aunt asked for my likeness.’

Miss Vane walked to the window. Her reflection hovered faintly in the dark glass, its features almost invisible against the rain. She did not turn round.

The photographer removed the cover from the lens. During the first few seconds, Clara’s hands remained clenched. Then, while the machine continued its silent attention, her fingers slowly released the cloth. She looked neither at her aunt nor at the portraits on the wall. She looked into the lens and held its gaze until the photographer told her she could move.

“The writer presents Clara’s final choice as driven more by defiance than by self-confidence.”

Evaluate how successfully the writer presents this idea. Support your judgement with detailed references to the passage.