Paper 1: Fiction and imaginative writing

from 'The Inheritance' (written for this paper in the style of a nineteenth-century novel) Miss Clara Ashworth had resolved, upon entering the drawing-room at Fernley, that she would not be afraid of her aunt; and she kept this resolution for very nearly a minute. Mrs Ashworth sat by the fire in a high-backed chair, which she occupied as a general occupies a hill. She was a large woman, dressed in black silk that rustled whenever she breathed, and her eyes — small, pale and perfectly unblinking — travelled over her niece from bonnet to boot as though pricing her for sale. 'You are very like your mother,' she said at last. It was not a compliment. Clara curtseyed, because she could think of nothing else to do. The room was hot and close, crowded with furniture that seemed to have been bought for its weight rather than its beauty; a clock upon the mantel ticked with such severity that it appeared to be counting her faults. 'Your mother,' continued Mrs Ashworth, 'married against the wishes of her family, and she was punished for it, as such women always are. I trust you have more sense.' 'I trust so, ma'am,' said Clara, and was dismayed to hear her voice tremble. 'We shall see.' The pale eyes moved to the window, beyond which the November rain was driving across the lawns. 'You will have the blue room. Supper is at seven. And Clara —' the name was spoken as if it had a sour taste — 'in this house, we do not cry.' Clara went up the great dark staircase with her small trunk bumping behind her, and did not cry until she had shut the door.