Chapters 16-18 | Rebecca | Bedtime Story

Chapter 16 It was one Sunday,

I remember,

When we had an invasion of visitors during the afternoon,

That the subject of the fancy-dressed ball was first brought up.

Frank Crawley had come over to lunch,

And we were all three of us looking forward to a peaceful afternoon under the chestnut tree,

When we heard the fatal sound of a car rounding the sweep in the drive.

It was too late to warn Frith.

The car itself came upon us,

Standing on the terrace,

With cushions and papers under our arms.

We had to come forward and welcome the unexpected guests.

As often happens in such cases,

These were not to be the only visitors.

Another car arrived about half an hour afterwards,

Followed by three local people who had walked from Carroth,

And we found ourselves,

With the peace stripped from our day,

Entertaining group after group of dreary acquaintances,

Doing the regulation walk in the grounds,

The tour of the rose garden,

The stroll across the lawns,

And the formal inspection of the happy valley.

They stayed for tea,

Of course,

And instead of lazy nibbling of cucumber sandwiches under the chestnut tree,

We had the paraphernalia of a stiff tea in the drawing room,

Which I always loathed.

Frith in his element,

Of course,

Directing Robert with the lift of his eyebrows,

And myself,

Rather hot and flustered,

With a monstrous silver teapot and kettle,

That I never knew how to manage.

I found it very difficult to gauge the exact moment when it became imperative to dilute the tea with the boiling water,

And more difficult still to concentrate on the small talk that was going on at my side.

Frank Crawley was invaluable at a moment like this.

He took the cups from me and handed them to people,

And when my answers seemed more than usually vague,

Owing to my concentration on the silver teapot,

He quietly and unobtrusively put in his small wedge to the conversation,

Relieving me of responsibility.

Maxim was always at the other end of the room,

Showing a book to a bore,

Or pointing out a picture,

Playing the perfect host in his own imitable way,

And the business of tea was a side issue that did not matter to him.

His own cup of tea grew cold,

Left on a side table behind some flowers,

And I,

Steaming behind my kettle,

And Frank,

Gallantly juggling with scones and angel cake,

Were left to minister to the common wants of the herd.

It was Lady Crowan,

A tiresome,

Gushing woman who lived in Carroth,

Who introduced the matter.

There was one of those pauses in conversation that happened in every tea party,

And I saw Frank's lips about to form the inevitable and idiotic remark about an angel passing overhead,

When Lady Crowan,

Balancing a piece of cake on the edge of her saucer,

Looked up at Maxim,

Who happened to be beside her.

Oh,

Mr.

De Winter,

She said,

There is something I've been wanting to ask you for ages.

Now tell me,

Is there any chance of you reviving the manderly,

Fancy-dressed ball?

She put her head on one side as she spoke,

Flushing her prominent teeth in what she supposed was a smile.

I lowered my head instantly,

And became very busy with the emptying of my own teacup,

Screening myself behind the cozy.

It was a moment or two before Maxim replied,

And when he did,

His voice was quite calm and matter-of-fact.

I haven't thought about it,

He said,

And I don't think anyone else has.

Oh,

But I assure you,

We have all thought of it so much,

Continued Lady Crowan.

It used to make the summer for all of us in this part of the world.

You have no idea of the pleasure it used to give.

Can't I persuade you to think about it again?

Well,

I don't know,

Said Maxim dryly.

It was all rather a business to organize.

You had better ask Frank Crawley,

He'd have to do it.

Oh,

Mr.

Crawley,

Do be on my side,

She persisted,

And one or two of the others joined in.

It would be a most popular move,

You know.

We all miss the manderly gaiety.

I heard Frank's quiet voice beside me.

I don't mind organizing the ball,

If Maxim has no objection to giving it.

It's up to him,

And Mrs.

De Winter.

It's nothing to do with me.

Of course,

I was bombarded at once.

Lady Crowan moved her chair,

So that the cozy no longer hid me from view.

Mrs.

De Winter,

You get round your husband.

You are the person he will listen to.

He should give the ball in your honor,

As the bride.

Yes,

Of course,

Said somebody else,

A man.

We miss the fun of the wedding,

You know.

It's a shame to deprive us all of excitement.

Hands up for the manderly fancy-dressed ball.

There,

You see,

De Winter,

Carried unanimously.

There was much laughter and clapping of hands.

Maxim lit a cigarette,

And his eyes met mine over the teapot.

What do you think about it?

He said.

I don't know,

I said uncertainly.

I don't mind.

Of course,

She longs to have a ball in her honor,

Gushed Lady Crowan.

What girl wouldn't?

You look sweet,

Mrs.

De Winter,

Dressed as a little dressed-in shepherdess,

Your hair tucked under a big three-cornered hat.

I thought of my clumsy hands and feet,

And the slope of my shoulders.

A fine dressed-in shepherdess I should make.

What an idiot the woman was.

I was not surprised when nobody agreed with her,

And once more I was grateful to Frank for turning the conversation away from me.

As a matter of fact,

Maxim,

Someone was talking about it the other day.

I suppose we shall be having some sort of celebration for the bride,

Shan't we,

Mr.

Crawley?

They said.

I wish Mr.

De Winter would give a ball again.

It was rare fun for all of us.

It was Tucker at the Home Farm,

He added to Lady Crowan.

Of course,

They do adore a show of any kind.

I don't know,

I told him.

Mr.

De Winter hasn't said anything to me.

There you are,

Said Lady Crowan triumphantly to the drawing-room in general.

What did I say?

Your own people are asking for a ball.

If you don't care for us,

Surely you care about them.

Maxim still watched me doubtfully over the teapot.

It occurred to me that perhaps he thought I could not face it,

That being shy,

As he knew only too well,

I should find myself unable to cope.

I did not want him to think that.

I did not want him to feel I should let him down.

I think it would be rather fun,

I said.

Maxim turned away,

Shrugging his shoulders.

That settles it,

Of course,

He said.

All right,

Frank,

You will have to go ahead with the arrangements.

Better get Mrs.

Danvers to help you.

She will remember the form.

That amazing Mrs.

Danvers is still with you,

Then?

Said Lady Crowan.

Yes,

Said Maxim shortly.

Have some more cake,

Will you?

Or have you finished?

Then let's all go into the garden.

We wandered out onto the terrace,

Everyone discussing the prospect of the ball and suitable dates,

And then,

Greatly to my relief,

The car parties decided it was time to take their departure,

And the walkers went too,

On being offered a lift.

I went back into the drawing-room and had another cup of tea,

Which I thoroughly enjoyed now that burden of entertaining had been taken from me,

And Frank came too,

And we crumbled up the remains of the scones and ate them,

Feeling like conspirators.

Maxim was throwing sticks for Jasper on the lawn.

I wondered if it was the same in every home,

This feeling of exuberance when visitors had gone.

We did not say anything about the ball for a little while,

And then,

When I had finished my cup of tea and wiped my sticky fingers on the handkerchief,

I said to Frank,

What do you truthfully think about this fancy dress business?

Frank hesitated,

Half glancing out of the window at Maxim on the lawn.

I don't know,

He said.

Maxim did not seem to object,

Did he?

I thought he took the suggestion very well.

It was difficult for him to do anything else,

I said.

What a tiresome person Lady Crowan is.

Do you really believe all the people round here are talking and dreaming of nothing else but a fancy dress ball at Manderley?

I think they would all enjoy a show of some sort.

We're very conventional down here,

You know,

About these things.

I don't honestly think Lady Crowan was exaggerating when she said something should be done in your honor.

After all,

Mrs.

De Winter,

You are a bride.

How pompous and stupid it sounded.

I wished Frank would not always be so terribly correct.

I'm not a bride,

I said.

I did not even have a proper wedding.

No white dress,

Or orange blossom,

Or trailing bridesmaids.

I don't want any silly dance given in my honor.

It's a very fine sight,

Manderley,

In fate,

Said Frank.

You'll enjoy it,

You see.

You won't have to do anything alarming.

You just receive the guests,

And there's nothing in that.

Perhaps you'll give me a dance?

Dear Frank,

I loved his solemn air of gallantry.

You shall have as many dances as you like,

I said.

I shan't dance with anyone except you and Maxim.

Oh,

But that would not look right at all,

Said Frank,

Seriously.

People would be very offended.

You must dance with the people who ask you.

I turned away to hide my smile.

It was a joy to me,

The way he never knew when his leg had been pulled.

Do you think Lady Crowan's suggestion about the dressed-in shepherdess was a good one?

I said slyly.

He considered me solemnly,

Without the trace of a smile.

Yes,

I do,

He said.

I think you'd look very well indeed.

I burst into laughter.

Oh,

Frank,

Dear,

I do love you,

I said,

And he turned rather pink.

A little shocked,

I think,

At my impulsive words.

And a little hurt,

Too,

That I was laughing at him.

I don't see that I've said anything funny,

He said stiffly.

Maxim came in at the window,

Jasper dancing at his heels.

What's all the excitement about?

He said.

Frank is being so gallant,

I said.

He thinks Lady Crowan's idea of my dressing up as a dressed-in shepherdess is nothing to laugh at.

Lady Crowan is a damn nuisance,

Said Maxim.

If she had to write out all the invitations and organize the affair,

She would not be so enthusiastic.

It's always been the same,

Though.

The locals look upon Manderley as if it was a pavilion on the end of a pier and expect us to put up a turn for their benefit.

I suppose we shall have to ask the whole county.

I've got the records in the office,

Said Frank.

It won't really entail much work.

Licking the stamps is the longest job.

We'll give that to you to do,

Said Maxim,

Smiling at me.

Oh,

We'll do that in the office,

Said Frank.

Mrs.

De Winter need not bother her head about anything at all.

I wondered what they would say if I suddenly announced my intention of running the whole affair.

Laugh,

I supposed,

And then begin talking of something else.

I was glad,

Of course.

To be relieved of responsibility.

But it rather added to my sense of humility to feel that I was not even capable of licking the stamps.

I thought of the writing desk in the morning room,

The docketed pigeonholes,

All marked in ink by that slanting,

Pointed hand.

What will you wear?

I said to Maxim.

I never dress up,

Said Maxim.

It's the one purpose wit allowed to the host,

Isn't it,

Frank?

I can't really go as a Dresden shepherdess,

I said.

What on earth shall I do?

I'm not much good at dressing up.

Put a ribbon round your hair and be Alice in Wonderland,

Said Maxim lightly.

You look like it now,

With your finger in your mouth.

Don't be so rude,

I said.

I know my hair is straight,

But it isn't as straight as that.

I tell you what,

I'll give you and Frank the surprise of your lives,

And you won't know me.

As long as you don't black your face and pretend to be a monkey,

I don't mind what you do,

Said Maxim.

All right,

That's a bargain,

I said.

I'll keep my costume a secret to the last minute,

And you won't know anything about it.

Come on,

Jasper,

We don't care what they say,

Do we?

I heard Maxim laughing as I went out into the garden,

And he said something to Frank which I did not catch.

I wished he would not always treat me as a child,

Rather spoiled,

Rather irresponsible.

Someone to be petted from time to time when the mood came upon him,

But more often forgotten.

More often patted on the shoulder and told to run away and play.

I wished something would happen to make me look wiser,

More mature.

Was it always going to be like this?

He away ahead of me,

With his own moods that I did not share,

His secret troubles that I did not know.

Would we never be together,

He a man and I a woman,

Standing shoulder to shoulder,

Hand in hand,

With no gulf between us?

I did not want to be a child.

I wanted to be his wife.

I wanted to be old.

I stood on the terrace,

Biting my nails,

Looking down towards the sea,

And as I stood there,

I wondered,

For the twentieth time that day,

Whether it was by Maxim's orders that those rooms in the West Wing were kept furnished and untouched.

I wondered if he went,

As Mrs.

Danvers did,

And touched the brushes on the dressing table,

Opened the wardrobe doors,

And put his hands amongst the clothes.

Come on,

Jasper,

I shouted.

Run,

Run with me,

Come on,

Can't you?

And I tore across the grass,

Savagely,

Angrily,

The bitter tears behind my eyes,

With Jasper leaping at my heels and barking hysterically.

The news soon spread about the fancy dress ball.

My little maid,

Clarice,

Her eyes shining with excitement,

Talked of nothing else.

I gathered from her that the servants in general were delighted.

Mr.

Frith says it will be like old times,

Said Clarice eagerly.

I heard him saying so to Alice in the passage this morning.

What will you wear,

Madam?

I don't know,

Clarice,

I can't think,

I said.

Mother said I was to be sure and tell her,

Said Clarice.

She remembers the last ball they gave at Manderley,

And she has never forgotten it.

Will you be hiring a costume from London,

Do you think?

I haven't made up my mind,

Clarice,

I said.

But I tell you what,

When I do decide,

I shall tell you and nobody else.

It will be a dead secret between us both.

Oh,

Madam,

How exciting,

Breathed Clarice.

I don't know how I am going to wait for the day.

I was curious to know Mrs.

Danvers' reaction to the news.

I dreaded even the sound of her voice down the house telephone,

And by using Robert as mediator between us,

I was spared this last ordeal.

I could not forget the expression of her face when she left the library after that interview with Maxim.

I thank God she had not seen me crouching in the gallery,

And I wonder too if she thought that it was I who had told Maxim about Favell's visit to the house.

If so,

She would hate me more than ever.

I shudder now when I remember the touch of her hand on my arm,

And that dreadful soft,

Intimate pitch of her voice close to my ear.

I did not want to remember anything about that afternoon.

That was why I did not speak to her,

Not even on the house telephone.

The preparations went on for the ball.

Everything seemed to be done down at the estate office.

Maxim and Frank were down there every morning.

As Frank had said,

I did not have to bother my head about anything.

I don't think I licked one stamp.

I began to get in a panic about my costume.

It seemed so feeble not to be able to think of anything,

And I kept remembering all the people who had come,

From Carroth and Roundabout,

The bishop's wife who had enjoyed herself so much the last time,

Patrice and Giles,

The tiresome Lady Crohan,

And many more people I did not know and who had never seen me.

They would,

Every one of them,

Have some criticism to offer,

Some curiosity to know what sort of effort I should make.

At last,

In desperation,

I remembered the books that Patrice had given me for a wedding present,

And I sat down in the library one morning,

Turning over the pages as a last hope,

Passing from illustration to illustration in a sort of frenzy.

Nothing seemed suitable.

They were all so elaborate and pretentious,

Those gorgeous costumes of velvet and silk,

And the reproductions given of Rubens,

Rembrandt,

And others.

I got hold of a piece of paper and a pencil and copied one or two of them,

But they did not please me,

And I threw the sketches into the waste paper basket in disgust,

Thinking no more about them.

In the evening,

When I was changing for dinner,

There was a knock at my bedroom door.

I called,

Come in!

Thinking it was Clarice.

The door opened,

And it was not Clarice.

It was Mrs.

Danvers.

She held a piece of paper in her hand.

I hope you will forgive me,

Disturbing you,

She said.

But I was not sure whether you meant to throw these drawings away.

All the waste paper baskets are always brought to me to check at the end of the day,

In case of mislaying anything of value.

Robert told me this was thrown into the library basket.

I had turned quite cold all over at the sight of her,

And at first I could not find my voice.

She held out the paper for me to see.

It was the rough drawing I had done during the morning.

No,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

After a moment.

It doesn't matter throwing that away.

It was only a rough sketch.

I don't want it.

Very good,

She said.

I thought it better to inquire from you personally,

To save any misunderstanding.

Yes,

I said.

Yes,

Of course.

I thought she would turn and go,

But she went on standing there by the door.

So,

You have not decided yet what you will wear?

She said.

There was a hint of derision in her voice,

A trace of odd satisfaction.

I supposed she had heard of my efforts through Clarice in some way.

No,

I said.

No,

I haven't decided.

She continued watching me,

Her hand on the handle of the door.

I wonder you don't copy one of the pictures in the gallery,

She said.

I pretended to file my nails.

They were too short and too brittle,

But the action gave me something to do,

And I did not have to look at her.

Yes,

I might think about that,

I said.

I wondered privately why such an idea had never come to me before.

It was an obvious and very good solution to my difficulty.

I did not want her to know this,

Though.

I went on filing my nails.

All the pictures in the gallery would make good costumes,

Said Mrs.

Danvers,

Especially that one of the young lady in white with her hat in her hand.

I wonder,

Mr.

De Winter does not make it a period ball.

Everyone dressed more or less the same.

To be in keeping.

I never think it looks right to see a clown dancing with a lady in powder and patches.

Some people enjoy the variety,

I said.

They think it makes it all the more amusing.

I don't like it myself,

Said Mrs.

Danvers.

Her voice was surprisingly normal and friendly,

And I wondered why it was she had taken the trouble to come up with my discarded sketch herself.

Did she want to be friends with me at last?

Or did she realize that it had not been me at all who had told Maxim about Favel?

And this was her way of thanking me for my silence?

Has not Mr.

De Winter suggested a costume for you?

She said.

No,

I said,

After a moment's hesitation.

No,

I want to surprise him and Mr.

Crawley.

I don't want them to know anything about it.

It's not for me to make a suggestion,

I know,

She said.

But when you do decide,

I should advise you to have your dress made in London.

There is no one down here can do that sort of thing well.

Vos,

In Bond Street,

Is a good place,

I know.

I must remember that,

I said.

Yes,

She said,

And then,

As she opened the door,

I should study the pictures in the gallery,

Madam,

If I were you.

Especially the one I mentioned,

And you need not think I will give you away.

I won't say a word to anyone.

Thank you,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said.

She shut the door very gently behind her.

I went on with my dressing,

Puzzled at her attitude,

So different from our last encounter,

And wondering whether I had the unpleasant favel to thank for it.

Rebecca's cousin?

Why should Maxim dislike Rebecca's cousin?

Why had he forbidden him to come to Manderley?

Patrice had called him a bounder.

She had not said much about him,

And the more I considered him,

The more I agreed with her.

Those hot blue eyes,

That loose mouth,

And the careless familiar laugh.

Some people would consider him attractive.

Girls in sweet shops,

Giggling behind the counter,

And girls who gave one programs in a cinema.

I knew how he would look at them,

Smiling,

And half-whistling a tune under his breath.

The sort of look,

And the type of whistle,

That would make one feel uncomfortable.

I wondered how well he knew Manderley.

He seemed quite at home,

And Jasper certainly recognized him.

But these two facts did not fit in with Maxim's words to Mrs.

Danvers,

And I could not connect him with my idea of Rebecca.

Rebecca,

With her beauty,

Her charm,

Her breeding.

Why did she have a cousin like Jack Favell?

It was wrong,

Out of all proportion.

I decided he must be the skeleton in the family cupboard.

And Rebecca,

With her generosity,

Had taken pity on him from time to time,

And invited him to Manderley,

Perhaps when Maxim was from home,

Knowing his dislike.

There had been some argument about it,

Probably,

Rebecca defending him.

And even after this,

Perhaps a slight awkwardness,

Whenever his name was mentioned.

As I sat down to dinner in the dining room,

In my accustomed place,

With Maxim at the head of the table,

I pictured Rebecca sitting in where I sat now,

Picking up her fork for the fish,

And then the telephone ringing,

And Frith coming into the room and saying,

Mr.

Favell on the phone,

Madam,

Wishing to speak to you.

And Rebecca would get up from her chair,

With a quick glance at Maxim,

Who would not say anything,

Who would go on eating his fish.

And when she came back,

Having finished her conversation,

And sat down in her place again,

Rebecca would begin talking about something different,

In a gay,

Careless way,

To cover up the little cloud between them.

At first,

Maxim would be glum,

Answering in monosyllables,

But little by little,

She would win his humor back again,

Telling him some story of her day,

About someone she had seen in Carroth,

And when they had finished the next course,

He would be laughing again,

Looking at her and smiling,

Putting out his hand to her across the table.

What the devil are you thinking about?

Said Maxim.

I started,

The color flooding my face,

For in that brief moment,

Sixty seconds in time perhaps,

I had so identified myself with Rebecca,

That my own dull self did not exist,

Had never come to Manderley,

I had gone back in thought and in person to the days that were gone.

Do you know you were going through the most extraordinary antics,

Instead of eating your fish?

Said Maxim.

First you listened,

As though you heard the telephone,

And then your lips moved,

And you threw half a glance at me,

And you shook your head and smiled,

Shrugged your shoulders,

All in about a second.

Are you practicing your appearance for the fancy dress ball?

He looked across at me,

Laughing,

And I wondered,

What he would say if he really knew my thoughts,

My heart,

And my mind,

And that for one second,

He had been the Maxim of another year,

And I had been Rebecca.

You look like a criminal,

He said.

What is it?

Nothing,

I said quickly,

I wasn't doing anything.

Tell me,

What were you thinking?

Why should I?

You never tell me what you are thinking about.

I don't think you've ever asked me,

Have you?

Yes,

I did once.

I don't remember.

We were in the library.

Very probably,

What did I say?

You told me you were wondering who had been chosen to play for Surrey against Middlesex.

Maxim laughed again.

What a disappointment to you.

What did you hope I was thinking?

Something very different.

What sort of thing?

Oh,

I don't know.

No,

I don't suppose you do.

If I told you I was thinking about Surrey and Middlesex,

I was thinking about Surrey and Middlesex.

Men are simpler than you imagine,

My sweet child.

But what goes on in the twisted,

Torturous minds of women would baffle anyone.

Do you know?

You did not look a bit like yourself just now.

You had quite a different expression on your face.

I did?

What sort of expression?

I don't know that I can explain.

You looked older suddenly,

Deceitful.

It was rather unpleasant.

I did not mean to.

No,

I don't suppose you did.

I drank some water,

Watching him over the rim of my glass.

Don't you want me to look older?

I said.

No.

Why not?

Because it would not suit you.

One day I shall.

It can't be helped.

I shall have grey hair and lines and things.

I don't mind that.

What do you mind then?

I don't want you to look like you did just now.

You had a twist,

To your mouth,

And a flash of knowledge in your eyes.

Not the right sort of knowledge.

I felt very curious,

Rather excited.

What do you mean,

Maxim?

What isn't the right sort of knowledge?

He did not answer for a moment.

Frith had come back into the room,

And was changing the plates.

Maxim waited until Frith had gone behind the screen,

And through the service door,

Before speaking again.

When I met you,

First you had a certain expression on your face.

He said slowly.

And you have it still.

I'm not going to defy you.

I don't know how to.

But it was one of the reasons why I married you.

A moment ago,

When you were going through that curious little performance,

The expression had gone.

Something else had taken its place.

What sort of thing?

Explain it to me,

Maxim.

I said,

Eagerly.

He considered me a moment.

His eyebrows raised,

Whistling softly.

Listen,

My sweet.

When you were a little girl,

Were you ever forbidden to read certain books?

And did your father put those books under lock and key?

Yes,

I said.

Well then,

A husband is not so very different from a father after all.

There is a certain type of knowledge I prefer you not to have.

It's better kept under lock and key.

So that's that.

And now eat up your peaches,

And don't ask me any more questions.

Or I shall put you in the corner.

I wish you would not treat me as if I was six.

I said.

How do you want to be treated?

Like other men treat their wives.

Knock you about,

You mean.

Don't be absurd.

Why must you make a joke of everything?

I'm not joking.

I'm very serious.

No,

You're not.

I can tell by your eyes.

You're playing with me all the time.

Just as if I was a silly little girl.

Alice in Wonderland.

That was a good idea of mine.

Have you bought your sash and your hair ribbon yet?

I warn you,

You'll get the surprise of your life when you do see me in my fancy dress.

I'm sure I shall.

Get on with your peach and don't talk with your mouth full.

I've got a lot of letters to write after dinner.

He did not wait for me to finish.

He got up and strolled about the room and asked Frith to bring the coffee in the library.

I sat still,

Sullenly,

Being as slow as I could,

Hoping to keep things back and irritate him.

But Frith took no notice of me and my peach.

He brought the coffee at once and Maxim went off to the library by himself.

When I had finished,

I went upstairs to the minstrel gallery to have a look at the pictures.

I knew them well,

Of course,

By now.

But I'd never studied them with a view to reproducing one of them as a fancy dress.

Mrs.

Danvers was right,

Of course.

What an idiot I had been not to think of it before.

I always loved the girl in white,

With a hat in her hand.

It was a Rayburn,

And the portrait was of Caroline de Winter,

A sister of Maxim's great-great-grandfather.

She married a great-wig politician and was a famous London beauty for many years.

But this portrait was painted before that,

While she was still unmarried.

The white dress should be easy to copy,

Those puffed sleeves,

The flounce,

And the little bodice.

The hat might be rather difficult,

And I should have to wear a wig.

My straight hair would never curl in that way.

Perhaps that Voce place in London that Mrs.

Danvers had told me about would do the whole thing.

I would send them a sketch of the portrait and tell them to copy it faithfully,

Sending my measurements.

What a relief it was to have decided at last.

Quite a weight off my mind.

I began almost to look forward to the ball.

Perhaps I could enjoy it after all,

Almost as much as little Clarice.

I wrote to the shop in the morning,

And closing a sketch of the portrait,

And I had a very favourable reply,

Full of honour at my esteemed order,

And saying the work would be put in hand right away,

And they would manage the wig as well.

Clarice could hardly contain herself for excitement,

And I too began to get party fever as the great day approached.

Giles and Patrice were coming for the night,

But nobody else than Kevin,

Although a lot of people were expected to dinner first.

I had imagined we should have to hold a large house party for the occasion,

But Maxim decided against it.

Having the dance alone is quite enough effort,

He said,

And I wondered whether he did it for my sake alone.

Or whether a large crowd of people really bored him as he said.

I had heard so much of the Manderley parties in the old days,

With people sleeping in bathrooms and on sofas because of the squash.

And here we were alone in the vast house,

With only Patrice and Giles to count as guests.

The house began to wear a new expectant air.

Men came to lay the floor for dancing in the great hall,

And in the drawing room some of the furniture was moved so that the long buffet tables could be placed against the wall.

Lights were put up on the terrace,

And in the rose garden too,

Wherever one walked there would be some sign of preparation for the ball.

Workmen from the estate were everywhere,

And Frank came to lunch nearly every day.

The servants talked of nothing else,

And Frith stalked about as though the whole evening would depend on him alone.

Robert rather lost his head and kept forgetting things,

Napkins at lunch,

And handing vegetables.

He wore a harassed expression,

Like someone who has got to catch a train.

The dogs were miserable.

Jasper trailed about the hall with his tail between his legs and nipped every workman on sight.

He used to stand on the terrace,

Barking idiotically,

And then dash madly to one corner of the lawn and eat grass in a sort of frenzy.

Mrs.

Danvers never obtruded herself,

But I was aware of her continually.

It was her voice I heard in the drawing room when they came to put the tables.

It was she who gave directions for the laying of the floor in the hall.

Whenever I came upon the scene,

She had always just disappeared.

I would catch a glimpse of her skirt brushing the door,

Or hear the sound of her footsteps on the stairs.

I was a lay figure,

No use to man or beast.

I used to stand about doing nothing except get in the way.

"'Excuse me,

Madam,

' I would hear a man say,

Just behind me,

And he would pass with a smile of apology.

Carrying two chairs on his back,

His face dripping with perspiration.

"'I'm awfully sorry,

' I would say,

Getting quickly to one side,

And then as a cover to my idleness.

"'Can I help you?

What about putting those chairs in the library?

' The man would look bewildered.

"'Mrs.

Danvers' orders,

Madam,

Was that we were to take the chairs round to the back to be out of the way.

' "'Oh,

' I said,

"'yes,

Of course.

How silly of me.

Take them round to the back,

As she said.

' And I would walk quickly away,

Murmuring,

Something about finding a piece of paper and a pencil,

In a vain attempt to delude the man into thinking I was busy,

While he went on across the hall,

Looking rather astonished,

And I would feel I had not deceived him for a moment.

The great day dawned,

Misty and overcast,

But the glass was high and we had no fears.

The mist was a good sign.

It cleared about eleven,

As Maxim had foretold,

And we had a glorious still summer's day without a cloud in the blue sky.

All the morning the gardeners were bringing flowers into the house,

The last of the white lilac,

And great lupins and delphiniums,

Five foot high,

Roses in hundreds,

And every sort of lily.

Mrs.

Danvers showed herself at last,

Quietly,

Calmly.

She told the gardeners where to put the flowers,

And she herself arranged them,

Stacking the vases with quick,

Deft fingers.

I watched her in fascination,

The way she did vase after vase,

Carrying them herself through the flower room to the drawing room,

And the various corners of the house,

Massing them in just the right numbers and profusion,

Putting color where color was needed,

Leaving the walls bare where severity paid.

Maxim and I had lunch with Frank,

At his bachelor establishment next door to the office,

To be out of the way.

We were all three in the rather hearty,

Cheerful humor of people after a funeral.

We made pointless jokes about nothing at all,

Our minds eternally on the thought of the next few hours.

I felt very much the same as I did the morning I was married,

The same stifled feeling that I had gone too far now to turn back.

The evening had got to be endured.

Then Kevin Messers Voce had sent my dress in time.

It looked perfect,

In its folds of tissue paper,

And the wig was a triumph.

I had tried it on after breakfast and was amazed at the transformation.

I looked quite attractive,

Quite different altogether.

Not me at all.

Someone much more interesting,

More vivid and alive.

Maxim and Frank kept asking me about my costume.

You won't know me,

I told them.

You will both get the shock of your lives.

You are not going to dress up as a clown,

Are you?

Said Maxim,

Gloomily.

No frightful attempt to be funny.

No,

Nothing like that,

I said,

Full of importance.

I wish you had kept to Alice in Wonderland,

He said.

Or Joan of Arc with your hair,

Said Frank,

Shyly.

I never thought of that,

I said blankly.

And Frank went rather pink.

I'm sure we shall like whatever you wear,

He said,

In his most pompous,

Frankish voice.

Don't encourage her,

Frank,

Said Maxim.

She's so full of her precious disguise already,

There's no holding her.

Bea will put you in your place,

That's one comfort.

She'll soon tell you if she doesn't like your dress.

Dear old Bea,

Always looks just wrong on these occasions,

Bless her.

I remember her once as Madame Pompadour,

And she tripped up going into supper and her wig came adrift.

I can't stand this damn thing,

She had said,

In that blunt voice of hers,

And chucked it on a chair,

And went through the rest of the evening with her own cropped hair.

You can imagine what it looked like,

Against a pale blue satin crinoline,

Or whatever the dress was.

Poor Giles did not cope that year.

He came as a cook,

And sat about in the bar all night looking perfectly miserable.

I think he felt Bea had let him down.

No,

It wasn't that,

Said Frank.

He'd lost his front teeth,

Trying out a new mare.

Don't you remember?

And he was so shy about it he wouldn't open his mouth.

Oh,

Was it that?

Poor Giles.

He generally enjoys dressing up.

Patrice says he loves playing charades,

I said.

She told me they always have charades at Christmas.

I know,

Said Maxim.

That's why I've never spent Christmas with her.

Have some more asparagus,

Mrs.

De Winter.

And another potato?

No,

Really,

Frank,

I'm not hungry,

Thank you.

Nerves,

Said Maxim,

Shaking his head.

Never mind,

This time tomorrow it will all be over.

I sincerely hope so,

Said Frank,

Seriously.

I was going to give orders that all cars should stand by for 5am.

I began to laugh weakly,

The tears coming into my eyes.

Oh,

Dear,

I said.

Let's send wires to everybody not to come.

Come on,

Be brave and face it,

Said Maxim.

We need not give another one for years.

Frank,

I have an uneasy feeling we ought to be going up to the house.

What do you think?

Frank agreed,

And I followed them unwillingly,

Reluctant to leave the cramped,

Rather uncomfortable little dining room that was so typical of Frank's bachelor establishment,

And which seemed to me,

Today,

The embodiment of peace and quietude.

When we came to the house,

We found that the band had arrived,

And were standing about in the hall,

Rather pink in the face and self-conscious,

While Frith,

More important than ever,

Offered refreshments.

The band were to be our guests for the night,

And after we had welcomed them,

And exchanged a few slightly obvious jokes,

Proper to the occasion,

The band were borne off to their quarters,

To be followed by a tour of the grounds.

The afternoon dragged,

Like the last hour before a journey when one is packed up and keyed to departure,

And I wandered from room to room,

Almost as lost as Jasper,

Who trailed reproachfully at my heels.

There was nothing I could do to help,

And it would have been wiser on my part to have kept clear of the house altogether,

And taken the dog and myself for a long walk.

By the time I decided upon this,

It was too late.

Maxim and Frank were demanding tea,

And when tea was over,

Patrice and Giles arrived.

The evening had come upon us all too soon.

This is like old times,

Said Patrice,

Kissing Maxim and looking about her.

Congratulations to you for remembering every detail.

The flowers are exquisite,

She added,

Turning to me.

Did you do them?

No,

I said,

Rather ashamed.

Mrs.

Danvers is responsible for everything.

Oh,

Well,

After all,

Patrice did not finish her sentence.

She accepted a light for a cigarette from Frank,

And once it was lit,

She appeared to have forgotten what she was going to say.

Have you got Mitchells to do the catering as usual?

Asked Giles.

Yes,

Said Maxim.

I don't think anything has been altered,

Has it,

Frank?

We had all the records down at the office.

Nothing has been forgotten,

And I don't think we have left anyone out.

What a relief to find only ourselves,

Said Patrice.

I remember once arriving about this time,

And there were about twenty-five people in the place already,

All going to stop the night.

What's everyone going to wear?

I suppose Maxim as always refuses to play?

As always,

Said Maxim.

Such a mistake,

I think.

The whole thing would go with much more swing if you did.

Have you ever known a ball at Manderley not to go with a swing?

No,

My dear boy,

The organization is too good,

But I do think the host ought to give the lead himself.

I think it's quite enough if the hostess makes the effort,

Said Maxim.

Why should I make myself hot and uncomfortable,

And a damn fool into the bargain?

Oh,

But that's absurd.

There's no need to look a fool.

With your appearance,

My dear Maxim,

You could get away with any costume.

You don't have to worry about your figure like poor Giles.

What is Giles going to wear tonight?

I asked.

Or is it a dead secret?

No,

Rather not,

Beamed Giles.

As a matter of fact,

It's a pretty good effort.

I got our local tailor to rig it up.

I'm coming as an Arabian chic.

Good God,

Said Maxim.

It's not all that bad,

Said Patrice warmly.

He stains his face,

Of course,

And leaves off his glasses.

The headdress is authentic.

We borrowed it off a friend who used to live in the East,

And the rest a tailor copied from some paper.

Giles looks very well in it.

What are you going to be,

Mrs.

Lacey?

Said Frank.

Oh,

I'm afraid I haven't coped much,

Said Patrice.

I've got some sort of Eastern getup to go with Giles,

But I don't pretend it's genuine.

Strings of beads,

You know,

And a veil over my face.

It sounds very nice,

I said politely.

Oh,

It's not bad.

Comfortable to wear,

That's one blessing.

I shall take off the veil if I get too hot.

What are you wearing?

Don't ask her,

Said Maxim.

She won't tell any of us.

There has never been such a secret.

I believe she even wrote to London for it.

My dear,

Said Patrice,

Rather impressed.

Don't say you've gone a bust and will put us all to shame.

Mine is only homemade,

You know.

Don't worry,

I said laughing.

It's quite simple,

Really,

But Maxim would tease me,

And I've promised to give him the surprise of his life.

Quite right too,

Said Giles.

Maxim is too superior altogether.

The fact is he's jealous,

Wishes he was dressing up like the rest of us,

And doesn't like to say so.

Heaven forbid,

Said Maxim.

What are you doing,

Crawley?

Asked Giles.

Frank looked rather apologetic.

I've been so busy,

I'm afraid I've left things to the last moment.

I hunted up an old pair of trousers last night,

And I striped a football jersey,

And thought of putting a patch over one eye and coming as a pirate.

Why on earth didn't you write to us and borrow a costume,

Said Patrice?

There's one of a Dutchman that Roger had last winter in Switzerland.

It would have suited you excellently.

I refuse to allow my agent to walk about as a Dutchman,

Said Maxim.

He'd never get rents out of anybody again.

Let him stick to his pirate.

It might frighten some of them.

Anything less like a pirate,

Murmured Patrice in my ear.

I pretended not to hear.

Poor Frank.

She was always rather down on him.

How long will it take me to paint my face?

Asked Giles.

Two hours at least,

Said Patrice.

I should begin thinking about it if I were you.

How many shall we be at dinner?

Sixteen,

Said Maxim,

Counting ourselves.

No strangers.

You know them all.

I'm beginning to get dress fever already,

Said Patrice.

What fun it all is.

I'm so glad you decided to do this again,

Maxim.

You've got her to thank for it,

Said Maxim,

Nodding at me.

Oh,

It's not true,

I said.

It was all the fault of Lady Crohan.

Nonsense,

Said Maxim,

Smiling at me.

You know you're as excited as a child at its first party.

I'm not.

I'm longing to see your dress,

Said Patrice.

It's nothing out of the way.

Really,

It's not,

I insisted.

Mrs.

De Winter says we shan't know her,

Said Frank.

Everybody looked at me and smiled.

I felt pleased and flushed and rather happy.

People were being nice.

They were all so friendly.

It was suddenly fun,

The thought of the dance,

And that I was to be the hostess.

The dance was being given for me,

In my honor,

Because I was the bride.

I sat on the table in the library,

Swinging my legs,

While the rest of them stood round,

And I had a longing to go upstairs and put on my dress,

Try the wig in front of the looking-glass,

Turn this way and that before the long mirror on the wall.

It was new,

This sudden unexpected sensation of being important,

Of having Giles and Patrice and Frank and Maxim all looking at me and talking about my dress,

All wondering what I was going to wear.

I thought of the soft white dress and its folds of tissue paper,

And how it would hide my flat,

Dull figure,

My rather sloping shoulders.

I thought of my own lank hair,

Covered by the sleek and gleaming curls.

What's the time?

I said carelessly,

Yawning a little,

Pretending I did not care.

I wonder if we ought to think about going upstairs.

As we crossed the great hall,

On the way to our rooms,

I realized for the first time how the house lent itself to the occasion,

And how beautiful the rooms were looking.

Even the drawing-room,

Formal and cold to my consideration,

When we were alone,

Was a blaze of color now,

Flowers in every corner,

Red roses and silver bowls on the white cloth of the supper-table,

The long windows open to the terrace,

Where,

As soon as it was dusk,

The fairy lights would shine.

The band had stacked their instruments ready in the minstrel's gallery above the hall,

And the hall itself wore a strange,

Waiting air.

There was a warmth about it I had never known before,

Due to the night itself,

So still and clear,

To the flowers beneath the pictures,

To our own laughter as we hovered on the wide stone stairs.

The old austerity had gone.

Manderley had come alive in a fashion I would not have believed possible.

It was not the still,

Quiet Manderley I knew.

There was a certain significance about it now that had not been before,

A reckless air,

Rather triumphant,

Rather pleasing.

It was as if the house remembered other days,

Long,

Long ago,

When the hall was a banqueting hall indeed,

With weapons and tapestry hanging upon the walls,

And men sat at the long narrow table in the center,

Laughing louder than we laughed now,

Calling for wine,

For song,

Throwing great pieces of meat upon the flags to the slumbering dogs.

Later,

In other years,

It would still be gay,

But with a certain grace and dignity,

And Caroline D.

Winter,

Whom I should represent tonight,

Would walk down the wide stone stairs in her white dress to dance the minuet.

I wished we could sweep away the years and see her.

I wished we did not have to degrade the house with our modern jig tunes,

So out of place and unromantic.

They would not suit Manderley.

I found myself in sudden agreement with Mrs.

Danvers.

We should have made it a period ball,

Not the hodgepodge of humanity it was bound to be,

With Giles,

Poor fellow,

Well-meaning and hardy in his guise of Arabian chic.

I found Clarice waiting for me in my bedroom,

Her round-faced scarlet with excitement.

We giggled at one another like schoolgirls,

And I bade her lock my door.

There was much sound of tissue paper,

Rustling and mysterious.

We spoke to one another softly,

Like conspirators.

We walked on tiptoe.

I felt like a child again on the eve of Christmas.

This padding to and fro in my room with bare feet,

The little furtive bursts of laughter,

The stifled exclamations,

Reminded me of hanging up my stocking long ago.

Maxim was safe in his dressing room,

And the way through was barred against him.

Clarice alone was my ally and favored friend.

The dress fitted perfectly.

I stood still,

Hardly able to restrain my impatience,

While Clarice hooked me up with fumbling fingers.

"'It's handsome,

Madam,

' she kept saying,

Leaning back on her heels to look at me.

"'It's a dress fit for the Queen of England.

' "'What about under the left shoulder there?

' I said anxiously.

"'That strap of mine,

Is it going to show?

' "'No,

Madam,

Nothing shows.

' "'How is it?

How do I look?

' I did not wait for her answer.

I twisted and turned in front of the mirror.

I frowned.

I smiled.

I felt different already,

No longer hampered by my appearance.

My own dull personality was submerged at last.

"'Give me the wig,

' I said excitedly.

"'Careful.

Don't crush it.

The curls mustn't be flat.

They are supposed to stand out from the face.

' Clarice stood behind my shoulder.

I saw her round face beyond mine in the reflection of the looking-glass,

Her eyes shining,

Her mouth a little open.

I brushed my own hair,

Sleek,

Behind my ears.

I took hold of the soft,

Gleaming curls with trembling fingers,

Laughing under my breath,

Looking up at Clarice.

"'Oh,

Clarice,

' I said.

"'What will Mr.

De Winter say?

' I covered my own mousy hair with a curled wig,

Trying to hide my triumph,

Trying to hide my smile.

Somebody came and hammered on the door.

"'Who's there?

' I called in panic.

"'You can't come in!

' "'It's me,

My dear.

Don't alarm yourself,

' said Patrice.

"'How far have you got?

I want to look at you.

' "'No,

No,

' I said.

"'You can't come in.

I'm not ready.

' The flustered Clarice stood beside me,

Her hand full of hairpins,

While I took them from her one by one,

Controlling the curls that had become fluffed in the box.

"'I'll come down when I am ready,

' I called.

"'Go on down,

All of you.

Don't wait for me.

Tell Maxim he can't come in.

' "'Maxim's down,

' she said.

"'He came along to us.

"'He said he hammered on your bathroom door and you never answered.

"'Don't be too long,

My dear.

We are all so intrigued.

Are you sure you don't want any help?

' "'No!

' I shouted impatiently,

Losing my head.

"'Go away.

Go on down.

' Why did she have to come and bother,

Just at this moment?

It fussed me.

I did not know what I was doing.

I jabbed with a hairpin,

Flattening it against a curl.

I heard no more from Patrice.

She must have gone along the passage.

I wondered if she was happy in her eastern robes,

And if Giles had succeeded in painting his face.

"'How absurd it was,

The whole thing.

Why did we do it,

I wonder?

Why were we such children?

I did not recognize the face that stared at me in the glass.

The eyes were larger,

Surely.

The mouth,

Narrower.

The skin white and clear.

The curl stood away from my head in a little cloud.

I watched this self that was not me at all,

And then smiled.

A new,

Slow smile.

"'Oh,

Clarice!

' I said.

"'Oh,

Clarice!

' I took the skirt of my dress in my hands and curtsied to her,

The flounces sweeping the ground.

She giggled excitedly,

Rather embarrassed.

Flushed,

Though,

Very pleased.

I paraded up and down in front of my glass,

Watching my reflection.

"'Unlock the door,

' I said.

"'I'm going down.

Run ahead and see if they are there.

' She obeyed me,

Still giggling,

And I lifted my skirts off the ground and followed her along the corridor.

She looked back at me and beckoned.

"'They've gone down.

Mr.

DeWinter and Major and Mrs.

Lacey.

Mr.

Crawley has just come.

They are all standing in the hall.

' I peered through the archway at the head of the big staircase and looked down on the hall below.

Yes,

There they were,

Giles in his white Arab dress,

Laughing loudly,

Showing the knife at his side.

Patrice,

Swathed in an extraordinary green garment and hung about the neck with trailing beads.

Poor Frank,

Self-conscious and slightly foolish in his striped jersey and sea boots.

Maxim,

The only normal one of the party,

In his evening clothes.

"'I don't know what she's doing,

' he said.

"'She's been up in her bedroom for hours.

What's the time,

Frank?

The dinner crowd will be upon us before we know where we are.

' The band was changed and in the gallery already.

One of the men was tuning his fiddle.

He played a scale softly and then plucked at a string.

The light shone on the picture of Caroline DeWinter.

Yes,

The dress had been copied exactly from my sketch of the portrait.

The puffed sleeve,

The sash and the ribbon,

The wide floppy hat I held in my hand.

And my curls were her curls.

They stood out from my face as hers did in the picture.

I don't think I have ever felt so excited before,

So happy and so proud.

I waved my hand at the man with the fiddle and then put my finger to my lips for silence.

He smiled and bowed.

He came across the gallery to the archway where I stood.

"'Make the drummer announce me,

' I whispered.

"'Make him beat the drum.

You know how they do.

And then call out,

Miss Caroline DeWinter.

I want to surprise them below.

' He nodded his head.

He understood.

My heart fluttered absurdly and my cheeks were burning.

What fun it was.

What mad,

Ridiculous,

Childish fun.

I smiled at Clarice,

Still crouching in the corridor.

I picked up my skirt in my hands.

Then the sound of the drum echoed in the great hall,

Startling me for a moment.

I who had waited for it,

Who knew it would come.

I saw them look up surprised and bewildered from the hall below.

"'Miss Caroline DeWinter!

' shouted the drummer.

I came forward to the head of the stairs and stood there smiling,

My hat in my hand,

Like the girl in the picture.

I waited for the clapping and laughter that would follow as I walked slowly down the stairs.

Nobody clapped.

Nobody moved.

They all stared at me like dumb things.

Patrice uttered a little cry and put her hand to her mouth.

I went on smiling.

I put one hand on the banister.

"'How do you do,

Mr.

DeWinter?

' I said.

Maxim had not moved.

He stared up at me,

His glass in his hand.

There was no color in his face.

It was ash and white.

I saw Frank go to him as though he would speak,

But Maxim shook him off.

I hesitated,

One foot already on the stairs.

Something was wrong.

They had not understood.

Why was Maxim looking like that?

Why did they all stand like dummies,

Like people in a trance?

Then Maxim moved forward to the stairs,

His eyes never leaving my face.

"'What the hell do you think you are doing?

' he asked.

His eyes blazed in anger.

His face was still ash and white.

I could not move.

I went on standing there,

My hand on the banister.

"'It's the picture,

' I said,

Terrified at his eyes,

At his voice.

"'It's the picture,

The one in the gallery.

' There was a long silence.

We went on staring at each other.

Nobody moved in the hall.

I swallowed,

My hand moved to my throat.

"'What is it?

' I said.

"'What have I done?

' If only they would not stare at me like that,

With dull blank faces.

"'If only somebody would say something.

' When Maxim spoke again,

I did not recognize his voice.

It was still and quiet,

Icy cold,

Not a voice I knew.

"'Go and change,

' he said.

"'It does not matter what you put on.

Find an ordinary evening frock.

Anything will do.

Go now,

Before anybody comes.

' I could not speak.

I went on staring at him.

His eyes were the only living things in the white mask of his face.

"'What are you standing there for?

' he said,

His voice harsh and queer.

"'Didn't you hear what I said?

' I turned and ran blindly through the archway to the corridors beyond.

I caught a glimpse of the astonished face of the drummer who had announced me.

I brushed past him,

Stumbling,

Not looking where I went.

Tears blinded my eyes.

I did not know what was happening.

Clarice had gone.

The corridor was deserted.

I looked about me stunned and stupid like a haunted thing.

Then I saw that the door leading to the west wing was open wide and that someone was standing there.

It was Mrs.

Danvers.

I shall never forget the expression on her face,

Loathsome,

Triumphant.

The face of an exulting devil.

She stood there,

Smiling at me.

And then I ran from her,

Down the long narrow passage to my own room,

Tripping,

Stumbling over the flounces of my dress.

Chapter 17 Clarice was waiting for me in my bedroom.

She looked pale and scared.

As soon as she saw me,

She burst into tears.

I did not say anything.

I began tearing at the hooks of my dress,

Ripping the stuff.

I could not manage them properly and Clarice came to help me,

Still crying noisily.

It's alright Clarice,

It's not your fault,

I said,

And she shook her head,

The tears still running down her cheeks.

Your lovely dress,

Madam,

She said.

Your lovely white dress.

It doesn't matter,

I said.

Can't you find the hook?

There it is at the back and another one somewhere just below.

She fumbled with the hooks,

Her hands trembling,

Making worse trouble with it than I did myself.

And all the time catching at her breath.

What will you wear instead,

Madam?

She said.

I don't know,

I said.

I don't know.

She had managed to unfasten the hooks and I struggled out of the dress.

I think I'd rather like to be alone,

Clarice,

I said.

Would you be a dear and leave me?

Don't worry,

I shall manage alright.

Forget what's happened,

I want you to enjoy the party.

Can I press out a dress for you,

Madam?

She said,

Looking up at me with swollen,

Streaming eyes.

It won't take me a moment.

No,

I said,

Don't bother.

I'd rather you went,

And Clarice?

Yes,

Madam?

Don't,

Don't say anything about what's just happened.

No,

Madam.

She burst into another torrent of weeping.

Don't let the others see you like that,

I said.

Go to your bedroom and do something to your face.

There's nothing to cry about,

Nothing at all.

Somebody knocked on the door.

Clarice threw me a quick,

Frightened glance.

Who is it?

I said.

The door opened and Patrice came into the room.

She came to meet me at once.

A strange,

Rather ludicrous figure in her eastern drapery,

The bangles jangling on her wrists.

My dear,

She said,

My dear,

And held out her hands to me.

Clarice slipped out of the room.

I felt tired suddenly and unable to cope.

I went and sat down on the bed.

I put my hand up to my head and took off the curled wig.

Patrice stood watching me.

Are you alright?

She said.

You look very white.

It's the light,

I said.

It never gives one any colour.

Sit down for a few minutes and you'll be alright,

She said.

Wait,

I'll get a glass of water.

She went into the bathroom.

Her bangles jangling with her every movement.

And then she came back,

The glass of water in her hands.

I drank some to please her,

Not wanting it a bit.

It tasted warm from the tap.

She had not let it run.

Of course I knew at once it was just a terrible mistake,

She said.

You could not possibly have known.

Why should you?

Known what?

I said.

Why,

The dress,

You poor dear.

The picture you copied of the girl in the gallery.

It was what Rebecca did at the fancy dress ball at Manderley.

Identical.

The same picture,

The same dress.

You stood there on the stairs.

And for one ghastly moment,

I thought.

She did not go on with her sentence.

She patted me on the shoulder.

You poor child.

How wretchedly unfortunate.

How were you to know?

I ought to have known,

I said stupidly.

Staring at her.

Too stunned to understand.

I ought to have known.

Nonsense.

How could you know?

It was not the sort of thing that could possibly enter any of our heads.

Only it was such a shock,

You see.

We none of us expected it.

And Maxim.

.

.

Yes,

Maxim?

I said.

He thinks,

You see,

It was deliberate on your part.

You had some bet that you would startle him,

Didn't you?

Some foolish joke?

And of course,

He doesn't understand.

It was such a frightful shock for him.

I told him at once you could not have done such a thing.

And that it was sheer appalling luck that you had chosen that particular picture.

I ought to have known,

I repeated again.

It's all my fault.

I ought to have seen.

I ought to have known.

No,

No.

Don't worry.

You'll be able to explain the whole thing to him quietly.

Everything will be quite all right.

The first lot of people were arriving just as I came upstairs to you.

They are having drinks.

Everything's all right.

I've told Frank and Giles to make up a story about your dress not fitting.

And you are very disappointed.

I did not say anything.

I went on sitting on the bed with my hands in my lap.

What can you wear instead?

Said Patrice,

Going to my wardrobe and flinging open the doors.

Here,

What's this blue?

It looks charming.

Put this on.

Nobody will mind.

Quick,

I'll help you.

No,

I said.

No,

I'm not coming down.

Patrice stared at me in great distress,

My blue frock over her arm.

But my dear,

You must,

She said in dismay.

You can't possibly not appear.

No,

Patrice,

I'm not coming down.

I can't face them.

Not after what's happened.

But nobody will know about the dress,

She said.

Frank and Giles will never breathe a word.

We've got the story all arranged.

The shop sent the wrong dress,

And it did not fit.

So you are wearing an ordinary evening dress instead.

Everyone will think it's perfectly natural.

It won't make any difference to the evening.

You don't understand,

I said.

I don't care about the dress.

It's not that at all.

It's what has happened,

What I did.

I can't come down now,

Patrice.

I can't.

But,

My dear,

Giles and Frank understand perfectly.

They are full of sympathy.

And Maxim,

Too.

It was just the first shock.

I'll try and get him alone a minute.

I'll explain the whole thing.

No,

I said,

No.

She put my blue frock down beside me on the bed.

Everyone will be arriving,

She said,

Very worried,

Very upset.

It will look so extraordinary if you don't come down.

I can't say you've suddenly got a headache.

Why not?

I said wearily.

What does it matter?

Make anything up.

Nobody will mind.

They don't any of them know me.

Come now,

My dear,

She said,

Patting my hand.

Try and make the effort.

Put on this charming blue.

Think of Maxim.

You must come down for his sake.

I'm thinking about Maxim all the time,

I said.

Well,

Then,

Surely.

No,

I said,

Tearing at my nails,

Rocking backwards and forwards on the bed.

I can't.

I can't.

Somebody else knocked on the door.

Oh,

Dear,

Who on earth is that?

Said Patrice,

Walking to the door.

What is it?

She opened the door.

Giles was standing just outside.

Everyone has turned up.

Maxim sent me up to find out what's happening,

He said.

She says she won't come down,

Said Patrice.

What on earth are we going to say?

I caught sight of Giles peering at me through the open door.

Oh,

Lord,

What a frightful mix-up,

He whispered.

He turned away,

Embarrassed,

When he noticed that I had seen him.

What shall I say to Maxim?

He asked Patrice.

It's five past eight now.

Say she's feeling rather faint,

But will try and come down later.

Tell them not to wait dinner.

I'll be down directly.

I'll make it all right.

Yes,

Right you are.

He half glanced in my direction again.

Sympathetic,

But rather curious.

Wondering why I sat there on the bed.

And his voice was low,

As it might be after an accident,

When people are waiting for the doctor.

Is there anything else I can do?

He said.

No,

Said Patrice.

Go down now.

I'll follow in a minute.

He obeyed her,

Shuffling away in his Arabian robes.

This is the sort of moment,

I thought,

That I shall laugh at years afterwards.

That I shall say,

Do you remember how Giles was dressed as an Arab,

And Patrice had a veil over her face,

And jangling bangles on her wrist?

And time will mellow it,

Make it a moment for laughter.

But now it was not funny.

Now I did not laugh.

It was not the future.

It was the present.

It was too vivid,

And too real.

I sat on the bed,

Plucking at the eider down,

Pulling a little feather out of a slit in one corner.

Would you like some brandy?

Said Patrice,

Making a last effort.

I know it's only Dutch courage,

But it sometimes works wonders.

No,

I said.

No,

I don't want anything.

I shall have to go down.

Giles says they are waiting dinner.

Are you sure it's all right for me to leave you?

Yes,

And thank you,

Patrice.

Oh,

My dear,

Don't thank me.

I wish I could do something.

She stopped swiftly at my looking-glass,

And dabbed her face with powder.

God,

What a sight I look,

She said.

This damn veil is crooked,

I know.

However,

It can't be helped.

She rustled out of the room,

Closing the door behind her.

I felt I had forfeited her sympathy by my refusal to go down.

I had shown the white feather.

She had not understood.

She belonged to another breed of men and women,

Another race than I.

They had guts,

The women of her race.

They were not like me.

If it had been Patrice who had done this thing instead of me,

She would have put on her other dress and gone down again to welcome her guests.

She would have stood by Giles' side and shaken hands with people,

A smile on her face.

I could not do that.

I had not the pride.

I had not the guts.

I was badly bred.

I kept seeing Maxim's eyes blazing in his white face.

And behind him Giles,

And Patrice,

And Frank,

Standing like dummies,

Staring at me.

I got up from my bed and went and looked out of the window.

The gardeners were going round to the lights in the rose garden,

Testing them to see if they all worked.

The sky was pale,

With a few salmon clouds of evening streaking to the west.

When it was dusk,

The lamps would all be lit.

There were tables and chairs in the rose garden for the couples who wanted to sit out.

I could smell the roses from my window.

The men were talking to one another and laughing.

There's one here gone.

I heard a voice call out.

Can you get me another small bulb?

One of the blue ones,

Bill.

He fixed the light into position.

He whistled a popular tune of the moment with easy confidence.

And I thought how tonight,

Perhaps a band would play the same tune in the minstrel's gallery above the hall.

That's got it,

Said the man,

Switching the light on and off.

They're all right here,

No others gone.

We'd better have a look at those on the terrace.

They went off round the corner of the house,

Still whistling the song.

I wished I could be the man.

Later in the evening,

He would stand with his friend in the drive and watch the cars drive up to the house.

His hands in his pockets.

His cap on the back of his head.

He would stand in the crowd with other people from the estate,

And then drink cider at the long table arranged for them in one corner of the terrace.

Like the old days,

Isn't it?

He would say.

But his friend would shake his head,

Puffing at his pipe.

This new one's not like our Mrs.

DeWinter.

She's different altogether.

And a woman next to them in the crowd would agree.

Other people too,

All saying,

That's right,

And nodding their heads.

Where is she tonight?

She's not been on the terrace once.

I can't say I'm sure I've not seen her.

Mrs.

DeWinter used to be here,

There,

And everywhere.

Aye,

That's right.

And the woman would turn to her neighbors,

Nodding mysteriously.

They say she's not appearing tonight at all.

Go on.

That's right.

One of the servants from the house told me,

Mrs.

DeWinter hasn't come down from her room all evening.

What's wrong with the maid?

Is she bad?

No,

Sulky,

I reckon.

They say her dress didn't please her.

A squeal of laughter and a murmur from the little crowd.

Did you ever hear of such a thing?

It's a shame for Mr.

DeWinter.

I wouldn't stand for it,

Not from a chit like her.

Maybe it's not true at all.

It's true,

All right.

They're full of it up at the house.

One to the other,

This one to the next,

A smile,

A wink,

A shrug of the shoulder.

One group,

And then another group,

And then spreading to the guests who walked on the terrace and strolled across the lawns.

The couple,

Who in three hours' time would sit in those chairs beneath me in the rose garden.

Do you suppose it's true what I heard?

What did you hear?

Why,

That there's nothing wrong with her at all.

They've had a colossal row and she won't appear.

I say!

A lift of the eyebrows,

A long whistle.

I know.

Well,

It does look rather odd,

Don't you think?

What I mean is,

People don't suddenly for no reason have violent headaches.

I call the whole thing fishy.

I thought he looked a bit grim.

So did I.

Of course,

I have heard before the marriage is not a wild success.

Oh,

Really?

Mm-hmm,

Several people have said so.

They say he's beginning to realize he's made a big mistake.

She's nothing to look at,

You know.

No,

I've heard there's nothing much to her.

Who was she?

Oh,

No one at all.

Some pick-up in the south of France.

A nursery gov or something.

Good Lord!

I know.

And when you think of Rebecca.

.

.

I went on staring at the empty chairs.

The salmon sky had turned to grey.

Above my head was the evening star.

In the woods,

Beyond the rose garden,

The birds were making their last little rustling noises.

Nightfall.

A lone gull flew across the sky.

I went away from the window,

Back to the bed again.

I picked up the white dress I had left on the floor and put it back in the box with the tissue paper.

I put the wig back in its box,

Too.

Then I looked in one of my cupboards for the little portable iron I used to have in Monte Carlo for Mrs.

Van Hopper's dresses.

It was lying at the back of a shelf with some woolen jumpers I had not worn for a long time.

The iron was of those universal kinds that go on any voltage,

And I fitted it to the plug in the wall.

I began to iron the blue dress that Patrice had taken from the wardrobe.

Slowly,

Methodically,

As I used to iron Mrs.

Van Hopper's dresses in Monte Carlo.

When I had finished,

I laid the dress ready on the bed.

Then I cleaned the makeup off my face that I had put on for the fancy dress.

I combed my hair and washed my hands.

I put on the blue dress and the shoes that went with it.

I might have been my old self again,

Going down to the lounge of the hotel with Mrs.

Van Hopper.

I opened the door of my room and went along the corridor.

Everything was still and silent.

There might not have been a party at all.

I tiptoed to the end of the passage and turned the corner.

The door to the west wing was closed.

There was no sound of anything at all.

When I came to the archway by the gallery and the staircase,

I heard the murmur and hum of conversation coming from the dining room.

They were still having dinner.

The great hall was deserted.

There was nobody in the gallery either.

The band must be having their dinner too.

I did not know what arrangements had been made for them.

Frank had done it.

Frank or Mrs.

Danvers.

From where I stood,

I could see the picture of Caroline DeWinter facing me in the gallery.

I could see the curls framing her face,

And I could see the smile on her lips.

How queer the instruments looked in the gallery.

The little stands for the music,

The big drum.

One of the men had left his handkerchief on a chair.

I leant over the rail and looked down at the hall below.

Soon,

It would be filled with people,

Like the bishop's wife had said,

And Maxim would stand at the bottom of the stairs,

Shaking hands with them as they came into the hall.

The sound of their voices would echo to the ceiling,

And then the band would play from the gallery where I was leaning now.

The man with a violin smiling,

Swaying to the music.

It would not be quiet like this anymore.

A board creaked in the gallery.

I swung round,

Looking at the gallery behind me.

There was nobody there.

The gallery was empty.

Just as it had been before.

A current of air blew in my face,

Though.

Somebody must have left a window open in one of the passages.

The hum of voices continued in the dining room.

I wondered why the board creaked when I had not moved at all.

The warmth of the night,

Perhaps.

A swelling somewhere in the old wood.

The draught still blew in my face,

Though.

A piece of music on one of the stands fluttered to the floor.

I looked towards the archway above the stairs.

The draught was coming from there.

I went beneath the arch again,

And when I came out onto the long corridor,

I saw that the door to the west wing had blown open and swung back against the wall.

It was dark in the west passage.

None of the lights had been turned on.

I could feel the wind blowing on my face from an open window.

I fumbled for a switch on the wall and could not find one.

I could see the window in an angle of the passage.

The curtain blowing softly,

Backwards and forwards.

The grey evening light cast queer shadows on the floor.

The sound of the sea came to me through the open window.

The soft hissing sound of the ebb tide leaving the shingle.

I did not go and shut the window.

I stood there,

Shivering a moment in my thin dress,

Listening to the sea as it sighed and left the shore.

Then I turned quickly and shut the door of the west wing behind me and came out again through the archway by the stairs.

The murmur of voices had swollen now and was louder than before.

The door of the dining room was open.

They were coming out of dinner.

I could see Robert standing by the open door and there was a scraping of chairs,

A babble of conversation and laughter.

I walked slowly down the stairs to meet them.

When I look back at my first party at Manderley,

My first and my last,

I can remember little isolated things standing alone out of the vast blank canvas of the evening.

The background was hazy,

A sea of dim faces,

None of whom I knew.

And there was the slow drone of the band harping out a waltz that never finished that went on and on.

The same couples swung by in rotation with the same fixed smiles and to me,

Standing with Maxim at the bottom of the stairs to welcome the latecomers.

These dancing couples seemed like marionettes twisting and turning on a piece of string held by some invisible hand.

There was a woman.

I never knew her name,

Never saw her again.

But she wore a salmon-colored gown hooped in crinoline form,

A vague gesture to some past century.

But whether 17th,

18th,

Or 19th,

I could not tell.

And every time she passed me,

It coincided with a sweeping bar of the waltz to which she dipped and swayed,

Smiling as she did so in my direction.

It happened again and again.

Until it became automatic,

A matter of routine.

Like those promenades on board ship when we meet the same people bent on exercise like ourselves and know with deadly certainty that we will pass them by the bridge.

I can see her now,

The prominent teeth,

The gay spot of rouge placed high upon her cheekbones,

And her smile,

Vacant,

Happy,

Enjoying her evening.

Later,

I saw her by the supper table,

Her keen eyes searching the food,

And she heaped a plate high with salmon and lobster mayonnaise and went off into a corner.

There was Lady Crowen,

Too,

Monstrous and purple,

Disguised as I know not what romantic figure of the past.

It might have been Marie Antoinette,

Or Neil Gwynn,

For all I knew,

Or a strange erotic combination of the two.

And she kept exclaiming in excited high-pitched tones,

A little higher than usual because of the champagne she had consumed.

You all have me to thank for this,

Not the De Winters at all.

I remember Robert dropping a tray of ices and the expression on Frith's face when he saw Robert was the culprit.

And not one of the minions hired for the occasion.

I wanted to go to Robert and stand beside him and say,

I know how you feel.

I understand.

I have done worse than you tonight.

I can feel now the stiff,

Set smile on my face that did not match the misery in my eyes.

I can see Patrice,

Dear,

Friendly,

Tactless Patrice,

Watching me from her partner's arms,

Nodding encouragement,

The bangles jangling on her wrists,

The veil slipping continually from her overheated forehead.

I can picture myself,

Once more whirled round the room in a desperate dance with Giles,

Who with dog-like sympathy and kind heart would take no refusal but must steer me through the stamping crowd as he would one of his own horses at a meet.

That's a jolly pretty dress you're wearing.

I can hear him say,

It makes all these people look damn silly.

And I blessed him for his pathetic simple gesture of understanding and sincerity.

Thinking,

Dear Giles,

That I was disappointed in my dress,

That I was worrying about my appearance,

That I cared.

It was Frank who brought me a plate of chicken and ham that I could not eat.

And Frank,

Who stood by my elbow with a glass of champagne I would not drink.

I wish you would,

He said quietly.

I think you need it.

And I took three sips of it to please him.

The black patch over his eye gave him a pale odd appearance.

It made him look older,

Different.

There seemed to be lines on his face I had not seen before.

He moved amongst the guests like another host,

Seeing to their comfort that they were supplied with drink and food and cigarettes.

And he danced,

Too,

In solemn,

Painstaking fashion,

Walking his partners around the room with a set face.

He did not wear his pirate costume with abandon.

And there was something rather tragic about the side whiskers he had fluffed under the scarlet handkerchief on his head.

I thought of him standing before the looking-glass in his bare,

Bachelor bedroom,

Curling them round his fingers.

Poor Frank.

Dear Frank.

I never asked.

I never knew how much he hated the fancy dress ball given at Manderley.

The band played on and the swaying couples twisted like bobbing marionettes.

To and fro,

To and fro,

Across the great hall and back again.

And it was not I who watched them at all.

Not someone with feelings made of flesh and blood,

But a dummy stick of a person in my stead.

A prop,

Who wore a smile,

Screwed to its face.

The figure,

Who stood beside it,

Was wooden,

Too.

His face was a mask.

His smile was not his own.

The eyes were not the eyes of the man I loved,

The man I knew.

They looked through me and beyond me,

Cold,

Expressionless.

To some place of pain and torture I could not enter.

To some private,

Inward hell I could not share.

He never spoke to me.

He never touched me.

We stood beside one another,

The host and the hostess,

And were not together.

I watched his courtesy to his guests.

He flung a word to one,

A jest to another,

A smile to a third,

A call over his shoulder to a fourth.

And no one but myself could know that every utterance he made,

Every movement was automatic and the work of a machine.

We were like two performers in a play,

But we were divided.

We were not acting with one another.

We had to endure it alone.

We had to put up this show,

This miserable,

Sham performance.

For the sake of all these people I did not know and did not want to see again.

I hear your wife's frock never turned up in time.

Said someone with a mottled face and a sailor's pigtail.

And he laughed and dug Maxim in the ribs.

Damn shame,

What?

I should sue the shop for fraud.

Same thing happened to my wife's cousin once.

Yes,

It was unfortunate,

Said Maxim.

I tell you what,

Said the sailor,

Turning to me.

You ought to say you are a forget-me-not.

They're blue,

Aren't they?

Jolly little flowers,

Forget-me-nots.

That's right,

Isn't it,

De Winter?

Tell your wife she must call her a forget-me-not.

He swept away,

Roaring with laughter,

His partner in his arms.

Pretty good idea,

What?

A forget-me-not.

Then Frank,

Again,

Hovering just behind me.

Another glass in his hand,

Lemonade this time.

No,

Frank,

I'm not thirsty.

Why don't you dance?

Or come and sit down a moment.

There's a corner in the terrace.

No,

I'm better standing.

I don't want to sit down.

Can't I get you something?

A sandwich?

A peach?

No,

I don't want anything.

There was a salmon lady again.

She forgot to smile at me this time.

She was flushed after her supper.

She kept looking up into her partner's face.

He was very tall,

Very thin.

He had a chin like a fiddle.

The destiny waltz.

The blue Danube.

The merry widow.

One-two-three,

One-two-three,

Round and round.

One-two-three,

One-two-three,

Round and round.

The salmon lady.

A green lady.

Patrice again.

Her veil pushed back off her forehead.

Giles,

His face streaming with perspiration.

And that sailor once more,

With another partner.

They stopped beside me.

I did not know her.

She was dressed as a Tudor woman.

Any Tudor woman.

She wore a ruffle round her throat and a black velvet dress.

When are you coming to see us?

She said.

As though we were old friends.

And I answered.

Soon,

Of course.

We were talking about it the other day.

Wondering why I found it so easy to lie suddenly.

No effort at all.

Such a delightful party.

I do congratulate you.

She said.

Thank you very much.

It's fun,

Isn't it?

I hear they sent you the wrong dress.

Yes.

Absurd,

Wasn't it?

These shops are all the same.

No depending on them.

But you look delightfully fresh in that pale blue.

Much more comfortable than this hot velvet.

Don't forget.

You must both come and dine at the palace soon.

We should love to.

What did she mean?

Where?

What palace?

Were we entertaining royalty?

She swept on to the blue Danube and the arms of the sailor.

Her velvet frock brushing the ground like a carpet sweeper.

And it was not until long afterwards,

In the middle of some night when I could not sleep,

That I remembered the Tudor woman was the bishop's wife,

Who liked walking in the penines.

What was the time?

I did not know.

The evening dragged on,

Hour after hour.

The same faces and the same tunes.

Now and again the bridge people crept out of the library,

Like hermits,

To watch the dancers,

And then returned again.

Patrice,

Her draperies trailing behind her,

Whispered in my ear,

Why don't you sit down?

You look like death.

I'm all right.

Giles,

The makeup running on his face,

Poor fellow,

And stifling in his Arab blanket,

Came up to me and said,

Come and watch the fireworks on the terrace.

I remember standing on the terrace and staring up at the sky as the foolish rockets burst and fell.

There was little Clarice in a corner with some boy off the estate.

She was smiling happily,

Squilling with delight as a squib spluttered at her feet.

She had forgotten her tears.

Hello.

This will be a biggin'.

Giles,

His large face upturned,

His mouth open.

Here she comes.

Bravo.

Jolly fine show.

The slow hiss of the rocket as it sped into the air.

The burst of the explosion.

The stream of little emerald stars.

A murmur of approval from the crowd.

Cries of delight.

And a clapping of hands.

The salmon lady wailed to the front,

Her face eager with expectation.

A remark for every star that fell.

Oh,

What a beauty.

Look at that one now.

I say how pretty.

Oh,

That one didn't burst.

Take care.

It's coming our way.

What are those men doing over there?

Even the hermits left their lair and came to join the dancers on the terrace.

The lawns were black with people.

The bursting stars shone on their upturned faces.

Again and again the rocket sped into the air like arrows.

And the sky became crimson and gold.

Manderley stood out like an enchanted house.

Every window aflame.

The gray walls colored by the falling stars.

A house bewitched,

Carved out of the dark woods.

And when the last rocket burst and the cheering died away,

The night that had been fine before seemed dull and heavy in contrast.

The sky became a pall.

The little groups on the lawns and in the drive broke up and scattered.

The guests crowded the long windows in the terrace back to the drawing room again.

It was anticlimax.

The aftermath had come.

We stood about with blank faces.

Someone gave me a glass of champagne.

I heard the sound of cars starting up in the drive.

They're beginning to go,

I thought.

Thank God,

They're beginning to go.

The salmon lady was having some more supper.

It would take time yet to clear the hall.

I saw Frank make a signal to the band.

I stood in the doorway between the drawing room and the hall beside a man I did not know.

What a wonderful party it's been,

He said.

Yes,

I said.

I've enjoyed every minute of it,

He said.

I'm so glad.

Molly was wild with fury at missing it,

He said.

Was she?

The band began to play Auld Lang Syne.

The man seized my hand and started swinging it up and down.

Here,

He said.

Come on,

Some of you.

Somebody else swung my other hand and more people joined us.

We stood in a great circle singing at the top of our voices.

The man who had enjoyed his evening and said Molly would be wild at missing it was dressed as a Chinese Mandarin and his false nails got caught up in his sleeve as he swung our hands up and down.

He roared with laughter.

We all laughed.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

We sang.

The hilarious gaiety changed swiftly at the closing bars and the drummer rattled his sticks in the inevitable prelude to God Save the King.

The smiles left our faces as though wiped clean by a sponge.

The Mandarin sprang to attention,

His hands stiff to his sides.

I remember wondering vaguely if he was in the army.

How queer he looked with his long poker face and his drooping Mandarin mustache.

I caught the salmon lady's eye.

God Save the King had taken her unawares.

She was still holding a plate heaped with chicken.

She held it stiffly out in front of her like a church collection.

All animation had gone from her face.

As a last note of God Save the King died away,

She relaxed again and attacked her chicken in a sort of frenzy,

Chattering over her shoulder to her partner.

Somebody came and wrung me by the hand.

Don't forget,

You're dining with us on the 14th of next month.

Oh,

Are we?

I stared at him blankly.

Yes,

We've got your sister-in-law to promise,

Too.

Oh,

Oh,

What fun.

8.

30 and black tie.

So looking forward to seeing you.

Yes,

Yes,

Rather.

People began to form up in queues to say goodbye.

Maxim was at the other side of the room.

I put on my smile again,

Which had worn thin after Auld Lang Syne.

The best evening I've spent for a long time.

I'm so glad.

Many thanks for a grand party.

I'm so glad.

Here we are,

You see,

Staying to the bitter end.

Yes,

I'm so glad.

Was there no other sentence in the English language?

I bowed and smiled like a dummy,

My eyes searching for Maxim above their heads.

He was caught up in a knot of people by the library.

Patrice,

Too,

Was surrounded,

And Giles had led a team of stragglers to the buffet table in the drawing room.

Frank was out in the drive,

Seeing that people got their cars.

I was hemmed in by strangers.

Goodbye,

And thanks tremendously.

I'm so glad.

The great hall began to empty.

Already it were that drab,

Deserted air of a vanished evening and the dawn of a tired day.

There was a gray light on the terrace.

I could see the shapes of the blown firework stands taking form on the lawns.

Goodbye,

A wonderful party.

I'm so glad.

Maxim had gone out to join Frank in the drive.

Patrice came up to me,

Pulling off her jangling bracelet.

Can't stand these things a moment longer.

Heavens,

I'm dead beat.

I don't believe I've missed a dance.

Anyway,

It was a tremendous success.

Was it?

I said.

My dear,

Hadn't you better go to bed?

You look worn out.

You've been standing nearly all the evening.

Where are the men?

Out on the drive.

I shall have some coffee and eggs and bacon.

What about you?

No,

Patrice.

I don't think I will.

You looked very charming in your blue.

Everyone said so.

And nobody had an inkling about— about the other things.

So you mustn't worry.

No.

If I were you,

I should have a good,

Long lie tomorrow morning.

Don't attempt to get up.

Have your breakfast in bed.

Yes,

Perhaps.

I'll tell Maxim you've gone up,

Shall I?

Please,

Patrice.

All right,

My dear.

Sleep well.

She kissed me swiftly,

Patting my shoulder at the same time,

And then went off to find Giles in the supper room.

I walked slowly up the stairs,

One step at a time.

The band had turned the lights off in the gallery and had gone down to have eggs and bacon,

Too.

Pieces of music lay about the floor.

One chair had been upturned.

There was an ashtray full of the stubs of their cigarettes.

The aftermath of the party.

I went along the corridor to my room.

It was getting lighter every moment,

And the birds had started singing.

I did not have to turn on the light to undress.

A little chill wind blew in from the open window.

It was rather cold.

Many people must have used the rose garden during the evening,

For all the chairs were moved and dragged from their places.

There was a tray of empty glasses on one of the tables.

Someone had left a bag behind on a chair.

I pulled the curtain to darken the room,

But the gray morning light found its way through the gaps at the side.

I got into bed,

My legs very weary,

A niggling pain in the small of my back.

I lay down and closed my eyes,

Thankful for the cool white comfort of clean sheets.

I wished my mind would rest like my body,

Relax,

And pass to sleep.

Not hum,

Round in the way it did,

Jigging to the music,

Whirling in a sea of faces.

I pressed my hands over my eyes,

But they would not go.

I wondered how long Maxim would be.

The bed beside me looked stark and cold.

Soon,

There would be no shadows in the room at all.

The walls and the ceiling and the floor would be white with the morning.

The birds would sing their songs,

Louder,

Gayer,

Less subdued.

The sun would make a yellow pattern on the curtain.

My little bedside clock ticked out the minutes one by one.

The hand moved around the dial.

I lay on my side watching it.

It came to the hour and passed it again.

It started afresh on its journey,

But Maxim did not come.

Chapter 18 I think I fell asleep a little after seven.

It was broad daylight,

I remember.

There was no longer any pretense that the drawn curtains hid the sun.

The light streamed in at the open window and made patterns on the wall.

I heard the men below in the rose garden clearing away the tables and the chairs and taking down the chain of fairy lights.

Maxim's bed was still bare and empty.

I lay across my bed,

My arms over my eyes,

A strange,

Mad position and the least likely to bring sleep.

But I drifted to the borderline of the unconscious and slipped over it at last.

When I awoke,

It was past eleven and Clarice must have come in and brought me my tea without my hearing her,

For there was a tray by my side and a stone cold teapot and my clothes had been tidied,

My blue frock put away in the wardrobe.

I drank my cold tea,

Still blurred and stupid from my short,

Heavy sleep,

And stared at the blank wall in front of me.

Maxim's empty bed brought me to realization with a queer shock to my heart and the full anguish of the night before was upon me once again.

He had not come to bed at all,

His pajamas lay folded on the turned-down sheet untouched.

I wondered what Clarice had thought when she came into the room with my tea.

Had she noticed?

Would she have gone out and told the other servants?

And would they discuss it over their breakfast?

I wondered why I minded that and why the thought of the servants talking about it in the kitchen should cause me such distress.

It must be that I had a small,

Mean mind,

A conventional,

Petty hatred of gossip.

That was why I had come down last night in my blue dress and had not stayed hidden in my room.

There was nothing brave or fine about it.

It was a wretched tribute to convention.

I had not come down for Maxim's sake,

For Patrice's,

For the sake of Manderly.

I had come down because I did not want the people at the ball to think I had quarreled with Maxim.

I didn't want them to go home and say,

Of course you know they don't get on,

I hear he's not at all happy.

I had come for my own sake,

My own poor personal pride.

As I sipped my cold tea,

I thought with a tired,

Bitter feeling of despair that I would be content to live in one corner of Manderly and Maxim in the other,

So long as the outside world should never know.

If he had no more tenderness for me,

Never kissed me again,

Did not speak to me except on matters of necessity,

I believed I could bear it if I were certain that nobody knew of this but our two selves,

If we could bribe servants not to tell,

Play our part before relations,

Before Patrice,

And then,

When we were alone,

Sit apart in our separate rooms,

Leading our separate lives.

It seemed to me as I sat there in bed,

Staring at the wall,

At the sunlight coming in at the window,

At Maxim's empty bed,

That there was nothing quite so shaming,

So degrading as a marriage that had failed,

Failed after three months as mine had done.

For I had no illusions left now,

I no longer made any effort to pretend,

Last night had shown me too well,

My marriage was a failure,

All the things that people would say about it if they knew were true,

We did not get on,

We were not companions,

We were not suited to one another,

I was too young for Maxim,

Too inexperienced,

And more important still,

I was not of his world,

The fact that I loved him in a sick,

Hurt,

Desperate way,

Like a child or a dog,

Did not matter,

It was not the sort of love he needed,

He wanted something else that I could not give him,

Something he had had before,

I thought of the youthful,

Almost hysterical excitement and conceit with which I had gone into this marriage,

Imagining I would bring happiness to Maxim,

Who had known much greater happiness before,

Even Mrs.

Van Hopper,

With her cheap views and common outlook,

Had known I was making a mistake,

I'm afraid you will regret it,

She had said,

I believe you are making a big mistake,

I would not listen to her,

I thought her hard and cruel,

But she was right,

She was right in everything,

That last mean thrust thrown at me before she said goodbye,

You don't flatter yourself he's in love with you,

Do you?

He's lonely,

He can't bear that great empty house,

Was the sanest,

Most truthful statement she had ever made in her life,

Maxim was not in love with me,

He had never loved me,

Our honeymoon in Italy had meant nothing at all to him,

Nor our living here together,

What I had thought was love for me,

For myself as a person,

Was not love,

It was just that he was a man,

And I was his wife and was young,

And he was lonely,

He did not belong to me at all,

He belonged to Rebecca,

He still thought about Rebecca,

He would never love me,

Because of Rebecca,

She was in the house still,

As Mrs.

Danvers had said,

She was in that room in the west wing,

She was in the library,

In the morning room,

In the gallery above the hall,

Even in the little flower room,

Where her Macintosh still hung,

And in the garden,

And in the woods,

And down in the stone cottage on the beach,

Her footsteps sounded in the corridors,

Her scent lingered on the stairs,

The servants obeyed her orders still,

The food we ate was the food she liked,

Her favorite flowers filled the rooms,

Her clothes were in the wardrobes in her room,

Her brushes were on the table,

Her shoes beneath the chair,

Her nightdress on her bed,

Rebecca was still mistress of Manderley,

Rebecca was still Mrs.

De Winter,

I had no business here at all,

I had come blundering like a poor fool on ground that was preserved,

Where is Rebecca?

Maxim's grandmother had cried,

I want Rebecca,

What have you done with Rebecca?

She did not know me,

She did not care about me,

Why should she?

I was a stranger to her,

I did not belong to Maxim or to Manderley,

And Patrice at our first meeting,

Looking me up and down,

Frank direct,

You are so very different from Rebecca,

Frank reserved,

Embarrassed when I spoke of her,

Hating those questions I had poured upon him,

Even as I had hated them myself,

And then answering that final one as we came towards the house,

His voice grave and quiet,

Yes,

She was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,

Rebecca,

Always Rebecca,

Wherever I walked in Manderley,

Wherever I sat,

Even in my thoughts and in my dreams,

I met Rebecca,

I knew her figure now,

The long slim legs,

The small and narrow feet,

Her shoulders,

Broader than mine,

The capable clever hands,

Hands that could steer a boat,

Could hold a horse,

Hands that arranged flowers,

Made the models of ships,

And wrote,

Max from Rebecca,

On the flyleaf of a book,

I knew her face too,

Small and oval,

The clear white skin,

The cloud of dark hair,

I knew the scent she wore,

I could guess her laughter and her smile,

If I heard it,

Even among a thousand others,

I should recognize her voice,

Rebecca,

Always Rebecca,

I should never be rid of Rebecca,

Perhaps I haunted her as she haunted me,

She looked down on me from the gallery,

As Mrs.

Danvers had said,

She sat beside me when I wrote my letters at her desk,

That Macintosh I wore,

That handkerchief I used,

They were hers,

Perhaps she knew and had seen me take them,

Jasper had been her dog and he ran at my heels now,

The roses were hers and I cut them,

Did she resent me and fear me as I resented her,

Did she want Maxim alone in the house again,

I could fight the living but I could not fight the dead,

If there was some woman in London that Maxim loved,

Someone he wrote to,

Visited,

Dined with,

Slept with,

I could fight with her,

We could stand on common ground,

I should not be afraid,

Anger and jealousy were things that could be conquered,

One day,

The woman would grow old or tired or different and Maxim would not love her anymore,

But Rebecca would never grow old,

Rebecca would always be the same and her I could not fight,

She was too strong for me,

I got out of bed and pulled the curtains,

The sun streamed into the room,

The men had cleared the mess away from the rose garden,

I wondered if people were talking about the ball and the way they do the day after a party,

Did you think it quite up to their usual standard,

Oh I think so,

The band dragged a bit I thought,

The supper was damn good,

Fireworks weren't bad,

B Lacey is beginning to look old,

Who went in that get up,

I thought he looked rather ill,

He always does,

What did you think of the bride,

Not much rather dull,

I wonder if it's a success,

Yes I wonder,

Then I noticed for the first time there was a note under my door,

I went and picked it up,

I recognized the square hand of Patrice,

She had scribbled in a pencil after breakfast,

I knocked at your door but had no answer,

So gather you've taken my advice and are sleeping off last night,

Giles is anxious to get back early as they have rung up from home to say he's wanted to take somebody's place in a cricket match and it starts at two,

How he is going to see the ball after all the champagne he put away last night,

Heaven only knows,

I'm feeling a bit weak in the legs but slept like a top,

Frith says Maxim was down to an early breakfast and there's now no sign of him,

So please give him our love and many thanks to you both for our evening which we thoroughly enjoyed,

Don't think any more about the dress,

This last was heavily underlined,

Yours affectionately,

B,

And a postscript,

You must both come over and see us soon,

She had scribbled 9.

30 a.

M at the top of the paper and it was now nearly half past eleven,

They had been gone now about two hours,

They would be home by now,

Patrice with her suitcase unpacked,

Going out into her garden and taking up her ordinary routine and Giles preparing for his match,

Renewing the whipping on his bat,

In the afternoon,

Patrice would change into a cool frock and a shady hat and watch Giles play cricket,

They would have tea afterwards in the tent,

Giles very hot and red in the face,

Patrice laughing and talking to her friends,

Yes,

We went over for the dance at Manderley,

It was great fun,

I wonder Giles was able to run a yard,

Smiling at Giles,

Patting him on the back,

They were both middle-aged and unromantic,

They had been married for twenty years and had a grown-up son who was going to Oxford,

They were very happy,

Their marriage was a success,

It had not failed after three months as mine had done,

I could not go on sitting in my bedroom any longer,

The maids would want to come and do the room,

Perhaps Clarice would not have noticed about Maxim's bed after all,

I rumpled it to make it look as though he had slept there,

I did not want the housemates to know if Clarice had not told them,

I had a bath and dressed and went downstairs,

The men had taken up the floor already in the hall and the flowers had been carried away,

The music stands were gone from the gallery,

The band must have caught an early train,

The gardeners were sweeping the lawns and the drive clear of the spent fireworks,

Soon there would be no trace left of the fancy-dressed ball at Manderley,

How long the preparations had seemed and how short and swift the clearance now,

I remember the salmon lady standing by the drawing room door with her plate of chicken and it seemed to me a thing I must have fancied or something that had happened very long ago,

Robert was polishing the table in the dining room,

He was normal again,

Stolid,

Dull,

Not the fey,

Excited creature of the past few weeks,

Good morning Robert,

I said,

Good morning madam,

Have you seen Mr.

De Winter anywhere?

He went out soon after breakfast madam,

Before Major and Mrs.

Lacey were down,

He has not been in since,

You don't know where he went?

No madam,

I could not say,

I wandered back again into the hall,

I went through the drawing room to the morning room,

Jasper rushed at me and licked my hands in a frenzy of delight,

As if I had been away for a long time,

He had spent the evening on Clarice's bed and I had not seen him since tea time yesterday,

Perhaps the hours had been as long for him as they had for me,

I picked up the telephone and asked for the number of the estate office,

Perhaps Maxim was with Frank,

I felt I must speak to him,

Even if it was only for two minutes,

I must explain to him that I had not meant to do what I had done last night,

Even if I never spoke to him again,

I must tell him that,

The clerk answered the telephone and told me that Maxim was not there,

Mr.

Crawley is here Mrs.

De Winter,

Said the clerk,

Would you speak to him?

I would have refused but he gave me no chance,

And before I could put down the receiver,

I heard Frank's voice,

Is anything the matter?

It was a funny way to begin a conversation,

The thought flashed through my mind,

He did not say good morning,

Or did you sleep well?

Why did he ask if something was the matter?

Frank it's me,

I said,

Where's Maxim?

I don't know,

I haven't seen him,

He's not been in this morning,

Not been to the office?

No,

Oh,

Oh well it doesn't matter,

Did you see him at breakfast?

Frank said,

No,

I did not get up,

How did he sleep?

I hesitated,

Frank was the only person I did not mind knowing,

He did not come to bed last night,

There was silence at the other end of the line,

As though Frank was thinking hard for an answer,

Oh,

He said at last,

Very slowly,

Oh I see,

And then after a minute,

I was afraid something like that would happen,

Frank,

I said,

Desperately,

What did he say last night,

When everyone had gone?

What did you all do?

I had a sandwich with Giles and Mrs.

Lacey,

Said Frank,

Maxim did not come,

He made some excuse and went into the library,

I came back home almost at once,

Perhaps Mrs.

Lacey can tell you,

She's gone,

I said,

They went after breakfast,

She sent up a note,

She had not seen Maxim,

She said,

Oh,

Said Frank,

I did not like it,

I did not like the way he said it,

It was sharp,

Ominous,

Where do you think he's gone?

I said,

I don't know,

Said Frank,

Perhaps he's gone for a walk,

It was the sort of voice doctors used to relatives at a nursing home,

When they came to inquire,

Frank,

I must see him,

I said,

I've got to explain about last night,

Frank did not answer,

I could picture his anxious face,

The lines on his forehead,

Maxim thinks I did it on purpose,

I said,

My voice breaking in spite of myself,

And the tears that had blinded me last night,

And I had not shed,

Came coursing down my cheeks,

Sixteen hours too late,

Maxim thinks I did it as a joke,

A beastly,

Damnable joke,

No,

Said Frank,

No,

He does,

I tell you,

You didn't see his eyes as I did,

You didn't stand beside him all the evening,

Watching him as I did,

He didn't speak to me,

Frank,

He never looked at me again,

We stood there together the whole evening,

And we never spoke to one another,

There was no chance,

Said Frank,

All those people,

Of course I saw,

Don't you think I know Maxim well enough for that,

Look here,

I don't blame him,

I interrupted,

If he believes I played that vile,

Hideous joke,

He has a right to think what he thinks of me,

And never talk to me again,

Never see me again,

You mustn't talk like that,

Said Frank,

You don't know what you're saying,

Let me come up and see you,

I think I can explain,

What was the use of Frank coming to see me,

And us sitting in the morning room together,

Frank smoothing me down,

Frank being tactful,

Frank being kind,

I did not want kindness from anybody now,

It was too late,

No,

I said,

No,

I don't want to go over it and over it again,

It's happened,

It can't be altered now,

Perhaps it's a good thing,

It's made me realize something,

I ought to have known before,

That I ought to have suspected when I married Maxim,

What do you mean,

Said Frank,

His voice was sharp,

Queer,

I wondered why it should matter to him about Maxim not loving me,

Why did he not want me to know,

About him and Rebecca,

I said,

And as I said her name,

It sounded strange and sour,

Like a forbidden word,

A relief to me no longer,

Not a pleasure,

But hot and shaming as a sin confessed,

Frank did not answer for a moment,

I heard him draw in his breath at the other end of the wire,

What do you mean,

He said again,

Shorter and sharper than before,

He doesn't love me,

He loves Rebecca,

I said,

He's never forgotten her,

He thinks about her still,

Night and day,

He's never loved me Frank,

It's always Rebecca,

Rebecca,

Rebecca,

I heard Frank give a startled cry,

But I did not care how much I shocked him now,

Now you know how I feel,

I said,

Now you understand,

Look here,

He said,

I've got to come and see you,

I've got to,

Do you hear,

It's vitally important,

I can't talk to you down the telephone,

Mrs.

De Winter,

Mrs.

De Winter,

I slammed down the receiver and got up from the writing desk,

I did not want to see Frank,

He could not help me over this,

No one could help me but myself,

My face was red and blotchy from crying,

I walked about the room,

Biting the corner of my handkerchief,

Tearing at the edge,

The feeling was strong within me that I should never see Maxim again,

It was certainty,

Born of some strange instinct,

He had gone away and would not come back,

I knew in my heart that Frank believed this too and would not admit it to me on the telephone,

He did not want to frighten me,

If I rang him up again at the office now,

I should find that he had gone,

The clerk would say,

Mr.

Crawley has just gone out,

Mrs.

De Winter,

And I should see Frank,

Hatless,

Climbing into his small,

Shabby Morris,

Driving off in search of Maxim,

I went and stared out of the window,

At the little clearing where the satyr played his pipes,

The rhododendrons were all over now,

They would not bloom again for another year,

The tall shrubs looked dark and drab,

Now that the color had gone,

A fog was rolling up from the sea,

And I could not see the woods beyond the bank,

It was very hot,

Very oppressive,

I could imagine our guests of last night saying to one another,

What a good thing this fog kept off for yesterday,

We should never have seen the fireworks,

I went out of the morning room and through the drawing room to the terrace,

The sun had gone in now behind a wall of mist,

It was as though a blight had fallen upon Manderley,

Taking the sky away and the light of the day,

One of the gardeners passed me with a barrel full of bits of paper and litter and the skins of fruit left on the lawns by the people last night,

Good morning,

I said,

Good morning madam,

I'm afraid the ball last night has made a lot of work for you,

I said,

That's all right madam,

He said,

I think everyone enjoyed themselves good and hearty and that's the main thing,

Isn't it?

Yes,

I suppose so,

I said,

He looked across the lawns to the clearing in the woods where the valley sloped to the sea,

The dark trees loomed thin and indistinct,

It's coming up very thick,

He said,

Yes,

I said,

A good thing it wasn't like this last night,

He said,

Yes,

He waited a moment and then he touched his cap and went off trundling his barrow,

I went across the lawns to the edge of the woods,

The mist in the trees had turned to moisture and dripped upon my bare head like a thin rain,

Jasper stood by my feet dejected,

His tail downcast,

His pink tongue hanging from his mouth,

The clammy oppression of the day made him listless and heavy,

I could hear the sea from where I stood sullen and slow as it broke in the coves below the woods,

The white fog rolled on past me towards the house smelling of damp salt and seaweed,

I put my hand on Jasper's coat,

It was ringing wet,

When I looked back at the house I could not see the chimneys or the contour of the walls,

I could only see the vague substance of the house,

The windows in the west wing and the flower tubs on the terrace,

The shutter had been pulled aside from the window of the large bedroom in the west wing and someone was standing there looking down upon the lawns,

The figure was shadowy and indistinct and for one moment of shock and fear I believed it to be Maxim,

Then the figure moved I saw the arm reach up to fold the shutter and I knew it was Mrs Danvers,

She had been watching me as I stood at the edge of the woods bathed in that white wall of fog,

She had seen me walk slowly from the terrace to the lawns,

She may have listened to my conversation with Frank on the telephone from the connecting line in her own room,

She would know that Maxim had not been with me last night,

She would have heard my voice,

Known about my tears,

She knew the part I had played through the long hours,

Standing by Maxim's side in my blue dress at the bottom of the stairs and that he had not looked at me nor spoken to me,

She knew because she had meant it to happen,

This was her triumph,

Hers and Rebecca's,

I thought of her as I had seen her last night watching me through the open door to the west wing and that diabolical smile on her white skull's face and I remembered that she was a living,

Breathing woman like myself,

She was made of flesh and blood,

She was not dead like Rebecca,

I could speak to her but I could not speak to Rebecca,

I walked back across the lawns on sudden impulse to the house,

I went through the hall and up the great stairs,

I turned in under the archway by the gallery,

I passed through the door to the west wing and so along the dark silent corridor to Rebecca's room,

I turned the handle of the door and went inside,

Mrs.

Danvers was still standing by the window and the shutter was folded back,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

Mrs.

Danvers,

She turned to look at me and I saw her eyes were red and swollen with crying,

Even as mine were and there were dark shadows in her white face,

What is it?

She said and her voice was thick and muffled from the tears she had shed,

Even as mine had been,

I had not expected to find her so,

I had pictured her smiling as she had smiled last night,

Cruel and evil,

Now she was none of these things,

She was an old woman who was ill and tired,

I hesitated,

My hand still on the knob of the open door and I did not know what to say to her now or what to do,

She went on staring at me with those red swollen eyes and I could not answer her,

I left the menu on the desk as usual,

She said,

Do you want something changed?

Her words gave me courage and I left the door and came to the middle of the room,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

I have not come to talk about the menu,

You know that don't you?

She did not answer me,

Her left hand opened and shut,

You've done what you wanted haven't you?

I said,

You meant this to happen didn't you?

Are you pleased now?

Are you happy?

She turned her head away and looked out of the window as she had done when I had first came into the room,

Why did you ever come here?

She said,

Nobody wanted you at Manderly,

We were all right until you came,

Why did you not stay where you were out in France?

You seem to forget I love Mr.

De Winter,

I said,

If you loved him you would never have married him,

She said,

I did not know what to say,

The situation was mad,

Unreal,

She kept talking in that choked muffled way with her head turned from me,

I thought I hated you but I don't now,

She said,

It seems to have spent itself all the feeling I had,

Why should you hate me?

I asked,

What have I ever done to you that you should hate me?

You tried to Mrs.

De Winter's place,

She said,

Still,

She would not look at me,

She stood there sullen,

Her head turned from me,

I had nothing changed,

I said,

Manderly went on as it had always been,

I gave no orders,

I left everything to you,

I would have been friends with you if you had let me,

But you set yourself against me from the first,

I saw it in your face the moment I shook hands with you,

She did not answer,

And her hand kept opening and shutting against her dress,

Many people marry twice,

Men and women,

I said,

There are thousands of second marriages taking place every day,

You talk as though my marrying Mr.

De Winter was a crime,

A sacrilege against the dead,

Haven't we as much right to be happy as anyone else?

Mr.

De Winter is not happy,

She said,

Turning to look at me at last,

Any fool can see that,

You have only to look at his eyes,

He's still in hell,

And he's looked like that ever since she died,

It's not true,

I said,

He was happy when we were in France together,

He was younger,

Much younger,

And laughing and gay,

Well he's a man isn't he?

She said,

No man denies himself on a honeymoon,

Does he?

Mr.

De Winter's not 46 yet,

She laughed contemptuously and shrugged her shoulders,

How dare you speak to me like that,

How dare you?

I said,

I was not afraid of her anymore,

I went up to her,

Shook her by the arm,

You made me wear that dress last night,

I said,

I should never have thought of it but for you,

You did it because you wanted to hurt Mr.

De Winter,

You wanted to make him suffer,

Hasn't he suffered enough without your playing that vile hideous joke upon him?

Do you think his agony and pain will bring Mrs.

De Winter back again?

She shook herself clear of me,

The angry color flooded her dead white face,

What do I care for his suffering?

She said,

He's never cared about mine,

How do you think I've liked it?

Watching you sit in her place,

Walk in her footsteps,

Touch the things that were hers,

What do you think it's meant to me all these months knowing that you wrote at her desk in the morning room using the very pin that she used,

Speaking down the house telephone,

Where she used to speak every morning of her life to me ever since she first came to Manderley,

What do you think it meant to me to hear Frith and Robert and the rest of the servants talking about you Mrs.

De Winter,

Mrs.

De Winter has gone out for a walk,

Mrs.

De Winter wants a car this afternoon at three o'clock,

Mrs.

De Winter won't be into tea till five o'clock,

And all the while,

My Mrs.

De Winter,

My lady with her smile and her lovely face and brave ways,

The real Mrs.

De Winter,

Lying dead and cold and forgotten in the church crypt,

If he suffers,

Then he deserves to suffer,

Marrying a young girl like you,

Not ten months afterwards,

Well he's paying for it now,

Isn't he?

I've seen his face,

I've seen his eyes,

He's made his own hell,

And there's no one but himself to thank for it,

He knows she sees him,

He knows she comes by night and watches him,

And she doesn't come kindly,

Not she,

Not my lady,

She was never one to stand mute and still and be wronged,

I'll see them in hell,

Danny,

She'd say,

I'll see them in hell first,

That's right my dear,

I'd tell her,

No one will put upon you,

You were born into this world to take what you could out of it,

And she did,

She didn't care,

She wasn't afraid,

She had all the courage and spirit of a boy,

Had my Mrs.

De Winter,

She ought to have been a boy,

I often told her that,

I had the care of her as a child,

You knew that,

Didn't you?

No,

I said,

No,

Mrs.

Danvers,

What's the use of all this?

I don't want to hear any more,

I don't want to know,

Haven't I got feelings as well as you?

Can't you understand what it means to me?

To hear her mentioned?

To stand here and listen while you tell me about her?

She did not hear me,

She went on raving like a mad woman,

A fanatic,

Her long fingers twisting and tearing the black stuff of her dress,

She was lovely then,

She said,

Lovely as a picture,

Men turning to stare at her when she passed,

And she not 12 years old,

She knew then,

She used to wink at me like the little devil she was,

I'm going to be a beauty aren't I Danny?

She said,

And,

We'll see about that my love,

We'll see about that,

I told her,

She had all the knowledge then of a grown person,

She'd enter into conversation with men and women as clever and full of tricks as someone of 18,

She twisted her father around her little finger and she'd have done the same with her mother,

Had she lived,

Spirit,

You couldn't beat my lady for spirit,

She drove a foreign hand on her 14th birthday and her cousin Mr.

Jack got up on the box beside her and tried to take the reins from her hands,

They fought it out there together for three minutes like a couple of wild cats and the horses galloping to glory,

She won though,

My lady won,

She cracked her whip over his head and down he came,

Head over heels,

Cursing and laughing,

They were a pair I tell you,

She and Mr.

Jack,

They sent him in the navy but he wouldn't stand the discipline and I don't blame him,

He had too much spirit to obey orders like my lady,

I watched her,

Fascinated,

Horrified,

A queer ecstatic smile on her lips,

Making her older than ever,

Making her skull's face vivid and real,

No one ever got the better of her,

Never,

Never,

She said,

She did what she liked,

She lived as she liked,

She had the strength of a little lion too,

I remember her at 16,

Getting up on one of her father's horses,

A big brood of an animal too,

That the groom said was too hot for her to ride,

She stuck to him all right,

I can see her now,

With her hair flying out behind her,

Slashing at him,

Drawing blood,

Digging the spurs into his side,

And when she got off his back,

He was trembling all over,

Full of froth and blood,

That will teach him won't it Danny,

She said,

And walked off to wash her hands,

As cool as you please,

And that's how she went at life,

When she grew up,

I saw her,

I was with her,

She cared for nothing and no one,

And then,

She was beaten in the end,

But it wasn't a man,

It wasn't a woman,

The sea got her,

The sea was too strong for her,

The sea got her in the end,

She broke off,

Her mouth working strangely,

And dragging at the corners,

She began to cry noisily,

Harshly,

Her mouth open and her eyes dry,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I stood before her helplessly,

Not knowing what to do,

I mistrusted her no longer,

I was afraid of her no more,

But the sight of her sobbing there,

Dry eyed,

Made me shudder,

Made me ill,

Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

You're not well,

You ought to be in bed,

Why don't you go to your room and rest,

Why don't you go to bed,

She turned on me fiercely,

Leave me alone can't you,

She said,

What's it to do with you if I show my grief,

I'm not ashamed of it,

I don't shut myself up in my room to cry,

I don't walk up and down,

Up and down in my room,

Like Mr.

De Winter,

With the door locked on me,

What do you mean,

I said,

Mr.

De Winter does not do that,

He did,

She said,

After she died,

Up and down,

Up and down in the library,

I heard him,

I watched him too,

Through the keyhole,

More than once,

Backwards and forwards,

Like an animal in a cage,

I don't want to hear,

I said,

I don't want to know,

And then you say you made him happy on his honeymoon,

She said,

Made him happy,

You,

A young ignorant girl,

Young enough to be his daughter,

What do you know about life,

What do you know about men,

You come here and think you can take Mrs.

De Winter's place,

You,

You take my lady's place,

Why even the servants laughed at you when you came to Manderley,

Even the little scullery maid you met in the back passage there on your first morning,

I wonder what Mr.

De Winter thought when he got you back here at Manderley,

After his precious honeymoon was over,

I wonder what he thought when he saw you,

Sitting at the dining room table for the first time,

You'd better stop this Mrs.

Danvers,

I said,

You'd better go to your room,

Go to my room,

She mimicked,

Go to my room,

The mistress of the house thinks I had better go to my room,

And after that,

What then,

You'll go running to Mr.

De Winter and saying,

Mrs.

Danvers has been unkind to me,

Mrs.

Danvers has been rude,

You'll go running to him like you did before,

When Mr.

Jack came to see me,

I never told him,

I said,

That's a lie,

She said,

Who else told him if you didn't,

No one else was here,

Frith and Robert were out,

And none of the other servants knew,

I made up my mind that I'd teach you a lesson,

And him too,

Let him suffer I say,

What do I care,

What's his suffering to me,

Why shouldn't I see Mr.

Jack here at Manderley,

He's the only link I have left now with Mrs.

De Winter,

I'll not have him here he said,

I'm warning you it's the last time,

He's not forgotten to be jealous has he,

I remembered crouching in the gallery,

When the library door was open,

I remembered Maxim's voice raised in anger,

Using the words that Mrs.

Danvers had just repeated,

Jealous,

Maxim jealous,

He was jealous while she lived,

And now he's jealous when she's dead,

Said Mrs.

Danvers,

He forbids Mr.

Jack the house now,

Like he did then,

That shows you he's not forgotten her doesn't it,

Course he was jealous,

So was I,

So was everyone who knew her,

She didn't care,

She only laughed,

I shall live as I please Danny,

She told me,

And the whole world won't stop me,

A man had only to look at her once and be mad about her,

I've seen them here staying in the house,

Men she'd meet up in London and bring for weekends,

She would take them bathing from the boat,

She would have a picnic supper at her cottage in the cove,

They made love to her of course,

Who would not,

She laughed,

She would come back and tell me what they had said,

And what they'd done,

She did not mind,

It was like a game to her,

Like a game,

Who wouldn't be jealous,

They were all jealous,

All mad for her,

Mr.

De Winter,

Mr.

Jack,

Mr.

Crawley,

Everyone who knew her,

Everyone who came to Manderley,

I don't want to know,

I said,

I don't want to know,

Mrs.

Danvers came close to me,

She put her face near to mine,

It's no use is it,

She said,

You'll never get the better of her,

She's still mistress here,

Even if she's dead,

She's the real Mrs.

De Winter,

Not you,

It's you that's the shadow and the ghost,

It's you that's forgotten,

And not wanted,

And pushed aside,

Well why don't you leave Manderley to her,

Why don't you go,

I backed away from her,

Towards the window,

My old fear and horror rising up in me again,

She took my arm and held it like a vice,

Why don't you go,

She said,

We,

None of us want you,

He doesn't want you,

He never did,

He can't forget her,

He wants to be alone in the house again with her,

It's you that ought to be lying there in the church crypt,

Not her,

It's you who ought to be dead,

Not Mrs.

De Winter,

She pushed me towards the open window,

I could see the terrace below me,

Gray and indistinct,

And the white wall of fog,

Look down there,

She said,

It's easy isn't it,

Why don't you jump,

It wouldn't hurt,

Not to break your neck,

It's a quick,

Kind way,

It's not like drowning,

Why don't you try it,

Why don't you go,

The fog filled the open window,

Damp and clammy,

It stung my eyes,

It clung to my nostrils,

I held on to the windowsill with my hands,

Don't be afraid,

Said Mrs.

Danvers,

I won't push you,

I won't stand by you,

You can jump of your own accord,

What's the use of your staying here at Manderley,

You're not happy,

Mr.

De Winter doesn't love you,

There's not much for you to live for,

Is there,

Why don't you jump now and have done with it,

Then you won't be unhappy anymore,

I could see the flower tubs on the terrace,

And the blue of the hydrangeas,

Clumped and solid,

The paved stones were smooth and gray,

They were not jagged and uneven,

It was the fog that made them look so far away,

They were not far really,

The window was not so very high,

Why don't you jump,

Whispered Mrs.

Danvers,

Why don't you try,

The fog came thicker than before,

And the terrace was hidden from me,

I could not see the flower tubs anymore,

Nor the smooth paved stones,

There was nothing but the white mist about me,

Smelling of seaweed,

Dank and chill,

The only reality was the windowsill beneath my hands,

And the grip of Mrs.

Danvers on my left arm,

If I jumped,

I should not see the stones rise up to meet me,

The fog would hide them from me,

The pain would be sharp and sudden,

As she said,

The fall would break my neck,

It would not be slow like drowning,

It would soon be over,

And Maxim did not love me,

Maxim wanted to be alone again with Rebecca,

Go on,

Whispered Mrs.

Danvers,

Go on,

Don't be afraid,

I shut my eyes,

I was giddy from staring down at the terrace,

And my fingers ached from holding to the ledge,

The mist entered my nostrils,

And lay upon my lips,

Rank and sour,

It was stifling like a blanket,

Like an anesthetic,

I was beginning to forget about being unhappy,

And about loving Maxim,

I was beginning to forget Rebecca,

Soon,

I would not have to think about Rebecca anymore,

As I relaxed my hands and sighed,

The white mist and the silence that was part of it was shattered suddenly,

Was rent in two by an explosion that shook the window where we stood,

The glass shivered in its frame,

I opened my eyes,

I stared at Mrs.

Danvers,

The burst was followed by another,

And yet a third and fourth,

The sound of the explosion stung the air,

And the birds rose unseen from the woods around the house,

I made an echo with her clamor,

What is it?

I said stupidly,

What has happened?

Mrs.

Danvers relaxed her grip upon my arm,

She stared out of the window into the fog,

It's the rockets,

She said,

There must be a ship gone ashore,

There in the bay,

We listened,

Staring into the white fog together,

And then we heard the sound of footsteps running on the terrace beneath us,