Rebecca

"That's ridiculous,' I said hurriedly, 'you know age doesn't mean anything in marriage. Of course we are companions.'

'Are we? I don't know,' he said.

I knelt up on the window-seat and put my arms round his shoulders. 'Why do you say these things to me?' I said; 'you know I love you more than anything in the world. There has never been anyone but you. You are my father and my brother and my son. All those things.'

'It was my fault,' he said, not listening. 'I rushed you into it. I never gave you a chance to think it over.'

'I did not want to think it over,' I said, 'there was no other choice. You don't understand, Maxim. When one loves a person 'Are you happy here?' he said, looking away from me, out of the window, 'I wonder sometimes. You've got thinner. Lost your colour.'

'Of course I'm happy,' I said, 'I love Manderley. I love the garden, I love everything. I don't mind calling on people. I just said that to be tiresome. I'll call on people every day, if you want me to. I don't mind what I do. I've never for one moment regretted marrying you, surely you must know that?'

He patted my cheek in his terrible absent way, and bent down, and kissed the top of my head. 'Poor lamb, you don't have much fun, do you? I'm afraid I'm very difficult to live with.'

'You're not difficult,' I said eagerly, 'you are easy, very easy. Much easier than I thought you would be. I used to think it would be dreadful to be married, that one's husband would drink, or use awful language, or grumble if the toast was soft at breakfast, and be rather unattractive altogether, smell possibly. You don't do any of those things.'

'Good God, I hope not,' said Maxim, and he smiled.

I seized advantage of his smile, I smiled too, and took his hands and kissed them. 'How absurd to say we are not companions,' I said; 'why look how we sit here every evening, you with a book or a paper, and me with my knitting. Just like cups of tea. Just like old people, married for years and years. Of course we are companions. Of course we are happy. You talk as though you thought we had made a mistake? You don't mean it like that, do you, Maxim? You know our marriage is a success, a wonderful success?'

'If you say so, then it's all right,' he said.

'No, but you think it too, don't you, darling? It's not just me? We are happy, aren't we? Terribly happy?'

He did not answer. He went on staring out of the window while I held his hands. My throat felt dry and tight, and my eyes were burning. Oh, God, I thought, this is like two people in a play, in a moment the curtain will come down, we shall bow to the audience, and go off to our dressing-rooms. This can't be a real moment in the lives of Maxim and myself. I sat down on the window-seat, and let go of his hands. I heard myself speaking in a hard cool voice. 'If you don't think we are happy it would be much better if you would admit it. I don't want you to pretend anything. I'd much rather go away. Not live with you any more.' It was not really happening of course. It was the girl in the play talking, not me to Maxim. I pictured the type of girl who would play the part. Tall and slim, rather nervy.

'Well, why don't you answer me?' I said.

He took my face in his hands and looked at me, just as he had before, when Frith had come into the room with tea, the day we went to the beach.

'How can I answer you?' he said. 'I don't know the answer myself. If you say we are happy, let's leave it at that. It's something I know nothing about. I take your word for it. We are happy. All right then, that's agreed!' He kissed me again, and then walked away across the room. I went on sitting by the window, stiff and straight, my hands in my lap.

'You say all this because you are disappointed in me,' I said. 'I'm gauche and awkward, I dress badly, I'm shy with people. I warned you in Monte Carlo how it would be. You think I'm not right for Manderley.'

'Don't talk nonsense,' he said. 'I've never said you dressed badly or were gauche. It's your imagination. As for being shy, you'll get over that. I've told you so before.'

'We've argued in a circle,' I said, 'we've come right back to where we started. This all began because I broke the cupid in the morning-room. If I hadn't broken the cupid none of this would have happened. We'd have drunk our coffee, and gone out into the garden.'

'Oh, damn that infernal cupid,' said Maxim wearily. 'Do you really think I care whether it's in ten thousand pieces or not?'

'Was it very valuable?'

'Heaven knows. I suppose so. I've really forgotten.'

'Are all those things in the morning-room valuable?'

'Yes, I believe so.'

'Why were all the most valuable things put in the morning-room?'

'I don't know. I suppose because they looked well there.'

'Were they always there? When your mother was alive?'

'No. No, I don't think they were. They were scattered about the house. The chairs were in a lumber room I believe.'

'When was the morning-room furnished as it is now?'

'When I was married.'

I suppose the cupid was put there then?'

I suppose so.'

'Was that found in a lumber room?'

'No. No, I don't think it was. As a matter of fact I believe it was a wedding-present. Rebecca knew a lot about china.'

I did not look at him. I began to polish my nails. He had said the word quite naturally, quite calmly. It had been no effort to him. After a minute I glanced at him swiftly. He was standing by the mantelpiece, his hands in his pockets. He was staring straight in front of him. He is thinking about Rebecca, I said to myself. He is thinking how strange it was that a wedding present to me should have been the cause of destroying a wedding present to Rebecca. He is thinking about the cupid. He is remembering who gave it to Rebecca. He is going over in his mind how the parcel came and how pleased she was. Rebecca knew a lot about china. Perhaps he came into the room, and she was kneeling on the floor, wrenching open the little crate in which the cupid was packed. She must have glanced up at him, and smiled. 'Look, Max,' she would have said, 'look what we've been sent.' And she then would have plunged her hand down into the shavings and brought out the cupid who stood on one foot, his bow in his hand. "We'll have it in the morning-room,' she must have said, and he must have knelt down beside her, and they must have looked at the cupid together.

I went on polishing my nails. They were scrubby, like a schoolboy's nails. The cuticles grew up over the half moons. The thumb was bitten nearly to the quick. I looked at Maxim again. He was still standing in front of the fireplace.

'What are you thinking about?' I said.

My voice was steady and cool. Not like my heart, thumping inside me. Not like my mind, bitter and resentful. He lit a cigarette, surely the twenty-fifth that day, and we had only just finished lunch; he threw the match into the empty grate, he picked up the paper.

'Nothing very much, why?' he said.

'Oh, I don't know,' I said, 'you looked so serious, so far away.'

He whistled a tune absently, the cigarette twisting in his fingers. 'As a matter of fact I was wondering if they had chosen the Surrey side to play Middlesex at the Oval,' he said.

He sat down in the chair again and folded the paper. I looked out of the window. Presently Jasper came to me and climbed on my lap.

Chapter thirteen

Maxim had to go up to London at the end of June to some public dinner. A man's dinner. Something to do with the county. He was away for two days and I was left alone. I dreaded his going. When I saw the car disappear round the sweep in the drive I felt exactly as though it were to be a final parting and I should never see him again. There would be an accident of course and later on in the afternoon, when I came back from my walk, I should find Frith white and frightened waiting for me with a message. The doctor would have rung up from some cottage hospital. 'You must be very brave,' he would say, 'I'm afraid you must be prepared for a great shock.'