'Accidents happen so easily,' said Frank, 'even to the most experienced people. Think of the number killed out hunting every season.'
'Oh, I know. But then it's the horse falling generally that lets you down. If Mrs de Winter had not left the helm of her boat the accident would never have happened. An extraordinary thing to do. I must have watched her many times in the handicap race on Saturdays from Kerrith, and I never saw her make an elementary mistake. It's the sort of thing a novice would do. In that particular place too, just by the ridge.'
'It was very squally that night,' said Frank; 'something may have happened to the gear. Something may have jammed. And then she slipped down for a knife.'
'Of course. Of course. Well, we shall never know. And I don't suppose we should be any the better for it if we did. As I said before, I wish I could stop this inquest but I can't. I'm trying to arrange it for Tuesday morning, and it will be as short as possible. Just a formal matter. But I'm afraid we shan't be able to keep the reporters out of it.'
There was another silence. I judged the time had come to push back my chair.
'Shall we go into the garden?' I said.
We all stood up, and then I led the way to the terrace. Colonel Julyan patted Jasper.
'He's grown into a nice-looking dog,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'They make nice pets,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
We stood about for a minute. Then he glanced at his watch.
"Thank you for your most excellent lunch,' he said. 'I have rather a busy afternoon in front of me, and I hope you will excuse me dashing away.'
'Of course,' I said.
'I'm so very sorry this should have happened. You have all my sympathy. I consider it's almost harder for you than for your husband. However, once the inquest is over you must both forget all about it.'
'Yes,' I said, 'yes, we must try to.'
'My car is here in the drive. I wonder whether Crawley would like a lift. Crawley? I can drop you at your office if it's any use.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Frank.
He came and took my hand. 'I shall be seeing you again,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
I did not look at him. I was afraid he would understand my eyes. I did not want him to know that I knew. Maxim walked with them to the car. When they had gone he came back to me on the terrace. He took my arm. We stood looking down at the green lawns towards the sea and the beacon on the headland.
'It's going to be all right,' he said. 'I'm quite calm, quite confident. You saw how Julyan was at lunch, and Frank. There won't be any difficulty at the inquest. It's going to be all right.'
I did not say anything. I held his arm tightly.
'There was never any question of the body being someone unknown,' he said. 'What we saw was enough for Doctor Phillips even to make the identification alone without me. It was straightforward, simple. There was no trace of what I'd done. The bullet had not touched the bone.'
A butterfly sped past us on the terrace, silly and inconsequent.
'You heard what they said,' he went on; 'they think she was trapped there, in the cabin. The jury will believe that at the inquest too. Phillips will tell them so.' He paused. Still I did not speak.
'I only mind for you,' he said. 'I don't regret anything else. If it had to come all over again I should not do anything different. I'm glad I killed Rebecca. I shall never have any remorse for that, never, never. But you. I can't forget what it has done to you. I was looking at you, thinking of nothing else all through lunch. It's gone for ever, that funny, young, lost look that I loved. It won't come back again. I killed that too, when I told you about Rebecca… It's gone, in twenty-four hours. You are so much older…'
Chapter twenty-two
That evening, when Frith brought in the local paper, there were great headlines right across the top of the page. He brought the paper and laid it down on the table. Maxim was not there; he had gone up early to change for dinner. Frith stood a moment, waiting for me to say something, and it seemed to me stupid and insulting to ignore a matter that must mean so much to everyone in the house.
'This is a very dreadful thing, Frith,' I said.
'Yes, Madam; we are all most distressed outside,' he said.
'It's so sad for Mr de Winter,' I said, 'having to go through it all again.'
'Yes, Madam. Very sad. Such a shocking experience, Madam, having to identify the second body having seen the first. I suppose there is no doubt then, that the remains in the boat are genuinely those of the late Mrs de Winter?'
'I'm afraid not, Frith. No doubt at all.'
'It seems so odd to us, Madam, that she should have let herself be trapped like that in the cabin. She was so experienced in a boat.'
'Yes, Frith. That's what we all feel. But accidents will happen. And how it happened I don't suppose any of us will ever know.'
'I suppose not, Madam. But it's a great shock, all the same. We are most distressed about it outside. And coming suddenly just after the party. It doesn't seem right somehow, does it?'
'No, Frith.'
'It seems there is to be an inquest, Madam?'
'Yes. A formality, you know.'
'Of course, Madam. I wonder if any of us will be required to give evidence?'
'I don't think so.'
'I shall be only too pleased to do anything that might help the family; Mr de Winter knows that.'
'Yes, Frith. I'm sure he does.'
'I've told them outside not to discuss the matter, but it's very difficult to keep an eye on them, especially the girls. I can deal with Robert, of course. I'm afraid the news has been a great shock to Mrs Danvers.'
'Yes, Frith. I rather expected it would.'
'She went up to her room straight after lunch, and has not come down again. Alice took her a cup of tea and the paper a few minutes ago. She said Mrs Danvers looked very ill indeed.'
'It would be better really if she stayed where she is,' I said. 'It's no use her getting up and seeing to things if she is ill. Perhaps Alice would tell her that. I can very well manage the ordering. The cook and I between us.'
'Yes, Madam. I don't think she is physically ill, Madam; it's just the shock of Mrs de Winter being found. She was very devoted to Mrs de Winter.'
'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, I know.'
Frith went out of the room after that, and I glanced quickly at the paper before Maxim came down. There was a great column, all down the front page, and an awful blurred photograph of Maxim that must have been taken at least fifteen years ago. It was dreadful, seeing it there on the front page staring at me. And the little line about myself at the bottom, saying whom Maxim had married as his second wife, and how we had just given the fancy dress ball at Manderley. It sounded so crude and callous, in the dark print of the newspaper. Rebecca, whom they described as beautiful, talented, and loved by all who knew her, having been drowned a year ago, and then Maxim marrying again the following spring, bringing his bride straight to Manderley (so it said) and giving the big fancy dress ball in her honour. And then the following morning the body of his first wife being found, trapped in the cabin of her sailing boat, at the bottom of the bay.
It was true of course, though sprinkled with the little inaccuracies that added to the story, making it strong meat for the hundreds of readers who wanted value for their pennies. Maxim sounded vile in it, a sort of satyr. Bringing back his 'young bride', as it described me, to Manderley, and giving the dance, as though we wanted to display ourselves before the world.
I hid the paper under the cushion of the chair so that Maxim should not see it. But I could not keep the morning editions from him. The story was in our London papers too. There was a picture of Manderley, and the story underneath. Manderley was news, and so was Maxim. They talked about him as Max de Winter. It sounded racy, horrible. Each paper made great play of the fact that Rebecca's body had been found the day after the fancy dress ball, as though there was something deliberate about it. Both papers used the same word, 'ironic'. Yes, I suppose it was ironic. It made a good story. I watched Maxim at the breakfast table getting whiter and whiter as he read the papers, one after the other, and then the local one as well. He did not say anything. He just looked across at me, and I stretched out my hand to him. 'Damn them,' he whispered, 'damn them, damn them.'