“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”
“They will think the boat capsized and sank when she was in the cabin,” I said; “they will think she went below for a rope, for something, and while she was there the wind came from the headland, and the boat heeled over, and Rebecca was trapped. They’ll think that, won’t they?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly the telephone began ringing in the little room behind the library.
21
Maxim went into the little room and shut the door. Robert came in a few minutes afterwards to clear away the tea. I stood up, my back turned to him so that he should not see my face. I wondered when they would begin to know, on the estate, in the servants’ hall, in Kerrith itself. I wondered how long it took for news to trickle through.
I could hear the murmur of Maxim’s voice in the little room beyond. I had a sick expectant feeling at the pit of my stomach. The sound of the telephone ringing seemed to have woken every nerve in my body. I had sat there on the floor beside Maxim in a sort of dream, his hand in mine, my face against his shoulder. I had listened to his story, and part of me went with him like a shadow in his tracks. I too had killed Rebecca, I too had sunk the boat there in the bay. I had listened beside him to the wind and water. I had waited for Mrs. Danvers’ knocking on the door. All this I had suffered with him, all this and more beside. But the rest of me sat there on the carpet, unmoved and detached, thinking and caring for one thing only, repeating a phrase over and over again, “He did not love Rebecca, he did not love Rebecca.” Now, at the ringing of the telephone, these two selves merged and became one again. I was the self that I had always been, I was not changed. But something new had come upon me that had not been before. My heart, for all its anxiety and doubt, was light and free. I knew then that I was no longer afraid of Rebecca. I did not hate her anymore. Now that I knew her to have been evil and vicious and rotten I did not hate her anymore. She could not hurt me. I could go to the morning room and sit down at her desk and touch her pen and look at her writing on the pigeonholes, and I should not mind. I could go to her room in the west wing, stand by the window even as I had done this morning, and I should not be afraid. Rebecca’s power had dissolved into the air, like the mist had done. She would never haunt me again. She would never stand behind me on the stairs, sit beside me in the dining room, lean down from the gallery and watch me standing in the hall. Maxim had never loved her. I did not hate her anymore. Her body had come back, her boat had been found with its queer prophetic name, Je Reviens, but I was free of her forever.
I was free now to be with Maxim, to touch him, and hold him, and love him. I would never be a child again. It would not be I, I, I any longer; it would be we, it would be us. We would be together. We would face this trouble together, he and I. Captain Searle, and the diver, and Frank, and Mrs. Danvers, and Beatrice, and the men and women of Kerrith reading their newspapers, could not break us now. Our happiness had not come too late. I was not young anymore. I was not shy. I was not afraid. I would fight for Maxim. I would lie and perjure and swear, I would blaspheme and pray. Rebecca had not won. Rebecca had lost.
Robert had taken away the tea and Maxim came back into the room.
“It was Colonel Julyan,” he said; “he’s just been talking to Searle. He’s coming out with us to the boat tomorrow. Searle has told him.”
“Why Colonel Julyan, why?” I said.
“He’s the magistrate for Kerrith. He has to be present.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me if I had any idea whose body it could be.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I did not know. I said we believed Rebecca to be alone. I said I did not know of any friend.”
“Did he say anything after that?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me if I thought it possible that I made a mistake when I went up to Edgecoombe?”
“He said that? He said that already?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I said it might be possible. I did not know.”
“He’ll be with you then tomorrow when you look at the boat? He, and Captain Searle, and a doctor.”
“Inspector Welch too.”
“Inspector Welch?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why Inspector Welch?”
“It’s the custom, when a body has been found.”
I did not say anything. We stared at one another. I felt the little pain come again at the pit of my stomach.