“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.
13
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.”
And Frank would come, and we would go to the hospital together. Maxim would not recognize me. I went through the whole thing as I was sitting at lunch, I could see the crowd of local people clustering round the churchyard at the funeral, and myself leaning on Frank’s arm. It was so real to me that I could scarcely eat any lunch, and I kept straining my ears to hear the telephone should it ring.
I sat out in the garden under the chestnut tree in the afternoon, with a book on my lap, but I scarcely read at all. When I saw Robert come across the lawn I knew it was the telephone and I felt physically sick. “A message from the club, Madam, to say Mr. de Winter arrived ten minutes ago.”
I shut up my book. “Thank you, Robert. How quickly he got up.”
“Yes, Madam. A very good run.”
“Did he ask to speak to me, or leave any special message?”
“No, Madam. Just that he had arrived safely. It was the porter speaking.”
“All right, Robert. Thanks very much.”
The relief was tremendous. I did not feel sick anymore. The pain had gone. It was like coming ashore after a channel crossing. I began to feel rather hungry, and when Robert had gone back into the house I crept into the dining room through the long window and stole some biscuits from the sideboard. I had six of them. Bath Olivers. And then an apple as well. I had no idea I was so empty. I went and ate them in the woods, in case one of the servants should see me on the lawn from the windows, and then go and tell the cook that they did not think Mrs. de Winter cared for the food prepared in the kitchen, as they had just seen her filling herself with fruit and biscuits. The cook would be offended, and perhaps go to Mrs. Danvers.