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Rebecca(73)

Author:Daphne Du Maurier

“Yes, she’s very efficient,” I said.

“And what do you think of it all? Like being buried down here?”

“I’m very fond of Manderley,” I said stiffly.

“Weren’t you living somewhere down in the south of France when Max met you? Monte, wasn’t it? I used to know Monte well.”

“Yes, I was in Monte Carlo,” I said.

We had come to his car now. A green sports thing, typical of its owner.

“What do you think of it?” he said.

“Very nice,” I said, politely.

“Come for a run to the lodge gates?” he said.

“No, I don’t think I will,” I said. “I’m rather tired.”

“You don’t think it would look too good for the mistress of Manderley to be seen driving with someone like me, is that it?” he said, and he laughed, shaking his head at me.

“Oh, no,” I said, turning rather red. “No, really.”

He went on looking me up and down in his amused way with those familiar, unpleasant blue eyes. I felt like a barmaid.

“Oh, well,” he said, “we mustn’t lead the bride astray, must we, Jasper? It wouldn’t do at all.” He reached for his cap, and an enormous pair of motoring gloves. He threw his cigarette away on the drive.

“Goodbye,” he said, holding out his hand; “it’s been a lot of fun meeting you.”

“Goodbye,” I said.

“By the way,” he said carelessly, “it would be very sporting and grand of you if you did not mention this little visit of mine to Max? He doesn’t exactly approve of me, I’m afraid; I don’t know why, and it might get poor old Danny into trouble.”

“No,” I said awkwardly. “No, all right.”

“That’s very sporting of you. Sure you won’t change your mind and come for a run?”

“No, I don’t think I will, if you don’t mind.”

“Bye-bye, then. Perhaps I’ll come and look you up one day. Get down, Jasper, you devil, you’ll scratch my paint. I say, I call it a damn shame Max going up to London and leaving you alone like this!”

“I don’t mind. I like being alone,” I said.

“Do you, by Jove? What an extraordinary thing. It’s all wrong, you know. Against nature. How long have you been married? Three months, isn’t it?”

“About that,” I said.

“I say, I wish I’d got a bride of three months waiting for me at home! I’m a poor lonesome bachelor.” He laughed again, and pulled his cap down over his eyes. “Fare you well,” he said, starting up the engine, and the car shot down the drive snorting explosive fury from the exhaust, while Jasper stood looking after it, his ears drooping, his tail between his legs.

“Oh, come on, Jasper,” I said, “don’t be so idiotic.” I walked slowly back to the house. Mrs. Danvers had disappeared. I stood in the hall and rang the bell. Nothing happened for about five minutes. I rang again. Presently Alice appeared, her face rather aggrieved. “Yes, Madam?” she said.

“Oh, Alice,” I said, “isn’t Robert there? I rather fancied my tea out under the chestnut tree.”

“Robert went to the post this afternoon, and isn’t back yet, Madam,” said Alice. “Mrs. Danvers gave him to understand you would be late for tea. Frith is out too of course. If you want your tea now I can get it for you. I don’t think it’s quite half past four yet.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, Alice. I’ll wait till Robert comes back,” I said. I supposed when Maxim was away things automatically became slack. I had never known Frith and Robert to be out at the same time. It was Frith’s day of course. And Mrs. Danvers had sent Robert to the post. And I myself was understood to have gone for a long walk. That man Favell had chosen his time well to pay his call on Mrs. Danvers. It was almost too well chosen. There was something not right about it, I was certain of that. And then he had asked me not to say anything to Maxim. It was all very awkward. I did not want to get Mrs. Danvers into trouble or make any sort of scene. More important still I did not want to worry Maxim.

I wondered who he was, this man Favell. He had called Maxim “Max.” No one ever called him Max. I had seen it written once, on the flyleaf of a book, the letters thin and slanting, curiously pointed, the tail of the M very definite, very long. I thought there was only one person who had ever called him Max…

As I stood there in the hall, undecided about my tea, wondering what to do, the thought suddenly came to me that perhaps Mrs. Danvers was dishonest, that all this time she was engaged in some business behind Maxim’s back, and coming back early as I had today I had discovered her and this man, an accomplice, who had then bluffed his way out by pretending to be familiar with the house and with Maxim. I wondered what they had been doing in the west wing. Why had they closed the shutters when they saw me on the lawn? I was filled with vague disquiet. Frith and Robert had been away. The maids were generally in their bedrooms changing during the afternoon. Mrs. Danvers would have the run of the place. Supposing this man was a thief, and Mrs. Danvers was in his pay? There were valuable things in the west wing. I had a sudden rather terrifying impulse to creep upstairs now to the west wing and go into those rooms and see for myself.

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