“Are you in a frightful hurry to get home?” said Beatrice.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Would you think me a perfect pig if I dropped you at the lodge gates? If I drive like hell now I shall just be in time to meet Giles by the London train, and it will save him taking the station taxi.”
“Of course,” I said. “I can walk down the drive.”
“Thanks awfully,” she said gratefully.
I felt the afternoon had been too much for her. She wanted to be alone again, and did not want to face another belated tea at Manderley.
I got out of the car at the lodge gates and we kissed goodbye.
“Put on some weight next time I see you,” she said; “it doesn’t suit you to be so thin. Give Maxim my love, and forgive me for today.” She vanished in a cloud of dust and I turned in down the drive.
I wondered if it had altered much since Maxim’s grandmother had driven down it in her carriage. She had ridden here as a young woman, she had smiled at the woman at the lodge as I did now. And in her day the lodge keeper’s wife had curtseyed, sweeping the path with her full wide skirt. This woman nodded to me briefly, and then called to her little boy, who was grubbing with some kittens at the back. Maxim’s grandmother had bowed her head to avoid the sweeping branches of the trees, and the horse had trotted down the twisting drive where I now walked. The drive had been wider then, and smoother too, better kept. The woods did not encroach upon it.
I did not think of her as she was now, lying against those pillows, with that shawl around her. I saw her when she was young, and when Manderley was her home. I saw her wandering in the gardens with a small boy, Maxim’s father, clattering behind her on his hobby horse. He would wear a stiff Norfolk jacket and a round white collar. Picnics to the cove would be an expedition, a treat that was not indulged in very often. There would be a photograph somewhere, in an old album—all the family sitting very straight and rigid round a tablecloth set upon the beach, the servants in the background beside a huge lunch-basket. And I saw Maxim’s grandmother when she was older too, a few years ago. Walking on the terrace at Manderley, leaning on a stick. And someone walked beside her, laughing, holding her arm. Someone tall and slim and very beautiful, who had a gift, Beatrice said, of being attractive to people. Easy to like, I supposed, easy to love.
When I came to the end of the long drive at last I saw that Maxim’s car was standing in front of the house. My heart lifted, I ran quickly into the hall. His hat and gloves were lying on the table. I went towards the library, and as I came near I heard the sound of voices, one raised louder than the other, Maxim’s voice. The door was shut. I hesitated a moment before going in.
“You can write and tell him from me to keep away from Manderley in future, do you hear? Never mind who told me, that’s of no importance. I happen to know his car was seen here yesterday afternoon. If you want to meet him you can meet him outside Manderley. I won’t have him inside the gates, do you understand? Remember, I’m warning you for the last time.”
I slipped away from the door to the stairs. I heard the door of the library open. I ran swiftly up the stairs and hid in the gallery. Mrs. Danvers came out of the library, shutting the door behind her. I crouched against the wall of the gallery so that I should not be seen. I had caught one glimpse of her face. It was gray with anger, distorted, horrible.
She passed up the stairs swiftly and silently and disappeared through the door leading to the west wing.
I waited a moment. Then I went slowly downstairs to the library. I opened the door and went in. Maxim was standing by the window, some letters in his hand. His back was turned to me. For a moment I thought of creeping out again, and going upstairs to my room and sitting there. He must have heard me though, for he swung round impatiently.
“Who is it now?” he said.
I smiled, holding out my hands. “Hullo!” I said.
“Oh, it’s you…”
I could tell in a glance that something had made him very angry. His mouth was hard, his nostrils white and pinched. “What have you been doing with yourself?” he said. He kissed the top of my head and put his arm round my shoulder. I felt as if a very long time had passed since he had left me yesterday.
“I’ve been to see your grandmother,” I said. “Beatrice drove me over this afternoon.”
“How was the old lady?”
“All right.”
“What’s happened to Bee?”