I heard Frank’s quiet voice beside me. “I don’t mind organizing the ball if Maxim has no objection to giving it. It’s up to him and Mrs. de Winter. It’s nothing to do with me.”
Of course I was bombarded at once. Lady Crowan moved her chair so that the cozy no longer hid me from view. “Now, Mrs. de Winter, you get round your husband. You are the person he will listen to. He should give the ball in your honor as the bride.”
“Yes, of course,” said somebody else, a man. “We missed the fun of the wedding, you know; it’s a shame to deprive us of all excitement. Hands up for the Manderley fancy dress ball. There you see, de Winter? Carried unanimously.” There was much laughter and clapping of hands.
Maxim lit a cigarette and his eyes met mine over the teapot.
“What do you think about it?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said uncertainly. “I don’t mind.”
“Of course she longs to have a ball in her honor,” gushed Lady Crowan. “What girl wouldn’t? You’d look sweet, Mrs. de Winter, dressed as a little Dresden shepherdess, your hair tucked under a big three-cornered hat.”
I thought of my clumsy hands and feet and the slope of my shoulders. A fine Dresden shepherdess I should make! What an idiot the woman was. I was not surprised when nobody agreed with her, and once more I was grateful to Frank for turning the conversation away from me.
“As a matter of fact, Maxim, someone was talking about it the other day. ‘I suppose we shall be having some sort of celebration for the bride, shan’t we, Mr. Crawley?’ he said. ‘I wish Mr. de Winter would give a ball again. It was rare fun for all of us.’ It was Tucker at the Home farm,” he added, to Lady Crowan. “Of course they do adore a show of any kind. I don’t know, I told him. Mr. de Winter hasn’t said anything to me.”
“There you are,” said Lady Crowan triumphantly to the drawing room in general. “What did I say? Your own people are asking for a ball. If you don’t care for us, surely you care about them.”
Maxim still watched me doubtfully over the teapot. It occurred to me that perhaps he thought I could not face it, that being shy, as he knew only too well, I should find myself unable to cope. I did not want him to think that. I did not want him to feel I should let him down.
“I think it would be rather fun,” I said.
Maxim turned away, shrugging his shoulders. “That settles it of course,” he said. “All right, Frank, you will have to go ahead with the arrangements. Better get Mrs. Danvers to help you. She will remember the form.”
“That amazing Mrs. Danvers is still with you then?” said Lady Crowan.
“Yes,” said Maxim shortly, “have some more cake, will you? Or have you finished? Then let’s all go into the garden.”
We wandered out onto the terrace, everyone discussing the prospect of the ball and suitable dates, and then, greatly to my relief, the car parties decided it was time to take their departure, and the walkers went too, on being offered a lift. I went back into the drawing room and had another cup of tea which I thoroughly enjoyed now that the burden of entertaining had been taken from me, and Frank came too, and we crumbled up the remains of the scones and ate them, feeling like conspirators.
Maxim was throwing sticks for Jasper on the lawn. I wondered if it was the same in every home, this feeling of exuberance when visitors had gone. We did not say anything about the ball for a little while, and then, when I had finished my cup of tea and wiped my sticky fingers on a handkerchief, I said to Frank: “What do you truthfully think about this fancy dress business?”
Frank hesitated, half glancing out of the window at Maxim on the lawn. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maxim did not seem to object, did he? I thought he took the suggestion very well.”
“It was difficult for him to do anything else,” I said. “What a tiresome person Lady Crowan is. Do you really believe all the people round here are talking and dreaming of nothing but a fancy dress ball at Manderley?”
“I think they would all enjoy a show of some sort,” said Frank. “We’re very conventional down here, you know, about these things. I don’t honestly think Lady Crowan was exaggerating when she said something should be done in your honor. After all, Mrs. de Winter, you are a bride.”
How pompous and stupid it sounded. I wished Frank would not always be so terribly correct.
“I’m not a bride,” I said. “I did not even have a proper wedding. No white dress or orange blossom or trailing bridesmaids. I don’t want any silly dance given in my honor.”