“Make the drummer announce me,” I whispered, “make him beat the drum, you know how they do, and then call out Miss Caroline de Winter. I want to surprise them below.” He nodded his head, he understood. My heart fluttered absurdly, and my cheeks were burning. What fun it was, what mad ridiculous childish fun! I smiled at Clarice still crouching on the corridor. I picked up my skirt in my hands. Then the sound of the drum echoed in the great hall, startling me for a moment, who had waited for it, who knew that it would come. I saw them look up surprised and bewildered from the hall below.
“Miss Caroline de Winter,” shouted the drummer.
I came forward to the head of the stairs and stood there, smiling, my hat in my hand, like the girl in the picture. I waited for the clapping and laughter that would follow as I walked slowly down the stairs. Nobody clapped, nobody moved.
They all stared at me like dumb things. Beatrice uttered a little cry and put her hand to her mouth. I went on smiling, I put one hand on the banister.
“How do you do, Mr. de Winter,” I said.
Maxim had not moved. He stared up at me, his glass in his hand. There was no color in his face. It was ashen white. I saw Frank go to him as though he would speak, but Maxim shook him off. I hesitated, one foot already on the stairs. Something was wrong, they had not understood. Why was Maxim looking like that? Why did they all stand like dummies, like people in a trance?
Then Maxim moved forward to the stairs, his eyes never leaving my face.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he asked. His eyes blazed in anger. His face was still ashen white.
I could not move, I went on standing there, my hand on the banister.
“It’s the picture,” I said, terrified at his eyes, at his voice. “It’s the picture, the one in the gallery.”
There was a long silence. We went on staring at each other. Nobody moved in the hall. I swallowed, my hand moved to my throat. “What is it?” I said. “What have I done?”
If only they would not stare at me like that with dull blank faces. If only somebody would say something. When Maxim spoke again I did not recognize his voice. It was still and quiet, icy cold, not a voice I knew.
“Go and change,” he said, “it does not matter what you put on. Find an ordinary evening frock, anything will do. Go now, before anybody comes.”
I could not speak, I went on staring at him. His eyes were the only living things in the white mask of his face.
“What are you standing there for?” he said, his voice harsh and queer. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
I turned and ran blindly through the archway to the corridors beyond. I caught a glimpse of the astonished face of the drummer who had announced me. I brushed past him, stumbling, not looking where I went. Tears blinded my eyes. I did not know what was happening. Clarice had gone. The corridor was deserted. I looked about me stunned and stupid like a haunted thing. Then I saw that the door leading to the west wing was open wide, and that someone was standing there.
It was Mrs. Danvers. I shall never forget the expression on her face, loathsome, triumphant. The face of an exulting devil. She stood there, smiling at me.
And then I ran from her, down the long narrow passage to my own room, tripping, stumbling over the flounces of my dress.
17
Clarice was waiting for me in my bedroom. She looked pale and scared. As soon as she saw me she burst into tears. I did not say anything. I began tearing at the hooks of my dress, ripping the stuff. I could not manage them properly, and Clarice came to help me, still crying noisily.
“It’s all right, Clarice, it’s not your fault,” I said, and she shook her head, the tears still running down her cheeks.
“Your lovely dress, Madam,” she said, “your lovely white dress.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Can’t you find the hook? There it is, at the back. And another one somewhere, just below.”
She fumbled with the hooks, her hands trembling, making worse trouble with it than I did myself, and all the time catching at her breath.
“What will you wear instead, Madam?” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I don’t know.” She had managed to unfasten the hooks, and I struggled out of the dress. “I think I’d rather like to be alone, Clarice,” I said, “would you be a dear and leave me? Don’t worry, I shall manage all right. Forget what’s happened. I want you to enjoy the party.”
“Can’t I press out a dress for you, Madam?” she said, looking up at me with swollen streaming eyes. “It won’t take me a moment.”