Rebecca

by Daphne Du Maurier

  "The rain will keep him at home all right," said Favell; "he'll be there. And I think you will find I shall be able to make him talk." He laughed, and looked at Maxim. His face was still very flushed. Excitement had made him sweat; there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. I noticed how his neck bulged over the back of his collar, and how low his ears were set on his head. Those florid good looks would not last him very long. Already he was out of condition, puffy. He helped himself to another cigarette. "You're like a little trade union here at Manderley, aren't you?" he said; "no one going to give anyone else away. Even the local magistrate is on the same racket. We must exempt the bride of course. A wife doesn't give evidence against her husband. Crawley of course has been squared. He knows he would lose his job if he told the truth. And if I guess rightly there's a spice of malice in his soul towards me too. You didn't have much success with Rebecca, did you, Crawley? That garden path wasn't quite long enough, eh? It's a bit easier this time, isn't it. The bride will be grateful for your fraternal arm every time she faints. When she hears the judge sentence her husband to death that arm of yours will come in very handy."

  It happened very quickly. Too quick for me to see how Maxim did it. But I saw Favell stagger and fall against the arm of the sofa, and down onto the floor. And Maxim was standing just beside him. I felt rather sick. There was something degrading in the fact that Maxim had hit Favell. I wished I had not known. I wished I had not been there to see. Colonel Julyan did not say anything. He looked very grim. He turned his back on them and came and stood beside me.

  "I think you had better go upstairs," he said quietly.

  I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "No."

  "That fellow is in a state capable of saying anything," he said. "What you have just seen was not very attractive, was it? Your husband was right of course, but it's a pity you saw it."

  I did not answer. I was watching Favell who was getting slowly to his feet. He sat down heavily on the sofa and put his handkerchief to his face.

  "Get me a drink," he said, "get me a drink."

  Maxim looked at Frank. Frank went out of the room. None of us spoke. In a moment Frank came back with the whiskey and soda on a tray. He mixed some in a glass and gave it to Favell. Favell drank it greedily, like an animal. There was something sensual and horrible the way he put his mouth to the glass. His lips folded upon the glass in a peculiar way. There was a dark red patch on his jaw where Maxim had hit him. Maxim had turned his back on him again and had returned to the window. I glanced at Colonel Julyan and saw that he was looking at Maxim. His gaze was curious, intent. My heart began beating very quickly. Why did Colonel Julyan look at Maxim in that way?

  Did it mean that he was beginning to wonder, to suspect?

  Maxim did not see. He was watching the rain. It fell straight and steady as before. The sound filled the room. Favell finished his whiskey and soda and put the glass back on the table beside the sofa. He was breathing heavily. He did not look at any of us. He was staring straight in front of him at the floor.

  The telephone began ringing in the little room. It struck a shrill, discordant note. Frank went to answer it.

  He came back at once and looked at Colonel Julyan. "It's your daughter," he said; "they want to know if they are to keep dinner back."

  Colonel Julyan waved his hand impatiently. "Tell them to start," he said, "tell them I don't know when I shall be back." He glanced at his watch. "Fancy ringing up," he muttered; "what a moment to choose."

  Frank went back into the little room to give the message. I thought of the daughter at the other end of the telephone. It would be the one who played golf. I could imagine her calling to her sister, "Dad says we're to start. What on earth can he be doing? The steak will be like leather." Their little household disorganized because of us. Their evening routine upset. All these foolish inconsequent threads hanging upon one another, because Maxim had killed Rebecca. I looked at Frank. His face was pale and set.

  "I heard Robert coming back with the car," he said to Colonel Julyan. "The window in there looks onto the drive."

  He went out of the library to the hall. Favell had lifted his head when he spoke. Then he got to his feet once more and stood looking towards the door. There was a queer ugly smile on his face.

  The door opened, and Frank came in. He turned and spoke to someone in the hall outside.

  "All right, Ben," he said quietly, "Mr. de Winter wants to give you some cigarettes. There's nothing to be frightened of."

  Ben stepped awkwardly into the room. He had his sou'wester in his hands. He looked odd and naked without his hat. I realized for the first time that his head was shaved all over, and he had no hair. He looked different, dreadful.

  The light seemed to daze him. He glanced foolishly round the room, blinking his small eyes. He caught sight of me, and I gave him a weak, rather tremulous smile. I don't know if he recognized me or not. He just blinked his eyes. Then Favell walked slowly towards him and stood in front of him.

  "Hullo," he said; "how's life treated you since we last met?"

  Ben stared at him. There was no recognition on his face. He did not answer.

  "Well?" said Favell, "you know who I am, don't you?"

  Ben went on twisting his sou'wester. "Eh?" he said.

  "Have a cigarette," said Favell, handing him the box. Ben glanced at Maxim and Frank.

  "All right," said Maxim, "take as many as you like."

  Ben took four and stuck two behind each ear. Then he stood twisting his cap again.

  "You know who I am don't you?" repeated Favell.

  Still Ben did not answer. Colonel Julyan walked across to him. "You shall go home in a few moments, Ben," he said. "No one is going to hurt you. We just want you to answer one or two questions. You know Mr. Favell, don't you?"

  This time Ben shook his head. "I never seen 'un," he said.

  "Don't be a bloody fool," said Favell roughly; "you know you've seen me. You've seen me go to the cottage on the beach, Mrs. de Winter's cottage. You've seen me there, haven't you?"

  "No," said Ben. "I never seen no one."

  "You damned half-witted liar," said Favell, "are you going to stand there and say you never saw me, last year, walk through those woods with Mrs. de Winter, and go into the cottage? Didn't we catch you once, peering at us from the window?"

  "Eh?" said Ben.

  "A convincing witness," said Colonel Julyan sarcastically.

  Favell swung round on him. "It's a put-up job," he said. "Someone has got at this idiot and bribed him too. I tell you he's seen me scores of times. Here. Will this make you remember?" He fumbled in his hip-pocket and brought out a note-case. He flourished a pound note in front of Ben. "Now do you remember me?" he said.

  Ben shook his head. "I never seen 'un," he said, and then he took hold of Frank's arm. "Has he come here to take me to the asylum?" he said.

  "No," said Frank. "No, of course not, Ben."

  "I don't want to go to the asylum," said Ben. "They'm cruel to folk in there. I want to stay home. I done nothing."

  "That's all right, Ben," said Colonel Julyan. "No one's going to put you in the asylum. Are you quite sure you've never seen this man before?"

  "No," said Ben. "I've never seen 'un."

  "You remember Mrs. de Winter, don't you?" said Colonel Julyan.

  Ben glanced doubtfully towards me.

  "No," said Colonel Julyan gently, "not this lady. The other lady, who used to go to the cottage."

  "Eh?" said Ben.

  "You remember the lady who had the boat?"

  Ben blinked his eyes. "She's gone," he said.

  "Yes, we know that," said Colonel Julyan. "She used to sail the boat, didn't she? Were you on the beach when she sailed the boat the last time? One evening, over twelve months ago. When she didn't come back again?"

  Ben twisted his sou'wester. He glanced at Frank, and then at Maxim.

  "Eh?" he said.

  "You were there, weren't you?" said Favell, leaning for
ward. "You saw Mrs. de Winter come down to the cottage, and presently you saw Mr. de Winter too. He went into the cottage after her. What happened then? Go on. What happened?"

  Ben shrank back against the wall. "I seen nothing," he said. "I want to stay home. I'm not going to the asylum. I never seen you. Never before. I never seen you and she in the woods." He began to blubber like a child.

  "You crazy little rat," said Favell slowly, "you bloody crazy little rat."

  Ben was wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.

  "Your witness does not seem to have helped you," said Colonel Julyan. "The performance has been rather a waste of time, hasn't it? Do you want to ask him anything else?"

  "It's a plot," shouted Favell. "A plot against me. You're all in it, every one of you. Someone's paid this half-wit, I tell you. Paid him to tell his string of dirty lies."

  "I think Ben might be allowed to go home," said Colonel Julyan.

  "All right, Ben," said Maxim. "Robert shall take you back. And no one will put you in the asylum, don't be afraid. Tell Robert to find him something in the kitchen," he added to Frank. "Some cold meat, whatever he fancies."

  "Payment for services rendered, eh?" said Favell. "He's done a good day's work for you, Max, hasn't he?"

  Frank took Ben out of the room. Colonel Julyan glanced at Maxim. "The fellow appeared to be scared stiff," he said; "he was shaking like a leaf. I was watching him. He's never been ill-treated, has he?"

  "No," said Maxim, "he's perfectly harmless, and I've always let him have the run of the place."

  "He's been frightened at sometime," said Colonel Julyan. "He was showing the whites of his eyes, just like a dog does when you're going to whip him."

  "Well, why didn't you?" said Favell. "He'd have remembered me all right if you'd whipped him. Oh, no, he's going to be given a good supper for his work tonight. Ben's not going to be whipped."

  "He has not helped your case, has he?" said Colonel Julyan quietly; "we're still where we were. You can't produce one shred of evidence against de Winter and you know it. The very motive you gave won't stand the test. In a court of law, Favell, you wouldn't have a leg to stand on. You say you were Mrs. de Winter's prospective husband, and that you held clandestine meetings with her in that cottage on the beach. Even the poor idiot we have just had in this room swears he never saw you. You can't even prove your own story, can you?"

  "Can't I?" said Favell. I saw him smile. He came across to the fireplace and rang the bell.

  "What are you doing?" said Colonel Julyan.

  "Wait a moment and you'll see," said Favell.

  I guessed already what was going to happen. Frith answered the bell.

  "Ask Mrs. Danvers to come here," said Favell.

  Frith glanced at Maxim. Maxim nodded shortly.

  Frith went out of the room. "Isn't Mrs. Danvers the housekeeper?" said Colonel Julyan.

  "She was also Rebecca's personal friend," said Favell. "She was with her for years before she married and practically brought her up. You are going to find Danny a very different sort of witness to Ben."

  Frank came back into the room. "Packed Ben off to bed?" said Favell. "Given him his supper and told him he was a good boy? This time it won't be quite so easy for the trade union."

  "Mrs. Danvers is coming down," said Colonel Julyan. "Favell seems to think he will get something out of her."

  Frank glanced quickly at Maxim. Colonel Julyan saw the glance. I saw his lips tighten. I did not like it. No, I did not like it. I began biting my nails.

  We all waited, watching the door. And Mrs. Danvers came into the room. Perhaps it was because I had generally seen her alone, and beside me she had seemed tall and gaunt, but she looked shrunken now in size, more wizened, and I noticed she had to look up to Favell and to Frank and Maxim. She stood by the door, her hands folded in front of her, looking from one to the other of us.

  "Good evening, Mrs. Danvers," said Colonel Julyan.

  "Good evening, sir," she said.

  Her voice was that old, dead, mechanical one I had heard so often.

  "First of all, Mrs. Danvers, I want to ask you a question," said Colonel Julyan, "and the question is this. Were you aware of the relationship between the late Mrs. de Winter and Mr. Favell here?"

  "They were first cousins," said Mrs. Danvers.

  "I was not referring to blood-relationship, Mrs. Danvers," said Colonel Julyan. "I mean something closer than that."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir," said Mrs. Danvers.

  "Oh, come off it, Danny," said Favell; "you know damn well what he's driving at. I've told Colonel Julyan already, but he doesn't seem to believe me. Rebecca and I had lived together off and on for years, hadn't we? She was in love with me, wasn't she?"

  To my surprise Mrs. Danvers considered him a moment without speaking, and there was something of scorn in the glance she gave him.

  "She was not," she said.

  "Listen here, you old fool..." began Favell, but Mrs. Danvers cut him short.

  "She was not in love with you, or with Mr. de Winter. She was not in love with anyone. She despised all men. She was above all that."

  Favell flushed angrily. "Listen here. Didn't she come down the path through the woods to meet me, night after night? Didn't you wait up for her? Didn't she spend the weekends with me in London?"

  "Well?" said Mrs. Danvers, with sudden passion, "and what if she did? She had a right to amuse herself, hadn't she? Love-making was a game with her, only a game. She told me so. She did it because it made her laugh. It made her laugh, I tell you. She laughed at you like she did at the rest. I've known her come back and sit upstairs in her bed and rock with laughter at the lot of you."

  There was something horrible in the sudden torrent of words, something horrible and unexpected. It revolted me, even though I knew. Maxim had gone very white. Favell stared at her blankly, as though he had not understood. Colonel Julyan tugged at his small mustache. No one said anything for a few minutes. And there was no sound but that inevitable falling rain. Then Mrs. Danvers began to cry. She cried like she had done that morning in the bedroom. I could not look at her. I had to turn away. No one said anything. There were just the two sounds in the room, the falling rain and Mrs. Danvers crying. It made me want to scream. I wanted to run out of the room and scream and scream.

  No one moved towards her, to say anything, or to help her. She went on crying. Then at last, it seemed eternity, she began to control herself. Little by little the crying ceased. She stood quite still, her face working, her hands clutching the black stuff of her frock. At last she was silent again. Then Colonel Julyan spoke, quietly, slowly.

  "Mrs. Danvers," he said, "can you think of any reason, however remote, why Mrs. de Winter should have taken her own life?"

  Mrs. Danvers swallowed. She went on clutching at her frock. She shook her head. "No," she said. "No."

  "There, you see?" Favell said swiftly. "It's impossible. She knows that as well as I do. I've told you already."

  "Be quiet, will you?" said Colonel Julyan. "Give Mrs. Danvers time to think. We all of us agree that on the face of it the thing's absurd, out of the question. I'm not disputing the truth or veracity of that note of yours. It's plain for us to see. She wrote you that note sometime during those hours she spent in London. There was something she wanted to tell you. It's just possible that if we knew what that something was we might have the answer to the whole appalling problem. Let Mrs. Danvers read the note. She may be able to throw light on it." Favell shrugged his shoulders. He felt in his pocket for the note and threw it on the floor at Mrs. Danvers' feet. She stooped and picked it up. We watched her lips move as she read the words. She read it twice. Then she shook her head. "It's no use," she said. "I don't know what she meant. If there was something important she had to tell Mr. Jack she would have told me first."

  "You never saw her that night?"

  "No, I was out. I was spending the afternoon and evening in Kerrith. I shall never forgive myself for th
at. Never till my dying day."

  "Then you know of nothing on her mind, you can't suggest a solution, Mrs. Danvers? Those words 'I have something to tell you' do not convey anything to you at all?"

  "No," she answered. "No, sir, nothing at all."

  "Does anybody know how she spent that day in London?"

  Nobody answered. Maxim shook his head. Favell swore under his breath. "Look here, she left that note at my flat at three in the afternoon," he said. "The porter saw her. She must have driven down here straight after that, and gone like the wind too."

  "Mrs. de Winter had a hair appointment from twelve until one thirty," said Mrs. Danvers. "I remember that, because I had to telephone through to London from here earlier in the week and book it for her. I remember doing it. Twelve to one thirty. She always lunched at her club after a hair appointment so that she could leave the pins in her hair. It's almost certain she lunched there that day."

  "Say it took her half-an-hour to have lunch; what was she doing from two until three? We ought to verify that," said Colonel Julyan.

  "Oh, Christ Jesus, who the hell cares what she was doing?" shouted Favell. "She didn't kill herself, that's the only thing that matters, isn't it?"

  "I've got her engagement diary locked in my room," said Mrs. Danvers slowly. "I kept all those things. Mr. de Winter never asked me for them. It's just possible she may have noted down her appointments for that day. She was methodical in that way. She used to put everything down and then tick the items off with a cross. If you think it would be helpful I'll go and fetch the diary."

  "Well, de Winter?" said Colonel Julyan, "what do you say? Do you mind us seeing this diary?"

  "Of course not," said Maxim. "Why on earth should I?"

  Once again I saw Colonel Julyan give him that swift, curious glance. And this time Frank noticed it. I saw Frank look at Maxim too. And then back again to me. This time it was I who got up and went towards the window. It seemed to me that it was no longer raining quite so hard. The fury was spent. The rain that was falling now had a quieter, softer note. The gray light of evening had come into the sky. The lawns were dark and drenched with the heavy rain, and the trees had a shrouded humped appearance. I could hear the housemaid overhead drawing the curtains for the night, shutting down the windows that had not been closed already. The little routine of the day going on inevitably as it had always done. The curtains drawn, shoes taken down to be cleaned, the towel laid out on the chair in the bathroom, and the water run for my bath. Beds turned down, slippers put beneath a chair. And here were we in the library, none of us speaking, knowing in our hearts that Maxim was standing trial here for his life.