She turned her head away, and looked out of the window as she had done when I first came into the room. 'Why did you ever come here?' she said.

  'Nobody wanted you at Manderley. We were all right until you came. Why did you not stay where you were out in France?'

  'You seem to forget I love Mr de Winter,' I said.

  'If you loved him you would never have married him,' she said.

  I did not know what to say. The situation was mad, unreal. She kept talking in that choked muffled way with her head turned from me.

  'I thought I hated you but I don't now,' she said; 'it seems to have spent itself, all the feeling I had.'

  'Why should you hate me?' I asked; 'what have I ever done to you that you should hate me?'

  'You tried to take Mrs de Winter's place,' she said.

  Still she would not look at me. She stood there sullen, her head turned from me. 'I had nothing changed,' I said. 'Manderley went on as it had always been. I gave no orders, I

  left everything to you. I would have been friends with you, if you had let me, but you set yourself against me from the first. I saw it in your face, the moment I shook hands with you.'

  She did not answer, and her hand kept opening and shutting against her dress. 'Many people marry twice, men and women,' I said. 'There are thousands of second marriages taking place every day. You talk as though my marrying Mr de Winter was a crime, a sacrilege against the dead. Haven't we as much right to be happy as anyone else?'

  'Mr de Winter is not happy,' she said, turning to look at me at last;

  'any fool can see that. You have only to look at his eyes. He's still in hell, and he's looked like that ever since she died.'

  'It's not true,' I said. 'It's not true. He was happy when we were in France together; he was younger, much younger, and laughing and gay.'

  'Well, he's a man, isn't he?' she said. 'No man denies himself on a honeymoon, does he? Mr de Winter's not forty-six yet.'

  She laughed contemptuously, and shrugged her shoulders.

  'How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you?' I said.

  I was not afraid of her any more. I went up to her, shook her by the arm.

  'You made me wear that dress last night,' I said, 'I should never have thought of it but for you. You did it because you wanted to hurt Mr de Winter, you wanted to make him suffer. Hasn't he suffered enough without your playing that vile hideous joke upon him? Do you think his agony and pain will bring Mrs de Winter back again?'

  She shook herself clear of me, the angry colour flooded her dead white face. 'What do I care for his suffering?' she said, 'he's never cared about mine. How do you think I've liked it, watching you sit in her place, walk in her footsteps, touch the things that were hers? What do you think it's meant to me all these months knowing that you wrote at her desk in the morning-room, using the very pen that she used, speaking down the house telephone, where she used to speak every morning of her life to me, ever since she first came to Manderley? What do you think it meant to me to hear Frith and Robert and the rest of the servants talking about you as "Mrs de Winter"? "Mrs de Winter has gone out for a walk." "Mrs de

  Winter wants the car this afternoon at three o'clock." "Mrs de Winter won't be in to tea till five o'clock." And all the while my Mrs de Winter, my lady with her smile and her lovely face and brave ways, the real Mrs de Winter, lying dead and cold and forgotten in the church crypt. If he suffers then he deserves to suffer, marrying a young girl like you not ten months afterwards. Well, he's paying for it now, isn't he? I've seen his face, I've seen his eyes. He's made his own hell and there's no one but himself to thank for it. He knows she sees him, he knows she comes by night and watches him. And she doesn't come kindly, not she, not my lady. She was never one to stand mute and still and be wronged. "I'll see them in hell, Danny," she'd say, "I'll see them in hell first." "That's right, my dear," I'd tell her, "no one will put upon you. You were born into this world to take what you could out of it", and she did, she didn't care, she wasn't afraid. She had all the courage and spirit of a boy, had my Mrs de Winter. She ought to have been a boy, I often told her that.

  I had the care of her as a child. You knew that, didn't you?'

  'No!' I said, 'no. Mrs Danvers, what's the use of all this? I don't want to hear any more, I don't want to know. Haven't I got feelings as well as you? Can't you understand what it means to me, to hear her mentioned, to stand here and listen while you tell me about her?'

  She did not hear me, she went on raving like a madwoman, a fanatic, her long fingers twisting and tearing the black stuff of her dress.

  'She was lovely then,' she said. 'Lovely as a picture; men turning to stare at her when she passed, and she not twelve years old. She knew then, she used to wink at me like the little devil she was. "I'm going to be a beauty, aren't I, Danny?" she said, and "We'll see about that, my love, we'll see about that," I told her. She had all the knowledge then of a grown person; she'd enter into conversation with men and women as clever and full of tricks as someone of eighteen. She twisted her father round her little finger, and she'd have done the same with her mother, had she lived. Spirit, you couldn't beat my lady for spirit. She drove a four-in-hand on her fourteenth birthday, and her cousin, Mr Jack, got up on the box beside her and tried to

  take the reins from her hands. They fought it out there together, for three minutes, like a couple of wild cats, and the horses galloping to glory. She won though, my lady won. She cracked her whip over his head and down he came, head-over-heels, cursing and laughing. They were a pair, I tell you, she and Mr Jack. They sent him in the Navy, but he wouldn't stand the discipline, and I don't blame him. He had too much spirit to obey orders, like my lady.'

  I watched her, fascinated, horrified; a queer ecstatic smile was on her lips, making her older than ever, making her skull's face vivid and real.

  'No one got the better of her, never, never,' she said. 'She did what she liked, she lived as she liked. She had the strength of a little lion too. I remember her at sixteen getting up on one of her father's horses, a big brute of an animal too, that the groom said was too hot for her to ride. She stuck to him, all right. I can see her now, with her hair flying out behind her, slashing at him, drawing blood, digging the spurs into his side, and when she got off his back he was trembling all over, full of froth and blood. "That will teach him, won't it, Danny?" she said, and walked off to wash her hands as cool as you please. And that's how she went at life, when she grew up. I saw her, I was with her. She cared for nothing and for no one. And then she was beaten in the end. But it wasn't a man, it wasn't a woman. The sea got her. The sea was too strong for her. The sea got her in the end.'

  She broke off, her mouth working strangely, and dragging at the corners.

  She began to cry noisily, harshly, her mouth open and her eyes dry.

  'Mrs Danvers,' I said. 'Mrs Danvers.' I stood before her helplessly, not knowing what to do. I mistrusted her no longer, I was afraid of her no more, but the sight of her sobbing there, dry-eyed, made me shudder, made me ill. 'Mrs Danvers,' I said, 'you're not well, you ought to be in bed.

  Why don't you go to your room and rest? Why don't you go to bed?'

  She turned on me fiercely. 'Leave me alone, can't you?' she said. 'What's it to do with you if I show my grief? I'm not ashamed of it, I don't shut myself up in my room to cry. I don't walk up and down, up and down, in my room like Mr de Winter, with the door locked on me.'

  'What do you mean?" I said. 'Mr de Winter does not do that.'

  'He did,' she said, 'after she died. Up and down, up and down in the library.

  I heard him. I watched him too, through the keyhole, more than once.

  Backwards and forwards, like an animal in a cage.'

  'I don't want to hear,' I said. 'I don't want to know.'

  'And then you say you made him happy on his honeymoon,' she said; 'made him happy - you, a young ignorant girl, young enough to be his daughter.

  What do you know about life? What do you know about men? You come here and think you can take Mrs de Winter's place. You. You take my lady's place. Why, even the servants laughed at you when you came to Manderley.

  Even the little scullery-maid you met in the back passage there on your first morning. I wonder what Mr de Winter thought when he got you back here at Manderley, after his precious honeymoon was over. I wonder what he thought when he saw you sitting at the dining-room table for the first time.'

  'You'd better stop this, Mrs Danvers,' I said; 'you'd better go to your room.'

  'Go to my room,' she mimicked, 'go to my room. The mistress of the house thinks I had better go to my room. And after that, what then? You'll go running to Mr de Winter and saying, "Mrs Danvers has been unkind to me, Mrs Danvers has been rude." You'll go running to him like you did before when Mr Jack came to see me.'

  'I never told him,' I said.

  'That's a lie,' she said. 'Who else told him, if you didn't? No one else was here. Frith and Robert were out, and none of the other servants knew.

  I made up my mind then I'd teach you a lesson, and him too. Let him suffer, I say. What do I care? What's his suffering to me? Why shouldn't I see Mr Jack here at Manderley? He's the only link I have left now with Mrs de Winter. "I'll not have him here," he said. "I'm warning you, it's the last time." He's not forgotten to be jealous, has he?'

  I remembered crouching in the gallery when the library door was open.

  I remembered Maxim's voice raised in anger, using the words that Mrs Danvers had just repeated. Jealous, Maxim jealous...

  'He was jealous while she lived, and now he's jealous when she's dead,'

  said Mrs Danvers. 'He forbids Mr Jack the house now like he did then.

  That shows you he's not forgotten her, doesn't it? Of course he was jealous.

  So was I. So was everyone who knew her. She didn't care. She only laughed.

  "I shall live as I please, Danny," she told me, "and the whole world won't stop me." A man had only to look at her once and be mad about her. I've seen them here, staying in the house, men she'd meet up in London and bring for weekends. She would take them bathing from the boat, she would have a picnic supper at her cottage in the cove. They made love to her of course; who would not? She laughed, she would come back and tell me what they had said, and what they'd done. She did not mind, it was like a game to her. Like a game. Who wouldn't be jealous? They were all jealous, all mad for her. Mr de Winter, Mr Jack, Mr Crawley, everyone who knew her, everyone who came to Manderley.'

  'I don't want to know,' I said. 'I don't want to know.'

  Mrs Danvers came close to me, she put her face near to mine. 'It's no use, is it?' she said. 'You'll never get the better of her. She's still mistress here, even if she is dead. She's the real Mrs de Winter, not you. It's you that's the shadow and the ghost. It's you that's forgotten and not wanted and pushed aside. Well, why don't you leave Manderley to her? Why don't you go?'

  I backed away from her towards the window, my old fear and horror rising up in me again. She took my arm and held it like a vice.

  'Why don't you go?' she said. 'We none of us want you. He doesn't want you, he never did. He can't forget her. He wants to be alone in the house again, with her. It's you that ought to be lying there in the church crypt, not her. It's you who ought to be dead, not Mrs de Winter.'

  She pushed me towards the open window. I could see the terrace below me grey and indistinct in the white wall of fog. 'Look down there,' she said.

  'It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you jump? It wouldn't hurt, not to break your neck. It's a quick, kind way. It's not like drowning. Why don't you try it? Why don't you go?'

  The fog filled the open window, damp and clammy, it stung my eyes, it clung to my nostrils. I held on to the window-sill with my hands.

  'Don't be afraid,' said Mrs Danvers. 'I won't push you. I won't stand by you. You can jump of your own accord. What's the use of your staying here at Manderley? You're not happy. Mr de Winter doesn't love you. There's not much for you to live for, is there? Why don't you jump now and have done with it? Then you won't be unhappy any more.'

  I could see the flower tubs on the terrace and the blue of the hydrangeas clumped and solid. The paved stones were smooth and grey. They were not jagged and uneven. It was the fog that made them look so far away. They were not far really, the window was not so very high.

  'Why don't you jump?' whispered Mrs Danvers. 'Why don't you try?'

  The fog came thicker than before and the terrace was hidden from me. I could not see the flower tubs any more, nor the smooth paved stones. There was nothing but the white mist about me, smelling of seaweed dank and chill. The only reality was the window-sill beneath my hands and the grip of Mrs Danvers on my left arm. If I jumped I should not see the stones rise up to meet me, the fog would hide them from me. The pain would be sharp and sudden as she said. The fall would break my neck. It would not be slow, like drowning. It would soon be over. And Maxim did not love me. Maxim wanted to be alone again, with Rebecca.

  'Go on,' whispered Mrs Danvers. 'Go on, don't be afraid.'

  I shut my eyes. I was giddy from staring down at the terrace, and my fingers ached from holding to the ledge. The mist entered my nostrils and lay upon my lips rank and sour. It was stifling, like a blanket, like an anaesthetic. I was beginning to forget about being unhappy, and about loving Maxim. I was beginning to forget Rebecca. Soon I would not have to think about Rebecca any more ...

  As I relaxed my hands and sighed, the white mist and the silence that was part of it was shattered suddenly, was rent in two by an explosion that shook the window where we stood. The glass shivered in its frame.

  I opened my eyes. I stared at

  Mrs Danvers. The burst was followed by another, and yet a third and fourth. The sound of the explosions stung the air and the birds rose unseen from the woods around the house and made an echo with their clamour.

  'What is it?' I said stupidly. 'What has happened?'

  Mrs Danvers relaxed her grip upon my arm. She stared out of the window into the fog. 'It's the rockets,' she said; 'there must be a ship gone ashore there in the bay.' We listened, staring into the white fog together. And then we

  heard the sound of footsteps running on the terrace beneath us.

  chapter nineteen

  It was Maxim. I could not see him but I could hear his voice. He was shouting for Frith as he ran. I heard Frith answer from the hall and come out on the terrace. Their figures loomed out of the mist beneath us.

  'She's ashore all right,' said Maxim. 'I was watching her from the headland and I saw her come right into the bay, and head for the reef. They'll never shift her, not with these tides. She must have mistaken the bay for Kerrith harbour. It's like a wall out there, in the bay. Tell them in the house to stand by with food and drink in case these fellows want anything, and ring through to the office to Mr Crawley and tell him what's happened. I'm going back to the cove to see if I can do anything. Get me some cigarettes, will you?'

  Mrs Danvers drew back from the window. Her face was expressionless once more, the cold white mask that I knew.

  'We had better go down,' she said, 'Frith will be looking for me to make arrangements. Mr de Winter may bring the men back to the house as he said.

  Be careful of your hands, I'm going to shut the window.' I stepped back into the room still

  dazed and stupid, not sure of myself or of her. I watched her close the window and fasten the shutters, and draw the curtains in their place.

  'It's a good thing there is no sea running,' she said, 'there wouldn't have been much chance for them then. But on a day like this there's no danger. The owners will lose their ship, though, if she's run on the reef as Mr de Winter said.'

  She glanced round the room to make certain that nothing was disarranged or out of place. She straightened the cover on the double bed. Then she went to the door and held it open for me. 'I will tell them in the kitchen to serve cold lunch in the dining-room after all,' she said, 'and then it won't matter what time you come for it. Mr de Winter may not want to rush back at one o'clock if he's busy down there in the cove.'

  I stared at her blankly and then passed out of the open door, stiff and wooden like a dummy.

  'When you see Mr de Winter, Madam, will you tell him it will be quite all right if he wants to bring the men back from the ship? There will be a hot meal ready for them any time.'

  'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, Mrs Danvers.'

  She turned her back on me and went along the corridor to the service staircase, a weird gaunt figure in her black dress, the skirt just sweeping the ground like the full, wide skirts of thirty years ago. Then she turned the corner of the corridor and disappeared.

  I walked slowly along the passage to the door by the archway, my mind still blunt and slow as though I had just woken from a long sleep. I pushed through the door and went down the stairs with no set purpose before me.

  Frith was crossing the hall towards the dining-room. When he saw me he stopped, and waited until I came down into the hall.

  'Mr de Winter was in a few moments ago, Madam,' he said. 'He took some cigarettes, and then went back again to the beach. It appears there is a ship gone ashore.'

  'Yes,' I said.

  'Did you hear the rockets, Madam?' said Frith.

  'Yes, I heard the rockets,' I said.

  'I was in the pantry with Robert, and we both thought at first that one of the gardeners had let off a firework left over from last night,' said Frith, 'and I said to Robert, "What do they want to do that for in this weather? Why don't they keep them for the kiddies on Saturday night?" And then the next one came, and then the third. "That's not fireworks," says Robert, "that's a ship in distress." "I believe you're right," I said, and I went out to the hall and there was Mr de Winter calling me from the terrace.'

  'Yes,' I said.

  'Well, it's hardly to be wondered at in this fog, Madam. That's what I said to Robert just now. It's difficult to find your way on the road, let alone on the water.'

  'Yes,' I said.

  'If you want to catch Mr de Winter he went straight across the lawn only two minutes ago,' said Frith.