44. REBECCA

Daphne Du Maurier 1938

In a flashback style, the narrator of this romantic mystery was unnamed until she encountered a quick courtship and marriage that turned her into the second Mrs. Maxim de Winter. He whisked her away to Manderley estate where she is unwanted by the housekeeper Mrs. Danvers and is haunted by the memory of Rebecca, Maxim's first wife.

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me."

"We both have known fear, and loneliness, and very great distress. I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides and torments us, and we must give battle in the end. We have conquered ours, or so we believe."

"Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is a quality of thought, a state of mind."

"What hound of heaven had driven him to the high hills this afternoon? I thought of his car, with half a length between it and that drop of two thousand feet, and the blank expression of his face. What footsteps echoed in his mind, what whispers, and what memories, and why of all poems, must he keep this one in the pocket of his car?"

"If only there could be an invention...that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again."

"I was glad to see the dogs there, sitting before the fire, and Jasper, the younger, came over to me at once, his tail wagging, and thrust his nose into my hand."

"But this writing table, beautiful as it was, was no pretty toy where a woman would scribble little notes, nibbling the end of a pen, leaving it, day after day, in carelessness, the blotter a little askew. The pigeon-holes were docketed, "letter-unanswered," "letter-to-keep," "household," "estate," "menus," "miscellaneous," "addresses,"; each ticket written in that same scrawling startled me, to recognize it again, for I had not seen it since I had destroyed the page from the book of poems, and I had not thought to see it again."

"Now you are here, let me show you everything...I know you want to see it all, you've wanted to for a long time, and you were too shy to ask. It's a lovely room, isn't it? The loveliest room you have ever seen."

""Miss Caroline de Winter," shouted the drummer. I came forward to the head of the stairs and stood there, smiling, hat in my hand, like the girl in the picture. I waited for the clapping and the laughter that would follow as I walked slowly down the stairs."

"This was her bed. It's a beautiful bed, isn't it? I keep the golden coverlet on it always, it was her favourite. Here is her nightdress she was wearing for the last time, before she died. Would you like to touch it again?"

"'You maid me better than anyone, Danny,' she used to say. 'I won't have anyone but you.'"

"They were all fitting into place, the jig-saw pieces. The odd strained shapes that I had tried to piece together with my fumbling fingers and they never fitted."

"But you. I can't forget what it has done to you. I was looking at you, thinking of nothing else that I loved. It's gone forever, that funny, young, lost look that I loved. It won't come back again."

Personal Note: A surprising and fitting ending to a fabulous day in Luxembourg city, Luxembourg, May 5, 2010.