Rebecca

Maxim and I had lunch with Frank at his bachelor establishment next-door to the office to be out of the way. We were all three in the rather hearty, cheerful humour of people after a funeral. We made pointless jokes about nothing at all, our minds eternally on the thought of the next few hours. I felt very much the same as I did the morning I was married. The same stifled feeling that I had gone too far now to turn back.

The evening had got to be endured. Thank heaven Messrs Voce had sent my dress in time. It looked perfect, in its folds of tissue paper. And the wig was a triumph. I had tried it on after breakfast, and was amazed at the transformation. I looked quite attractive, quite different altogether. Not me at all. Someone much more interesting, more vivid and alive. Maxim and Frank kept asking me about my costume.

'You won't know me,' I told them, 'you will both get the shock of your lives.'

'You are not going to dress up as a clown, are you?' said Maxim gloomily. 'No frightful attempt to be funny?'

'No, nothing like that,' I said, full of importance.

'I wish you had kept to Alice-in-Wonderland,' he said.

'Or Joan of Arc with your hair,' said Frank shyly.

T never thought of that,' I said blankly, and Frank went rather pink. 'I'm sure we shall like whatever you wear,' he said in his most pompous Frankish voice.

'Don't encourage her, Frank,' said Maxim. 'She's so full of her precious disguise already there's no holding her. Bee will put you in your place, that's one comfort. She'll soon tell you if she doesn't like your dress. Dear old Bee always looks just wrong on these occasions, bless her. I remember her once as Madame Pompadour and she tripped up going in to supper and her wig came adrift. "I can't stand this damned thing," she said, in that blunt voice of hers, and chucked it on a chair and went through the rest of the evening with her own cropped hair. You can imagine what it looked like, against a pale blue satin crinoline, or whatever the dress was. Poor Giles did not cope that year. He came as a cook, and sat about in the bar all night looking perfectly miserable. I think he felt Bee had let him down.'

'No, it wasn't that,' said Frank, 'he'd lost his front teeth trying out a new mare, don't you remember, and he was so shy about it he wouldn't open his mouth.'

'Oh, was that it? Poor Giles. He generally enjoys dressing up.'

'Beatrice says he loves playing charades,' I said. 'She told me they always have charades at Christmas.'

T know,' said Maxim, 'that's why I've never spent Christmas with her.'

'Have some more asparagus, Mrs de Winter, and another potato?'

'No, really, Frank, I'm not hungry, thank you.'

'Nerves,' said Maxim, shaking his head. 'Never mind, this time tomorrow it will all be over.'

'I sincerely hope so,' said Frank seriously. 'I was going to give orders that all cars should stand by for 5 a.m.'

I began to laugh weakly, the tears coming into my eyes. 'Oh dear,' I said, 'let's send wires to everybody not to come.'

'Come on, be brave and face it,' said Maxim. 'We need not give another one for years. Frank, I have an uneasy feeling we ought to be going up to the house. What do you think?'

Frank agreed, and I followed them unwillingly, reluctant to leave the cramped, rather uncomfortable little dining-room that was so typical of Frank's bachelor establishment, and which seemed to me today the embodiment of peace and quietude. When we came to the house we found that the band had arrived, and were standing about in the hall rather pink in the face and self-conscious, while Frith, more important than ever, offered refreshments. The band were to be our guests for the night, and after we had welcomed them and exchanged a few slightly obvious jokes proper to the occasion, the band were borne off to their quarters to be followed by a tour of the grounds.

The afternoon dragged, like the last hour before a journey when one is packed up and keyed to departure, and I wandered from room to room almost as lost as Jasper, who trailed reproachfully at my heels.

There was nothing I could do to help, and it would have been wiser on my part to have kept clear of the house altogether and taken the dog and myself for a long walk. By the time I decided upon this it was too late, Maxim and Frank were demanding tea, and when tea was over Beatrice and Giles arrived. The evening had come upon us all too soon.

'This is like old times,' said Beatrice, kissing Maxim, and looking about her. 'Congratulations to you for remembering every detail. The flowers are exquisite,' she added, turning to me. 'Did you do them?'

'No,' I said, rather ashamed, 'Mrs Danvers is responsible for everything.'

'Oh. Well, after ail…' Beatrice did not finish her sentence, she accepted a light for her cigarette from Frank, and once it was lit she appeared to have forgotten what she was going to say.

'Have you got Mitchell's to do the catering as usual?' asked Giles.

'Yes,' said Maxim. 'I don't think anything has been altered, has it, Frank? We had all the records down at the office. Nothing has been forgotten, and I don't think we have left anyone out.'

'What a relief to find only ourselves,' said Beatrice. 'I remember once arriving about this time, and there were about twenty-five people in the place already. All going to stop the night.'

'What's everyone going to wear? I suppose Maxim, as always, refuses to play?'

'As always,' said Maxim.

'Such a mistake I think. The whole thing would go with much more swing if you did.'

'Have you ever known a ball at Manderley not to go with a swing?'

'No, my dear boy, the organisation is too good. But I do think the host ought to give the lead himself.'

'I think it's quite enough if the hostess makes the effort,' said Maxim. 'Why should I make myself hot and uncomfortable and a damn fool into the bargain?'

'Oh, but that's absurd. There's no need to look a fool. With your appearance, my dear Maxim, you could get away with any costume. You don't have to worry about your figure like poor Giles.'

'What is Giles going to wear tonight?' I asked, 'or is it a dead secret?'

'No, rather not,' beamed Giles; 'as a matter-of-fact it's a pretty good effort. I got our local tailor to rig it up. I'm coming as an Arabian sheik.'

'Good God,' said Maxim.

'It's not at all bad,' said Beatrice warmly. 'He stains his face of course, and leaves off his glasses. The head-dress is authentic. We borrowed it off a friend who used to live in the East, and the rest the tailor copied from some paper. Giles looks very well in it.'

'What are you going to be, Mrs Lacy?' said Frank.

'Oh, I'm afraid I haven't coped much,' said Beatrice, 'I've got some sort of Eastern get-up to go with Giles, but I don't pretend it's genuine. Strings of beads, you know, and a veil over my face.'

'It sounds very nice,' I said politely.

'Oh, it's not bad. Comfortable to wear, that's one blessing. I shall take off the veil if I get too hot. What are you wearing?'

'Don't ask her,' said Maxim. 'She won't tell any of us. There has never been such a secret. I believe she even wrote to London for it.'

'My dear,' said Beatrice, rather impressed, 'don't say you have gone a bust and will put us all to shame? Mine is only home-made, you know.'

'Don't worry,' I said, laughing, 'it's quite simple really. But Maxim would tease me, and I've promised to give him the surprise of his life.'

'Quite right too,' said Giles. 'Maxim is too superior altogether. The fact is he's jealous. Wishes he was dressing up like the rest of us, and doesn't like to say so.'

'Heaven forbid,' said Maxim.