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第13章

六月底迈克西姆要去伦敦赴社交宴会。那是涉及本郡公务的一次宴会，只有男宾出席。他离家两天，让我独个儿留在庄园里。我很担心他这次出门会遇到什么不测事件。在我望着他的坐车在车道拐弯处消失的时候，我似乎真的感到此别将成永诀，以后再也见不着他啦。我指的自然是一场车祸，仿佛下午当我散步回来时，就会见到吓得面如土色的弗里思正在那儿等着向我禀报噩耗，说某个乡村医院的医生已经来过电话。“你一定要鼓起极大的勇气来，”他会这么说。“恐怕你得准备好承受巨大的打击。”

接着又仿佛是弗兰克来了，我们就一起到医院去，迈克西姆已认不出我来。我就这么坐在午餐桌前，胡思乱想这一幕又一幕的情景。我想象有一大群本地人士来参加葬礼，围聚在教堂墓地的四周，我自己则倚傍着弗兰克的手臂。这一切在我看来是如此真切，以至我连餐桌上的饭菜一点也没碰．而且一直竖起耳朵，生怕错漏了电话铃声。

下午，我坐在花园的栗子树下，膝上搁着本书，可是一个字也没读进去。我一看到罗伯特穿过草坪走来，心想一定有电话来啦，顿时感到一阵晕眩。“太太，俱乐部来电话，说是德温特先生十分钟前已到了那儿。”

我合上书本。“谢谢你，罗伯特。他这么快就到啦。”

“是啊，太太。一路挺顺利。”

“他没有要我接电话。或者留下什么特别口信？”

“没有，太太。只是说他已平安到达。电话是那儿的门房打来的。”

“知道了，罗伯特。多谢你了。”

我大大松了一口气，再没有晕眩欲吐的感觉。心里的疑惧豁然开释，好似横渡过海峡安然抵达彼岸一般。我顿时感到饥肠辘辘，所以一等到罗伯特回进屋子，就立刻爬过长自，溜进餐厅，从食品柜里偷了些饼干。一共六块，是巴斯一奥利弗牌的。接着我又随手拿了个苹果。真没想到会饿得这么慌。我走到林子里才开始大嚼起来，生怕在草坪上吃会被窗口的仆人瞧见，那样一来，他们会到厨师面前搬口舌，说什么刚才看见德温特夫人用饼干和水果填肚子来着，想必是不喜欢厨房里做的饭菜。厨师当然就不高兴啦，说不定还会到丹弗斯太太面前抱怨几句呢。

想到迈克西姆已平安抵达伦敦，再加上把那几块饼于吞进了肚子，我心情极为舒畅，甚至莫名其妙地感到快活。一种无拘无束的自由感在心头油然而生，大有无牵无挂一身轻的味道，好比是孩提时代度周末，既不用上课，也不要预习，爱干什么就干什么；可以套条旧裙子，穿双帆布鞋，跟邻屋小朋友在附近公共草地上一起玩“猎犬追野兔”的游戏。

我当时的感觉正是这样。来曼陀丽后我还从未有过这样的感觉。想必是迈克西姆到伦敦而不在身边的缘故吧。

我竟产生这种大不敬的念头，为此我颇为吃惊。真不明白这是怎么回事。我不希望他离开身边。而现在却如此轻松愉快，步履轻盈，情不自禁地要像孩子那样，连蹦带跳地穿过草地，连滚带爬翻身下坡。我抹去嘴上的饼干屑，大声呼唤杰斯珀。哦，我所以有这种感觉，也许因为这是个阳光明媚的日子吧……

我们穿过幸福谷，朝小海湾走去。杜鹃花已经凋谢，皱曲的褐色的残花零落散在青苔地上。风信子花尚未凋零，在山谷尽头处的林子里铺下一层厚实的绒毯，花丛间还不时冒出一些卷曲嫩绿的羊齿草。答藓溢出阵阵深沉的浓香；风信子花飘散着带点苦涩的泥土味。我躺在风信子花旁的茂密草丛中，头搁在手掌上，杰斯珀守在我身边。它气喘吁吁地望着我，样子傻乎乎的，唾液沿着舌头和肥厚的下颚往下滴。林中某处枝头息着几只鸽于。四周一片恬静宁谧。我感到奇怪，为什么当你孓身独处时，同样的环境竟会显得那么可爱。这时候要是有个朋友，旧日的同窗，坐在我身旁絮叨：“喂，顺便告诉你，前几天我遇到老同学希尔达啦。你还记得她吗？就是那个打得一手好网球的同学。她已经结婚，有了两个孩子。”这该多杀风景，多无聊乏味。你就顾不上欣赏身旁的风信子花，也没法侧耳谛听头上鸽子的咕鸣。此刻我不希望有谁呆在身边，甚至迈克西姆也不例外。要是迈克西姆在这儿，我就不会像现在这么躺着，闭目养神，嘴里还嚼着一根青草。我一定是在一旁察颜观色，留神他的眼神和表情，心中暗自揣摩，这合他的心意呢还是让他感到烦腻，还得不时忖度他在想些什么。而此刻我可以舒舒坦坦地躺着，全然不必为此操心。迈克西姆这会儿在伦敦。以后要是还有机会子身独处，那该有多美！喔，不，我是说着玩的。这种邪念岂非是对爱情的背弃？我说的不是那个意思。迈克西姆是我的生命，我的一切。我从风信子花丛中站起身来，朝杰斯珀厉声吆喝。我们一块儿出了林子，沿山谷走向海滩。这时正值退潮，大海宁静而遥远。那边的海湾宛若平静如镜的浩瀚湖面。望着此刻的大海，怎能想象出它汹涌咆哮的情景，正如置身于炎夏之中岂能想象寒冬的萧瑟？周围没有一丝儿风，灿烂的阳光泻在轻轻拍岸的海水上；海水漫人礁石之中，形成一泓泓漩水洼。杰斯珀一溜烟爬上礁岩，扭头瞥了我一眼，一只耳朵往后耷拉在脑袋上。一副调皮的怪模样。

“杰斯珀，别往那边去，”我说。

它当然不听我的话，放开步子便往那边跑。“这个捣蛋鬼，”我说出声来，接着也纵身翻上礁岩，去追赶杰斯珀，似乎并不是我自己有意要闯到另一侧海滩去的。“唔，可不是？”我暗自嘀咕。“实在没法子。管他呢，反正迈克西姆不在身边。这总不能怪我啊！”我踩着礁石间的水洼，哼着小调向前走，退了潮的小海湾，看起来与涨潮时不一样，不再那么令人望而生畏，狭小的港湾里海水大约只有三英尺深。我想。在这平静的浅水中驾起轻舟，随波荡漾，确是够逍遥的。浮简还在老地方。上面漆着的是绿白两种颜色，这我上回可没有注意到。也许是由于那几天霪雨不止，色彩不甚清晰。海滩上阒无人影。我脚踩圆卵石，来到海湾的另一侧，爬上防波堤的石砌堤壁。杰斯珀俨然像是识途老马。跑在头里。堤壁上安着一只环，一架铁梯自上而下伸入水中。也许那皮筏就曾拴在这儿，而游人也是借这架铁梯上筏子的。浮简就在对面三十英尺的地方，上面还写着什么。我侧过身伸长脖子看上面的字：“JeReviens”。怪有趣的名字。这不像是一般的船名。不过那艘船原先也许是艘法国造的捕鱼船吧，渔船有时倒是起那种名字的，什么“平安归来”啦，“我还安在”啦，等等。“JeReviens”——“我归来”。不错，这是个挺吉祥的船名，可惜用在那条船上并不恰当，因为它一去不复返啦。

如果越过海岬处的灯塔，在那边的海湾航行，一定是够冷的。这儿海水平静如镜，可是那边海岬处，即使在今天这样风和日丽的日子，潮水也在奔腾不息，水面卷起一层白色的碎浪。小船一旦绕过海角，驶出陆地环抱的海湾，就得听凭风浪摆布，东倒西歪。海水也许会哗哗扑上船来，在甲板上漫溢横流。手扶舵桐的驾船者也许会拭去溅在她眼睛和头发上的水花，抬头向那绷得紧紧的风帆扫一眼。不知道那艘小船漆的是什么颜色，说不定也是绿白双色，和那个浮筒一样。船身不很大，有个小船舱，弗兰克曾这么对我说过。

杰斯珀用鼻子唤着那架铁梯子。“走吧，”我说，“我可不想跟着你转了。”我沿着港湾的堤壁走回海滩。林子边上的那座小屋显得不像上一次那么遥远，那么森然可怕。这种变化是由太阳引起的。今天，没有淅沥的雨点打在屋顶上，我顺着海滩朝小屋缓缓走去。说到底，那不过是座普通的小屋，里边又没住人，一点没什么好害怕的。不论什么地方，只要有一段时间不住人，总会显得潮湿、阴森，连新盖的平房和别墅也不例外。况且，他们还在这儿举行过月夜聚餐之类的娱乐活动。周末来客也许常上这儿来游泳遣兴，随后乘船在海面上兜风巡游。我站定身子。朝屋前那座无人照看的爬满尊麻的庭园打量了一番。得派人来清理一下。差个园丁来，不该把它丢在一边，荒芜成这般模样。我推开庭园的小门，走到屋子门前。屋门虚掩着。我清楚地记得，上回我是把门关严的。杰斯珀吠叫起来，把鼻子凑在门沿下一个劲儿嗅着。

“别这样，杰斯珀，”我说。它还是死劲在唤个不停，把鼻子探进门框里。我推开门，朝里边张望。屋里还是像上次那样黑洞洞的。一切依然如旧。蜘蛛网依然挂在船模的索具上。不过，屋子尽头那扇通向船库贮藏室的门却开着。杰斯珀又汪汪大叫起来，贮藏室里扑通一声，是什么东西掉到了地上。杰斯珀狂吠着从我跨下窜入屋内，随即朝洞开着的贮藏室门猛扑过去。我跟在它后面朝里走了几步，然后犹豫不决地站在屋子中央，心儿怦怦直跳。“杰斯珀，回来，别像个傻瓜，”我说。它站在门口，仍狂怒地吠叫不停，声音近乎歇斯底里，贮藏室里一定有什么东西。不像是耗子。如果是耗子，狗一定早扑上去了。“杰斯珀，杰斯珀，过来，”我说。可是它不肯过来，我提起脚步慢慢朝贮藏室门口走去。

“里面有人吗？”我问。

没有回答。我弯下身，把手按在杰斯珀的颈圈上，从门边探头向里张望。有个人坐屋角里，身子靠着墙。瞧他那缩成一团的模样，似乎比我更胆颤心惊。原来是贝恩。他想把身子藏到一张船帆的后面去。“怎么回事？你想干什么？”我对他说。他傻乎乎地朝我眨巴着眼睛，嘴巴微微张开。

“我没干什么，”他说。

“安静下来，杰斯珀，”我一面呵责，一面用手捂住它的口勒；我解开自己的皮带，穿进颈圈将狗牵住。

“贝恩，你想要什么？”我又问了一声，这回胆子壮了些。

他没作声，只是用他那双白痴般的眼睛盯着我看。

“我看你还是出去的好，”我说。“德温特先生不喜欢有人到这屋子里走动。”

他摇摇晃晃站起身子，鬼头鬼脑地咧嘴傻笑，还用手背擦了擦鼻子。他的另一只手始终藏在背后。“贝恩，你手里拿着什么？”我说。他像孩子似地乖乖把另一只手伸给我看。他手里拿着根钓丝。“我没干什么，”他又咕哝了一遍。

“这根钓丝是这儿的吗？”我说。

“嗯？”他说。

“听着，贝恩，”我说，“你想要这根钓丝，拿去得了。不过以后可别再拿了。拿人家的东西，不是诚实人干的。”

他没吭声，光是朝我眨巴着眼睛，不安地扭动身子。

“过来，”我口气坚决地说。他跟着我走回大房间。杰斯珀已不再吠叫，只顾嗅着贝恩的脚后跟。我不想在这屋里再呆下去，快步走出屋子，来到阳光下，贝恩拖着脚步，跟在我后面。我随手把门带上。

“你还是回家去吧。”我对贝恩说。

他把钓丝当宝贝似地攥在胸口。“你不会把我送到疯人院去吧？”他问。

这时我才看到他害怕得浑身直打哆嗦。他双手颤抖，像哑巴似地用哀求的眼光死死盯着我。

“当然不会，”我温和地说。

“我没干什么呀，”他又说了一遍。“对谁也没有说过。我不想被人送进疯人院。”一滴眼泪顺着肮脏的腮帮子滚下。

“好的，贝恩，”我说。“谁也不会撵你走的。不过，你以后可别再上那屋子去了。”

我转身走开，他又追了上来，一把抓住我的手。

“来，来，”他说。“我有样东西给你。”

他傻笑着。他伸出手指朝我一招，随后转身向海滩走去。我跟着他走过去，看他弯下身子把礁石边的一块扁石头搬开。石块下有一小堆贝壳。他挑了一颗递给我。“这是给你的，”他说。

“谢谢，真漂亮，”我说。

他又咧嘴笑了，还不住地抓耳挠腮，刚才的恐惧全没了。“你长着天使一般的眼睛，”他说。

我心里一惊，又低下头望着那颗贝壳，一时不知该说什么是好。

“你可不像另外一位，”他说。

“你说的是谁？”我问。“什么另外一位？”

他摇了摇头，目光又显得躲躲闪闪。他伸出手指，搁在鼻子上。“她个儿挺高，皮肤黑黑的，”他说。“她真让人觉得是条蛇哪。我在这儿亲眼看到过她。到了晚上她就来了。我看到她的。”停了停，目不转睛地瞅着我。我沉默不语。“有一回，我朝屋里张望，瞧见了她，”他继续说。“她冲着我发火了。她说：‘你不认识我，对吗？你从没在这儿看到过我，以后也不会再看到我。要是我以后再发现你在窗口偷看，我就差人把你送到病人院去。’她又说：‘你是不想去的，是吗？疯人院那儿待人可凶呢。’我说：‘我什么也不说，太太。’我还这样碰了碰我的帽子呢。”他拉了拉头上那顶防雨布做的水手帽。“现在她去了，是吗？”他焦急地问。

“我不明白你说的是谁，”我慢腾腾地说。“没人会送你进疯人院的。再见吧，贝恩。”

我转过身子，牵着杰斯珀沿海滩走上小路。可怜的家伙，谁都看得出他有些痴呆，语无伦次。谁会拿疯人院来吓唬他这样的人呢，似乎不大可能。迈克西姆说过他是个文痴，不会惹事的。弗兰克也这么说过。也许是他曾听到家里人议论过他的情况。从此这些话就一直留在他脑子里了，就像一幅丑陋的图画会始终京绕在孩子的记忆里那样。在个人好恶的问题上，他的智力也同孩子一样，他会无缘无故的喜欢某个人，今天和你好得什么似的，可明天又会拉长脸生你的气。他对我友好，无非是因为我说他可以把那根钓丝留着。到了明天再碰见他，说不定他就忘掉我是谁了。拿白痴的话当真，岂不荒唐可笑。我扭头又朝海湾瞥了一眼。那儿已开始涨潮，海水慢慢地在港口防坡堤周围激起漩涡。贝恩已翻过礁石走了。海滩上又空无人影。我从黑黝黝的树丛缺口处刚好看到小屋顶上的石砌烟囱。不知怎么的，我突然想拔腿逃跑。我牵着扣在杰斯珀颈圈上的皮带，气喘吁吁地沿着陡峭的小径，穿过林于，头也不回地往前奔跑。哪怕是把世界上所有的珍宝都给我，我也不愿再回那小屋或海滩去。好像有谁守候在那荨麻丛生的小庭园内，那人一直在注视着我，听着我讲话。

我和杰斯珀一起狂奔。它汪汪叫个不停，以为是在玩一种新鲜的游戏，所以老是试着去咬那根牵扯它的皮带，想把它一口咬断。我以前还没有注意到这儿的树竟长得这么密，一株紧挨着一株，暴突的树根，像卷须似地伸过路面，存心想把人绊倒在地。我一面上气不接下气地奔跑着，一面想，他们怎么也不把这个地方清理一下，迈克西姆该叫人来搞一下呀。这种低矮蓬乱的灌木林丛，毫无存在的必要，根本不能给人以美的感受。该把那些盘根错节的灌木丛统统砍掉，让阳光照射到小径上来。这儿黑糊糊的，实在太昏暗。那株光秃秃的按树，已被荆棘缠得气息奄奄，看上去活像一具漂白过的骷髅肢体，树身底下有一条混浊发黑的小溪流过，溪流差不多快被成年累月雨水冲积的泥浆堵死，这会儿正无声无息地往下面的海滩缓缓淌去。鸟儿在这儿也不像在山谷里那样婉转啼鸣。四周是一片异样的沉寂。我这么喘着气在小道上奔跑，耳边听得湖水涌入海湾时的阵阵涛声。我这才明白为什么迈克西姆不喜欢这条小径，不喜欢这个海湾。我也不喜欢。我真是个傻瓜，竟会上这儿来。我应该呆在那边的海滩上，在那片白色的圆卵石上散步，随后从幸福回家。

我总算走出树林到了草坪，望见屹立在开阔地上的那幢坚实牢固的大宅，心头一阵喜悦。树林子已撇在身后。我要叫罗伯特把茶点送到栗子树下来。我看了看表，四点还不到，比我想象的要早呢。我还得稍等一会。按曼陀丽的规矩，不到四点半是不用茶点的。幸亏弗里思今天休息出去了，让罗伯特把茶点摆到外面花园里来，他倒不至于考究什么仪式。正当我信步穿过草坪走近平台时，车道拐弯处的石南绿叶丛中忽然射出一道强光，在我眼前一晃，那是太阳照在金属物体上的反光，我用手遮着眼睛看看究竟是什么。好像是汽车上散热器。我心想是不是来客了。不过，就算有客人来，他们也总是把车子直接开到屋子跟前，不会像现在这样，让车子停在远离屋子的车道转弯角上，还要藏在灌木丛里。我走近几步。一点也不错，是辆汽车。现在我可以看到汽车上的挡泥板，还有车篷。多怪的事啊。一般的客人从来不这么干。商人们也总是绕过旧马厩和车库打后面进来的。这不是弗兰克的莫里斯轿车，他那辆车我已很熟悉。而现在这辆，车身又长又低，是辆轻型汽车。我不知道该怎么办才好。要是果真有谁来访，罗伯特一定已将客人领进藏书室或客厅。而如果是领进了客厅，那我穿过草地时就会被他们看到。我可不想让客人瞧见我这身打扮。我还得留客人用茶点。我在草坪边上蜘蹰徘徊，拿不定主意。不知是什么缘故，可能是由于阳光在玻璃窗上忽地一闪吧，我偶尔抬头朝屋子看了一下。奇怪，就在我抬头张望的那一刹那，我注意到西厢房间有一扇百叶窗打开了。有人站在窗前，那是个男子。他一定也看到了我，因为他慌忙将身子缩了回去，而他背后的人立即伸出条胳膊，把窗关上。

是丹弗斯太太的胳膊。我认得那黑衣袖。我暗自寻思，也许今天是接纳公众参观的日子吧，而丹弗斯太太这时正领客人参观房间呢。不过这不可能。因为陪客人参观一向是弗里思分内的差使，而弗里思此刻又不在家。再说，西厢那些房间是不向外人开放的。连我自己到现在也没进去看过。不，今天不是参观日，星期二从不接待公众。也许是某个房间里有什么东西要修理吧。可是刚才那人朝外张望的那副模样也真有点蹊跷。他一看见我就急忙地抽身回避，而且百叶窗随即关上。还有那辆汽车，停放在石南花丛后面，这样就不会被屋子里的人看到了。话得说回来，反正这是丹弗斯太太的事，同我毫不相于。如果有朋友来看她，领他们到西厢去看看，我确实也管不着。不过据我所知，以前还从未有过这种情况。奇怪的是，这事偏偏发生在迈克西姆不在家的时候。

我穿过草坪朝屋子走去，浑身不自在，觉得他们也许仍躲在百叶窗后面，从隙缝里窥视我的一举一动。

我提步跨上台阶，从正门走进大厅，不见有什么陌生的帽子或手杖，托盘里也没有名片，显然这人并不是正式来访的宾客。算了，这不关我的事。我走进花房，在盆里洗了手，这样就省得上楼去。在楼梯上或别的地方和他们劈头想遇，撞个正着，岂不尴尬。我记得午饭前编结活儿丢在晨室里了，于是就穿过客厅去取，忠实的杰斯珀寸步不离地跟在身后。晨室的门开着。我发现编结袋已被人移动过。原先我是把它搁在长沙发上的，可现在不知被谁拿起，塞到了坐垫后面。沙发上原来放编结活计的地方，留有被人坐过的痕迹。刚才有谁在那上面坐过，而我的编结活儿放着碍事，就随手把它拿开了。书桌旁的那把椅子也已挪动过。看来是丹弗斯太太趁迈克西姆和我都不在的当儿，在晨室里接待了她的客人。我感到很不舒服。我宁愿不知道有这么回事。杰斯珀在长沙发周围唤来唤去，不住摆动尾巴。不管怎么说，它没对陌生来客起什么疑心。我拿起编结袋，往门外走去。这时，通后屋而道的大客厅边门开了，我听到有人说话的声音。我立即退回展室，躲闪得还算及时，没让人看见。我躲在门背后，朝杰斯珀竖眉瞪眼，因为长耳狗正站在门口望着我，摇着尾巴，拖着舌头，这小坏蛋会坏事的。我屏息仁立，一动也不敢动。

就在这时，我听到丹弗斯太太的说话声。“我想她上藏书室去了。”她说。“今天她不知怎么提早回来了。要是她真的去藏书室，那你从门厅出去就不会被她瞧见。等在这儿，我先去看看。”

我知道他们是在讲我，益发感到犹如芒刺在背。整个儿事情是那么鬼鬼祟祟，见不得人。我并不想抓丹弗斯太太的把柄。可是杰斯珀突然掉头朝向客厅，摇着尾巴跑了出去。

“喂，你这小杂种，”我听见那人说。杰斯珀兴奋地汪汪大叫。我急得走投无路，拼命想找个藏身的地方，当然没地方好躲。而就在这时，耳边响起一阵脚步声，那人走进晨室来了。我躲在门后，一开始他并没看见我，可是杰斯珀一纵身，向我窜来，一边仍快活地汪汪叫个不停。

那人猛地转过身子，终于瞧见了我。我还从未见过有谁露出那样的满脸惊讶之色，仿佛我是破门而入的毛贼。而他倒是这宅子的主人。

“请您原谅，”他一边说，一边上下打量着我。

这人身材高大，体格魁梧，脸膛黑里透红，漂亮之中颇带几分俗气。他生着一对布满血红的蓝眼睛，那种眼睛往往使人联想到酗酒暴饮，耽于淫乐。他的头发也和他的肤色一样，黑里透红。要不了几年工夫，此人就会发胖，脖子后的衣领上会堆起厚厚的赘肉。那张嘴巴暴露了这个酒色之徒的本色，粉红的嘴唇显得软沓沓的。从我站着的地方，就能闻到他嘴里喷出的那股威士忌酒味。他脸上挂起微笑，那种会丢给任何女子的微笑。

“但愿我没吓着您，”他说。

我从门背后走了出来。心想，自己的模样不像个大傻瓜才怪呢。“哪儿的话，当然没有，”我说。“刚才我听见有人说话的声音，拿不准是谁。我没有料到今天下午会有客人光临。”

“太不像话了，”他老练地说，“我这么擅自问来惊动您，太冒失了，希望您能原谅。其实，我是顺便进来看看老丹尼的，她可是我的一位老朋友哪。”

“喔，当然罗，这没什么关系，”我说。

“亲爱的老丹尼，”他说。“老天爷保佑她。她顾虑重重，生怕惊动了谁。她不想打扰您。”

“喔，其实这一点也没关系，”我这么说，眼睛望着杰斯珀，它在那人身边快活地蹦呀跳呀，不时还用瓜子去搔他。

“这个小要饭的，还没有把我忘掉，是不？”他说。“长得像个样子啦。我上次看见它时还是个小崽子呢。不过身上的膘嫌多了些，得多让它活动活动。”

“我刚才还带着它着实跑了一阵，”我说。

“是吗？你还真喜欢运动呢，”他说。他不住地拍着杰斯珀，毫不拘束地朝我笑笑，接着掏出烟盒。“来一支？”他问。

“我不抽烟，”我告诉他。

“真的不会？”他自己拿了一支点上。

这类事情我向来不在乎，不过。在别人家里这么随便，我总觉得有点别扭。这当然是举止失当，至少是对我礼数不周。

“迈克斯老兄好吗？”他说。

他讲话的腔调不禁使我暗暗吃惊，听上去好像他和迈克西姆很熟悉。听见有人把迈克西姆叫做迈克斯，我好生奇怪。还没有人这么叫过他。

“他很好，谢谢你，”我说。“他上伦敦了。”

“什么？把新娘子一个人撇在这儿？啊哟，这太糟糕了，他难道不怕会有人来把你抢走？”

他张嘴大笑起来。那种笑声真叫我讨厌。很有点唐突无礼的味道。他这个人也叫我厌恶。就在这时，丹弗斯太太走了进来。她的目光一落在我身上，我就感到有股寒气逼来。哦，天哪，我心想，她一定巴不得把我一口吞了才解恨。

“喂，丹尼，你来啦，”那男人说。“你百般提防，结果还是枉费心机。屋子的女主人就躲在门背后哪。”他又大笑起来。丹弗斯太太一言不发，只是直愣愣地盯着我看。“暖，你怎么不替我介绍一下？”他说。“向新娘子请安问候。总不算出格的举动吧？”

“太太，这位是费弗尔先生，”丹弗斯太太不动声色地说，语气相当勉强。我觉得她并不想把他介绍给我。

“您好，”我说，接着，为了不显得无礼，便说，“请留在这儿用茶点吧。”

我的邀请似乎使他觉得满有趣。他转向丹弗斯太太。

“你看，这样盛情相邀，岂不让人动心？”他说。“请我留下用茶点，我的天。丹尼，我还真想留下来哪。”

我看见她朝他丢了个警告的眼色。我感到浑身别扭。这整个场面太反常了，压根儿不该出现这种事情。

“嗯，也许你是对的，”他说。“不过留下来一定是乐趣无穷。我看还是离开为妙，是吗？来吧，跟我去看看我那辆车。”他还是用那种亲呢而又唐突无礼的腔调说话。我不想去看他的车。我感到进退两难，尴尬之极。“来吧，”他说。“那可是辆玲珑剔透的小车，跟可怜的迈克斯老兄这辈子用的各种车相比，跑得快多啦！”

我编造不出什么借口，整个事情那么不自然，近于荒唐，真不知道是搞什么鬼。丹弗斯太太干吗要站在一旁那么望着我，眼睛里快冒出火来？

“车在哪儿？”我有气无力地问。

“在车道拐弯处。我没把车一直开到大门口，生怕惊动你哪。我想你下午可能要休息一会的吧。”

我没答话。这谎扯得太不高明。我们一起穿过客厅，走进门廊。只见他扭头朝丹弗斯太太使了个眼色。她可没有和他挤眉弄眼。我料想她也还不至于此。她正颜厉色，令人生畏。杰斯珀连蹦带跳地出了屋子，上了车道，似乎这位不速之客的突然光临，使它喜出望外。看来客人和它交情不浅哩。

“我大概把帽子忘在车里了吧，”那人说，还装模作样地朝门厅内扫视了一圈。“其实，我是绕了道悄悄进屋的，直捣丹尼的老窝。你也来看看车子吗？”

他用询问的目光望了丹弗斯太太一眼。她犹豫不决，从眼梢瞟了我一眼。

“不，”她回答说。“不啦，这会儿我想出去。再见，杰克先生。”

他抓住她的手，亲亲热热地握着。“再见，丹尼，多加保重啊。你总知道上哪儿跟我联系罗。今天又见着你，真使我高兴。”他走出屋子，踏上车道，杰斯珀在他身后又蹦又跳，我拖着沉重的脚步跟在后面，心里仍觉得很不是滋味。

“亲爱的曼陀丽老屋啊，”他抬头望望那一排窗子说。“这地方差不多还是原来的模样。我看这多亏丹尼悉心照看吧。真是个了不起的女人，你说呢？”

“是的，她办事很得力，”我回答说。

“你觉得这儿的生活怎么样？是不是大有埋没隔世之感？”

“我非常喜欢曼陀丽，”我语气生硬地说。

“迈克斯遇见你的时候，你正呆在法国南部的某个地方？在蒙特，是吗？蒙特那地方，我一向很熟悉。”

“不错，当时是在蒙特卡洛，”我说。

我们已到了汽车跟前。那是辆绿色的轻型车，跟它的主人倒是一路货。

“你觉得这车怎么样？”他说。

“很漂亮，”我彬彬有礼地回答。

“坐上去兜兜风，乘到庄园门口怎么样？”

“不，我不想去，”我说。“我有点累了。”

“你觉得曼陀丽的女主人跟我这号人乘车兜风，让人见了有失体统，是吗？”他说着，笑了起来，还朝我摇摇头。

“哦，不，”我说着，脸红得发烫。“真的不是。”

他用那双放肆而讨厌的蓝眼睛，带点顽皮的神情，不住地上下打量我。我觉得自己简直像个酒吧间的女招待。

“噢，好吧，”他说。“我们可不能把新娘子引上歧途，杰斯珀，你说是吗？那可万万使不得呀。”他伸手去拿他的帽子和一副大得出奇的驾驶手套，随手把烟头往车道上一扔。

“再见啦，”他一面说一面伸出手来。“见到你我很幸运。”

“再见，”我说。

“哦，顺便说一下，”他漫不经心地说。“要是你不在迈克斯面前提起我来过的事儿，那就太够朋友啦！他对我恐怕有点看法，我也说不上是什么缘故；再说，还可能给可怜的老丹尼招来麻烦。”

“不”，我尴尬地说。“好吧，我不说。”

“你可真够朋友。怎么，你真的打定主意不去兜风啦？”

“不啦，要是你不见怪，我想还是免了吧。”

“那么，再见啦。也许日后我还会来看你的。下去，杰斯珀，你这个鬼东西，你要把车上的漆抓掉啦。依我说，迈克斯就这么把你孤零零一个人撇在这儿，自己上了伦敦，实在不像话。”

“我可不在乎。我喜欢一个人在家。”我说。

“啊哈，真的？多离奇的事儿。要知道，这完全不合情理，违背人性。你们结婚多久了？三个月，是吗？”

“差不多，”我说。

“我啊，还真希望有个结婚三个月的新娘在家里等着我呢！我是个孤苦伶仃的光棍。”他又放声大笑，随后把帽子往下一拉，盖到眼睛上边。“告辞啦，”说着，他把车发动起来，排气管劈劈啪啪喷出团团废气，汽车顺着车道飞驶而去，杰斯珀站在那儿望着汽车远去，双耳耷拉下来，尾巴夹在两腿中间。

“哦，来吧，杰斯珀，”我说。“别这么半痴不呆的。”我转身朝屋子慢慢走去，丹弗斯太太已不见踪影。我站在厅廊里，拉了拉铃。大约五分钟光景一直没人答应。我又拉铃。一会儿，艾丽斯走了进来，一脸的不高兴，不知受了多少委屈似的。“什么事，太太？”她说。

“哦，艾丽斯，”我说，“罗伯特不在吗？今天我想在屋子外面的栗子树下用茶点。”

“罗伯特下午到邮局去还没回来呢，太太，”艾丽斯说。“丹弗斯太太告诉他说您不会准时回来用茶的。弗里思当然也不在。如果您现在就想用茶点，我可以去给您拿来。我看现在还没到四点半哪。”

“哦，没关系，艾丽斯，等罗伯特回来再说吧，”我说。原来，迈克西姆不在家，家里的事儿全都没了板眼。弗里思和罗伯特同时跑开，这种情况据我知道还未曾有过。当然，今天该弗里思休息，而丹弗斯太太又偏偏打发罗伯特上邮局去。他们料定我到很远的地方散步去了，于是那个叫费弗尔的家伙就看准这个时机来探望丹弗斯太太。时间选得再巧妙不过了。我敢说，其中肯定有鬼，而且他还要我瞒过迈克西姆。这事儿可真棘手。我不想给丹弗斯太太招麻烦，也不想平地惹起一场风波。更主要的是，我不想让迈克西姆为此烦恼。

这个费弗尔究竟是何许人物。他把迈克西姆叫作“迈克斯”。还没有人叫过他“迈克斯”。有一回，我在一本书的扉页上，倒是见过这个名字来着，是手写的纤细的斜体字，上端奇特地高耸着，而那个字母M的尾巴轮廓分明，拖得很长。我想，就只有此人叫过他迈克斯……

我就这么站在门厅里，拿不定主意什么时候用茶，也不知道该做什么才好。突然，我脑子里闪出这样一个念头：也许丹弗斯太太为人不老实，一直背着迈克西姆干什么勾当，今天她和那个家伙正合伙算计着什么，不巧被我早回来一步撞上了，于是那家伙就花言巧语，装出一副同这所屋子和迈克西姆本人很熟悉的样子，拔脚溜走了。不知道他们在西厢那边于什么来着。为什么他们一瞧见我来到草地上，慌忙把百叶窗关上呢？我满腹狐疑，隐隐感到不安。弗里思和罗伯特都不在家。下午，女佣们一般总是在自己的寝室里更衣换装。于是这地方就成了丹弗斯太太一个人的天下。难道那个男人是个小偷，而丹弗斯太太又是他雇用的内线？西厢那边颇有一些值钱的东西。我顿时产生一阵说来也颇有点吓人的冲动，想此刻就悄悄摸上楼去，亲自到西厢那几个房间去看个明白。

罗伯特还没有回来。上茶之前正好有时间去走一趟。我犹豫地朝画廊瞥了一眼。整个屋子肃穆无声。仆人都在厨房后面的下房里。杰斯珀在楼梯脚下舔吃盘里的狗食，那稀里哗啦的声音在石筑大厅里回响着。我挪动脚步，向楼上走去，一阵异样的兴奋遍布全身，心房怦怦剧跳不已


Chapter thirteen

Maxim had to go up to London at the end of June to some public dinner. A man's dinner. Something to do with the county. He was away for two days and I was left alone. I dreaded his going. When I saw the car disappear round the sweep in the drive I felt exactly as though it were to be a final parting and I should never see him again. There would be an accident of course and later on in the afternoon, when I came back from my walk, I should find Frith white and frightened waiting for me with a message. The doctor would have rung up from some cottage hospital. 'You must be very brave, ' he would say, 'I'm afraid you must be prepared for a great shock. ' And Frank would come, and we would go to the hospital together. Maxim would not recognize me. I went through the whole thing as I was sitting at lunch, I could see the crowd of local people clustering round the churchyard at the funeral, and myself leaning on Frank's arm. It was so real to me that I could scarcely eat any lunch, and I kept straining my ears to hear the telephone should it ring. I sat out in the garden under the chestnut tree in the afternoon, with a book on my lap, but I scarcely read at all. When I saw Robert come across the lawn I knew it was the telephone and I felt physically sick. 'A message from the club, Madam, to say Mr de Winter arrived ten minutes ago. ' I shut up my book. 'Thank you, Robert. How quickly he got up-' 'Yes, Madam. A very good run. ' 'Did he ask to speak to me, or leave any special message?' 'No, Madam. Just that he had arrived safely. It was the porter speaking. ' 'All right, Robert. Thanks very much. ' The relief was tremendous. I did not feel sick any more. The pain had gone. It was like coming ashore after a channel crossing. I began to feel rather hungry, and when Robert had gone back into the house I crept into the dining-room through the long window and stole some biscuits from the sideboard. I had six of them. Bath Olivers. And then an apple as well. I had no idea I was so empty. I went and ate them in the woods, in case one of the servants should see me on the lawn from the windows, and then go and tell the cook that they did not think Mrs de Winter cared for the food prepared in the kitchen, as they had just seen her filling herself with fruit and biscuits. The cook would be offended, and perhaps go to Mrs Danvers Now that Maxim was safe in London, and I had eaten my biscuits, I felt very well and curiously happy. I was aware of a sense of freedom, as though I had no responsibilities at all.

It was rather like a Saturday when one was a child. No lessons, and no prep. One could do as one liked. One put on an old skirt and a pair of sand-shoes and played Hares and Hounds on the common with the children who lived next door. I had just the same feeling. I had not felt like this all the time I had been at Manderley. It must be because Maxim had gone to London. I was rather shocked at myself. I could not understand it at all. I had not wanted him to go. And now this lightness of heart, this spring in my step, this childish feeling that I wanted to run across the lawn, and roll down the bank. I wiped the biscuit crumbs from my mouth and called to Jasper. Perhaps I was just feeling like this because it was a lovely day ... We went through the Happy Valley to the little cove. The azaleas were finished now, the petals lay brown and crinkled on the moss. The bluebells had not faded yet, they made a solid carpet in the woods above the valley, and the young bracken was shooting up, curling and green. The moss smelt rich and deep, and the bluebells were earthy, bitter. I lay down in the long grass beside the bluebells with my hands behind my head, and Jasper at my side. He looked down at me panting, his face foolish, saliva dripping from his tongue and his heavy jowl. There were pigeons somewhere in the trees above. It was very peaceful and quiet. I wondered why it was that places are so much lovelier when one is alone. How commonplace and stupid it would be if I had a friend now, sitting beside me, someone I had known at school, who would say 'By the way, I saw old Hilda the other day. You remember her, the one who was so good at tennis. She's married, with two children. ' And the bluebells beside us unnoticed, and the pigeons overhead unheard. I did not want anyone with me. Not even Maxim. If Maxim had been there I should not be lying as I was now, chewing a piece of grass, my eyes shut. I should have been watching him, watching his eyes, his expression. Wondering if he liked it, if he was bored. Wondering what he was thinking. Now I could relax, none of these things mattered. Maxim was in London. How lovely it was to be alone again. No, I did not mean that. It was disloyal, wicked. It was not what I meant. Maxim was my life and my world. I got up from the bluebells and called sharply to Jasper. We set off together down the valley to the beach. The tide was out, the sea very calm and remote.

 

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It looked like a great placid lake out there in the bay. I could not imagine it rough now, any more than I could imagine winter in summer. There was no wind, and the sun shone on the lapping water where it ran into the little pools in the rocks. Jasper scrambled up the rocks immediately, glancing back at me, one ear blown back against his head, giving him an odd rakish appearance. 'Not that way, Jasper, ' I said. He cared nothing for me of course. He loped off, deliberately disobedient. 'What a nuisance he is, ' I said aloud, and I scrambled up the rocks after him, pretending to myself I did not want to go to the other beach. 'Oh, well, ' I thought, 'it can't be helped. After all, Maxim is not with me. It's nothing to do with me. ' I splashed through the pools on the rocks, humming a tune. The cove looked different when the tide was out. Less formidable. There was only about three foot of water in the tiny harbour. A boat would just float there comfortably I supposed, at dead low water. The buoy was still there. It was painted white and green, I had not noticed that before. Perhaps because it had been raining the colouring was indistinct. There was no one on the beach. I walked across the shingle to the other side of the cove, and climbed the low stone wall of the jetty-arm. Jasper ran on ahead as though it was his custom. There was a ring in the wall and an iron ladder descending to the water. That's where the dinghy would be tied, I suppose, and one would climb to it from the ladder. The buoy was just opposite, about thirty feet away. There was something written on it. I craned my neck sideways to read the lettering. 'Je Reviens'. What a funny name. Not like a boat. Perhaps it had been a French boat though, a fishing boat. Fishing boats sometimes had names like that; 'Happy Return', 'I'm Here', those sort of names. 'Je Reviens' - 'I come back. ' Yes, I suppose it was quite a good name for a boat. Only it had not been right for that particular boat which would never come back again. It must be cold sailing out there in the bay, beyond the beacon away on the headland. The sea was calm in the bay, but even today, when it was so still, out there round the headland there was a ripple of white foam on the surface of the water where the tide was racing. A small boat would heel to the wind when she rounded the headland and came out of the landlocked bay.

The sea would splash inboard perhaps, run down the deck. The person at the tiller would wipe spray out of her eyes and hair, glance up at the straining mast. I wondered what colour the boat had been. Green and white perhaps, like the buoy. Not very big, Frank had said, with a little cabin. Jasper was sniffing at the iron ladder. 'Come away, ' I said. 'I don't want to go in after you. ' I went back along the harbour wall to the beach. The cottage did not seem so remote and sinister at the edge of the wood as it had done before. The sun made such a difference. No rain today, pattering on the roof. I walked slowly up the beach towards it. After all, it was only a cottage, with nobody living in it. There was nothing to be frightened of. Nothing at all. Any place seemed damp and sinister when it had been uninhabited for a certain time. Even new bungalows and places. Besides, they had moonlight picnics and things here. Week-end visitors probably used to come and bathe, and then go for a sail in the boat. I stood looking into the neglected garden choked with nettles. Someone ought to come and tidy it up. One of the gardeners. There was no need to leave it like this. I pushed the little gate and went to the door of the cottage. It was not entirely closed. I was certain I had closed it the last time. Jasper began growling, sniffing under the door. 'Don't, Jasper, ' I said. He went on sniffing deeply, his nose thrust to the crack. I pushed the door open and looked inside. It was very dark. Like it had been before. Nothing was changed. The cobwebs still clung to the rigging of the model boats. The door into the boat-store at the end of the room was open though. Jasper growled again, and there was a sound of something falling. Jasper barked furiously, and darting between my legs into the room he tore to the open door of the store. I followed him, heart beating, and then stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. 'Jasper, come back, don't be a fool, ' I said. He stood in the doorway, still barking furiously, an hysterical note in his voice. Something was there then, inside the store. Not a rat. He would have gone for a rat. 'Jasper, Jasper. Come here, ' I said. He would not come. I went slowly to the door of the store. 'Is there anybody there?' I said. No one answered. I bent down to Jasper, putting my hand on his collar, and looked round the edge of the door.

Someone was sitting in the corner against the wall. Someone who, from his crouching position, was even more frightened than me. It was Ben. He was trying to hide behind one of the sails. 'What is the matter? Do you want something?' I said. He blinked at me stupidly, his mouth slightly open. 'I'm not doing nothing, ' he said. 'Quiet, Jasper, ' I scolded, putting my hand over his muzzle, and I took my belt off and ran it through his collar as a leash. 'What do you want, Ben?' I said, a little bolder this time. He did not answer. He watched me with his sly idiot's eyes. 'I think you had better come out, ' I said. 'Mr de Winter doesn't like people walking in and out of here. ' He shambled to his feet grinning furtively, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. The other hand he kept behind his back. 'What have you got, Ben?" I said. He obeyed me like a child, showing me the other hand. There was a fishing line in it. 'I'm not doing anything, ' he repeated. 'Does that line belong here?' I asked. 'Eh?' he said. 'Listen, Ben, ' I said. 'You can take that line if you want to, but you mustn't do it again. It's not honest, taking people's things. ' He said nothing. He blinked at me and wriggled. 'Come along, ' I said firmly. I went into the main room and he followed me. Jasper had stopped barking, and was now sniffing at Ben's heels. I did not want to stop any longer in the cottage. I walked quickly out into the sunshine, Ben shuffling behind me. Then I shut the door. 'You had better go home, ' I said to Ben. He held the fishing line clutched to his heart like a treasure. 'You won't put me to the asylum, will you?' he said. I saw then that he was trembling with fright. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were fixed on mine in supplication, like a dumb thing. 'Of course not, ' I said gently. 'I done nothing, ' he repeated, 'I never told no one. I don't want to be put to the asylum. ' A tear rolled down his dirty face. "That's all right, Ben, ' I said; 'no one will put you away. But you must not go to the cottage again. ' I turned away, and he came after me, pawing at my hand. 'Here, ' he said. 'Here, I got something for you. ' He smiled foolishly, he beckoned with his finger, and turned towards the beach. I went with him, and he bent down and picked up a flat stone by a rock. There was a little heap of shells under the stone. He chose one, and presented it to me. "That's yourn, ' he said. 'Thank you; it's very pretty, ' I said.

 

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He grinned again, rubbing his ear, his fright forgotten. 'You've got angel's eyes, ' he said. I glanced down at the shell again, rather taken aback. I did not know what to say. 'You're not like the other one, ' he said. 'Who do you mean?' I said. 'What other one?' He shook his head. His eyes were sly again. He laid his finger against his nose. 'Tall and dark she was, ' he said. 'She gave you the feeling of a snake. I seen her here with me own eyes. Be night she'd come. I seen her. ' He paused, watching me intently. I did not say anything. 'I looked in on her once, ' he said, 'and she turned on me, she did. "You don't know me, do you?" she said. "You've never seen me here, and you won't again. If I catch you looking at me through the windows here I'll have you put to the asylum, " she said. "You wouldn't like that would you? They're cruel to people in the asylum, " she said. "I won't say nothing, M'am, " I said. And I touched me cap, like this here. ' He pulled at his sou'wester. 'She's gone now, ain't she?' he said anxiously. 'I don't know who you mean, ' I said slowly; 'no one is going to put you in the asylum. Good afternoon, Ben. ' I turned away and walked up the beach to the path dragging Jasper by his belt. Poor wretch, he was potty, of course. He did not know what he was talking about. It was hardly likely that anyone would threaten him with the asylum. Maxim had said he was quite harmless, and so had Frank. Perhaps he had heard himself discussed once, amongst his own people, and the memory of it lingered, like an ugly picture in the mind of a child. He would have a child's mentality too, regarding likes and dislikes. He would take a fancy to a person for no reason, and be friendly one day perhaps and sullen the next. He had been friendly with me because I had said he could keep the fishing line. Tomorrow if I met him he might not know me. It was absurd to notice anything said by an idiot. I glanced back over my shoulder at the cove. The tide had begun to run and was swirling slowly round the arm of the harbour wall. Ben had disappeared over the rocks. The beach was deserted again. I could just see the stone chimney of the cottage through a gap in the dark trees. I had a sudden unaccountable desire to run. I pulled at Jasper's leash and panted up the steep narrow path through the woods, not looking back any more.

Had I been offered all the treasures in the world I could not have turned and gone down to the cottage or the beach again. It was as though someone waited down there, in the little garden where the nettles grew. Someone who watched and listened. Jasper barked as we ran together. He thought it was some new kind of game. He kept trying to bite the belt and worry it. I had not realized how closely the trees grew together here, their roots stretching across the path like tendrils ready to trip one. They ought to clear all this, I thought as I ran, catching my breath, Maxim should get the men on to it. There is no sense or beauty in this undergrowth. That tangle of shrubs there should be cut down to bring light to the path. It was dark, much too dark. That naked eucalyptus tree stifled by brambles looked like the white bleached limb of a skeleton, and there was a black earthy stream running beneath it, choked with the muddied rains of years, trickling silently to the beach below. The birds did not sing here as they did in the valley. It was quiet in a different way. And even as I ran and panted up the path I could hear the wash of the sea as the tide crept into the cove. I understood why Maxim disliked the path and the cove. I disliked it too. I had been a fool to come this way. I should have stayed on the other beach, on the white shingle, and come home by the Happy Valley. I was glad to come out on to the lawn and see the house there in the hollow, solid and secure. The woods were behind me. I would ask Robert to bring me my tea under the chestnut tree. I glanced at my watch. It was earlier than I thought, not yet four. I would have to wait a bit. It was not the routine at Manderley to have tea before half past. I was glad Frith was out. Robert would not make such a performance of bringing the tea out into the garden. As I wandered across the lawn to the terrace my eye was caught by a gleam of sunshine on something metal showing through the green of the rhododendron leaves at the turn in the drive. I shaded my eyes with my hand to see what it was. It looked like the radiator of a car. I wondered if someone had called. If they had though, they would have driven up to the house, not left their car concealed like that from the house, at the turn of the drive, by the shrubs. I went a little closer. Yes, it was a car all right. I could see the wings now and the hood. What a funny thing.

Visitors never did that as a rule. And the tradesmen went round the back way by the old stables and the garage. It was not Frank's Morris. I knew that well. This was a long, low car, a sports car. I wondered what I had better do. If it was a caller Robert would have shown them into the library or the drawing-room. In the drawing-room they would be able to see me as I came across the lawn. I did not want to face a caller dressed like this. I should have to ask them to stay to tea. I hesitated, at the edge of the lawn. For no reason, perhaps because the sunlight flickered a moment on the glass, I looked up at the house, and as I did so I noticed with surprise that the shutters of one of the windows in the west wing had been opened up. Somebody stood by the window. A man. And then he must have caught sight of me because he drew back abruptly, and a figure behind him put up an arm and closed the shutters. The arm belonged to Mrs Danvers. I recognized the black sleeve. I wondered for a minute if it was a public day and she was showing the rooms. It could not be so though because Frith always did that, and Frith was out. Besides, the rooms in the west wing were not shown to the public. I had not even been into them myself yet. No, I knew it was not a public day. The public never came on a Tuesday. Perhaps it was something to do with a repair in one of the rooms. It was odd though the way the man had been looking out and directly he saw me he whipped back into the room and the shutters were closed. And the car too, drawn up behind the rhododendrons, so that it could not be seen from the house. Still, that was up to Mrs Danvers. It was nothing to do with me. If she had friends she took to the west wing it was not exactly my affair. I had never known it happen before though. Odd that it should occur on the only day Maxim was from home. I strolled rather self-consciously across the lawn to the house, aware that they might be watching me still from a chink in the shutters. I went up the steps and through the big front door to the hall. There was no sign of a strange cap or stick, and no card on the salver. Evidently this was not an official visitor. Well, it was not my affair. I went into the flower-room and washed my hands in the basin to save going upstairs. It would be awkward if I met them face to face on the stairs or somewhere.

 

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I remembered I had left my knitting in the morning-room before lunch, and I went along through the drawing-room to fetch it, the faithful Jasper at my heels. The morning-room door was open. And I noticed that my bag of knitting had been moved. I had left it on the divan, and it had been picked up and pushed behind a cushion. There was the imprint of a person on the fabric of the divan where my knitting had been before. Someone had sat down there recently, and picked up my knitting because it had been in the way. The chair by the desk had also been moved. It looked as though Mrs Danvers entertained her visitors in the morning-room when Maxim and I were out of the way. I felt rather uncomfortable. I would rather not know. Jasper was sniffing under the divan and wagging his tail. He was not suspicious of the visitor anyway. I took my bag of knitting and went out. As I did so the door in the large drawing-room that led to the stone passage and the back premises opened, and I heard voices. I darted back into the morning-room again, just in time. I had not been seen. I waited behind the door frowning at Jasper who stood in the doorway looking at me, his tongue hanging out, wagging his tail. The little wretch would give me away. I stood very still, holding my breath. Then I heard Mrs Danvers speak. 'I expect she has gone to the library, ' she said. 'She's come home early for some reason. If she has gone to the library you will be able to go through the hall without her seeing you. Wait here while I go and see. ' I knew they were talking about me. I began to feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was so furtive, the whole business. And I did not want to catch Mrs Danvers in the wrong. Then Jasper turned his head sharply towards the drawing-room. He trotted out, wagging his tail. 'Hullo, you little tyke, ' I heard the man say. Jasper began to bark excitedly. I looked round desperately for somewhere to hide. Hopeless of course. And then I heard a footstep quite close to my ear, and the man came into the room. He did not see me at first because I was behind the door, but Jasper made a dive at me, still barking with delight. The man wheeled round suddenly and saw me. I have never seen anyone look more astonished. I might have been the burglar and he the master of the house. 'I beg your pardon, ' he said, looking me up and down. He was a big, hefty fellow, good-looking in a rather flashy, sunburnt way.

He had the hot, blue eyes usually associated with heavy drinking and loose living. His hair was reddish like his skin. In a few years he would run to fat, his neck bulging over the back of his collar. His mouth gave him away, it was too soft, too pink. I could smell the whisky in his breath from where I stood. He began to smile. The sort of smile he would give to every woman. 'I hope I haven't startled you, ' he said. I came out from behind the door looking no doubt as big a fool as I felt. 'No, of course not, ' I said, 'I heard voices, I was not quite sure who it was. I did not expect any callers this afternoon. ' 'What a shame, ' he said heartily, 'it's too bad of me to butt in on you like this. I hope you'll forgive me. The fact is I just popped in to see old Danny, she's a very old friend of mine. ' 'Oh, of course, it's quite all right, ' I said. 'Dear old Danny, ' he said, 'she's so anxious, bless her, not to disturb anyone. She didn't want to worry you. ' 'Oh, it does not matter at all, ' I said. I was watching Jasper who was jumping up and pawing at the man in delight. 'This little beggar hasn't forgotten me, has he?' he said. 'Grown into a jolly little beast. He was quite a youngster when I saw him last. He's too fat though. He needs more exercise. ' 'I've just taken him for a long walk, ' I said. 'Have you really? How sporting of you, ' he said. He went on patting Jasper and smiling at me in a familiar way. Then he pulled out his cigarette case. 'Have one?' he said. 'I don't smoke, ' I told him. 'Don't you really?' He took one himself and lighted it. I never minded those things, but it seemed odd to me, in somebody else's room. It was surely rather bad manners? Not polite to me. 'How's old Max?' he said. I was surprised at his tone. It sounded as though he knew him well. It was queer, to hear Maxim talked of as Max. No one called him that. 'He's very well, thank you, ' I said. 'He's gone up to London. ' 'And left the bride all alone? Why, that's too bad. Isn't he afraid someone will come and carry you off?' He laughed, opening his mouth. I did not like his laugh. There was something offensive about it. I did not like him, either. Just then Mrs Danvers came into the room. She turned her eyes upon me and I felt quite cold. Oh, God, I thought, how she must hate me. 'Hullo, Danny, there you are, ' said the man; 'all your precautions were in vain. The mistress of the house was hiding behind the door. ' And he laughed again. Mrs Danvers did not say anything.

She just went on looking at me. 'Well, aren't you going to introduce me?' he said; 'after all it's the usual thing to do, isn't it, to pay one's respect to a bride?' 'This is Mr Favell, Madam, ' said Mrs Danvers. She spoke quietly, rather unwillingly. I don't think she wanted to introduce him to me. 'How do you do, ' I said, and then, with an effort to be polite, 'Won't you stay to tea?' He looked very amused. He turned to Mrs Danvers. 'Now isn't that a charming invitation?' he said. 'I've been asked to stay to tea? By heaven, Danny, I've a good mind to. ' I saw her flash a look of warning at him. I felt very uneasy. It was all wrong, this situation. It ought not to be happening at all. 'Well, perhaps you're right, ' he said; 'it would have been a lot of fun, all the same. I suppose I had better be going, hadn't I? Come and have a look at my car. ' He still spoke in a familiar rather offensive way. I did not want to go and look at his car. I felt very awkward and embarrassed. 'Come on, ' he said, 'it's a jolly good little car. Much faster than anything poor old Max ever has. ' I could not think of an excuse. The whole business was so forced and stupid. I did not like it. And why did Mrs Danvers have to stand there looking at me with that smouldering look in her eyes? 'Where is the car?' I said feebly. 'Round the bend in the drive. I didn't drive to the door, I was afraid of disturbing you. I had some idea you probably rested in the afternoon. ' I said nothing. The lie was too obvious. We all walked out through the drawing-room and into the hall. I saw him glance over his shoulder and wink at Mrs Danvers. She did not wink in return. I hardly expected she would. She looked very hard and grim. Jasper frolicked out on to the drive. He seemed delighted with the sudden appearance of this visitor whom he appeared to know so well. 'I left my cap in the car, I believe, ' said the man, pretending to glance round the hall. 'As a matter of fact, I didn't come in this way. I slipped round and bearded Danny in her den. Coming out to see the car too?' He looked inquiringly at Mrs Danvers. She hesitated, watching me out of the tail of her eye. 'No, ' she said. 'No, I don't think I'll come out now. Goodbye, Mr Jack. ' He seized her hand and shook it heartily. 'Goodbye, Danny: take care of yourself. You know where to get in touch with me always.

 

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It's done me a power of good to see you again. ' He walked out on to the drive, Jasper dancing at his heels, and I followed him slowly, feeling very uncomfortable still. 'Dear old Manderley, ' he said, looking up at the windows. "The place hasn't changed much. I suppose Danny sees to that. What a wonderful woman she is, eh?' 'Yes, she's very efficient, ' I said. 'And what do you think of it all? Like being buried down here?' 'I'm very fond of Manderley, ' I said stiffly. 'Weren't you living somewhere down in the south of France when Max met you? Monte, wasn't it? I used to know Monte well. ' 'Yes, I was in Monte Carlo, ' I said. We had come to his car now. A green sports thing, typical of its owner. 'What do you think of it?' he said. 'Very nice, ' I said, politely. 'Come for a run to the lodge gates?' he said. 'No, I don't think I will, ' I said. 'I'm rather tired. ' 'You don't think it would look too good for the mistress of Manderley to be seen driving with someone like me, is that it?' he said, and he laughed, shaking his head at me. 'Oh, no, ' I said, turning rather red. 'No, really. ' He went on looking me up and down in his amused way with those familiar, unpleasant blue eyes. I felt like a barmaid. 'Oh, well, ' he said, 'we mustn't lead the bride astray, must we, Jasper? It wouldn't do at all. ' He reached for his cap, and an enormous pair of motoring gloves. He threw his cigarette away on the drive. 'Goodbye, ' he said, holding out his hand; 'it's been a lot of fun meeting you. ' 'Goodbye, ' I said. 'By the way, ' he said carelessly, 'it would be very sporting and grand of you if you did not mention this little visit of mine to Max? He doesn't exactly approve of me, I'm afraid; I don't know why, and it might get poor old Danny into trouble. ' 'No, ' I said awkwardly. 'No, all right. ' 'That's very sporting of you. Sure you won't change your mind and come for a run?' 'No, I don't think I will, if you don't mind. ' 'Bye-bye, then. Perhaps I'll come and look you up one day. Get down, Jasper, you devil, you'll scratch my paint. I say, I call it a damn shame Max going up to London and leaving you alone like this!' 'I don't mind. I like being alone, ' I said. 'Do you, by Jove? What an extraordinary thing. It's all wrong, you know. Against nature.

How long have you been married? Three months, isn't it?' 'About that, ' I said. 'I say, I wish I'd got a bride of three months waiting for me at home! I'm a poor lonesome bachelor. ' He laughed again, and pulled his cap down over his eyes. 'Fare you well, ' he said, starting up the engine, and the car shot down the drive snorting explosive fury from the exhaust, while Jasper stood looking after it, his ears drooping, his tail between his legs. 'Oh, come on, Jasper, ' I said, 'don't be so idiotic' I walked slowly back to the house. Mrs Danvers had disappeared. I stood in the hall and rang the bell. Nothing happened for about five minutes. I rang again. Presently Alice appeared, her face rather aggrieved. 'Yes, Madam?' she said. 'Oh, Alice, ' I said, 'isn't Robert there? I rather fancied my tea out under the chestnut tree. ' 'Robert went to the post this afternoon, and isn't back yet, Madam, ' said Alice. 'Mrs Danvers gave him to understand you would be late for tea. Frith is out too of course. If you want your tea now I can get it for you. I don't think it's quite half past four yet. ' 'Oh, it doesn't matter, Alice. I'll wait till Robert comes back, ' I said. I supposed when Maxim was away things automatically became slack. I had never known Frith and Robert to be out at the same time. It was Frith's day of course. And Mrs Danvers had sent Robert to the post. And I myself was understood to have gone for a long walk. That man Favell had chosen his time well to pay his call on Mrs Danvers. It was almost too well chosen. There was something not right about it, I was certain of that. And then he had asked me not to say anything to Maxim. It was all very awkward. I did not want to get Mrs Danvers into trouble or make any sort of scene. More important still I did not want to worry Maxim. I wondered who he was, this man Favell. He had called Maxim 'Max'. No one ever called him Max. I had seen it written once, on the fly-leaf of a book, the letters thin and slanting, curiously pointed, the tail of the M very definite, very long. I thought there was only one person who had ever called him Max ... As I stood there in the hall, undecided about my tea, wondering what to do, the thought suddenly came to me that perhaps Mrs Danvers was dishonest, that all this time she was engaged in some business behind Maxim's back, and coming back early as I had today I had discovered her and this man, an accomplice, who had then bluffed his way out by pretending to be familiar with the house and with Maxim. I wondered what they had been doing in the west wing.

Why had they closed the shutters when they saw me on the lawn? I was filled with vague disquiet. Frith and Robert had been away. The maids were generally in their bedrooms changing during the afternoon. Mrs Danvers would have the run of the place. Supposing this man was a thief, and Mrs Danvers was in his pay? There were valuable things in the west wing. I had a sudden rather terrifying impulse to creep upstairs now to the west wing and go into those rooms and see for myself. Robert was not yet back. I would just have time before tea. I hesitated, glancing at the gallery. The house seemed very still and quiet. The servants were all in their own quarters beyond the kitchen. Jasper lapped noisily at his drinking bowl below the stairs, the sound echoing in the great stone hall. I began to walk upstairs. My heart was beating in a queer excited way.

 

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第14章

我发觉自己又来到那条走廊，就是初到曼陀丽那天早晨逗留过的那条过道。打那以后，我就再没上这儿来过，而且也不想来。阳光从墙壁凹凸处的窗户射进来，在过道深色的护壁镶板上交织成金色的图案。

四周静悄悄的，没有一点声响。同上回一样，我又闻到那种不寻常的霉味儿。我拿不准该往哪边走；这儿房间的布局我不熟悉。这时，我忽然记起上回丹弗斯太太是打我身后的一扇门里走出来的，从方位来看，那似乎也正是我想要去的房间，那里的窗户俯瞰着通往大海的草坪。我扭动房门的把手，走了进去。百叶窗全下着，屋里当然很昏暗。我伸手去摸墙上的电灯开关，拧亮了灯，这是一间不大的前室，我估计是间更衣室，沿墙四周尽是些高大的衣柜。屋子尽头有扇门洞开着，里边的房间较大。我穿过房门走进里间，拧亮了灯，四下一望，不由得一惊，原来房间里的家具陈设，一应俱全，竟像一直有人住着似的。

我原以为桌子、椅子，还有靠墙的那张大双人床，全都会被罩单蒙着，不料什么也没过没。梳妆台上放着发刷、梳子、香水和脂粉。床也铺得平整，还可以看到雪白的枕套和夹层床罩下面露出的一角毛毯。梳妆台和床头柜上都放有鲜花。雕花的壁炉架上也摆着鲜花。靠椅上放着一件缎子晨衣，下面搁一双卧室里穿的拖鞋。有那么一刹那的工夫，我脑子突然一阵迷离，仿佛时光又倒退了回去。而自己是在她犹未去世时打量这房间的……过了一会儿，吕蓓卡本人就会回屋来，哼着小调，在梳妆台的镜子面前坐定，伸手去拿梳子，然后梳理头发。要是也坐在那儿，我就可以看到她在镜子里的映像，而她也会从镜子里看到我这么站在门口。这一切当然都没出现。我还是呆呆地站在那儿，期待着发生什么事。倒是墙上挂钟的滴答声，把我重新唤回现实生活。钟上的针臂指着四点二十五分，跟我手表指示的时间相符。时钟的滴答声，听了使人恢复正常的神智，感到宽心。它提醒我别忘了现在，别忘了茶点马上就会在草坪那儿摆开，等我去享用。我慢慢走到房间中央。不，这房间现在没人使用，没有人再住在这儿。就是那些鲜花，也驱散不了屋里的霉味。窗帘拉得严实，百叶窗关得紧紧的。吕蓓卡不会再回这儿来了。即使丹弗斯太太在壁炉架上摆了鲜花，在床上铺好被单，也没法再把她招回来。她死了，离开人世已一年。她躺在教堂的墓地里，跟德温特家的其他死者葬在一起。

涛声清晰可闻。我走到窗前拉起百叶窗。不错，我现在站着的这个窗口，正是半小时前费弗尔和丹弗斯太太呆过的地方。白昼的一道道光线射进房来。使电灯光顿时显得昏黄而悠忽。我把百叶窗再拉开些。一束明亮的日光投射在床上，于是，搁在枕头上的睡衣套袋、梳妆台顶上的玻璃镜面、发刷和香水瓶，全都豁然明亮起来。

日光给了屋子以更强烈的现实感。百叶窗关着的时候，屋子在灯光下倒更似舞台上的布景，像是两场戏之间布置就绪的场景。夜戏已幕落，今晚的演出就此收场，舞台上换上第二天日戏第一幕的布景。而日光却使整个房间栩栩如生，气象盎然。我忘了屋子的霉味，忘了另外几扇窗户的帷帘仍未拉起。我又成了个客人，一个不请自来的客人，闲逛之中误闯了女主人的卧室。梳妆台上是她的发刷，搁在靠椅那边的是她的晨衣和拖鞋。

进入这屋子之后，我还是第一次感到双腿发软，不住打颤。我只得在梳妆台前的凳子上坐下。我的心不再因感到异样的兴奋而剧烈跳动，倒是沉重得像压上了铅块。我发着呆，出神地在屋子里东张西望。不错，这是个漂亮的房间。在我刚到的那天晚上，丹弗斯太太的介绍并非言过其实，这个房间确是整幢宅子最漂亮的一间。瞧那精致的壁炉架，那天花板，那雕花的床架，那窗帷的流苏，还有那墙上的挂钟和身旁梳妆台上的烛台，所有这一切如果是属于我的，我一定会奉若至宝，爱不释手。可这些东西不是我的，而是属于另一个人。我伸手摸摸那一对发刷。一把比较旧些。这道理我是明白的，人们往往尽顾着用一把发刷，忘了另一把，所以把发刷拿去洗的时候，其中一把还是干干净净，简直没怎么用过。瞧瞧镜子里自己的脸，多苍白，多消瘦，一头平直难看的长发就这么拖着。难道我一直就是这副鬼样子？往日里，脸色总比现在红润些吧？镜子里的那个人，满面菜色，姿色平平，直愣愣地朝我干瞪着眼。

我站直身，走到靠椅边，摸了摸椅子上的晨衣，又捡起拖鞋拿在手中，一阵恐惧之感猛地袭上心头，越来越强烈，接着又渐渐演化为绝望。我摸摸床上的被褥，手指顺着睡衣套袋上字母图案的笔划移动着，图案是由“R-德温特”这几个字样相互迭合交织而成的。凸花字母绣在金色的缎面上，挺硬挣的。套袋里的那件睡衣呈杏黄色，薄如蝉翼。我摸着摸着，就把它从套袋里抽出来，贴在自己面颊上。衣服凉冰冰，原先一定芬芳沁人，散发着白杜鹃的幽香，可是现在却隐隐约约透出一股霉味。我把睡衣折叠好，重新放回套袋，我一边这么做，一边感到心头隐隐作痛；我注意到睡衣上有几条折痕，光滑的织纹陡然起了皱，可见从上回穿过以后一直没人碰过，也没有送去洗熨。

我猛然一阵冲动，情不自禁地从床边走开，返身回进那间小小的前室，刚才我看到那儿放着好几口衣柜。我打开其中的一口。不出所料，里面挂满了衣服。这里放的是礼服。衣服用白布袋包着，我看到布袋的袋口上方闪着银光，原来是件金黄色的织锦缎礼服。旁边是件颜色淡黄、质地柔软的丝绒外衣，另外还有条白缎子长裙，裙据一直拖到衣柜的底板，上层的架子上有把鸵毛扇，从一张包装薄纸底下探出头来。

衣柜由于密不通风而积有一股怪味。杜鹃花在户外清香宜人，可是这种香气闷在衣柜里，不但走了味，而且使绫罗、锦缎都失去了光泽。这时，一阵阵变了味的杜鹃花陈香就从敞开着的衣柜门里向我袭来。我关上衣柜门，重又走进卧室。窗口射进清澈明亮的日光，仍然在金色的床罩上，那字母图案中高大的斜体R字母，在日光下显得格外耀眼，轮廓分明。

就在这时，我听见背后有脚步声，回头一看，是丹弗斯太太。她脸上的那副表情，我这辈子再也忘不了。得意洋洋、幸灾乐祸的神气之中，夹杂着一种奇怪的病态激动。我吓得魂不附体。

“太太，出了什么事？”她说。

我想朝她笑一笑，可是笑不出来，我张了张了嘴，可是说不出话来。

“您觉得不舒服吧？”她说。口气极其温和。她朝我走过来。我往后退，想避开她。我相信她要是再朝我逼近一步，我一定会昏厥过去。我感到她的鼻息已经喷到我的脸上。

“没什么，丹弗斯太太，”我过了一会才说。“我没有想到会在这儿看到你。事情是这样的：我刚才在草坪上偶尔抬头朝窗子看了一眼，注意到有一扇百叶窗没关严。我上来看看是不是能把它关严实。”

“我来关吧。”说着，她不声不响穿过房间，把百叶窗闩牢。日光消失了，在昏黄、悠忽的灯光下，屋子顿时失却了真实感，重又显得虚幻而阴森。

丹弗斯太太又走过来。在我身边站定，脸上堆着微笑。平日里她总是不苟言笑，冷若冰霜，此刻却一反常态，不仅热乎得叫人惊恐，而且满脸阿谀之色。

“您何必对我说百叶窗是开着的呢？”她说。“我离开屋子前就把窗关上了，是您自己开的窗，对吗，嗯？您想来看看这个房间。您干吗以前一直不叫我领您来看呢？我每天都准备陪您上这儿来。您只需吩咐一声就得了。”

我真想抽身逃走，可是却动弹不得，我还是注视着她的眼睛。

“既然您现在来了，就让我陪您好好看看吧。”她那巴结逢迎的口气，假惺惺的，却又甜如蜜糖，听了叫人毛骨惊然。“我知道您想看看这儿的一切，您早就想一饱眼福了，只是怕难为情，不好意思提出来罢了。这是个可爱的房间，是不？您从来也没有见过这么可爱的房间吧。”

她一把抓住我的手臂，拉着我朝床边走去。我无法抗拒，好似个任人摆布的木雕。她的手触着我的手臂，使我不住打寒颤。她这时说起话来，声音压得很低，口吻亲呢，我最讨厌，也最怕听到这种说话腔调。

“那是她的床。一张挺华丽的床，是不？我一直让这条金黄色的床罩铺在上面，这是她生前最喜欢的床罩。这儿套袋里放的是她的睡衣。你已经摸过这睡衣了，是不是？是她生前最后一次穿的睡衣，你想不想再摸一摸？”她从套袋里取出睡衣，塞在我面前。“拿着摸摸看，”她说。“质地多轻多软，是吗？上回她穿过以后我一直没洗。我把睡衣，还有晨衣、拖鞋就这样摆着，全都照那天晚上等她回来时候的原样摆着。那天晚上她再没回来，淹死了。”她折起睡衣，放回套袋。“您知道，服侍她的事儿全由我一个人包了。”她说着，又拉住我的胳膊，把我领到晨衣和拖鞋跟前。“我们试过好多女仆，可是没有一个合她的心意。‘你服侍得比谁都好，丹尼，’她常常这样说。‘除了你，我谁也不要，’你看，这是她的晨衣。她个子要比您高得多，您可以从衣服的长短上看出来。放在身上比试比试吧，一直拖到您的脚踝啦。她身段可美哩。这是她的拖鞋。‘把拖鞋丢给我，丹尼’她总是这么说。对她那颀长的身材来说，那双脚算是小巧玲珑的了。您不防把手伸进拖鞋里试试。鞋身既小又窄，是不是？”

她硬把拖鞋往我手上一套，脸上一直堆着微笑。同时盯着我的眼睛；“您怎么也没想到她会这么高吧？”她说。“这双拖鞋只配一双娇小的脚穿。她的身材可苗条呢。除非她站在你身旁，否则你不会意识到她那修长的身材。她简直有我一般高呢。可是她躺在那儿床上，看上去却像个小娇娇，那头浓密的黑发像圈光环似地烘托着她的脸蛋。”

她把拖鞋重新放在地板上，又把晨衣摆回靠椅。“您看过她的发刷了，是吗？”说着，又把我拉到梳妆台前；“发刷在这儿，就像她生前用的时候一样，没有拿去洗过，也没有人碰过。每天晚上总是我替她梳头。‘来吧，丹尼，现在该给我梳头了，’她这么说，而我就站在这儿的凳子旁边一口气替她梳上二十分钟。要知道，她是在最后几年才留短发的。她刚结婚的时候，头发一直垂在腰肢下面呢。德温特先生那时经常替她梳头，不知有多少次，我走进这房间就看到他穿着衬衫，手里拿着这两把发刷。‘重一点，迈克斯，重一点嘛，’她抬头朝他笑着说，而他呢，对她总是百依百顺。您知道，他们总是在一起梳妆打扮，准备主持宴会，而屋子里已宾客满座。‘喂，我要赶不及啦，’他就这么一面说着，一面把发刷扔给我，回报她一笑。那个时候啊，他总是春风满面，喜气洋洋的。”

丹弗斯太太顿了顿，她的手还是放在我的手臂上。

“她把头发剪掉的时候，大家都生她气啦，”她接着说。“可她才不在乎呢！‘这是我自己的事，跟别人有什么相干，’她说。当然罗，蓄短头发，骑马航海要方便多了。您知道，有人画过一幅画，那是她策马扬、鞭的英姿，是位著名画家的作品，后来就挂在伦敦皇家艺术学会里，您可曾见过那幅画？”

我摇摇头说：“不，没见过。”

“听说那幅画是那一年的最佳作品，”她继续往下说。“可是德温特先生不喜欢那画，不准在曼陀丽挂出来。我想，大概他认为那画不传神，没有充分显示出她的风韵吧。您想看看她的衣服，是吗？”她不等我回答就把我领到那间小前室，把衣柜一口一口打开。

“我把她的毛皮衣饰都放在这里，”她说。“这些皮毛还没蛀掉，我想以后也不会蛀掉。我总是很当心的。您摸摸那条黑貂皮围脖。那是德温特先生送给她的圣诞节礼物。也曾告诉过我这玩意儿值多少钱，可我现在已忘了。这栗鼠皮披肩是她晚上最常用的。寒风凛冽的夜晚，她常用它裹住肩头。这口柜子里放的都是她的夜礼服。您打开过了，是吗？您把没插销完全闩牢呢。我相信德温特先生最喜欢她穿银白色的礼服，当然，她不管穿什么都行，不管穿什么颜色都好看。她穿着这件丝绒礼服真是仪态万方。把它贴在脸上试试，很柔软，是吗？您不会不感觉到吧！温馨犹在，对吗？您简直会觉得这是她刚从身上脱下来的呢。凡是她到过的房间，我总可以一下子辨出来。屋里会留下她的几缕余香。这个抽屉里放的是她的内衣。这套粉红色的内衣她从来没穿过。她死的时候，当然穿着便裤和衬衫，不过后来被海水冲掉了。几星期以后找到她尸体的时候，身上什么也没留下。”

她的手指把我的胳臂攥得更紧了。她弯下身子，那张骷髅似的脸贴近我。黑眼珠死死地盯着我的眼睛。“您知道吗，她已在礁石上拉得支离破碎，”她低声细语。“她那张秀美的脸蛋已经无法辨认，两条胳膊也不见了。德温特先生认出是她，亲自上埃奇库姆比去认领尸体，独自一个人去的。当时他病得很厉害，可他坚持要去。谁也不能阻止他，甚至连克劳利先生也劝不住。”

她停了片刻，可是目光始终盯着我的脸不移开去。“出了这件意外，我永远不能原谅自己，”她说。“全怪我那天晚上不在家。下午我到克里斯去了，而且在那儿耽搁很久；德温特夫人上伦敦去了，不到深夜是不会回来的。所以我也就不急着回来。等我九点半光景回到庄园，听人说她七点不到就已经回来，吃过晚饭，又出去了。当然是到海滩去了，我很担心，那时已起了西南风。要是我当时在家，她就不会出去。她总是听我的话。‘换了我，今儿个晚上才不高兴出去呢，这种天气不宜出门哪！’我会这么对她说；而她呢，也会回答我说，‘好吧，丹尼，你这个爱大惊小怪的老太婆。’于是，不用说，我们就会坐在这儿，促膝谈心，她呢，会像以往那样把她在伦敦的所见所闻，一五一十地说给我听。”

我的手臂被她的手指指得红一块，紫一块，完全麻木了。我看到她脸上的那层皮绷得多紧，颧骨明显地鼓突出来，耳朵底下有几块小黄斑。

“德温特先生当时在克劳利先生那儿吃晚饭，”她继续说。“我不知道他是什么时候回来的。我敢说是在敲了十一点以后。将近午夜时分，屋外起了大风，越刮越猛，可她还是没回来。我下了楼，藏书室门框底下不见有灯光透出。我返身上楼。敲敲更衣室的门。德温特先生立即应道：‘谁啊？什么事？’我对他说，我担心德温特夫人怎么这时还没回来。等了一会，他开了房门，身上穿着晨衣。‘我想她大概是留在那边的小屋里过夜了吧，’他说。‘要是我换了你啊，就自管自去睡觉。照现在这种天气，她是不会回这儿来睡觉的。’他显得倦容满面，我也不忍再打扰他。她以前毕竟也多次在小屋里过夜，而且不论什么样的天气也都驾船出过海。说不定她当晚并没有驾船去兜风，只是因为从伦敦回来，想到小屋过夜，调剂一下精神。我对德温特先生道了声晚安就回自己的屋子去了。可是我没有睡着。我一直暗自嘀咕，她究竟干什么去了。”

她又顿了一下。我不想再听下去。我想抽身从她身边走开，逃离这个房间。

“我和衣坐在床上，一直坐到清晨五点半，”她说。“我再也等不下去了。我起身套上外衣，穿过林子，直奔海滩。天正破晓，风住了，可是仍下着蒙蒙细雨。我来到海滩，一眼看到水面上的浮筒和那只皮筏，可是不见小船的踪影……”我仿佛看见了那沉浸在灰蒙蒙晨曦之中的小海湾，甚至感觉到丝丝细雨正飘落在我的面颊上；透过那片雾霭，我似乎依稀认出那紧贴水面的浮筒模糊不清的轮廓。

丹弗斯太太松开我的膀子，把手收了回去，垂落在身旁。此刻她说话时，丧失了刚才那种绘声绘色的表现力，又恢复了往日里生硬而刻板的腔调。“当天下午有只救生圈被海水冲到了克里斯，”她说。“第二天，几个捕蟹人在海岬边的礁石中又发现另一只，索具的零星碎片也随着潮水漂了进来。”她转过身去，关上抽屉，把墙上的一幅画扶正，又从地毯上捡起一团绒毛。我不知所措地站在一旁瞧着她。

“为什么德温特先生不再使用这几间屋子，”她说，“这原因您现在明白了吧，您听这大海的涛声。”

甚至隔着关得严严实实的玻璃窗和百叶窗，我仍然听见大海的吼声，那是海湾里波浪冲击岸边圆卵石所发出的一阵阵低沉而悲枪的-琮声。此刻，汹涌的潮水也许正奔腾而来，扑上沙滩，几乎一直淹到小石屋附近。

“自从那晚她淹死以来，他再没有用过这几间屋子，”她说。“他叫人把自己的东西从更衣室搬了出去。我们在走廊尽头为他收拾了一间屋子。其实，我看他连那儿也不常去睡。他常常坐在那把扶手椅子里过夜，早晨总看到椅子周围撒满了烟灰。白天，弗里思听到他老在藏书室里踱步。踱来踱去，踱去踱来。”

我恍惚也见到了椅子边地板的烟灰，听见了他的脚步声，笃、笃、笃、笃，在藏书室里踱来踱去……丹弗斯太太轻轻带上卧室与前室之间的那扇门，这就把我们同卧室隔了开来，随后又关掉电灯。我再也看不见那张床，看不见搁在枕头上那只睡衣套袋，也看不见那张梳妆台以及靠椅下的那双拖鞋。她走到前室门口，把手按在房门把手上，站在那儿等我。

“每天我亲自到这儿来掸灰尘，”她说。“如果您日后还想到这儿来看看，只要告诉我一声就行了。挂个内线电话，我就明白啦。我不许那些使女上这儿来。除了我以外谁也不上这儿来。”

她又摆出一副阿谀奉承的神态，热乎劲儿叫人受不了。她满脸堆笑，显然是虚情假意的做作。“有时候德温特先生不在家，您觉得冷清了，可能会想到这个房间来看看，上这儿来坐坐。到时候只需吩咐一声得啦。这些真是出色的房间啊。这些房间收拾得这么舒齐，您看了一定不会觉得她离开我们已经很久了吧？您会以为她刚刚走开一会儿，到晚上就会回来的。”

我勉强挤出一个笑容，说不出话来，感到喉头干涩，仿佛被人卡住似的。

“不只是这个房间，”她说。“在这所屋子的许许多多房间里，在晨室里，在大厅里，甚至在那间小花房里，到处我都能感觉得到她的存在。您大概也有同感吧？”

她用古怪的目光瞅着我，嗓门一下子压得低低的，像是跟我耳语。“有时候我沿这条过道走着走着，简直觉得她就跟在我身后，听得见她那急促而轻快的脚步声。这种声音我决不会搞铝的。昔日黄昏时分，我常见到她在门厅上面的画廊里，斜倚栏杆，望着下雨，呼唤着那两条狗。我现在还不时觉得她呆在那儿呢。我仿佛依稀听到她下楼用餐时衣裙拖在楼梯上的悉碎声。”她收住话头，目不转睛地盯着我，盯着我的眼睛。“您倒说说，她这会儿是不是看到我俩在这儿面对面交谈？”她一字一顿地说。“您倒说说，死者的幽灵会不会回来，注视着我们这些生者呢？”

我费力地咽下一口气，紧攥双手，指甲都嵌入了肉里。

“我不知道，”我说。“我不知道。”我的声音听上去尖利刺耳，很不自然，根本不是我自己的声音。

“有时候我真怀疑，”她轻声低语着。“有时候我真怀疑，她是不是悄悄回到了曼陀丽，注视着您和德温特先生的一举一动哪！”

我们站在门边，相互瞪着眼珠对视。我没法把目光从她的眼睛移开。那对眼珠嵌在惨白的骷髅脸上，显得分外阴险、狠毒，充满着仇恨。随后，她把通往过道的门打开。“罗伯特此刻已回来了，”她说。“一刻钟之前就回来了。已吩咐他把茶点送到花园的栗子树下去。”

她往旁边一闪，让我走过去。我跌跌撞撞走出房间，来到过道上，顾不上自己是在往哪儿走。我没有再对她说什么，茫然走下楼梯，拐了个弯，推开那扇通东厢的门，口到我自己的房间。我关紧房门，上了锁，把钥匙放进衣袋。

然后我就躺在床上，闭上眼睛。我觉得自己像得了什么重病似的。

 

[j0n6dj2y2w]

Chapter fourteen

I found myself in the corridor where I had stood that first morning. I had not been there since, nor had I wished to go. The sun streamed in from the window in the alcove and made gold patterns on the dark panelling. There was no sound at all. I was aware of the same musty, unused smell that had been before. I was uncertain which way to go. The plan of the rooms was not familiar to me. I remembered then that last time Mrs Danvers had come out of a door here, just behind me, and it seemed to me that the position of the room would make it the one I wanted, whose windows looked out upon the lawns to the sea. I turned the handle of the door and went inside. It was dark of course, because of the shutters. I felt for the electric light switch on the wall and turned it on. I was standing in a little ante-room, a dressing-room I judged, with big wardrobes round the wall, and at the end of this room was another door, open, leading to a larger room. I went through to this room, and turned on the light. My first impression was one of shock because the room was fully furnished, as though in use. I had expected to see chairs and tables swathed in dust-sheets, and dust-sheets too over the great double bed against the wall. Nothing was covered up. There were brushes and combs on the dressing-table, scent, and powder. The bed was made up, I saw the gleam of white linen on the pillow-case, and the tip of a blanket beneath the quilted coverlet. There were flowers on the dressing-table and on the table beside the bed. Flowers too on the carved mantelpiece.

A satin dressing-gown lay on a chair, and a pair of bedroom slippers beneath. For one desperate moment I thought that something had happened to my brain, that I was seeing back into Time, and looking upon the room as it used to be, before she died ... In a minute Rebecca herself would come back into the room, sit down before the looking-glass at her dressing-table, humming a tune, reach for her comb and run it through her hair. If she sat there I should see her reflection in the glass and she would see me too, standing like this by the door. Nothing happened. I went on standing there, waiting for something to happen. It was the clock ticking on the wall that brought me to reality again. The hands stood at twenty-five past four. My watch said the same. There was something sane and comforting about the ticking of the clock. It reminded me of the present, and that tea would soon be ready for me on the lawn.

I walked slowly into the middle of the room. No, it was not used. It was not lived in any more. Even the flowers could not destroy the musty smell. The curtains were drawn and the shutters were closed. Rebecca would never come back to the room again. Even if Mrs Danvers did put the flowers on the mantelpiece and the sheets upon the bed, they would not bring her back. She was dead. She had been dead now for a year. She lay buried in the crypt of the church with all the other dead de Winters. I could hear the sound of the sea very plainly. I went to the window and swung back the shutter. Yes, I was standing at the same window where Favell and Mrs Danvers had stood, half an hour ago. The long shaft of daylight made the electric light look false and yellow. I opened the shutter a little more. The daylight cast a white beam upon the bed. It shone upon the nightdress-case, lying on the pillow. It shone on the glass top of the dressing-table, on the brushes, and on the scent bottles. The daylight gave an even greater air of reality to the room. When the shutter was closed and it had been lit by electricity the room had more the appearance of a setting on the stage. The scene set between performances. The curtain having fallen for the night, the evening over, and the first act set for tomorrow's matinee. But the daylight made the room vivid and alive. I forgot the musty smell and the drawn curtains of the other windows. I was a guest again. An uninvited guest. I had strolled into my hostess's bedroom by mistake. Those were her brushes on the dressing-table, that was her dressing-gown and slippers laid out upon the chair. I realized for the first time since I had come into the room that my legs were trembling, weak as straw. I sat down on the stool by the dressing-table. My heart no longer beat in a strange excited way. It felt as heavy as lead. I looked about me in the room with a sort of dumb stupidity. Yes, it was a beautiful room. Mrs Danvers had not exaggerated that first evening. It was the most beautiful room in the house. That exquisite mantelpiece, the ceiling, the carved bedstead, and the curtain hangings, even the clock on the wall and the candlesticks upon the dressing-table beside me, all were things I would have loved and almost worshipped had they been mine.

 

[j0n6dj2y2w]

They were not mine though. They belonged to somebody else. I put out my hand and touched the brushes. One was more worn than its fellow. I understood it well. There was always one brush that had the greater use. Often you forgot to use the other, and when they were taken to be washed there was one that was still quite clean and untouched. How white and thin my face looked in the glass, my hair hanging lank and straight. Did I always look like this? Surely I had more colour as a rule? The reflection stared back at me, sallow and plain. I got up from the stool and went and touched the dressing-gown on the chair. I picked up the slippers and held them in my hand. I was aware of a growing sense of horror, of horror turning to despair. I touched the quilt on the bed, traced with my fingers the monogram on the nightdress case, R de W, interwoven and interlaced. The letters were corded and strong against the golden satin material. The nightdress was inside the case, thin as gossamer, apricot in colour. I touched it, drew it out from the case, put it against my face. It was cold, quite cold. But there was a dim mustiness about it still where the scent had been. The scent of the white azaleas. I folded it, and put it back into the case, and as I did so I noticed with a sick dull aching in my heart that there were creases in the nightdress, the texture was ruffled, it had not been touched or laundered since it was last worn. On a sudden impulse I moved away from the bed and went back to the little ante-room where I had seen the wardrobes. I opened one of them. It was as I thought. The wardrobe was full of clothes. There were evening dresses here, I caught the shimmer of silver over the top of the white bags that enfolded them. There was a piece of gold brocade. There, next to it, was velvet, wine-coloured and soft. There was attain of white satin, dripping on the floor of the wardrobe. Peeping out from a piece of tissue paper on a shelf above was an ostrich feather fan. The wardrobe smelt stuffy, queer. The azalea scent, so fragrant and delicate in the air, had turned stale inside the wardrobe, tarnishing the silver dresses and the brocade, and the breath of it wafted towards me now from the open doors, faded and old. I shut the doors. I went back into the bedroom once again.

The gleam of light from the shutter still shone white and clear on the golden coverlet of the bed, picking out clearly and distinctly the tall sloping R of the monogram. Then I heard a step behind me and turning round I saw Mrs Danvers. I shall never forget the expression on her face. Triumphant, gloating, excited in a strange unhealthy way. I felt very frightened. 'Is anything the matter, Madam?' she said. I tried to smile at her, and could not. I tried to speak. 'Are you feeling unwell?' she said, coming nearer to me, speaking very softly. I backed away from her. I believe if she had come any closer to me I should have fainted. I felt her breath on my face. 'I'm all right, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, after a moment, 'I did not expect to see you. The fact is, I was looking up at the windows from the lawn. I noticed one of the shutters was not quite closed. I came up to see if I could fasten it. ' 'I will fasten it, ' she said, and she went silently across the room and clamped back the shutter. The daylight had gone. The room looked unreal again in the false yellow light. Unreal and ghastly. Mrs Danvers came back and stood beside me. She smiled, and her manner, instead of being still and unbending as it usually was, became startlingly familiar, fawning even. 'Why did you tell me the shutter was open?' she asked. 'I closed it before I left the room. You opened it yourself, didn't you, now? You wanted to see the room. Why have you never asked me to show it to you before? I was ready to show it to you every day. You had only to ask me. ' I wanted to run away, but I could not move. I went on watching her eyes. 'Now you are here, let me show you everything, ' she said, her voice ingratiating and sweet as honey, horrible, false. '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. ' She took hold of my arm, and walked me towards the bed. I could not resist her, I was like a dumb thing. The touch of her hand made me shudder. And her voice was low and intimate, a voice I hated and feared. "That 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 inside the case. You've been touching it, haven't you? This was the nightdress she was wearing for the last time, before she died. Would you like to touch it again?' She took the nightdress from the case and held it before me. 'Feel it, hold it, ' she said, 'how soft and light it is, isn't it? I haven't washed it since she wore it for the last time.

I put it out like this, and the dressing-gown and slippers, just as I put them out for her the night she never came back, the night she was drowned. ' She folded up the nightgown and put it back in the case. 'I did everything for her, you know, ' she said, taking my arm again, leading me to the dressing-gown and slippers. 'We tried maid after maid but not one of them suited. "You maid me better than anyone, Danny, " she used to say, "I won't have anyone but you. " Look, this is her dressing-gown. She was much taller than you, you can see by the length. Put it up against you. It comes down to your ankles. She had a beautiful figure. These are her slippers. "Throw me my slips, Danny, " she used to say. She had little feet for her height. Put your hands inside the slippers. They are quite small and narrow, aren't they?' She forced the slippers over my hands, smiling all the while, watching my eyes. 'You never would have thought she was so tall, would you?' she said, 'these slippers would fit a tiny foot. She was so slim too. You would forget her height, until she stood beside you. She was every bit as tall as me. But lying there in bed she looked quite a slip of a thing, with her mass of dark hair, standing out from her face like a halo. ' She put the slippers back on the floor, and laid the dressing-gown on the chair. 'You've seen her brushes, haven't you?' she said, taking me to the dressing-table; 'there they are, just as she used them, unwashed and untouched. I used to brush her hair for her every evening. "Come on, Danny, hair-drill, " she would say, and I'd stand behind her by the stool here, and brush away for twenty minutes at a time. She only wore it short the last few years, you know. It came down below the waist, when she was first married. Mr de Winter used to brush it for her then. I've come into this room time and time again and seen him, in his shirt sleeves, with the two brushes in his hand. "Harder, Max, harder, " she would say, laughing up at him, and he would do as she told him. They would be dressing for dinner, you see, and the house filled with guests. "Here, I shall be late, " he would say, throwing the brushes to me, and laughing back at her. He was always laughing and gay then. ' She paused, her hand still resting on my arm. 'Everyone was angry with her when she cut her hair, ' she said, 'but she did not care. "It's nothing to do with anyone but myself, " she would say.

 

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And of course short hair was much easier for riding and sailing. She was painted on horseback, you know. A famous artist did it. The picture hung in the Academy. Did you ever see it?' I shook my head. 'No, ' I said. 'No. ' 'I understood it was the picture of the year, ' she went on, 'but Mr de Winter did not care for it, and would not have it at Manderley. I don't think he considered it did her justice. You would like to see her clothes, wouldn't you?' She did not wait for my answer. She led me to the little ante-room and opened the wardrobes, one by one. 'I keep her furs in here, ' she said, 'the moths have not got to them yet, and I doubt if they ever will. I'm too careful. Feel that sable wrap. That was a Christmas present from Mr de Winter. She told me the cost once, but I've forgotten it now. This chinchilla she wore in the evenings mostly. Round her shoulders, very often, when the evenings were cold. This wardrobe here is full of her evening clothes. You opened it, didn't you? The latch is not quite closed. I believe Mr de Winter liked her to wear silver mostly. But of course she could wear anything, stand any colour. She looked beautiful in this velvet. Put it against your face. It's soft, isn't it? You can feel it, can't you? The scent is still fresh, isn't it? You could almost imagine she had only just taken it off. I would always know when she had been before me in a room. There would be a little whiff of her scent in the room. These are her underclothes, in this drawer. This pink set here she had never worn. She was wearing slacks of course and a shirt when she died. They were torn from her body in the water though. There was nothing on the body when it was found, all those weeks afterwards. ' Her fingers tightened on my arm. She bent down to me, her skull's face close, her dark eyes searching mine. 'The rocks had battered her to bits, you know, ' she whispered, 'her beautiful face unrecognizable, and both arms gone. Mr de Winter identified her. He went up to Edgecoombe to do it. He went quite alone. He was very ill at the time but he would go. No one could stop him. Not even Mr Crawley. ' She paused, her eyes never leaving my face. 'I shall always blame myself for the accident, ' she said, 'it was my fault for being out that evening.

I had gone into Kerrith for the afternoon and stayed there late, as Mrs de Winter was up in London and not expected back until much later. That's why I did not hurry back. When I came in, about half past nine, I heard she had returned just before seven, had her dinner, and then went out again. Down to the beach of course. I felt worried then. It was blowing from the south-west. She would never have gone if I'd been in. She always listened to me. "I wouldn't go out this evening, it's not fit, " I should have said, and she would have answered me "All right, Danny, you old fuss-pot. " And we would have sat up here talking no doubt, she telling me all she had done in London, like she always did. ' My arm was bruised and numb from the pressure of her fingers. I could see how tightly the skin was stretched across her face, showing the cheekbones. There were little patches of yellow beneath her ears. 'Mr de Winter had been dining with Mr Crawley down at his house, ' she went on. 'I don't know what time he got back, I dare say it was after eleven. But it began to blow quite hard just before midnight, and she had not come back. I went downstairs, but there were no lights under the library door. I came upstairs again and knocked on the dressing-room door. Mr de Winter answered at once, "Who is it, what do you want?" he said. I told him I was worried about Mrs de Winter not being back. He waited a moment, and then he came and opened the door in his dressing-gown. "She's spending the night down at the cottage I expect, " he said. "I should go to bed if I were you. She won't come back here to sleep if it goes on like this. " He looked tired, and I did not like to disturb him. After all, she spent many nights at the cottage, and had sailed in every sort of weather. She might not even have gone for a sail, but just wanted the night at the cottage as a change after London. I said good night to Mr de Winter and went back to my room. I did not sleep though. I kept wondering what she was doing. ' She paused again. I did not want to hear any more. I wanted to get away from her, away from the room. 'I sat on my bed until half past five, ' she said, 'then I couldn't wait there any longer. I got up and put on my coat and went down through the woods to the beach. It was getting light, but there was still a misty sort of rain falling, although the wind had dropped.

When I got to the beach I saw the buoy there in the water and the dinghy, but the boat had gone ... ' It seemed to me that I could see the cove in the grey morning light, feel the thin drizzle on my face, and peering through the mist could make out, shadowy and indistinct, the low dark outline of the buoy. Mrs Danvers loosened the pressure on my arm. Her hand fell back again to her side. Her voice lost all expression, became the hard mechanical voice of every day. 'One of the life-buoys was washed up at Kerrith in the afternoon, ' she said, 'and another was found the next day by some crabbers on the rocks below the headland. Bits and pieces of rigging too would come in with the tide. ' She turned away from me, and closed the chest of drawers. She straightened one of the pictures on the wall. She picked up a piece of fluff from the carpet. I stood watching her, not knowing what to do. 'You know now', she said, 'why Mr de Winter does not use these rooms any more. Listen to the sea. ' Even with the windows closed and the shutters fastened I could hear it; a low sullen murmur as the waves broke on the white shingle in the cove. The tide would be coming in fast now and running up the beach nearly to the stone cottage. 'He has not used these rooms since the night she was drowned, ' she said. 'He had his things moved out from the dressing-room. We made up one of the rooms at the end of the corridor. I don't think he slept much even there. He used to sit in the armchair. There would be cigarette ash all round it in the morning. And in the daytime Frith would hear him in the library pacing up and down. Up and down, up and down. ' I too could see the ash on the floor beside the chair. I too could hear his footsteps; one, two, one, two, backwards and forwards across the library ... Mrs Danvers closed the door softly between the bedroom and the ante-room where we were standing, and put out the light. I could not see the bed any more, nor the nightdress case upon the pillow, nor the dressing-table, nor the slippers by the chair. She crossed the ante-room and put her hand on the knob of the door and stood waiting for me to follow her. 'I come to the rooms and dust them myself every day, ' she said. 'If you want to come again you have only to tell me. Ring me on the house telephone. I shall understand. I don't allow the maids up here. No one ever comes but me. ' Her manner was fawning again, intimate and unpleasant.

 

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The smile on her face was a false, unnatural thing. 'Sometimes when Mr de Winter is away, and you feel lonely, you might like to come up to these rooms and sit here. You have only to tell me. They are such beautiful rooms. You would not think she had gone now for so long, would you, not by the way the rooms are kept? You would think she had just gone out for a little while and would be back in the evening. ' I forced a smile. I could not speak. My throat felt dry and tight. 'It's not only this room, ' she said. 'It's in many rooms in the house. In the morning-room, in the hall, even in the little flower-room. I feel her everywhere. You do too, don't you?' She stared at me curiously. Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'Sometimes, when I walk along the corridor here, I fancy I hear her just behind me. That quick, light footstep. I could not mistake it anywhere. And in the minstrels' gallery above the hall. I've seen her leaning there, in the evenings in the old days, looking down at the hall below and calling to the dogs. I can fancy her there now from time to time. It's almost as though I catch the sound of her dress sweeping the stairs as she comes down to dinner. ' She paused. She went on looking at me, watching my eyes. 'Do you think she can see us, talking to one another now?' she said slowly. 'Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?' I swallowed. I dug my nails into my hands. 'I don't know, ' I said. 'I don't know. ' My voice sounded high-pitched and unnatural. Not my voice at all. 'Sometimes I wonder, ' she whispered. 'Sometimes I wonder if she comes back here to Manderley and watches you and Mr de Winter together. ' We stood there by the door, staring at one another. I could not take my eyes away from hers. How dark and sombre they were in the white skull's face of hers, how malevolent, how full of hatred. Then she opened the door into the corridor. 'Robert is back now, ' she said. 'He came back a quarter of an hour ago. He has orders to take your tea out under the chestnut tree. ' She stepped aside for me to pass. I stumbled out on to the corridor, not looking where I was going. I did not speak to her, I went down the stairs blindly, and turned the corner and pushed through the door that led to my own rooms in the east wing. I shut the door of my room and turned the key, and put the key in my pocket. , Then I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I felt deadly sick.

 

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[FONT=宋体]第15章

第二天早上迈克西姆来电话，说他大概在傍晚七点左右回庄园。是弗里思传的口信。迈克西姆没要我去听电话。我在用早餐时曾听得电话铃响，心想弗里思说不定会进餐厅来说：“太太，德温特先生等您听电话。”于是我解下餐巾，站了起来，可就在这时弗里思口到餐厅给我捎来那个口信。

他看见我推开椅子，朝门口走去，便赶忙说：“太太，德温特先生已把电话挂了。没讲别的，只是说七点钟左右回来。”

我重新在椅子上坐定，捡起餐巾。弗里思见着我这副迫不及待要冲出餐厅去的模样，一定觉得我这人傻得可以。

“知道了，弗里思。谢谢你，”我说。

我继续吃我的火腿蛋。杰斯珀守在我脚边，那条瞎眼老狗呆在墙角处的篓子里。这一天的时间真不知该如何打发。昨夜我没睡好，也许是因为独居无伴的缘故。睡得很不安稳，老是醒来看时钟，那指针像是一直没怎么移动位置。就算睡着了，也是乱梦颠倒。我梦见我俩，迈克酉姆和我，在树林里穿行；他始终走在我前面，只有那么几步路，可我就是没法赶上。我也看不清他的脸，只见他一直在我前面昂首阔步。我睡着的时候一定哭过了，因为早晨醒来发现枕头湿漉漉的。我一照镜子，瞧见自己眼皮浮肿，目光呆滞，样子实在不讨人喜欢，毫无风韵可言。我在腮帮子上搭了点脂粉，想增加点红润，不料弄巧成拙，反倒像个不伦不类的马戏丑角。也许我没摸着涂脂抹粉的窍门。我穿过大厅进屋吃早饭时，注意到罗伯特瞪大了眼睛冲着我发愣。

十点钟光景，我正将几片面包捏成碎屑，准备去喂平台上的鸟儿，这时电话铃又响了。这一回是打给我的。弗里思走来通报说。莱西夫人要我听电话。

“早上好，比阿特丽斯，”我说。

“哦，亲爱的，身体好吗？”即使在电话里，她说起话来也还是自有一功：干脆利落，颇有男子气概，容不得半点罗唆废话。这时她不等我回答就自顾自往下说：“下午我想开车去看看奶奶。现在我要上朋友家去吃午饭。离你那儿大约二十英里。到时候是不是让我来接你，咱们一起去？依我说，你也该去见见那位老太太了。”

“我巴不得能去呢，比阿特丽斯，”我说。

“太好啦。就这样说定了，三点半左右我来接你。贾尔斯在宴会上见着迈克西姆了。他说菜肴没味，酒倒挺出色。好，就这样吧，亲爱的，一会儿见。”

滴答一声，她把电话挂了。我又信步走进了花园。我很高兴她打电话来约我去见老祖母。这一来总算可指望有点事，给百无聊赖的这一天添点儿生趣。要挨到晚上七点，这几个钟头还真没法熬呢。今天我一点没有假日的轻松感，无意和杰斯珀一起去幸福谷，去小海湾散步，往水里扔石子取乐。那种无拘无束的轻松心情，那种想要穿上帆布鞋在草坪上疾步飞奔的天真愿望，都已经为乌有。我走进玫瑰园，身边带着书、《泰晤士报》。还有编结活儿，在那儿坐定，尸然是个守着家庭过安分日子的主妇。我坐在暖洋洋的阳光里，呵欠连连，蜂群在周周围的花丛中嗡嗡飞舞。

我没法集中思想，细读报上那些干巴巴的专栏文章，接着又捧起小说，想让曲折离奇的故事情节把自己吸引住。我不愿去想昨天下午的事，不愿想到丹弗斯大太。我尽量设法排遣这样的念头：她此刻正在屋子里，说不定就躲在楼上某扇窗子背后，注视着我的一举一动。我不时抬起头来，朝花园那边看一眼，总觉得这儿并非只有我一人。

曼陀丽的窗户鳞次栉比。空房间也比比皆是，这些房间我和迈克西姆从不去使用，里面都蒙着防灰尘的罩单，悄寂无声；昔日他父亲的祖父在世时，宅子里宾客盈门，仆役成群，那些房间倒是都住人的。现在丹弗斯太太不用费什么周折，就可以悄悄推开一扇扇房门，随手再把门-一带上，然后蹑手蹑脚走进尘封已久的房间，来到窗口，在放下的窗帷后面窥视我的行动。

我没法去探知真情，即使在椅子里侧转身于，抬头向那排窗子望去，我也没法跟她打照面，我记起孩提时玩过一种游戏，邻屋的小朋友称之为“奶奶走路”，而我则管它叫“老巫婆”。玩时，你得站在花园的尽头，背对着其他人。他们一个接一个朝你悄悄走近，偷偷摸摸地走一阵停一会。每隔几分钟，你回过头来望望，要是有谁正好被你看到在走动，这人就被罚回原处从头走起。可是总有个把胆子比较大一点的小伙伴，已经挨近你身边，此人的行动简直不可能察觉；于是，就在你背对大家站着，嘴里从一数到十的时候，你一面提心吊胆，一面也明白自己已必输无疑，要不了一会儿，甚至连十也没数完，那个大胆的家伙就会神不知鬼不觉地从背后扑上来，同时还发出一声胜利的欢呼。此刻我全体会与那时一样的心情，紧张不安地等待着有人扑上身来。我正同丹弗斯太太玩“老巫婆”游戏呢。

好不容易挨到午餐时分，冗长的上午总算告一段落。看着弗里思有条不紊、手脚麻利地张罗，望着罗伯特傻乎乎的神态，比看书读报更能排遣时间。到了三点半，分秒不差，车道拐角处传来比阿特丽斯汽车的马达声，一转眼车子已停在屋前台阶边。我已穿着停当，拿好手套，这时就三步并作两步出门相迎。“喂，亲爱的，我来啦，少有的好天气，是吗？”她砰地一声关上车门，跨上台阶迎着我走来。她飞快地吻了我，嘴唇在我耳朵边的脸颊上使劲擦了一下。

“你看上去气色不大好，”她朝我上下一打量，脱口便说。“脸上精瘦精瘦的，一点血色也没有。怎么搞的？”

“没什么，”我明知自己的脸色很不对头，只得低声下气地支吾一句。“我这人一向没什么血色。”

“喔，胡说，”她反驳道。“上回我看见你的时候完全不是这样。”

“我想，在意大利给太阳晒的那一脸棕色大概已退啦。”说着，我赶忙往汽车里钻。

“哼，”她不留情地冲着我说，“你同迈克西姆一样的毛病，就是不肯承认自己身体不行。嗳，使点儿劲，不然车门关不上的。”我们沿车道驶去，车子开得很猛，到拐角上突然一个转弯。“我说，你不会是有喜了吧？”她说着侧过脸来，那双锐利的褐色眼睛盯在我身上。

“没有的事，”我窘极了，“我想不会的。”

“早晨起来是不是恶心想吐？有没有其他类似的症状？”

“没有。”

“哦，唔——当然也不都是那样。就拿我生罗杰那阵子说吧。什么反应也没有。整整九个月，身子结实得像条牛。生他的前一天我还在打高尔夫球。你知道，生儿育女，天经地义，没什么好难为情的。要是你疑心有什么，尽管直说。”

“不，真的，比阿特丽斯，”我说。“没有什么要瞒你的。”

“说实在话，我还真希望你不久能生个儿子，给迈克西姆传宗接代。这对他来说可是件大好事。我希望你别在这事情上层层设防哪。”

“当然不会，”我说。真是场别开生面的谈话。

“哦，可别见怪，”她说。“我说的话你可千万别在意。如今的新娘子毕竟样样都得会一点。要是你想去打猎，偏偏在第一个狩猎期内就怀了孕，岂不大杀风景？要是夫妇两个都是打猎迷。这一来非同小可，说不定会断送这场婚姻。像你这样就没关系了，娃娃不会妨碍绘图作画的。哦，对了，近来写生画可有长进？”

“最近似乎难得动笔，”我说。

“哦，真的？天气这么好，正宜于户外写生画画，只要一张折凳、一盘画笔就行了，是吗？告诉我，上回寄的那些书你可感兴趣？”

“那还用间，”我说。“真是件叫人喜爱的礼物，比阿特丽斯。”

她脸露喜色说：“你喜欢就好啦。”

汽车向前疾驶。她的脚始终踩在油门上，拐弯时总是绕一个急陡的小角度。我们从别的车辆旁边一掠而过，有两个驾车人从车窗探出身来望着我们，满脸愤慨之色。小巷里有个行人还朝她挥舞手仗。我为她羞红了脸。可她好像对一切都视而不见。我只好在车座里缩紧了身子。

“下学期罗杰要去牛津念书，”她说。“天知道他要在那儿鬼混些什么。我看纯粹是蹉跎光阴，贾尔斯又何尝不这样想？不过我们也想不出别的办法，只好随他去。当然罗，小家伙毕竟还是像爹妈，心思全放在马匹上了。前面那辆车搞什么鬼？喂，我说你老兄于吗不伸出手来打个招呼？说实在的，如今公路上有些开车的家伙，真该把他们枪毙了才是。”

车子猛一拐弯，转上大路，差点儿没撞着前面的那辆车。“有谁上你们那儿作客来着？”她问我。

“没有，近来很清静，”我说。

“还是这样好，”她说。“我总觉得，那些盛大宴会实在叫人腻烦。如果你来我们这儿小住，肯定不会让你感到惶恐不安。左右邻居都是些好人，大家混得很熟，不是在这家吃饭，就是去那家聚餐，还经常在一块儿打桥牌，不多跟外人罗唆。你会打桥牌吧？”

“打得不怎么精，比阿特丽斯。”

“哦，精不精无所谓，只要会打就行。我不能容受那些啥也不想学的家伙。冬日黄昏茶余饭后，真不知道该怎么对付他们！一个人总不能老是坐着谈天说地。”

我不明白为什么不能这样。不过，还是不吭声为妙。

“现在罗杰大了，生活可有趣哩，”她接着说。“他把朋友带到家来，我们一起玩呀笑呀，好不热闹！要是去年你和我们一起过圣诞节，那该有多好。我们玩哑谜猜字游戏。啊哟，真是好玩极了。贾尔斯如鱼得水，大显身手。你知道，他最喜欢化装表演。一两杯香摈下肚，他那副滑稽相真够你乐的。我们常惋惜他没能人尽其材，他应该去当演员才对。”我想着贾尔斯，脑子里出现了他的那张大圆脸，还有那副角质框眼镜。要是真的看到他酒后的丑态，我一定会觉得怪不好意思。“我们有个好朋友，叫迪基-马什，他和贾尔斯男扮女装，来了个二重唱，谁也搞不清楚这同哑谜猜字中的谜底有什么关系，不过这也无关紧要，反正两人逗得我们哄堂大笑。”

我彬彬有礼地报以一笑。“可以想象，一定有趣极了，”我说。

我仿佛真的看到他们在比阿特丽斯家的客厅里笑得前仰后合。这些朋友熟稔融洽，亲密无间。罗杰想来长得和贾尔斯一般模样。比阿特丽斯还在乐呵呵地回忆当时的情景。“可怜的贾尔斯，”她说。“有一回，迪基提起苏打水瓶就往他脖子上喷，当时他脸上的神情我怎么也不会忘记。我们个个乐得像疯子。”

我有点担心，生怕比阿特丽斯会邀请我们今年上她家去过圣诞节。也许到时候我可以借故推托，就说我得了流行性感冒。

“当然罗，我们唱歌表演，从不想弄出点什么名堂，来个艺惊四座，”她说。“不过是逢场作戏，在自己人中间凑个趣罢了。曼陀丽在这种季节才是上演精彩好戏的场所。我记得几年前那儿演过一场古装露天戏。是请伦敦的艺人来演的。当然，筹备这类玩意儿忙得你够呛。”

“哦，”我说。

她沉默了半晌，只顾埋头开车。

“迈克西姆好吗？”过了一会，她问。

“很好，谢谢你，”我说。

“心情很舒畅？”

“哦，是的。挺舒畅。”

车子来到乡村小街上，她不得不集中思想开车。我不知道是否该把丹弗斯太太的事告诉她，还有费弗尔那家伙。不过，我怕她无意中声张出去，说不定还会告诉迈克西姆。

“比阿特丽斯，”我还是决定说了，“你可听说过一个名叫费弗尔的人？杰克-费弗尔？”

“杰克-费弗尔，”她重复了一遍。“不错，这个名字很熟。让我想一想，杰克-费弗尔。对了，是他，一个浪荡公子。几年以前我见过他一面。”

“昨天他到曼陀雨来看丹弗斯太太。”我说。

“真的？哦，是嘛，也许他常常……”

“为什么呢？”我问。

“我想他是吕蓓卡的表哥吧，”她告诉我。

我大感意外．那家伙竟是她的亲戚？在我想来，吕蓓卡的表兄决不是那种模样。杰克-费弗尔，她的表兄！“哦，”我说。“哦，这我可没有想到。”

“很可能他过去是曼陀丽的常客，”比阿特丽斯说。“我也搞不清楚。实在说不上来。我难得去那儿。”她的神态变得相当冷淡，我觉得她似乎无意继续谈论这个话题。

“我不怎么喜欢这个人，”我说。

“是嘛，”比阿特丽斯说。“也难怪你不喜欢。”

我洗耳恭听，可是却没有下文，我想，最好还是别提费弗尔要我替他保密的事儿。一提起就可能把事情闹大，何况这时我们已接近目的地了，眼前出现两扇涂白漆的大门，一条平坦的沙砾车道。

“别忘了，老太太眼睛差不多瞎了，”比阿特丽斯说。“近来人也有些懵懂。我给护士打过电话说我们要来，所以不会有什么问题。”

这是幢高大的人字形红砖楼房，大概是维多利亚王朝后期的建筑物，外表不怎么吸引人，一眼看上去就知道这幢房子里仆役成群，家务事由精明强干的人操持着。而所有这一切，都是为了个双目几乎失明的老太太。

开门的是一个长得端端正正的客厅侍女。

“你好，诺拉，身体好吗？”比阿特丽斯说。

“好很，谢谢您，太太，希望您全家安康。”

“哦，是的，我们一家子都好。老太太近来怎么样，诺拉？”

“好坏很难说，太太。一阵子清楚，一阵子湖涂。她的身子嘛，您也知道不算太精。我敢说她见了您一定很高兴，”她好奇地瞟了我一眼。

“这位是迈克西姆夫人，”比阿特丽斯说。

“哦，太太，您好，”诺拉说。

我们穿过狭窄的门廊走过摆满家具的客厅，来到阳台上。阳台前面是块修剪过的四方草坪。阳台台阶上的几只玉石花瓶里，养着好几株鲜天竺葵。阳台角落里有一张装轮子的安乐椅，比阿特丽斯的祖母正坐在椅子里，身子用披巾裹着，背后垫着几只枕头。走近一看，我发现她的相貌跟迈克西姆像得出奇。要是迈克西姆年逾古稀，而且也双目失明，一定就是这个模样。坐在她旁边椅子里的护士一面站起身来，一面在她刚才高声朗读的那本书里插上一个书签。她朝比阿特丽斯莞尔一笑。

“莱西夫人，您好！”她说。

比阿特丽斯跟她握手并把我介绍给她。“看来老太太挺硬朗的，”她说。“八十六岁高龄，身子还这么健，真是难得。奶奶，我们来啦，”她提高嗓门。“安然到达啦。”

祖母朝我们这边望着。“亲爱的比，”她说，“你真是个好姑娘，特地来看望我这个老婆子。我们这儿沉闷得很，没有什么好让你消遣的。”

比阿特丽斯凑过身子去吻她。“我把迈克西姆的妻子带来见你啦，”她说。“她早就想来看你，可是她和迈克西姆一直挺忙的。”

比阿特丽斯在我背上戳了一下。“去亲亲她，”她轻声说。于是我也俯身在老太太面颊上亲了一下。

老祖母用手指摸着我的脸说：“好姑娘，谢谢你到这儿来看我。见到你我很高兴，亲爱的。你应该把迈克西姆也带来嘛。”

“迈克西姆上伦敦去了，”我说。“要到晚上才回来。”

“下回一定得带他一起来，”她说。“坐吧，亲爱的，就坐在这把椅子里，让我好好看看你。比，你也过来，坐这一边。宝贝儿罗杰好吗？那个小淘气也不想来看看我这老太婆。”

“八月里他会来的，”比阿特丽斯大声说。“你知道，他要离开伊顿书院去上牛津大学了，”

“哦，天哪，他快要长成个大人啦，我要认不得他了。”

“他个儿已经比贾尔斯高了，”比阿特丽斯说。

她滔滔不绝地谈着贾尔斯和罗杰，还拉扯她养的马啊，狗啊。那护士拿出绒线来编结，手中的编结针咔嗒咔嗒碰撞作声。她转过身子，满面春风，兴致勃勃跟我搭话。

“您喜欢曼陀丽吗，德温特夫人？”

“很喜欢。谢谢你，”我说。

“那可是个风景优美的地方，是吗？”她说着，编针一上一下交替穿插。“现在我们当然不能去了，她去不了啦。多遗憾！真留恋我们过去在曼陀丽度过的时光。”

“你一定得抽个时间来玩玩，”我说。

“谢谢您，我是很想去的。德温特先生身体好吧？”

“是的，很好。”

“你们是在意大利度蜜月的吧？收到德温特先生寄来的美术明信片，我们可高兴哪。”

我不明白她用“我们”两字，是以一家之主自居呢，还是表示她和迈克西姆的祖母已融为一体了。

“他寄来过一张吗？我怎么不记得？”

“哦，寄过的。当时大家都高兴极了。这类玩意儿我们很喜欢。不瞒您说，我们备有一本剪贴薄，凡是跟这个家族有点头关系的东西全都贴在里边。当然都是些看着叫人高兴的东西。”

“多有意思，”我说。

那边比阿特丽斯说话的一言半语，不时传到我耳朵里来。“我们只得把马克斯曼老爹给丢开了，”她说。“你还记得马克斯曼者爹吗？他是我手下最好的猎手。”

“哦，天哪，不会是马克斯曼老爹吧？”祖母说。

“是他，可怜的老头。两只眼睛全瞎了。”

“可怜的马克斯曼，”老太太应了一句。

我暗自嘀咕，在老太太面前提什么眼瞎的事总不太得体吧，我不由得朝护士望了一眼。她只顾咔嗒咔嗒忙着编结。

“您打猎吧，德温特夫人？”她问。

“不瞒你说，我不打猎，”我说。

“说不定有一天您会爱上这一行。我们这儿一带的人没有不热中于打猎的。”

“哦。”

“德温特夫人酷爱艺术，”比阿特丽斯对护士说，“我对她说，曼陀丽庄园风光宜人，堪入画面的胜景秀色多的是。”

“哦，不错，”护士表示同意，她急如穿梭的手指暂时停了一下。“真是情趣高尚的爱好。我有个朋友，是个妙笔生花的女画家。有一年复活节我们一起到普罗旺斯去，她画的素描真美极了。”

“多有意思，”我说。

“我们在谈素描呢，”比阿特丽斯大声对她祖母说。“你不知道吧，咱们家里有了个艺术家！”

“谁是艺术家？”老太太问。“我可不知道有什么艺术家。”

“你这位新过门的孙媳妇，”比阿特丽斯说。“你问问她，我给她送了件什么样的结婚礼物。”

我微笑着，等老太太发间。她朝我这边转过头来。“比姑娘在说些什么呀？”她说。“我可不知道你是个艺术家。我们家里从来没有人搞艺术。”

“比阿特丽斯在说笑话，”我说。“我怎么能算艺术家，只不过闲着没事喜欢涂几笔消遣消遣罢了。我没有受过什么专门训练。比阿特丽斯送了我几本书，精美极了。”

“哦，”她给搞糊涂了。“比阿特丽斯送你几本书？这倒有点像往纽卡斯尔送煤①呢，你说是吗？曼陀丽藏书室里的书还少吗？”她放声大笑。我们也被她的笑话逗乐了。我希望这个话题就谈到这儿为止，可比阿特丽斯还是一个劲儿唠叨下去。“你不明白，奶奶，”她说。“那可不是些普通的书。是有关艺术的。六大本呢。”——

①英国谚语，意思多此一举。

护士也凑过来献殷勤。“莱西夫人是说德温特夫人有个爱好，就是非常喜欢画画。所以她就送了六大部好书，全是关于绘画的，作为结婚礼物。”

“这事做得多可笑，”祖母说。“怎么能拿书当结婚礼物？我结婚的时候就没人送书。就算有谁送了，我也决不会有心思去读它。”

她又哈哈一笑。比阿特丽斯面有愠色。我朝她笑笑以示同情。她大概并没有注意到。护士又打起毛线来。

“我想用茶点了，”老太太没好气地说。“难道还没到四点半？诺拉干吗还不把茶点端来？”

“怎么？中午吃了那么多，现在又饿了？”护士说着站起身来，朝那位由她照料的病人乐呵呵地一笑。

我感到困顿不堪，真不明白上了年纪的人有时竟这么难以应付。他们比不懂事的小孩或自以为是的青年人更难对付，因为你得顾全礼貌，虚与委蛇。自己竟产生这种冷漠无情的念头，我不禁大吃一惊。我双手揣在怀里端坐着，随时准备应和别人的言谈。护士拍打几下枕头，又把披肩给她裹了个严实。

对于这么一番折腾，迈克西姆的祖母倒也忍受得住。她闭上眼睛，似乎也感到累了。现在这副样子更像迈克西姆了。我可以想象出她年轻时在曼陀丽的模样：身材颀长，眉清目秀，兜里装着糖，手里提着裙摆，生怕裙子沾上泥巴，绕过屋子朝马厩走去。我脑子里勾划出她束着腰、穿着高领上衣的形象；耳朵里仿佛听到她吩咐下午两点钟给她备好马车的声音。现在。这一切对她来说都已化作过眼烟云，一去不复返了。她丈夫离开人世已有四十个春秋，儿子逝世至今也已十五年。老人现在只得住在这所人字形红砖楼房里，在护士的看护下，尽其天年。在我看来，我们对老人喜怒哀乐的感情变化差不多一无所知。对孩童我们则很了解，了解他们的恐惧和希望。了解他们弄虚作假的把戏，不久前我自己就是个孩子，对这一切记忆犹新。而现在迈克西姆的祖母坐在那儿，身子裹在披巾里，那双可怜的眼睛什么也看不见，她内心究竟有何感受？脑子里究竟在转什么念头？她是否知道比阿特丽斯此刻哈欠连连，不住地在看手表？她有没有想到我们所以来看望她，无非是因为我们觉得理应这么做，聊尽小辈的一份孝心？——这样，待会儿比阿特丽斯回到家里就可以说一声了“好了，我可以有三个月问心无愧”。

她还想曼陀丽吗？还记得坐在餐桌旁用餐的情景吗？现在，她当年的座位已归了我。她是否也曾在栗子树下用过茶点？说不定这些事儿早已置诸脑后。被忘了个精光？莫非在她那张安祥、苍白的面庞后面，除了轻微的疼痛和莫名其妙的不适之感外，没有留下任何感情的涟漪，只是在煦日送暖时才隐隐生出一股欣慰感恩之情，而在寒意侵入时才打一阵寒颤？

但愿我有妙手回春的神力，能抹去她脸上岁月的烙印。但愿我能看到她恢复妙龄少女时的丰姿，脸色红润，披一头栗色卷发，跟她身边的比阿特丽斯一样机敏，矫健，也像比阿特丽斯那样津津有味地谈着打猎，谈着猎犬和马匹，而不是像现在这么果坐着，只顾闭目养神，任凭护士拍打垫在她脑后的枕头。

“你们知道，今天我们弄了不少好吃的，”护士说。“水芹三明治茶点。我们最喜欢吃水芹，是不？”

“今天轮到吃水芹？”迈克西姆的祖母一边说，一边从枕头上仰起头往门那边张望。“这你可没告诉我。诺拉怎么还不把茶点送来？”

“大姐，即使给我一千镑一天，我也不愿干你这份差使，”比阿特丽斯压低嗓门对护士嘟哝了一句。

“哦，我已经习惯了，莱西夫人，”护士笑着说。“您知道，这儿很舒服。当然，干我们这一行的，日子确实不大好过，不过有些病人要难侍候多了。比起他们来，她还算相当随和的呢。佣人也都乐于配合，说真的，这才是最要紧的。瞧，诺拉来了。”

客厅侍女拿来一张折迭式桌子和一块雪白的台布。

“诺拉，你怎么磨蹭了这么老半天？”老太太埋怨道。

“刚刚才四点半，太太。”诺拉用一种很特别的声调对她说，神态跟那护士一样，也是乐滋滋地满脸堆笑。我不知道迈克西姆的祖母是否觉察大家都用这种调门跟她说话。我不知道这种情况是打什么时候开始的，最初她是否曾注意到。也许那时候她曾对自己说：“多可笑，他们以为我老了呢。”到了后来，她也就逐渐习以为常，而时至今日，她会觉得这些人似乎向来就这么说话，此乃她生活中不可缺少的一部分陪衬。可是那位用糖喂马的栗发窈窕少女，如今却在何方？

我们把椅子拖到折迭式桌子旁边，开始吃起水芹三明治来。护士专为老太太准备了几片。“瞧，可不是一饱口福吗？”她说。

我瞧见那张平静、安祥的脸上慢慢绽开一丝笑影。“逢到吃水芹点心的日子，我是很高兴的，”她说。

茶烫得没法喝。护士端着茶，让她一点一点细抿慢呷。

“今天的茶水又是烧得滚开，”说着，护士对比阿特丽斯一点头。“这事儿真让人烦心。他们老是把茶炖在火上。我不知给他们讲过多少遍了，可他们就是不听。”

“哦，还不都是一个样！”比阿特丽斯说。“我已经不把这当作一回事了。”老太太用小匙搅拌她的那杯茶，目光茫然而恍惚。我真想知道她这会儿在想什么。

“你们在意大利的时候天气好吗？”护士问。

“好的，很暖和，”我说。

比阿特丽斯侧过脸来对着祖母说：“她说，他们在意大利度蜜月的时候天气可好哪，迈克西姆晒得黑黝黝的。”

“迈克西姆今天干吗不来？”老太太问。

“好奶奶，我们对你说过啦，迈克西姆有事上伦敦去了，”比阿特丽斯不耐烦地说。“你知道，是去赴个什么宴会。贾尔斯也去了。”

“哦，是这样，那你们刚才干吗说迈克西姆在意大利呢！”

“他在意大利呆过一阵子，奶奶。那是四月份。现在他们回到曼陀丽来了。”她朝护士瞥了一眼，耸耸肩膀。

“德温特先生和德温特夫人现在在曼陀丽住下了，”护士又说了一遍。

“这个月，庄园里真美，”我一边说一边将身子挨近迈克西姆的祖母。“现在玫瑰花全开了，我真该给带点儿来呢。”

“是啊，我喜欢玫瑰花，”她含含糊糊地说，然后凑过来，用那双黯淡无神的蓝眼睛盯着我瞧。“你也呆在曼陀丽？”

我噎了一下。大家一时语塞，后来还是比阿特丽斯打破冷场。扯着嗓门不耐烦地说；“我的好奶奶，你明明知道，她现在就住在那儿嘛！她和迈克西姆结婚啦。”

我注意到护士放下手里的那杯茶，朝老太太飞快地扫了一眼。老太太无力地价靠着枕垫，手指抓着披巾，嘴唇微微抖动起来。“你们，你们大家好罗唆呵，我听不懂你们讲什么。”然后她又朝我这边看着，眉头一轻，不住摇头。“你是哪家的姑娘，亲爱的？我从来没见过你吧？我不知道你长的啥模样。我不记得在曼陀丽有你这么个人。比，告诉我，这孩子是谁？为什么迈克西姆不把吕蓓卡带来？我多喜欢吕蓓卡。我的宝贝吕蓓卡哪儿去了？”

好一阵子大家没吭声，真是个叫人受罪的时刻。我感到脸上火辣辣的。护士赶紧站起身子朝安乐椅走去。

“给我把吕蓓卡找来，”老太太又重复了一句。“你们把吕蓓卡怎么啦？”比阿特丽斯笨手笨脚地从桌旁站起，差点把桌上的杯碟撞翻。她也窘得满脸通红，嘴巴抽搐着。

“我看你们最好还是走吧，莱西夫人，”护士红着脸，神色慌张地说。“看来她有点累了，她这么一发作，有时一连要糊涂好几个钟头。她不时会像现在这样兴奋一阵，想不到今天也出现这种情况，真遗憾。德温特夫人，我相信您会谅解的吧？”她向我赔不是。

“当然，”我赶紧说。“我们最好还是告辞吧。”

比阿特丽斯和我到处乱摸，寻找提包和手套。护士又转身去应付她的病人。“我说，这是怎么回事？你不想吃美味可口的水芹三明治？那是我专给你切的呢。”

“吕蓓卡在哪儿？为什么迈克西姆不来，不把吕蓓卡一起带来？”那厌倦而又带怨忿的微弱声音作了这样的回答。

我们穿过客厅，来到门廊，然后又从正门走了出去。比阿特丽斯一言不发，只顾发动汽车引擎。汽车顺着平坦的沙砾车道驶出白漆大门。

我目不斜视地凝望着前方的路面。我自己并不怎么在乎。如果在场的只有我一个，那我根本不会把这事放在心上。现在我倒担心比阿特丽斯会觉得不痛快。

整个儿事情把比阿特丽斯搞得狼狈不堪。

车子驶出村子时，她才对我说：“亲爱的，实在抱歉得很，真不知道该说什么才好。”

“瞧你胡说些什么，比阿特丽斯，”我赶忙说。“没什么要紧，一点也没关系。”

“我没想到她会来那么一下子，”比阿特丽斯说。“要不然我无论如何也不会领你去见她的。我真感到抱歉。”

“没什么好抱歉的，请别再说了。”

“真不明白是怎么搞的。你的情况她明明全知道。我写信告诉过她，迈克西姆也给她写过信。当时她对国外结婚的事儿还颇感兴趣呢。”

“你忘了她年纪有多大啦，”我说。“她怎么会记住这些个事呢？她没法把我跟迈克西姆联系起来，脑子里只有他跟吕蓓卡连结在一起的印象。”我们默不作声地驱车向前。能这么重新坐在汽车里，真是如释重负。汽车一路颠簸，急转弯时车身还猛地一歪，对这些，我现在全不在乎。

“我忘了她是很疼爱吕蓓卡的，”比阿特丽斯慢腾腾地说。“我好傻，竟没料到会出现这种场面。我想，去年那场灾祸，她并不完全明白是怎么回事。哦，老天爷，今天下午真是活见鬼。天晓得你会对我有什么看法。”

“行行好，别说了，比阿特丽斯，跟你说我不介意的。”

“吕蓓卡对老太太总是百般殷勤。她常常把老太太接到曼陀丽去住。我那可怜的好奶奶那时手脚还很灵便，吕蓓卡随便说什么总能逗得她笑得直不起腰。不用说，吕蓓卡向来很风趣，老太太就喜欢那样。她那个人，我是指吕蓓卡，自有一套讨人喜欢的本事；男人、女人、小孩，还有狗，都会被她迷住。我看老太太一直没把她忘掉。亲爱的，过了这么一个下午，你总不会感激我吧。”

“我不在乎，不在乎，”我只是机械在念叨着，巴不得比阿特丽斯能撇开这个话题。我不感兴趣。这事究竟有什么大不了？什么事值得如此耿耿于怀？

“贾尔斯一定会感到很难过，”比阿特丽斯说。“他会怪我带你上那儿去。‘你干了件多蠢的事，比。’我能想象到他训人的样子。接着，我就跟他好好吵上一架。”

“别提这件事，”我说。“最好把它忘了。否则会一传十，十传百，还要加油添酱呢。”

“贾尔斯只要一瞧见我的脸色，就知道出了什么糟糕的事。我从来没有什么事能瞒过他的。”

我沉吟不语。不讲我也知道，这件事将在他们那个好朋友圈子里捅出来。可以想象那是某个星期天的中午，餐桌旁围坐着那一群人，眼睛瞪得溜回，耳朵竖起，先是大气也不敢出，随后是一阵感叹——

“我的老天爷，多尴尬，当时你是怎么打圆场的？”然后又问：“她是怎么挺过来的？真窘死人啦！”

对我来说，唯一要紧的是千万别让迈克西姆知道这事。日后我也许会告诉弗兰克-克劳利，不过现在还不是时候，得过一阵子。

不大一会儿工夫，我们已驶上山巅的公路。极目远眺，已能见到克里斯城的第一排灰白屋顶；从那边往右，则是隐藏在山坳低地中的曼陀丽的葱郁密林，树林再过就是大海。

“你是不是一心急着要回家？”比阿特丽斯说。

“不，”我说。“不急。怎么？”

“要是我把车开到庄园门口，让你在那儿下车，你不会见怪，骂我是头大懒猪吧？我这会儿带紧点；正好可以赶上伦敦来的那班火车，省得贾尔斯雇车站的出租汽车。”

“当然不会见怪，”我说。“我可以沿着车道步行回去。”

“那就偏劳了，”她口气里带几分感激。

我看今天下午也真够她受的。她也想独自清静一下，不愿再在曼陀丽应付一顿晚了钟点的茶点。

我在庄园门口走下汽车。我们互相吻别。

“下回咱们见面时你得长胖点喔，”她说。“这么瘦骨伶仃，可不大好看。向迈克西姆问好。今天的事儿还得请你多多包涵。”她的车子一溜烟消失在飞扬的尘土之中，我转身沿着车道往庄园走回去。

当年迈克西姆的祖母正是在这条车道上策马驱车的。从那以来，不知车道是不是已经大改其样。那时她还是个少妇，策马打这儿经过时，也像我现在这样曾朝看门人的妻子微笑打招呼。那时候，看门人的妻子还得向她行屈膝礼，那条像伞一样撑开的裙子拖拂着路面。而现在这个女人，只是朝我微微一点头，然后忙着转身去叫唤屋后正跟几只小猫咪一起扒弄泥土的小男孩。迈克西姆的祖母曾低头避开几根下垂摇曳的树枝，让坐骑放开四蹄，在我此刻走着的车道上快步奔跑。那时的车道保养得很好，路面比现在宽阔，也比现在平坦。两旁的树木还没侵入车道。

浮现在我脑海里的并不是那个倚靠枕垫身裹披巾的老妪形象，而是当年她以曼陀丽为家时的少妇情影。我仿佛看到她带了几个小男孩在花园里漫步，那孩子是迈克西姆的父亲，他骑着玩具竹马咋达咋达跟在她身后，身上穿件浆得笔挺的诺福克上衣，头颈里围着白色的领饰。那时候，到海湾去野餐一顿就好比一次远征，难得有机会享受这种乐趣。不知在什么地方，大概是在哪本保存了多年的影集里吧，可能还收藏着一张照片——阖家围着一块摊在沙滩上的台布正襟危坐，后面是一排仆役，站在大食品篮的旁边，我仿佛又看到前几年时候的迈克西姆的祖母，已显出龙钟老态，拄根拐杖，在曼陀丽的平台上一步一步走着。有个人走在她身边，悉心搀扶着她，一边还发出朗朗笑声。此人苗条颀长。面目姣好，用比阿特丽斯的话来说，生来具有一套讨人喜欢的本领。想来不论谁见着都会喜欢，都会钟情的。

我终于来到车道的尽头，瞧见迈克西姆的汽车停在屋子前，不禁心头一喜，三步并作两步走进大厅，只见桌上放着他的帽子和手套。我朝藏书室走去，快到门口时，听到里面有人讲话，其中一个的嗓门压过另一个，那是迈克西姆的声音。门关着，我在门口踌躇了一下，设立刻走进去。

“你可以写信告诉他，就说是我讲的，叫他以后别再到曼陀丽来，听见没有？别管是谁告诉我的，这无关紧要。事有凑巧，我听人说昨天下午在这里看到过他的汽车。假如你想见他，尽可以到曼陀而外面去和他碰头。我不许他跨进这儿的门槛，明白吗？记住，这是我最后一次向你提出警告。”

我蹑手蹑脚地从藏书室门口溜开，走到楼梯口。我听见藏书室的门开了，便飞奔上楼，躲进画廊。丹弗斯太太走出藏书室，随手把门关上。我急忙贴着画廊的墙壁，身子缩作一团，生怕被她看见。我从墙根瞥见了她的脸。她气得面色煞白，五官歪扭着，显得狰狞可怕。

她悄悄声儿地疾步走上楼梯，拐进那扇通西厢的过道门，不见了。

过了一会我才慢慢走下楼梯，来到藏书室。我打开门，走进屋子，迈克西姆站在窗边，手里拿着几封信。他背对着我。有那么一刹那，我真想偷偷溜出去，上楼回自己房间，宁可一个人坐在那儿。想必是听到我的声音，只见他不耐烦地转过身来。

“这回又是谁来了，”他说。

我微笑着向他伸出双手。“你好哇！”我说

“哦，是你……”

我一眼就看出有什么事惹得他火冒三丈。他噘着嘴，屏紧的鼻孔气得煞白。“这两天你一个人干些什么来着？”说着，他在我额头上吻了一下，伸出胳臂搂住我的肩膀。他不过是昨天离开我的，可我仿佛觉得其间已不知相隔了多少年月。

“我去探望过你的祖母，”我说。“是今天下午比阿特丽斯开车子接我去的。”

“老太太身体怎么样？”

“还不错。”

“比阿特丽斯人呢？”

“她得赶回去接贾尔斯。”

我俩并肩临窗坐下。我把他的手攥在自己手里。“我真不愿你离开我，好惦记你啊！”我说。

“是吗？”他说。

过后，有一会我俩谁也不开口。我只是握着他的手。

“伦敦天热吗？”我说。

“是呀，热得难受。我一向讨厌那地方。”

我不知道他是否会把刚才在这儿对丹弗斯太太发火的一事儿告诉我。想想也奇怪，是谁对他说起费弗尔曾到这儿来过呢？

“你有什么心事吗？”我说。

“旅途很辛苦，累了，”他说。“二十四小时之内往返驾车两次，谁都受不了。”

他站起身走开去，点了支烟。我这时已明白，他是不会把丹弗期太太的事说给我听的。

“我也累了，”我慢悠悠地说。“今天可以算是一个挺有趣的日子哩。”[/FONT]

 

[j0n6dj2y2w]

Chapter fifteen

Maxim rang up the next morning to say he would be back about seven. Frith took the message. Maxim did not ask to speak to me himself. I heard the telephone ring while I was at breakfast and I thought perhaps Frith would come into the dining-room and say 'Mr de Winter on the telephone, Madam. ' I had put down my napkin and had risen to my feet. And then Frith came back into the dining-room and gave me the message. He saw me push back my chair and go to the door. 'Mr de Winter has rung off, Madam, ' he said, 'there was no message. Just that he would be back about seven. ' I sat down in my chair again and picked up my napkin. Frith must have thought me eager and stupid rushing across the dining-room. 'All right, Frith. Thank you, ' I said. I went on eating my eggs and bacon, Jasper at my feet, the old dog in her basket in the corner. I wondered what I should do with my day. I had slept badly; perhaps because I was alone in the room. I had been restless, waking up often, and when I glanced at my clock I saw the hands had scarcely moved. When I did fall asleep I had varied, wandering dreams. We were walking through woods, Maxim and I, and he was always just a little ahead of me. I could not keep up with him. Nor could I see his face. Just his figure, striding away in front of me all the time. I must have cried while I slept, for when I woke in the morning the pillow was damp. My eyes were heavy too, when I looked in the glass. I looked plain, unattractive. I rubbed a little rouge on my cheeks in a wretched attempt to give myself colour. But it made me worse. It gave me a false clown look. Perhaps I did not know the best way to put it on. I noticed Robert staring at me as I crossed the hall and went into breakfast. About ten o'clock as I was crumbling some pieces for the birds on the terrace the telephone rang again. This time it was for me. Frith came and said Mrs Lacy wanted to speak to me. 'Good morning, Beatrice, ' I said. 'Well, my dear, how are you?' she said, her telephone voice typical of herself, brisk, rather masculine, standing no nonsense, and then not waiting for my answer. 'I thought of motoring over this afternoon and looking up Gran. I'm lunching with people about twenty miles from you.

Shall I come and pick you up and we'll go together? It's time you met the old lady, you know. ' 'I'd like to very much, Beatrice, ' I said. 'Splendid. Very well, then. I'll come along for you about half past three. Giles saw Maxim at the dinner. Poor food, he said, but excellent wine. All right, my dear, see you later. ' The click of the receiver, and she was gone. I wandered back into the garden. I was glad she had rung up and suggested the plan of going over to see the grandmother. It made something to look forward to, and broke the monotony of the day. The hours had seemed so long until seven o'clock. I did not feel in my holiday mood today, and I had no wish to go off with Jasper to the Happy Valley and come to the cove and throw stones in the water. The sense of freedom had departed, and the childish desire to run across the lawns in sand-shoes. I went and sat down with a book and The Times and my knitting in the rose-garden, domestic as a matron, yawning in the warm sun while the bees hummed amongst the flowers. I tried to concentrate on the bald newspaper columns, and later to lose myself in the racy plot of the novel in my hands. I did not want to think of yesterday afternoon and Mrs Danvers. I tried to forget that she was in the house at this moment, perhaps looking down on me from one of the windows. And now and again, when I looked up from my book or glanced across the garden, I had the feeling I was not alone. There were so many windows in Manderley, so many rooms that were never used by Maxim and myself that were empty now; dust-sheeted, silent, rooms that had been occupied in the old days when his father and his grandfather had been alive, when there had been much entertaining, many servants. It would be easy for Mrs Danvers to open those doors softly and close them again, and then steal quietly across the shrouded room and look down upon me from behind the drawn curtains. I should not know. Even if I turned in my chair and looked up at the windows I would not see her. I remembered a game I had played as a child that my friends next-door had called 'Grandmother's Steps' and myself 'Old Witch'. You had to stand at the end of the garden with your back turned to the rest, and one by one they crept nearer to you, advancing in short furtive fashion. Every few minutes you turned to look at them, and if you saw one of them moving the offender had to retire to the back line and begin again.

But there was always one a little bolder than the rest, who came up very close, whose movement was impossible to detect, and as you waited there, your back turned, counting the regulation Ten, you knew, with a fatal terrifying certainty, that before long, before even the Ten was counted, this bold player would pounce upon you from behind, unheralded, unseen, with a scream of triumph. I felt as tense and expectant as I did then. I was playing 'Old Witch' with Mrs Danvers. Lunch was a welcome break to the long morning. The calm efficiency of Frith, and Robert's rather foolish face, helped me more than my book and my newspaper had done. And at half past three, punctual to the moment, I heard the sound of Beatrice's car round the sweep of the drive and pull up at the steps before the house. I ran out to meet her, ready dressed, my gloves in my hand. 'Well, my dear, here I am, what a splendid day, isn't it?' She slammed the door of the car and came up the steps to meet me. She gave me a hard swift kiss, brushing me somewhere near the ear. 'You don't look well, ' she said immediately, looking me up and down, 'much too thin in the face and no colour. What's wrong with you?' 'Nothing, ' I said humbly, knowing the fault of my face too well. 'I'm not a person who ever has much colour. ' 'Oh, bosh, ' she replied, 'you looked quite different when I saw you before. ' 'I expect the brown of Italy has worn off, ' I said, getting into the car. 'H'mph, ' she said shortly, 'you're as bad as Maxim. Can't stand any criticism about your health. Slam the door hard or it doesn't shut. ' We started off down the drive, swerving at the corner, going rather too fast. 'You're not by any chance starting an infant, are you?' she said, turning her hawk-brown eyes upon me. 'No, ' I said awkwardly. 'No, I don't think so. ' 'No morning sickness or anything like that?' 'No. ' 'Oh, well - of course it doesn't always follow. I never turned a hair when Roger was born. Felt as fit as a fiddle the whole nine months. I played golf the day before he arrived. There's nothing to be embarrassed about in the facts of nature, you know. If you have any suspicions you had better tell me. ' 'No, really, Beatrice, ' I said, 'there's nothing to tell. ' 'I must say I do hope you will produce a son and heir before long. It would be so terribly good for Maxim. I hope you are doing nothing to prevent it. ' 'Of course not, ' I said. What an extraordinary conversation. 'Oh, don't be shocked, ' she said, 'you must nevermind what I say.

After all, brides of today are up to everything. It's a damn nuisance if you want to hunt and you land yourself with an infant your first season. Quite enough to break a marriage up if you are both keen. Wouldn't matter in your case. Babies needn't interfere with sketching. How is the sketching, by the way?' 'I'm afraid I don't seem to do much, ' I said. 'Oh, really? Nice weather, too, for sitting out of doors. You only need a camp-stool and a box of pencils, don't you? Tell me, were you interested in those books I sent you?' 'Yes, of course, ' I said. 'It was a lovely present, Beatrice. ' She looked pleased. 'Glad you liked them, ' she said. The car sped along. She kept her foot permanently on the accelerator, and took every corner at an acute angle. Two motorists we passed looked out of their windows outraged as she swept by, and one pedestrian in a lane waved his stick at her. I felt rather hot for her. She did not seem to notice though. I crouched lower in my seat. 'Roger goes up to Oxford next term, ' she said, 'heaven knows what he'll do with himself. Awful waste of time I think, and so does Giles, but we couldn't think what else to do with him. Of course he's just like Giles and myself. Thinks of nothing but horses. What on earth does this car in front think it's doing? Why don't you put out your hand, my good man? Really, some of these people on the road today ought to be shot. ' We swerved into a main road, narrowly avoiding the car ahead of us. 'Had any people down to stay?' she asked. 'No, we've been very quiet, ' I said. 'Much better, too, ' she said, 'awful bore, I always think, those big parties. You won't find it alarming if you come to stay with us. Very nice lot of people all round, and we all know one another frightfully well. We dine in one another's houses, and have our bridge, and don't bother with outsiders. You do play bridge, don't you?' 'I'm not very good, Beatrice. ' 'Oh, we shan't mind that. As long as you can play. I've no patience with people who won't learn. What on earth can one do with them between tea and dinner in the winter, and after dinner? One can't just sit and talk. ' I wondered why. However, it was simpler not to say anything. 'It's quite amusing now Roger is a reasonable age, ' she went on, 'because he brings his friends to stay, and we have really good fun. You ought to have been with us last Christmas. We had charades.

 

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My dear, it was the greatest fun. Giles was in his element. He adores dressing up, you know, and after a glass or two of champagne he's the funniest thing you've ever seen. We often say he's missed his vocation and ought to have been on the stage. ' I thought of Giles, and his large moon face, his horn spectacles. I felt the sight of him being funny after champagne would embarrass me. 'He and another man, a great friend of ours, Dickie Marsh, dressed up as women and sang a duet. What exactly it had to do with the word in the charade nobody knew, but it did not matter. We all roared. ' I smiled politely. 'Fancy, how funny, ' I said. I saw them all rocking from side to side in Beatrice's drawing-room. All these friends who knew one another so well. Roger would look like Giles. Beatrice was laughing again at the memory. 'Poor Giles, ' she said. 'I shall never forget his face when Dick squirted the soda syphon down his back. We were all in fits. ' I had an uneasy feeling we might be asked to spend the approaching Christmas with Beatrice. Perhaps I could have influenza. 'Of course our acting was never very ambitious, ' she said. 'It was just a lot of fun amongst ourselves. At Manderley now, there is scope for a really fine show. I remember a pageant they had there, some years ago. People from London came down to do it. Of course that type of thing needs terrific organization. ' 'Yes, ' I said. She was silent for a while, and drove without speaking. 'How is Maxim?' she said, after a moment. 'Very well, thanks, ' I said. 'Quite cheerful and happy?' 'Oh, yes. Yes, rather. ' A narrow village street engaged her attention. I wondered whether I should tell her about Mrs Danvers. About the man Favell. I did not want her to make a blunder though, and perhaps tell Maxim. 'Beatrice, ' I said, deciding upon it, 'have you ever heard of someone called Favell? Jack Favell?' 'Jack Favell, ' she repeated. 'Yes, I do know the name. Wait a minute. Jack Favell. Of course. An awful bounder. I met him once, ages ago. ' 'He came to Manderley yesterday to see Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'Really? Oh, well, perhaps he would ... ' 'Why?' I said. 'I rather think he was Rebecca's cousin, ' she said. I was very surprised.

That man her relation? It was not my idea of the sort of cousin Rebecca would have. Jack Favell her cousin. 'Oh, ' I said. 'Oh, I hadn't realized that. ' 'He probably used to go to Manderley a lot, ' said Beatrice. 'I don't know. I couldn't tell you. I was very seldom there. ' Her manner was abrupt. It gave me the impression she did not want to pursue the subject. 'I did not take to him much, ' I said. 'No, ' said Beatrice. 'I don't blame you. ' I waited, but she did not say any more. I thought it wiser not to tell her how Favell had asked me to keep the visit a secret. It might lead to some complication. Besides, we were just coming to our destination. A pair of white gates and a smooth gravel drive. 'Don't forget the old lady is nearly blind, ' said Beatrice, 'and she's not very bright these days. I telephoned to the nurse that we were coming, so everything will be all right. ' The house was large, red-bricked, and gabled. Late Victorian I supposed. Not an attractive house. I could tell in a glance it was the sort of house that was aggressively well-kept by a big staff. And all for one old lady who was nearly blind. A trim parlour-maid opened the door. 'Good afternoon, Norah, how are you?' said Beatrice. 'Very well, thank you, Madam. I hope you are keeping well?' 'Oh, yes, we are all flourishing. How has the old lady been, Norah?' 'Rather mixed, Madam. She has one good day, and then a bad. She's not too bad in herself, you know. She will be pleased to see you I'm sure. ' She glanced curiously at me. "This is Mrs Maxim, ' said Beatrice. 'Yes, Madam. How do you do, ' said Norah. We went through a narrow hall and a drawing-room crowded with furniture to a veranda facing a square clipped lawn. There were many bright geraniums in stone vases on the steps of the veranda. In the corner was a Bath chair. Beatrice's grandmother was sitting there, propped up with pillows and surrounded by shawls. When we came close to her I saw that she had a strong, rather uncanny, resemblance to Maxim. That was what Maxim would look like, if he was very old, if he was blind. The nurse by her side got up from her chair and put a mark in the book she was reading aloud. She smiled at Beatrice. 'How are you, Mrs Lacy?' she said. Beatrice shook hands with her and introduced me. 'The old lady looks all right, ' she said. 'I don't know how she does it, at eighty-six. Here we are, Gran, ' she said, raising her voice, 'arrived safe and sound. ' The grandmother looked in our direction. 'Dear Bee, ' she said, 'how sweet of you to come and visit me.

We're so dull here, nothing for you to do. ' Beatrice leant over her and kissed her. 'I've brought Maxim's wife over to see you, ' she said, 'she wanted to come and see you before, but she and Maxim have been so busy. ' Beatrice prodded me in the back. 'Kiss her, ' she murmured. I too bent down and kissed her on the cheek. The grandmother touched my face with her fingers. 'You nice thing, ' she said, 'so good of you to come. I'm very pleased to see you, dear. You ought to have brought Maxim with you. ' 'Maxim is in London, ' I said, 'he's coming back tonight. ' 'You might bring him next time, ' she said. 'Sit down, dear, in this chair, where I can see you. And Bee, come the other side. How is dear Roger? He's a naughty boy, he doesn't come and see me. ' 'He shall come during August, ' shouted Beatrice; 'he's leaving Eton, you know, he's going up to Oxford. ' 'Oh, dear, he'll be quite a young man, I shan't know him. ' 'He's taller than Giles now, ' said Beatrice. She went on, telling her about Giles, and Roger, and the horses, and the dogs. The nurse brought out some knitting, and clicked her needles sharply. She turned to me, very bright, very cheerful. 'How are you liking Manderley, Mrs de Winter?' 'Very much, thank you, ' I said. 'It's a beautiful spot, isn't it?' she said, the needles jabbing one another. 'Of course we don't get over there now, she's not up to it. I am sorry, I used to love our days at Manderley. ' 'You must come over yourself some time, ' I said. "Thank you, I should love to. Mr de Winter is well, I suppose?' 'Yes, very well. ' 'You spent your honeymoon in Italy, didn't you? We were so pleased with the picture postcard Mr de Winter sent. ' I wondered whether she used 'we' in the royal sense, or if she meant that Maxim's grandmother and herself were one. 'Did he send one? I can't remember. ' 'Oh, yes, it was quite an excitement. We love anything like that. We keep a scrapbook you know, and paste anything to do with the family inside it. Anything pleasant, that is. ' 'How nice, ' I said. I caught snatches of Beatrice's conversation on the other side. 'We had to put old Marksman down, ' she was saying. 'You remember old Marksman? The best hunter I ever had. ' 'Oh, dear, not old Marksman?' said her grandmother. 'Yes, poor old man. Got blind in both eyes, you know. ' 'Poor Marksman, ' echoed the old lady.

 

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I thought perhaps it was not very tactful to talk about blindness, and I glanced at the nurse. She was still busy clicking her needles. 'Do you hunt, Mrs de Winter?' she said. 'No, I'm afraid I don't, ' I said. 'Perhaps you will come to it. We are all very fond of hunting in this part of the world. ' 'Yes. ' 'Mrs de Winter is very keen on art, ' said Beatrice to the nurse. 'I tell her there are heaps of spots in Manderley that would make very jolly pictures. ' 'Oh rather, ' agreed the nurse, pausing a moment from the fury of knitting. 'What a nice hobby. I had a friend who was a wonder with her pencil. We went to Provence together one Easter and she did such pretty sketches. ' 'How nice, ' I said. 'We're talking about sketching, ' shouted Beatrice to her grandmother, 'you did not know we had an artist in the family, did you?' 'Who's an artist?' said the old lady. 'I don't know any. ' 'Your new granddaughter, ' said Beatrice: 'you ask her what I gave her for a wedding present. ' I smiled, waiting to be asked. The old lady turned her head in my direction. 'What's Bee talking about?' she said. 'I did not know you were an artist. We've never had any artists in the family. ' 'Beatrice was joking, ' I said: 'of course I'm not an artist really. I like drawing as a hobby. I've never had any lessons. Beatrice gave me some lovely books as a present. ' 'Oh, ' she said, rather bewildered. 'Beatrice gave you some books, did she? Rather like taking coals to Newcastle, wasn't it? There are so many books in the library at Manderley. ' She laughed heartily. We all joined in her joke.


I hoped the subject would be left at that, but Beatrice had to harp on it. 'You don't understand, Gran, ' she said. "They weren't ordinary books. They were volumes on art. Four of 'em. ' The nurse leant forward to add her tribute. 'Mrs Lacy is trying to explain that Mrs de Winter is very fond of sketching as a hobby. So she gave her four fine volumes all about painting as a wedding present. ' 'What a funny thing to do, ' said the grandmother. 'I don't think much of books for a wedding present. Nobody ever gave me any books when I was married. I should never have read them if they had. ' She laughed again. Beatrice looked rather offended. I smiled at her to show my sympathy. I don't think she saw. The nurse resumed her knitting. 'I want my tea, ' said the old lady querulously, 'isn't it half past four yet? Why doesn't Norah bring the tea?' 'What? Hungry again after our big lunch?' said the nurse, rising to her feet and smiling brightly at her charge. I felt rather exhausted, and wondered, rather shocked at my callous thought, why old people were sometimes such a strain. Worse than young children or puppies because one had to be polite. I sat with my hands in my lap ready to agree with what anybody said. The nurse was thumping the pillows and arranging the shawls. Maxim's grandmother suffered her in patience. She closed her eyes as though she too were tired. She looked more like Maxim than ever.

 

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I knew how she must have looked when she was young, tall, and handsome, going round to the stables at Manderley with sugar in her pockets, holding her trailing skirt out of the mud. I pictured the nipped-in waist, the high collar, I heard her ordering the carriage for two o'clock. That was all finished now for her, all gone. Her husband had been dead for forty years, her son for fifteen. She had to live in this bright, red gabled house with the nurse until it was time for her to die. I thought how little we know about the feelings of old people. Children we understand, their fears and hopes and make-believe. I was a child yesterday. I had not forgotten. But Maxim's grandmother, sitting there in her shawl with her poor blind eyes, what did she feel, what was she thinking? Did she know that Beatrice was yawning and glancing at her watch? Did she guess that we had come to visit her because we felt it right, it was a duty, so that when she got home afterwards Beatrice would be able to say, 'Well, that clears my conscience for three months' ? Did she ever think about Manderley? Did she remember sitting at the dining-room table, where I sat? Did she too have tea under the chestnut tree? Or was it all forgotten and laid aside, and was there nothing left behind that calm, pale face of hers but little aches and little strange discomforts, a blurred thankfulness when the sun shone, a tremor when the wind blew cold? I wished that I could lay my hands upon her face and take the years away. I wished I could see her young, as she was once, with colour in her cheeks and chestnut hair, alert and active as Beatrice by her side, talking as she did about hunting, hounds, and horses. Not sitting there with her eyes closed while the nurse thumped the pillows behind her head. 'We've got a treat today, you know, ' said the nurse, 'watercress sandwiches for tea. We love watercress, don't we?' 'Is it watercress day?' said Maxim's grandmother, raising her head from the pillows, and looking towards the door. 'You did not tell me that. Why does not Norah bring in the tea?' 'I wouldn't have your job, Sister, for a thousand a day, ' said Beatrice sotto voce to the nurse. 'Oh, I'm used to it, Mrs Lacy, ' smiled the nurse; 'it's very comfortable here, you know. Of course we have our bad days but they might be a great deal worse. She's very easy, not like some patients. The staff are obliging too, that's really the main thing.

Here comes Norah. ' The parlour-maid brought out a little gate-legged table and a snowy cloth. 'What a time you've been, Norah, ' grumbled the old lady. 'It's only just turned the half-hour, Madam, ' said Norah in a special voice, bright and cheerful like the nurse. I wondered if Maxim's grandmother realized that people spoke to her in this way. I wondered when they had done so for the first time, and if she had noticed then. Perhaps she had said to herself, "They think I'm getting old, how very ridiculous', and then little by little she had become accustomed to it, and now it was as though they had always done so, it was part of her background. But the young woman with the chestnut hair and the narrow waist who gave sugar to the horses, where was she? We drew our chairs to the gate-legged table and began to eat the watercress sandwiches. The nurse prepared special ones for the old lady. "There, now, isn't that a treat?' she said. I saw a slow smile pass over the calm, placid face. 'I like watercress day, ' she said. The tea was scalding, much too hot to drink. The nurse drank hers in tiny sips. 'Boiling water today, ' she said, nodding at Beatrice. 'I have such trouble about it. They will let the tea stew. I've told them time and time again about it. They will not listen. ' 'Oh, they're all the same, ' said Beatrice. 'I've given it up as a bad job. ' The old lady stirred hers with a spoon, her eyes very far and distant. I wished I knew what she was thinking about. 'Did you have fine weather in Italy?' said the nurse. 'Yes, it was very warm, ' I said. Beatrice turned to her grandmother. 'They had lovely weather in Italy for their honeymoon, she says. Maxim got quite sunburnt. ' 'Why isn't Maxim here today?' said the old lady. 'We told you, darling, Maxim had to go to London, ' said Beatrice impatiently. 'Some dinner, you know. Giles went too. ' 'Oh, I see. Why did you say Maxim was in Italy?' 'He was in Italy, Gran. In April. They're back at Manderley now. ' She glanced at the nurse, shrugging her shoulders. 'Mr and Mrs de Winter are in Manderley now, ' repeated the nurse. 'It's been lovely there this month, ' I said, drawing nearer to Maxim's grandmother. 'The roses are in bloom now. I wish I had brought you some. ' 'Yes, I like roses, ' she said vaguely, and then peering closer at me with her dim blue eyes. 'Are you staying at Manderley too?' I swallowed.

There was a slight pause. Then Beatrice broke in with her loud, impatient voice, 'Gran, darling, you know perfectly well she lives there now. She and Maxim are married. ' I noticed the nurse put down her cup of tea and glance swiftly at the old lady. She had relaxed against the pillows, plucking at her shawl, and her mouth began to tremble. 'You talk too much, all of you. I don't understand. ' Then she looked across at me, a frown on her face, and began shaking her head. 'Who are you, my dear, I haven't seen you before? I don't know your face. I don't remember you at Manderley. Bee, who is this child? Why did not Maxim bring Rebecca? I'm so fond of Rebecca. Where is dear Rebecca?' There was a long pause, a moment of agony. I felt my cheeks grow scarlet. The nurse got to her feet very quickly and went to the Bathchair. 'I want Rebecca, ' repeated the old lady, 'what have you done with Rebecca?' Beatrice rose clumsily from the table, shaking the cups and saucers. She too had turned very red, and her mouth twitched. 'I think you'd better go, Mrs Lacy, ' said the nurse, rather pink and flustered. 'She's looking a little tired, and when she wanders like this it sometimes lasts a few hours. She does get excited like this from time to time. It's very unfortunate it should happen today. I'm sure you will understand, Mrs de Winter?' She turned apologetically to me. 'Of course, ' I said quickly, 'it's much better we should go. ' Beatrice and I groped for our bags and gloves. The nurse had turned to her patient again. 'Now, what's all this about? Do you want your nice watercress sandwich that I've cut for you?' 'Where is Rebecca? Why did not Maxim come and bring Rebecca?' replied the thin, querulous voice. We went through the drawing-room to the hall and let ourselves out of the front door. Beatrice started up the car without a word. We drove down the smooth gravel drive and out of the white gates. I stared straight in front of me down the road. I did not mind for myself. I should not have cared if I had been alone. I minded for Beatrice. The whole thing had been so wretched and awkward for Beatrice.

 

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She spoke to me when we turned out of the village. 'My dear, ' she began, 'I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't know what to say. ' 'Don't be absurd, Beatrice, ' I said hurriedly, 'it doesn't matter a bit. It's absolutely all right. ' 'I had no idea she would do that, ' said Beatrice. 'I would never have dreamt of taking you to see her. I'm so frightfully sorry. ' 'There's nothing to be sorry about. Please don't say any more. ' 'I can't make it out. She knew all about you. I wrote and told her, and so did Maxim. She was so interested in the wedding abroad. ' 'You forget how old she is, ' I said. 'Why should she remember that? She doesn't connect me with Maxim. She only connects him with Rebecca. ' We went on driving in silence. It was a relief to be in the car again. I did not mind the jerky motion and the swaying corners. 'I'd forgotten she was so fond of Rebecca, ' said Beatrice slowly, 'I was a fool not to expect something like this. I don't believe she ever took it in properly about the accident. Oh, Lord, what a ghastly afternoon. What on earth will you think of me?' 'Please, Beatrice, don't. I tell you I don't mind. ' 'Rebecca made a great fuss of her always. And she used to have the old lady over to Manderley. Poor darling Gran was much more alert then. She used to rock with laughter at whatever Rebecca said. Of course she was always very amusing, and the old lady loved that. She had an amazing gift, Rebecca I mean, of being attractive to people; men, women, children, dogs. I suppose the old lady has never forgotten her. My dear, you won't thank me for this afternoon. ' 'I don't mind, I don't mind, ' I repeated mechanically. If only Beatrice could leave the subject alone. It did not interest me. What did it matter after all? What did anything matter? 'Giles will be very upset, ' said Beatrice. 'He will blame me for taking you over. "What an idiotic thing to do, Bee. " I can hear him saying it. I shall get into a fine row. ' 'Don't say anything about it, ' I said. 'I would much rather it was forgotten. The story will only get repeated and exaggerated. ' 'Giles will know something is wrong from my face. I never have been able to hide anything from him. ' I was silent. I knew how the story would be tossed about in their immediate circle of friends. I could imagine the little crowd at Sunday lunch. The round eyes, the eager ears, and the gasps and exclamations - 'My Lord, how awful, what on earth did you do?' and then, 'How did she take it? How terribly embarrassing for everyone!' The only thing that mattered to me was that Maxim should never come to hear of it. One day I might tell Frank Crawley, but not yet, not for quite a while. It was not long before we came to the high road at the top of the hill.

In the distance I could see the first grey roofs of Kerrith, while to the right, in a hollow, lay the deep woods of Manderley and the sea beyond. 'Are you in a frightful hurry to get home?' said Beatrice. 'No, ' I said. 'I don't think so. Why?' 'Would you think me a perfect pig if I dropped you at the lodge gates? If I drive like hell now I shall just be in time to meet Giles by the London train, and it will save him taking the station taxi. ' 'Of course, ' I said. 'I can walk down the drive. ' 'Thanks awfully, ' she said gratefully. I felt the afternoon had been too much for her. She wanted to be alone again, and did not want to face another belated tea at Manderley. I got out of the car at the lodge gates and we kissed goodbye. 'Put on some weight next time I see you, ' she said; 'it doesn't suit you to be so thin. Give Maxim my love, and forgive me for today. ' She vanished in a cloud of dust and I turned in down the drive. I wondered if it had altered much since Maxim's grandmother had driven down it in her carriage. She had ridden here as a young woman, she had smiled at the woman at the lodge as I did now. And in her day the lodge-keeper's wife had curtseyed, sweeping the path with her full wide skirt. This woman nodded to me briefly, and then called to her little boy, who was grubbing with some kittens at the back. Maxim's grandmother had bowed her head to avoid the sweeping branches of the trees, and the horse had trotted down the twisting drive where I now walked. The drive had been wider then, and smoother too, better kept. The woods did not encroach upon it. I did not think of her as she was now, lying against those pillows, with that shawl around her. I saw her when she was young, and when Manderley was her home. I saw her wandering in the gardens with a small boy, Maxim's father, clattering behind her on his hobby horse. He would wear a stiff Norfolk jacket and a round white collar. Picnics to the cove would be an expedition, a treat that was not indulged in very often. There would be a photograph somewhere, in an old album - all the family sitting very straight and rigid round a tablecloth set upon the beach, the servants in the background beside a huge lunch-basket. And I saw Maxim's grandmother when she was older too, a few years ago. Walking on the terrace at Manderley, leaning on a stick. And someone walked beside her, laughing, holding her arm.

Someone tall and slim and very beautiful, who had a gift, Beatrice said, of being attractive to people. Easy to like, I supposed, easy to love. When I came to the end of the long drive at last I saw that Maxim's car was standing in front of the house. My heart lifted, I ran quickly into the hall. His hat and gloves were lying on the table. I went towards the library, and as I came near I heard the sound of voices, one raised louder than the other, Maxim's voice. The door was shut. I hesitated a moment before going in. 'You can write and tell him from me to keep away from Manderley in future, do you hear? Never mind who told me, that's of no importance. I happen to know his car was seen here yesterday afternoon. If you want to meet him you can meet him outside Manderley. I won't have him inside the gates, do you understand? Remember, I'm warning you for the last time. ' I slipped away from the door to the stairs. I heard the door of the library open. I ran swiftly up the stairs and hid in the gallery. Mrs Danvers came out of the library, shutting the door behind her. I crouched against the wall of the gallery so that I should not be seen. I had caught one glimpse of her face. It was grey with anger, distorted, horrible. She passed up the stairs swiftly and silently and disappeared through the door leading to the west wing. I waited a moment. Then I went slowly downstairs to the library. I opened the door and went in. Maxim was standing by the window, some letters in his hand. His back was turned to me. For a moment I thought of creeping out again, and going upstairs to my room and sitting there. He must have heard me though, for he swung round impatiently. 'Who is it now?' he said. I smiled, holding out my hands. 'Hullo!' I said. 'Oh, it's you ... ' I could tell in a glance that something had made him very angry. His mouth was hard, his nostrils white and pinched. 'What have you been doing with yourself?' he said. He kissed the top of my head and put his arm round my shoulder. I felt as if a very long time had passed since he had left me yesterday. 'I've been to see your grandmother, ' I said. 'Beatrice drove me over this afternoon. ' 'How was the old lady?' 'All right. ' 'What's happened to Bee?' 'She had to get back to meet Giles. ' We sat down together on the window-seat. I took his hand in mine. 'I hated you being away, I've missed you terribly, ' I said. 'Have you?' he said.
We did not say anything for a bit. I just held his hand. 'Was it hot up in London?' I said. 'Yes, pretty awful. I always hate the place. ' I wondered if he would tell me what had happened just now in the library with Mrs Danvers. I wondered who had told him about Favell. 'Are you worried about something?' I said. 'I've had a long day, ' he said, 'that drive twice in twenty-four hours is too much for anyone. ' He got up and wandered away, lighting a cigarette. I knew then that he was not going to tell me about Mrs Danvers. 'I'm tired too, ' I said slowly, 'it's been a funny sort of day. '

 

[j0n6dj2y2w]

第16章

关于举行化装舞会的主意，我记得最初是在某个星期天提出来的。那天下午，一大群客人纷至沓来。这天，弗兰克-克劳利在我们这儿吃了中饭，我们三人正指望在栗子树下享一个下午的清福，不料，车道拐角处却响起汽车马达声。这一下已来不及给弗里思打招呼。汽车一转眼开到我们跟前。当时，我们腋下夹着坐垫和报纸，猝不及防地站在平台上。

我们只得硬着头皮上前迎接那几位不速之客。事情往往这样，客人要么不来，一来就是三五成群，络绎不绝。大约过了半个小时，又驶来一辆车，接着又有三位乡邻从克里斯徒步来访。这天的清闲就此完了。一个下午，我们忙着接待一批又一批叫人头痛的泛泛之交，照例又得陪他们在屋前屋后兜上一圈，到玫瑰园走走，在草坪上散步，还要礼数周到地领他们到幸福谷去观光。

不用说，客人都留下用了茶点。这一来，再不能在栗子树下懒洋洋地啃黄瓜三明治，而是不得不在客厅里摆出全套茶具，正襟危坐地用茶，而这种场面我一向不胜厌恶。弗里思当然是得其所哉，在一旁竖眉瞪眼地支使罗伯特干这于那，而我呢，却是心慌意乱，狼狈不堪，简直不知道该怎么对付那一对偌大的银质茶炊和水壶。该在什么时候用滚水冲茶，怎么才算恰到火候，我简直无所适从；而再要强打起精神，敷衍身旁的客人，我就更是一筹莫展了。

在这种场合，弗兰克-克劳利实在是个不可多得的好帮手。他从我手中接过一盏盏茶盅，递到客人手里。由于尽顾着手里的银茶壶，我的对答言词似乎比平时更加含糊，不知所云。每逢这时，他就会在一旁很得体地悄悄插进一言半语，接过话头，巧妙地给我解了围。迈克西姆一直呆在客厅的另一头，应付着某个讨厌的家伙，给他看本书或是看幅画什么的。他施展出那套炉火纯青的应酬功夫，充当着完美无缺的男主人的角色。至于像沏茶这种玩意儿，在他看来不过是无关紧要的细枝末节。他自己的那杯茶已被忘在鲜花后面的一张茶几上冷了。而我和弗兰克就得在这一边照料一大帮子客人，满足他们的口腹之欲。我提着水壶冲茶，头上直冒热气；周到殷勤的弗兰克则像玩杂耍似地分送着薄煎饼和蛋糕。举行化装舞会的主意是克罗温夫人提出来的。这位夫人住在克里斯，是个讨厌的长舌妇。当时，客厅里出现了冷场——这在任何茶会上也都难免——我看见弗兰克刚想张嘴，吐出那句照例必讲的什么“天使打头顶飞过”①之类的傻话。就在这时，克罗温夫人一面将手里的蛋糕小心地搁在碟子边上，一面抬起头来望着恰巧站在她身边的迈克西姆——

①西洋迷信说法，认为众人之所以凑巧同时住嘴，乃鬼神使然。

“哦，德温特先生，”她说，“有件事我早就想问问您啦。请告诉我，您是不是有意恢复曼陀丽的化装舞会？”说着，她把头一歪，咧开嘴，露出她那排暴突的牙齿，这在她大概就算是嫣然一笑了。我赶紧低下头，借茶壶的保暖罩作掩护，一个劲儿喝着自己面前的那杯茶。

迈克西姆沉吟了半晌才开口，说话时全然不动声色，语气干巴巴的。“我没有想过，”他说。“我看别人也没有想到过吧。”

“喔，可是我敢说，我们大家都经常在念叨呢，”克罗温夫人接着说。“以往，这种舞会对我们这一带的人说来可是盛夏佳节。您不知道当年它给了我们多少生活乐趣。难道我还不能说服您重新考虑一下吗？”

“噢，我可说不上来，”迈克西姆干巴巴地说。“筹备起来太费事。你最好还是问问弗兰克-克劳利，这事要由他去张罗。”

“哦，克劳利先生，你一定得站在我这一边，”她真有一股锲而不舍的劲儿。另外也有一两个人在旁边帮腔。“这可是最得人心的一招哪，您知道，我们都很留恋曼陀丽的狂欢场面。”

我听见身旁的弗兰克用平静的语调说：“要是迈克西姆不反对，筹办工作我是不在乎的。这事得由他和德温特夫人决定，跟我可没关系。”

我当然立即成了进攻的目标。克罗温夫人把座椅一挪，这样，那只保暖罩就再也不能给我打掩护。“听我说，德温特夫人，您得说服您丈夫。只有您的话他才肯听。他应该开个舞会，对您这位新娘聊表庆贺。”

“可不是嘛，”有位男客附和说。“要知道，我们已经错过了婚礼，没能热闹一场，你们怎么好意思把我们的乐趣全给剥夺了呢。赞成在曼陀丽开化装舞会的人举手了。你瞧见了，德温特？一致赞成！”在场的人又是笑又是鼓掌。

迈克西姆点上一支烟，我俩的目光越过茶壶相遇。

“你看怎么样？”他说。

“我不知道，”我犹豫不决地说；“我无所谓。”

“她当然巴望能为她开个庆祝舞会，”克罗温夫人又饶舌了。“哪个姑娘不巴望这么热闹一场？我说，德温特夫人，您要是扮个德累斯顿牧羊女，把头发塞在大三角帽底下，那模样儿一定迷人。”

我想，就凭我这双笨拙的手脚，这副瘦骨伶仃的肩胛，还能扮得了典雅的德累斯顿牧羊女！这女人真是个白痴。难怪没人附和她。这一回我又得感激弗兰克，是他把话题从我身上引开的。

“其实，迈克西姆，”他说，“前几天就有人同我谈起过这事。‘克劳利先生，我想我们总该举行个什么仪式，为新娘祝贺一下吧？’此人这么说。‘我希望德温特先生会再举办一次舞会。过去，我们大家玩得可带劲呢。’说这话的是塔克，咱们自己农庄上的，”他面朝克罗温夫人补充了这么一句。“当然罗，不论什么样的娱乐他们都很喜欢。‘我可说不上来，’我告诉他。‘德温特先生没在我面前说起过。’”

“诸位听到了吧，”克罗温夫人得意洋洋地朝客厅里所有的人说。“我刚才怎么说来着？你们自己的人也要求开舞会。要是您顾不上我们，那也得为他们着想呀！”

迈克西姆疑惑不决的目光还是越过茶壶朝我扫来。我忽然想到，或许他是担心我承担不了吧；再说，他对我了如指掌，知道我这人怯生怕羞，到时候可能无法应付裕如。我不愿让他把我看得这么没用，也不想让他觉得我不给他争气。

“我想一定很有趣吧，”我说。

迈克西姆转过脸去，耸了耸肩。“既然这样，事情当然就算定了，”他说。“好吧，弗兰克，劳你着手去安排。最好还是让丹弗斯太大帮你一下。她一定还记得舞会的格局。”

“这么说来，那位了不起的丹弗斯太太还在你们这儿？”克罗温夫人说。

“是的，”迈克西姆简慢地说。“您是不是再吃点糕点？吃完了吗？那就让我们大家到花园里去走走吧。”

我们信步走出屋子，来到平台，大家七嘴八舌地议论开了：舞会应该开成什么样子，放在哪一天最合适；最后，总算让我大大松了口气，乘汽车来的那帮子人觉得该告辞了，而步行来的人，因为可以搭便车，也一起走了。我回到客厅，又倒了一杯茶，这会儿卸去了应酬的重负，我才好好品尝起茶味来；弗兰克也走了进来，我们把剩下的薄煎饼弄碎了统统吞下肚子，觉得像是在合伙做什么偷偷摸摸的事。

迈克西姆在草坪上扔木棒，逗耍杰斯珀取乐。我不知道，所有的家庭是不是全这样，客人一走就会顿时觉得神清气爽，来了劲头。有一阵子，我俩谁也不提舞会的事。后来，我喝完了茶，用手帕擦了擦粘乎乎的手指，对弗兰克说：“你说实话，对化装舞会这件事，你怎么看？”

弗兰克犹豫了一下，打眼角里朝窗外草坪上的迈克西姆膘了一眼。“我说不清楚，”他说。“看来迈克西姆并不反对，是吗？我想，他很同意这个建议呢。”

“他很难不同意，”我说。“克罗温夫人真是个讨厌的家伙。你当真相信她说的，曼陀丽的化装舞会是这儿一带的人朝夕谈论并时刻憧憬的唯一事儿吗？”

“我想他们都很喜欢有点娱乐活动，”弗兰克说。“要知道，我们这儿的人在这些事情上很有点默守成规。说实在的，克罗温夫人说该为您贺喜，我觉得并没有言过其实。德温特夫人，您毕竟是位新娘。”

这几句话听上去既浮夸又无聊。但愿弗兰克别老是这样刻板地讲究分寸。

“我可不是什么新娘，”我说。“我连像样的婚礼也没举行过，没穿白纱礼服，没戴香橙花，也没有姑娘跟随在身后当傧相。我可不要你们为我举行毫无意义的舞会。”

“张灯结彩的曼陀丽，景致分外优美动人，”弗兰克说。“我说，您一定会喜欢的。您不必费什么手脚，只要到时候出来迎接客人就行了，不会费什么劲儿。也许您愿意赏脸跟我跳一场舞吧？”

亲爱的弗兰克。我还真喜欢他那种略带几分严肃的骑士风度呐。

“你爱跳多少场，我就陪你跳多少场，”我说。“我只跟你和迈克西姆跳。”

“哦，那可太不得体了，”弗兰克郑重其事地说。“那样您会得罪客人的。谁邀请您，您就该跟谁跳。”

我忍俊不禁，赶紧掉过脸去。瞧这个老实人，上了人家当还蒙在鼓里，怪有趣的。

“克罗温夫人建议我扮德累斯顿牧羊女，你觉得这个主意可取吗？”我调皮地问。

他神情严肃地把我打量了一番，脸上没有一丝儿笑影。“是的，我觉得可取，”他说。“我想，您换上那身装束，确实很不错。”

我乐得哈哈大笑。“哦，弗兰克，亲爱的，我真喜欢你，”我说。他微微红了脸。我想，他对我脱口而出的唐突言词一定感到有点吃惊，甚至多少有点伤心吧，因为我在笑话他呢！

“我看不出我说的话有什么好笑，”他板着脸说。

迈克西姆从落地长官那儿走了进来，杰斯珀蹦跳着跟在他身后。“什么事这样高兴？”他说。

“弗兰克真有点骑士风度，”我说。“他认为克罗温夫人的建议并不可笑，似乎我真的可以扮个德累斯顿牧羊女。”

“克罗温夫人是个该死的讨厌鬼，”迈克西姆说。“如说要她写这么许多请贴，亲自去张罗这件事，她就不会这么起劲了。不过，情况向来就是这样。在本地人眼里，曼陀丽仿佛是防波堤尽头一顶供旅客歇脚的帐篷；这些人还希望我们上演个节目，给他们解解闷呢。恐怕我们得把全郡的人都请来呐！”

“我办事处里有记录，”弗兰克说。“其实也不须费什么劲。就是贴邮票花点时间。”

“这件事就偏劳你了，”迈克西姆说着，朝我笑笑。

“哦，这事由办事处负责，”弗兰克说。“德温特夫人完全不必劳神。”

假如我突然宣布有意承办舞会的全部事务，真不知他们会怎么说。也许先是哈哈大笑，接着话题一转，谈起别的事来。能卸去肩上的责任，我当然高兴，可是，想到自己甚至连贴邮票的本事也没有，又不免增加了我的自卑感。我不由得想起晨室里那张写字桌，还有那个鸽笼式文件架，每格的标签都是用那种尖头的斜体钢笔字写的。

“到时候你穿什么？”我问迈克西姆。

“我从来不化装，”迈克西姆说。“这是男主人可以享受的唯一特权。你说是吗？弗兰克？”

“德累斯顿牧羊女我实在没法扮，”我说。“我究竟该扮什么呢？化装这玩意儿我不怎么在行。”

“头上扎根缎带，扮个漫游仙境的爱丽丝不就得了，”迈克西姆调侃地说。“瞧你现在手指放在嘴里的模样，不是很像吗！”

“你说话别这么粗鲁，”我说。“我知道我的头发平直难看，可也不至于难看到那种程度。告诉你吧，我会让你和弗兰克大吃一惊的，到时候你们一定认不出我来。”

“只要你不把脸涂得墨黑，装成个猴子，任你扮什么都行，”迈克西姆说。

“好吧，就这么说定了，”我说。“我穿什么化装舞服，不到最后一分钟谁也不让知道，你们也别想打听。跟我来，杰斯珀，让他们胡说去，咱们不在乎。”我走到外面花园里的时候，听见迈克西姆在屋里笑，他还对弗兰克说了些什么，我没听清。

但愿他别老把我当小孩子看待，别把我看作一个娇生惯养、百事不管的孩子，待他兴致来了，就疼我一番，平时则多半把我丢在脑后，或者在我肩上一拍，说声“自个儿去玩吧”。但愿能想个法子使我显得比较聪明老成一些。难道就老是这样下去吗？由他一个人走在我前面，我则捉摸不透他的情绪，不明白藏在他心底的苦恼？难道我们永远不能呆在一起。他作为一个男人，我作为一个女人，肩并肩，手拉手地站在一块儿，中间没有鸿沟相隔？我不想当孩子。我要做他的妻子，他的母亲。我想变得老成一点。我站在平台上，咬着指甲，向大海那边眺望，而就在我孓身伫立的当儿，心里又嘀咕开了：西厢那些房间里的家具，是不是因为迈克西姆有吩咐，才那么原封不动地摆着？这个问题那天在我脑海里已翻腾了不知多少回。我不知道他是否也像丹弗斯太太那样，不时走进西厢，摸摸梳妆台上的发刷，打开衣柜门，还把手伸进衣堆。

“嗨，杰斯珀，”我大声呼唤。“快跑，跟我一起跑，跑呀，听见没有？”我撒开腿，发狂似地奔过草坪，心中燃烧着怒火，眼眶里噙着辛酸的热泪。杰斯珀蹦跳着跟在我身后，歇斯底里地汪汪乱叫。

有关化装舞会的消息不胫自走，一下子传开了。我的贴身使女克拉丽斯兴奋得眼睛闪光，非此莫谈。从她的态度可以看出，整个屋子的仆人都喜出望外。“弗里思先生说，这下又跟过去那时候一样啦，”克拉丽斯热切地说。“我今天早上听到他在过道里对艾丽斯这么说的。您穿什么呢，太太？”

“我也不知道，克拉丽斯，我想不出来，”我说。

“母亲要我打听清楚后告诉她，”克拉丽斯说。“上次在曼陀丽举行的舞会，她现在还记得清清楚楚，一点儿也没忘记。从伦敦租一套服装来，您看怎么样？”

“我还没拿定主意，克拉丽斯，”我说。“不过实话对你说，我决定了就告诉你，而且只告诉你一个人。这个秘密只有你我两人知道，可不能走漏半点风声。”

“哦，太太，真够刺激，”克拉丽斯压低嗓门说。“真巴不得马上就到那一天。”

我很想知道丹弗斯太太对这消息有何反应。打那天下午以来，我甚至连她在内线电话上的声音也怕听到，幸好有罗伯特在我们之间跑腿传话，我才逃脱了这一层难堪的折磨。我忘不了她在跟迈克西姆谈话后离开藏书室时的那副神情。谢天谢地，她总算没有看见我躲在画廊里。我还怀疑，她会不会以为是我把费弗尔来访的事告诉迈克西姆的。要真是这样，她一定益发恨我了。现在，我只要一想到她曾使劲掐住我的胳臂，还用那亲呢得叫人毛骨悚然的口吻在我耳边柔声细语，就不由得浑身直打哆嗦。我想把那天下午的事全抛在脑后，这就是我避免跟她交谈，甚至怕在内线电话里跟她交谈的缘故。

舞会在筹办之中。所有的准备工作似乎都是在庄园办事处里进行的，迈克西姆和弗兰克每天早上都去那儿议事。弗兰克说得不错，我一点也不必为之劳神，而且连一张邮票也没贴过。我开始为自己的化装舞服伤脑筋。在这问题上我竟一筹莫展，似乎也太无能了；我脑子里一直在盘算会有哪些人来参加舞会：有克里斯的来宾，也有这儿附近的；有从上次舞会享受莫大乐趣的主教夫人，有比阿特丽斯和贾尔斯，有那位令人讨厌的克罗温夫人，还有许许多多从未见到过我的陌生人。所有这些人都会对我评头品足，带着几分好奇心想看看我会怎么应付这种场面。最后，绝望之余，我想到了比阿特丽斯作为结婚礼送我的那本书。于是一天早晨，我在藏书室里坐定，抱着最后一线希望，翻动书页，发狂似地将插图一幅又一幅浏览一遍，可似乎又没有合适的。鲁宾斯、仑布兰特以及其他名画家复制作品里的那些豪华的天鹅绒服和丝绸服，全都是花团锦簇，工丽非凡。我抓起纸笔，随手临摹了其中一两幅，但都不中我的意。一气之下，我干脆把那几幅素描往废纸篓里一扔，再也不去想它们了。

黄昏，我正在换衣服准备去吃晚饭的当儿，忽然有人敲我卧室的房门。我说了声“进来”，心想一定是克拉丽斯。门开了，来人不是克拉丽斯，而是手里拿着张纸的丹弗斯太太。“希望您能原谅我这时来打扰您，”她说。“我拿不准您是不是真的不要这些画了，一天下来，屋子里所有的废纸篓总要拿来让我检查过目，免得无意间扔掉什么有价值的东西。罗伯特对我说，这张纸是您扔在藏书室废纸篓里的。”

一看见她我就全身发冷，一上来，连话也说不出来。她把纸塞到我跟前。我一看，原来是我早晨信手临摹的草图。

“不，丹弗斯太太，”过了一会儿，我才说。“扔了没关系。不过是张草图。我不要了。”

“那好，”她说。“我想最好还是问过您本人，免得发生误会。”

“是的，”我说，“当然是这样好。”我以为她会转身走开，不料她还是在门口踯躅着不肯离去。

“看来，您还没决定穿什么化装服？”她说，语气里多少带点嘲弄和幸灾乐祸的意味。我想，她大概从克拉丽斯那儿打听到我正为化装舞服伤脑筋。

“是的，”我说。“还没最后拿定主意。”

她继续盯着我瞧，手搁在门把上。

“我不明白，您干吗不从画廊的画像里选一幅，照样子临摹下来，”她说。

我装着磨指甲的样子，其实指甲已经很短，很脆，不宜再磨，可这样手里好歹算有事干了，而且不必抬头看她。

“是的，也许是个不坏的主意。”我嘴上这么说，心里却在暗自嘀咕；嗨，我怎么不曾想到这上头去。看来，我的这个难题可以迎刃而解啦。不过我不想让她知道，我还是不动声色地继续磨我的指甲。

“画廊里的画像，张张都提供了上乘的服装式样，”丹弗斯太太说。“尤其是那幅手拿帽子的白衣少女画像。我真不明白，德温特先生为什么不让这次舞会开成个古装舞会，大家都穿上差不多属于同一个时代的化装服，看上去也顺眼。一个小丑跟一位敷了脂粉、贴着美容斑①的太太翩翩起舞，看着总觉得别扭。”“有人喜欢花样多一些，”我说。“他们觉得这样才更有意思。”——

①指十七、十八世纪欧洲贵妇脸上的黑色美容贴片。

“我可不喜欢，”丹弗斯太太说。叫我呼惊的是，她此刻说话的口吻不但同常人一样，而且显得相当友好。我不知道她为什么不嫌其烦，把我扔掉的草图亲自给我送来。她终于想跟我握手言和了？要不她已经打听清楚，我根本没有在迈克西姆面前告费弗尔的状，所以就用这种方式对我的缄默表示感谢？

“德温特先生没有建议您穿什么样的化装服吗？”她说。

“没有，”我迟疑了一会说。“不，我要让他和克劳利先生大吃一惊。在这件事情上，我什么也不想让他们知道。”

“我知道，我不配给您提什么建议，”她说。“不过要是您最后决定了，我劝您还是让伦敦的铺子给您赶制服装。这类事情这儿没人能做得像样的。据我所知，邦德大街的沃斯成衣铺，缝工很出色。”

“我一定记在心里，”我说。

“那好，”她一边开门，一边接着说，“太太，要是换了我，一定仔仔细细琢磨画廊里的那些画，尤其是我刚才提到的那幅。您不必担心我会把您的秘密泄漏出去。我一定守口如瓶。”

“谢谢你，丹弗斯太太，”我说。她走出屋去，轻手轻脚地把门带上。我继续更衣。她今天的态度跟我们上次见面时比，判若两人，真叫人捉摸不透，说不定这还得归功于那个讨厌的费弗尔呢。

吕蓓卡的表兄。为什么迈克西姆不喜欢吕蓓卡的表兄？为什么不许他上曼陀丽来？比阿特丽斯称他为浪荡公子，别的就没多说什么。我越想越觉得比阿特丽斯说的有道理。那双火辣辣的蓝眼睛，那张肌肉松弛的嘴，还有那种肆无忌惮的笑声。有的人可能会觉得他迷人，例如，糖果店柜台后面那些格格嘻笑的小妞儿，还有电影院里发售说明书的姑娘。我能想象此人会怎么笑咪咪地包眼瞅着她们，嘴里嘘嘘轻声吹着小调。那种目光，那种口哨，会让人感到浑身不舒服。我不清楚他对曼陀丽有多熟悉，看来似乎像在家一样随便，杰斯珀也肯定认得他。可是这两宗事实，同迈克西姆对丹弗斯太太说的话却对不起口径。而且，我也没法把此人跟我想象中的吕蓓卡联系在一起。吕蓓卡姿色出众，妖冶诱人，教养不凡，怎么会有个像费弗尔那样的表兄？这岂非咄咄怪事。我料定他是家庭里见不得人的丑类。吕蓓卡为人豁达，对他不时示以同情，同时也知道迈克西姆不喜欢他，所以就趁迈克西姆外出的当儿，邀他来曼陀丽作客。这一来也许就发生了某些龃龉，而吕蓓卡又总是袒护表兄，所以此后只要一提起费弗尔这个人，总会出现多少有点尴尬的局面。

晚餐时，我在餐厅的老位置上坐定。迈克西姆居首席。这时，我不禁浮想联翩，想象着吕蓓卡正坐在我现在的位置上，拿起刀叉准备吃鱼。电话铃响了，弗里思进来通报：“太太，费弗尔先生等您听电话。”吕蓓卡从椅子上站起，朝迈克西姆飞快扫了一眼，而迈克西姆呢，一声不吱，只顾埋头吃鱼。她听完电话回来，重新入座，用一种满不在乎的轻快口吻谈起一些不相干的事儿，借此掩饰笼罩在他们之间的那层朦胧阴影。起初，迈克西姆沉着脸，嗯嗯啊啊地勉强应答；后来她告诉他今天遇上了什么事，在克里斯见到了谁，终于渐渐驱散了他心头的阴霾，使他心情重新开朗起来。这就样，等到他们吃完下一道菜的时候，他又开怀大笑了。他微笑着看她，还从桌子这头向她伸过手去。

“瞧你这么出神，究竟在想些什么啊？”迈克西姆说。

我吓了一跳，脸蓦地红了。这一瞬间，大概有六十秒的工夫吧，我竟然和吕蓓卡融成一体，而我自己这具呆板无味的形体已不复存在，根本就没上曼陀丽这儿来过。我的思想，我的肉体，整个儿都遇到昔日的飘渺幻境之中。

“你可知道，你没在吃鱼，而是在挤眉噘嘴，做着一连串莫名其妙的滑稽动作？”迈克西姆说。“起先，你竖起耳朵，似乎听到了电话铃声，接着你嘴里念念有词，偷偷瞟我一眼。后来，你又摇头，又抿嘴微笑，又耸肩膀，大概只用一秒钟就做了这一系列的动作。你在练习怎么在化装舞会上漏脸亮相吧？”他从桌子那头望着我，呵呵大笑。我暗自思忖，要是他真的看透了我的思想、我的心情、我的悬念，知道刚才那一瞬间我把他当作往年的迈克西姆，而我自己俨然成了吕蓓卡，他会怎么说？“你看上去活像个调皮的小捣蛋，”他说。“告诉我是怎么回事？”

“没什么，”我赶忙说。“我什么也没干。”

“告诉我你刚才想什么来着？”

“干吗要告诉你？你从来就不告诉我你自己在想些什么。”

“你好像从来没问起过，对吗？”

“不，有一次我问过你。”

“我不记得了。”

“那是在藏书室里。”

“很可能的。当时我怎么说？”

“你对我说，你在想塞雷队选中了谁来与中塞克斯队对垒。”

迈克西姆又是哈哈一笑。“你大失所望了。你希望我在想什么呢？”

“另外一些很不同的事。”

“什么样的事？”

“哦，那我就说不上来啦。”

“是嘛，我想你没法说的。要是我告诉你，我在想塞雷队和中塞克斯队，那我就是在想塞雷队和中塞克斯队。我们男人要比你想象的来得直率，我亲爱的小宝贝。可是谁也没法捉摸女人弯来绕去的脑子里在转些什么念头。你可知道，你刚才的模样一点也不像你本人？你脸上的神态跟往常大不一样。”

“是吗？什么样的神态？”

“我觉得自己也说不清楚。你一下突然变得老多了，一副狡诈的样子。看上去很不顺眼。”

“我不是有意要那样的。”

“是呀，我想那也不是你的本意。”

我端起杯子喝水，一边从杯口上方瞅着他。

“你不想要我显得年长几岁吗？”我说。

“不。”

“为什么？”

“因为那对你不合适。”

“总有一天我会变个老太婆，这是免不了的。我头上会长出白发，脸上会布满皱纹，显出老态。”

“这些我不在乎。”

“那你在乎什么呢？”

“我不希望看到你刚才的那副模样。你嘴巴一歪，眼睛里闪着领悟到某种事理的灵光，不过那可是种不该明白的事理。”

这话好生奇怪，我不由得一阵冲动：“迈克西姆，你这话是什么意思？哪会有什么不该明白的事理呢？”

他并没有立即回答我的问题。弗里思走进餐厅，撒换桌上的菜盘。迈克西姆等弗里思转到屏风后面，打那道专供上菜进出的边门出去之后，才接着说。

“我初次遇见你的时候，你脸上带有某种表情，”他慢条斯理地说。“你现在仍然带着这种神情。我不打算具体加以描述，老实说我也描述不好。不管怎么说，这可是我娶你的一个原因。可是刚才，就在你挤眉噘嘴，作出一些怪动作的时候，那种表情却消失不见了。取而代之的是另外一种表情。”

“什么样的表情？你讲呀，迈克西姆，”我急切地说。

他打量我一眼，眉毛一扬，轻轻吹了一声口哨。“听着，我的宝贝。在你还是个小姑娘的时候，大人是不是不许你看某些禁书？你父亲是不是还把这些书锁得严严实实的？”

“是这样，”我说。

“那就是了。丈夫毕竟跟父亲差不了多少。对于某种事理，我宁可不让你茅塞顿开，最好也把它严严实实地锁起来。就是这么回事。好了，现在吃你的桃子吧，别再冲着我间这问那了，否则我可要罚你立壁角。”

“我希望你别把我当个六岁的小孩子，”我说。

“那要我怎么对待你呢？”

“要像别的男人对待他们妻子那样。”

“你的意思是要我揍你？”

“别这么没真没假的，行吗？干吗对什么事都要开一下玩笑呢？”

“我可没在说笑话。我是很严肃的。”

“你才不呢。我可以从你的眼神里看出来。你一直在逗弄我，好像我是个傻丫头。”

“漫游仙境的爱丽丝。这可是我给你出的一个好主意。腰带和束发缎带买了没有？”

“我警告你，看到我穿上化装舞服的时候，可别傻了眼。”

“那还用说，一定会惊得目瞪目呆、快把桃子咽下去吧，别把东西含在嘴里说话。饭后我还要写不少信。”他不等我吃完就站起身，在屋里踱来踱去。随后吩咐弗里思把咖啡送到藏书室去。我一声不吭地坐着，满肚子怨气；我故意慢腾腾地吃，尽量拖时间，想惹他发火。可是弗里思一点也不顾及我和我的那盘桃子，立即把咖啡送了去，于是迈克西姆也就独自上藏书室去了。

 

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chapter sixteen

It was one Sunday, I remember, when we had an invasion of visitors during the afternoon, that the subject of the fancy dress ball was first brought up. Frank Crawley had come over to lunch, and we were all three of us looking forward to a peaceful afternoon under the chestnut tree when we heard the fatal sound of a car rounding the sweep in the drive. It was too late to warn Frith, the car itself came upon us standing on the terrace with cushions and papers under our arms. We had to come forward and welcome the unexpected guests. As often happens in such cases, these were not to be the only visitors. Another car arrived about half an hour afterwards, followed by three local people who had walked from Kerrith, and we found ourselves, with the peace stripped from our day, entertaining group after group of dreary acquaintances, doing the regulation walk in the grounds, the tour of the rose-garden, the stroll across the lawns, and the formal inspection of the Happy Valley. They stayed for tea of course, and instead of a lazy nibbling of cucumber sandwiches under the chestnut tree, we had the paraphernalia of a stiff tea in the drawing-room, which I always loathed. Frith in his element of course, directing Robert with a lift of his eyebrows, and myself rather hot and flustered with a monstrous silver teapot and kettle that I never knew how to manage. I found it very difficult to gauge the exact moment when it became imperative to dilute the tea with the boiling water, and more difficult still to concentrate on the small talk that was going on at my side. Frank Crawley was invaluable at a moment like this.

He took the cups from me and handed them to people, and when my answers seemed more than usually vague owing to my concentration on the silver teapot he quietly and unobtrusively put in his small wedge to the conversation, relieving me of responsibility. Maxim was always at the other end of the room, showing a book to a bore, or pointing out a picture, playing the perfect host in his own inimitable way, and the business of tea was a side-issue that did not matter to him. His own cup of tea grew cold, left on a side table behind some flowers, and I, steaming behind my kettle, and Frank gallantly juggling with scones and angel cake, were left to minister to the common wants of the herd. It was Lady Crowan, a tiresome gushing woman who lived in Kerrith, who introduced the matter. There was one of those pauses in conversation that happen in every teaparty, and I saw Frank's lips about to form the inevitable and idiotic remark about an angel passing overhead, when Lady Crowan, balancing a piece of cake on the edge of her saucer, looked up at Maxim who happened to be beside her. 'Oh, Mr de Winter, ' she said, 'there is something I've been wanting to ask you for ages. Now tell me, is there any chance of you reviving the Manderley fancy dress ball?' She put her head on one side as she spoke, flashing her too prominent teeth in what she supposed was a smile. I lowered my head instantly, and became very busy with the emptying of my own teacup, screening myself behind the cosy. It was a moment or two before Maxim replied, and when he did his voice was quite calm and matter-of-fact. 'I haven't thought about it, ' he said, 'and I don't think anyone else has. ' 'Oh, but I assure you we have all thought of it so much, ' continued Lady Crowan. 'It used to make the summer for all of us in this part of the world. You have no idea of the pleasure it used to give. Can't I persuade you to think about it again?' 'Well, I don't know, ' said Maxim drily. 'It was all rather a business to organize. You had better ask Frank Crawley, he'd have to do it. ' 'Oh, Mr Crawley, do be on my side, ' she persisted, and one or two of the others joined in. 'It would be a most popular move, you know, we all miss the Manderley gaiety. ' I heard Frank's quiet voice beside me. 'I don't mind organizing the ball if Maxim has no objection to giving it. It's up to him and Mrs de Winter. It's nothing to do with me. ' Of course I was bombarded at once.

Lady Crowan moved her chair so that the cosy no longer hid me from view. 'Now, Mrs de Winter, you get round your husband. You are the person he will listen to. He should give the ball in your honour as the bride. ' 'Yes, of course, ' said somebody else, a man. 'We missed the fun of the wedding, you know; it's a shame to deprive us of all excitement. Hands up for the Manderley fancy dress ball. There you see, de Winter? Carried unanimously. ' There was much laughter and clapping of hands. Maxim lit a cigarette and his eyes met mine over the teapot. 'What do you think about it?' he said. 'I don't know, ' I said uncertainly. 'I don't mind. ' 'Of course she longs to have a ball in her honour, ' gushed Lady Crowan. 'What girl wouldn't? You'd look sweet, Mrs de Winter, dressed as a little Dresden shepherdess, your hair tucked under a big three-cornered hat. ' I thought of my clumsy hands and feet and the slope of my shoulders. A fine Dresden shepherdess I should make! What an idiot the woman was. I was not surprised when nobody agreed with her, and once more I was grateful to Frank for turning the conversation away from me. 'As a matter of fact, Maxim, someone was talking about it the other day. "I suppose we shall be having some sort of celebration for the bride, shan't we, Mr Crawley?" he said. "I wish Mr de Winter would give a ball again. It was rare fun for all of us. " It was Tucker at the home farm, ' he added, to Lady Crowan. 'Of course they do adore a show of any kind. I don't know, I told him. Mr de Winter hasn't said anything to me. ' 'There you are, ' said Lady Crowan triumphantly to the drawing-room in general. 'What did I say? Your own people are asking for a ball. If you don't care for us, surely you care about them. ' Maxim still watched me doubtfully over the teapot. It occurred to me that perhaps he thought I could not face it, that being shy, as he knew only too well, I should find myself unable to cope. I did not want him to think that. I did not want him to feel I should let him down. 'I think it would be rather fun, ' I said. Maxim turned away, shrugging his shoulders. "That settles it of course, ' he said. 'All right, Frank, you will have to go ahead with the arrangements. Better get Mrs Danvers to help you. She will remember the form. ' 'That amazing Mrs Danvers is still with you then?' said Lady Crowan. 'Yes, ' said Maxim shortly, 'have some more cake, will you? Or have you finished?

 

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Then let's all go into the garden. ' We wandered out on to the terrace, everyone discussing the prospect of the ball and suitable dates, and then, greatly to my relief, the car parties decided it was time to take their departure, and the walkers went too, on being offered a lift. I went back into the drawing-room and had another cup of tea which I thoroughly enjoyed now that the burden of entertaining had been taken from me, and Frank came too, and we crumbled up the remains of the scones and ate them, feeling like conspirators. Maxim was throwing sticks for Jasper on the lawn. I wondered if it was the same in every home, this feeling of exuberance when visitors had gone. We did not say anything about the ball for a little while, and then, when I had finished my cup of tea and wiped my sticky fingers on a handkerchief, I said to Frank: 'What do you truthfully think about this fancy dress business?' Frank hesitated, half glancing out of the window at Maxim on the lawn. 'I don't know, ' he said. 'Maxim did not seem to object, did he? I thought he took the suggestion very well, ' 'It was difficult for him to do anything else, ' I said. 'What a tiresome person Lady Crowan is. Do you really believe all the people round here are talking and dreaming of nothing but a fancy dress ball at Manderley?' 'I think they would all enjoy a show of some sort, ' said Frank. 'We're very conventional down here, you know, about these things. I don't honestly think Lady Crowan was exaggerating when she said something should be done in your honour. After all, Mrs de Winter, you are a bride. ' How pompous and stupid it sounded. I wished Frank would not always be so terribly correct. 'I'm not a bride, ' I said. 'I did not even have a proper wedding. No white dress or orange blossom or trailing bridesmaids. I don't want any silly dance given in my honour. ' 'It's a very fine sight, Manderley en fete, ' said Frank. 'You'll enjoy it, you see. You won't have to do anything alarming. You just receive the guests and there's nothing in that. Perhaps you'll give me a dance?' Dear Frank. I loved his little solemn air of gallantry. 'You shall have as many dances as you like, ' I said. 'I shan't dance with anyone except you and Maxim. ' 'Oh, but that would not look right at all, ' said Frank seriously. 'People would be very offended. You must dance with the people who ask you. ' I turned away to hide my smile.

It was a joy to me the way he never knew when his leg had been pulled. 'Do you think Lady Crowan's suggestion about the Dresden shepherdess was a good one?' I said slyly. He considered me solemnly without the trace of a smile. 'Yes, I do, ' he said. 'I think you'd look very well indeed. ' I burst into laughter. 'Oh, Frank, dear, I do love you, ' I said, and he turned rather pink, a little shocked I think at my impulsive words, and a little hurt too that I was laughing at him. 'I don't see that I've said anything funny, ' he said stiffly. Maxim came in at the window, Jasper dancing at his heels. 'What's all the excitement about?' he said. 'Frank is being so gallant, ' I said. 'He thinks Lady Crowan's idea of my dressing up as a Dresden shepherdess is nothing to laugh at. ' 'Lady Crowan is a damned nuisance, ' said Maxim. 'If she had to write out all the invitations and organize the affair she would not be so enthusiastic. It's always been the same though. The locals look upon Manderley as if it was a pavilion on the end of a pier, and expect us to put up a turn for their benefit. I suppose we shall have to ask the whole county. ' 'I've got the records in the office, ' said Frank. 'It won't really entail much work. Licking the stamps is the longest job. ' 'We'll give that to you to do, ' said Maxim, smiling at me. 'Oh, we'll do that in the office, ' said Frank. 'Mrs de Winter need not bother her head about anything at all. ' I wondered what they would say if I suddenly announced my intention of running the whole affair. Laugh, I supposed, and then begin talking of something else. I was glad, of course, to be relieved of responsibility, but it rather added to my sense of humility to feel that I was not even capable of licking stamps. I thought of the writing-desk in the morning-room, the docketed pigeonholes all marked in ink by that slanting pointed hand. 'What will you wear?' I said to Maxim. 'I never dress up, ' said Maxim. 'It's the one perquisite allowed to the host, isn't it, Frank?' 'I can't really go as a Dresden shepherdess, ' I said, 'what on earth shall I do? I'm not much good at dressing up. ' 'Put a ribbon round your hair and be Alice-in-Wonderland, ' said Maxim lightly; 'you look like it now, with your finger in your mouth. ' 'Don't be so rude, ' I said. 'I know my hair is straight, but it isn't as straight as that.

I tell you what, I'll give you and Frank the surprise of your lives, and you won't know me. ' 'As long as you don't black your face and pretend to be a monkey I don't mind what you do, ' said Maxim. 'All right, that's a bargain, ' I said. 'I'll keep my costume a secret to the last minute, and you won't know anything about it. Come on, Jasper, we don't care what they say, do we?' I heard Maxim laughing at I went out into the garden, and he said something to Frank which I did not catch. I wished he would not always treat me as a child, rather spoilt, rather irresponsible, someone to be petted from time to time when the mood came upon him but more often forgotten, more often patted on the shoulder and told to run away and play. I wished something would happen to make me look wiser, more mature. Was it always going to be like this? He away ahead of me, with his own moods that I did not share, his secret troubles that I did not know? Would we never be together, he a man and I a woman, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, with no gulf between us? I did not want to be a child. I wanted to be his wife, his mother. I wanted to be old. I stood on the terrace, biting my nails, looking down towards the sea, and as I stood there I wondered for the twentieth time that day whether it was by Maxim's orders that those rooms in the west wing were kept furnished and untouched. I wondered if he went, as Mrs Danvers did, and touched the brushes on the dressing-table, opened the wardrobe doors, and put his hands amongst the clothes. 'Come on, Jasper, ' I shouted, 'run, run with me, come on, can't you?' and I tore across the grass, savagely, angrily, the bitter tears behind my eyes, with Jasper leaping at my heels and barking hysterically. The news soon spread about the fancy dress ball. My little maid Clarice, her eyes shining with excitement, talked of nothing else. I gathered from her that the servants in general were delighted. 'Mr Frith says it will be like old times, ' said Clarice eagerly. 'I heard him saying so to Alice in the passage this morning. What will you wear, Madam?' 'I don't know, Clarice, I can't think, ' I said. 'Mother said I was to be sure and tell her, ' said Clarice. 'She remembers the last ball they gave at Manderley, and she has never forgotten it. Will you be hiring a costume from London, do you think?' 'I haven't made up my mind, Clarice, ' I said. 'But I tell you what. When I do decide, I shall tell you and nobody else.

 

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It will be a dead secret between us both. ' 'Oh, Madam, how exciting, ' breathed Clarice. 'I don't know how I am going to wait for the day. ' I was curious to know Mrs Danvers' reaction to the news. Since that afternoon I dreaded even the sound of her voice down the house telephone, and by using Robert as mediator between us I was spared this last ordeal. I could not forget the expression of her face when she left the library after that interview with Maxim. I thanked God she had not seen me crouching in the gallery. And I wondered, too, if she thought that it was I who had told Maxim about Favell's visit to the house. If so, she would hate me more than ever. I shuddered now when I remembered the touch of her hand on my arm, and that dreadful soft, intimate pitch of her voice close to my ear. I did not want to remember anything about that afternoon. That was why I did not speak to her, not even on the house telephone. The preparations went on for the ball. Everything seemed to be done down at the estate office. Maxim and Frank were down there every morning. As Frank had said, I did not have to bother my head about anything. I don't think I licked one stamp. I began to get in a panic about my costume. It seemed so feeble not to be able to think of anything, and I kept remembering all the people who would come, from Kerrith and round about, the bishop's wife who had enjoyed herself so much the last time, Beatrice and Giles, that tiresome Lady Crowan, and many more people I did not know and who had never seen me, they would every one of them have some criticism to offer, some curiosity to know what sort of effort I should make. At last, in desperation, I remembered the books that Beatrice had given me for a wedding present, and I sat down in the library one morning turning over the pages as a last hope, passing from illustration to illustration in a sort of frenzy. Nothing seemed suitable, they were all so elaborate and pretentious, those gorgeous costumes of velvet and silk in the reproductions given of Rubens, Rembrandt and others. I got hold of a piece of paper and a pencil and copied one or two of them, but they did not please me, and I threw the sketches into the waste-paper basket in disgust, thinking no more about them. In the evening, when I was changing for dinner, there was a knock at my bedroom door. I called 'Come in, ' thinking it was Clarice.

The door opened and it was not Clarice. It was Mrs Danvers. She held a piece of paper in her hand. 'I hope you will forgive me disturbing you, ' she said, 'but I was not sure whether you meant to throw these drawings away. All the waste-paper baskets are always brought to me to check, at the end of the day, in case of mislaying anything of value. Robert told me this was thrown into the library basket. ' I had turned quite cold all over at the sight of her, and at first I could not find my voice. She held out the paper for me to see. It was the rough drawing I had done during the morning. 'No, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, after a moment, 'it doesn't matter throwing that away. It was only a rough sketch. I don't want it. ' 'Very good, ' she said, 'I thought it better to inquire from you personally to save any misunderstanding. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, of course. ' I thought she would turn and go, but she went on standing there by the door. 'So you have not decided yet what you will wear?' she said. There was a hint of derision in her voice, a trace of odd satisfaction. I supposed she had heard of my efforts through Clarice in some way. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I haven't decided. ' She continued watching me, her hand on the handle of the door. 'I wonder you don't copy one of the pictures in the gallery, ' she said. I pretended to file my nails. They were too short and too brittle, but the action gave me something to do and I did not have to look at her. 'Yes, I might think about that, ' I said. I wondered privately why such an idea had never come to me before. It was an obvious and very good solution to my difficulty. I did not want her to know this though. I went on filing my nails. 'All the pictures in the gallery would make good costumes, ' said Mrs Danvers, 'especially that one of the young lady in white, with her hat in her hand. I wonder Mr de Winter does not make it a period ball, everyone dressed more or less the same, to be in keeping. I never think it looks right to see a clown dancing with a lady in powder and patches. ' 'Some people enjoy the variety, ' I said. 'They think it makes it all the more amusing. ' 'I don't like it myself, ' said Mrs Danvers. Her voice was surprisingly normal and friendly, and I wondered why it was she had taken the trouble to come up with my discarded sketch herself.

Did she want to be friends with me at last? Or did she realize that it had not been me at all who had told Maxim about Favell, and this was her way of thanking me for my silence? 'Has not Mr de Winter suggested a costume for you?' she said. 'No, ' I said, after a moment's hesitation. 'No, I want to surprise him and Mr Crawley. I don't want them to know anything about it. ' 'It's not for me to make a suggestion, I know, ' she said, 'but when you do decide, I should advise you to have your dress made in London. There is no one down here can do that sort of thing well. Voce, in Bond Street, is a good place I know. ' 'I must remember that, ' I said. 'Yes, ' she said, and then, as she opened the door, 'I should study the pictures in the gallery, Madam, if I were you, especially the one I mentioned. And you need not think I will give you away. I won't say a word to anyone. ' "Thank you, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. She shut the door very gently behind her. I went on with my dressing, puzzled at her attitude, so different from our last encounter, and wondering whether I had the unpleasant Favell to thank for it. Rebecca's cousin. Why should Maxim dislike Rebecca's cousin? Why had he forbidden him to come to Manderley? Beatrice had called him a bounder. She had not said much about him. And the more I considered him the more I agreed with her. Those hot blue eyes, that loose mouth, and the careless familiar laugh. Some people would consider him attractive. Girls in sweet shops giggling behind the counter, and girls who gave one programmes in a cinema. I knew how he would look at them, smiling, and half whistling a tune under his breath. The sort of look and the type of whistle that would make one feel uncomfortable. I wondered how well he knew Manderley. He seemed quite at home, and Jasper certainly recognized him, but these two facts did not fit in with Maxim's words to Mrs Danvers. And I could not connect him with my idea of Rebecca. Rebecca, with her beauty, her charm, her breeding, why did she have a cousin like Jack Favell? It was wrong, out of all proportion. I decided he must be the skeleton in the family cupboard, and Rebecca with her generosity had taken pity on him from time to time and invited him to Manderley, perhaps when Maxim was from home, knowing his dislike. There had been some argument about it probably, Rebecca defending him, and ever after this perhaps a slight awkwardness whenever his name was mentioned.