when Gray began to cross-question me about these loyal de Winter tenants that I first became uneasy. My misgivings soon deepened. Having exhausted the estate papers, Gray turned his attention to my own little archive. The Manderley family records might have gone up in smoke, but what about all that rich information packed away in my study—and in my memory?
It was then that the Terrier’s interrogations really started. He wanted to know about Lionel and poor Virginia and the Termagant. He wanted to know about Maxim as a boy, and he became very animated indeed when I let slip that, millennia ago, when my bluestocking sister, Rose, was young and lovely, she and Maxim had for a brief period been expected to marry. “Just before the first war?” he asked sharply.
“Round about then,” I said, retreating rapidly. “Probably nothing to it, now I look back. People were always speculating—he was the heir, after all. He and Rose were close in age; they were friends, which was surprising in some ways…”
“Why?”
“Because Rose always had her nose in a book, even then. And that wasn’t really Maxim’s taste at all. Most of the de Winters were philistines, now I think about it, and Maxim was influenced by them. He liked to be outdoors. He sailed. He rode. On the other hand, he was handsome. He was dashing. There was a streak of melancholy even then, even before the war—I expect that intrigued Rose….”
“He was also very rich, of course. One day, he would own Manderley.”
I was annoyed. “And you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think that would influence my sister,” I said with some heat. “You don’t know Rose. Rose was a socialist in the nursery. She was a suffragette at six. All Rose wanted to do was to go off to Cambridge, God help us, and spend the rest of her life writing unreadable books with lots of footnotes. Which is exactly what she did do. She’s now Dr . Julyan. She may even be Professor Julyan. She’s a feminist, a man-hating eccentric, and an embarrassment to the entire family.”
“I see you’re fond of her,” said Gray with a smile. “I’d like to meet your sister. I wonder if she’d talk to me?”
“Not a chance,” I said, somewhat piqued. “In the first place, Rose left here donkey’s years ago. She skedaddled off to Girton College, and she’s been in the Fens ever since. In the second, she’s vague and very unreliable. And in the third, she’s virtually a recluse.”
“A recluse? The Fens? Really? But Ellie said—”
“Unsociable, then,” I said, interrupting swiftly. “Forget the whole idea, Gray. Now—what were we talking about? I think we got a little sidetracked. Where were we? Remind me.”
“We were talking about Rebecca de Winter. That led you to the subject of her husband, and the type of women that interested him…. So I suppose we did sidetrack a little. But as always, sir, it was illuminating.”
Dry again! I cast a little glance in his direction. Gray was given to understatement, and I was never sure when he might be needling me. His expression now was perfectly bland and innocent. He steepled his fingers. “As a matter of fact,” he went on, “we were speaking of Rebecca’s death. Which interests me, as you know. A mysterious life—so little known—and an equally mysterious death. I was wondering, Colonel Julyan, if—”
“Time for my nap,” I said firmly. “We’ll discuss that another day. Down , Barker—in heaven’s name what’s the matter with that blasted dog? Will you stop that infernal whining and whiffling? Down , dammit, Gray is leaving….”
W E DID DISCUSS IT ANOTHER DAY—ON MANY OTHER days. At least, Gray attempted to do so, and I grew more recalcitrant and evasive. The habit of silence is hard to break, and a twenty-year-plus silence on this subject was, on my part, near insuperable. Things were not made any easier by my knowing full well that in Kerrith my failure to cooperate was unusual. Everyone else
It was then that the Terrier’s interrogations really started. He wanted to know about Lionel and poor Virginia and the Termagant. He wanted to know about Maxim as a boy, and he became very animated indeed when I let slip that, millennia ago, when my bluestocking sister, Rose, was young and lovely, she and Maxim had for a brief period been expected to marry. “Just before the first war?” he asked sharply.
“Round about then,” I said, retreating rapidly. “Probably nothing to it, now I look back. People were always speculating—he was the heir, after all. He and Rose were close in age; they were friends, which was surprising in some ways…”
“Why?”
“Because Rose always had her nose in a book, even then. And that wasn’t really Maxim’s taste at all. Most of the de Winters were philistines, now I think about it, and Maxim was influenced by them. He liked to be outdoors. He sailed. He rode. On the other hand, he was handsome. He was dashing. There was a streak of melancholy even then, even before the war—I expect that intrigued Rose….”
“He was also very rich, of course. One day, he would own Manderley.”
I was annoyed. “And you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think that would influence my sister,” I said with some heat. “You don’t know Rose. Rose was a socialist in the nursery. She was a suffragette at six. All Rose wanted to do was to go off to Cambridge, God help us, and spend the rest of her life writing unreadable books with lots of footnotes. Which is exactly what she did do. She’s now Dr . Julyan. She may even be Professor Julyan. She’s a feminist, a man-hating eccentric, and an embarrassment to the entire family.”
“I see you’re fond of her,” said Gray with a smile. “I’d like to meet your sister. I wonder if she’d talk to me?”
“Not a chance,” I said, somewhat piqued. “In the first place, Rose left here donkey’s years ago. She skedaddled off to Girton College, and she’s been in the Fens ever since. In the second, she’s vague and very unreliable. And in the third, she’s virtually a recluse.”
“A recluse? The Fens? Really? But Ellie said—”
“Unsociable, then,” I said, interrupting swiftly. “Forget the whole idea, Gray. Now—what were we talking about? I think we got a little sidetracked. Where were we? Remind me.”
“We were talking about Rebecca de Winter. That led you to the subject of her husband, and the type of women that interested him…. So I suppose we did sidetrack a little. But as always, sir, it was illuminating.”
Dry again! I cast a little glance in his direction. Gray was given to understatement, and I was never sure when he might be needling me. His expression now was perfectly bland and innocent. He steepled his fingers. “As a matter of fact,” he went on, “we were speaking of Rebecca’s death. Which interests me, as you know. A mysterious life—so little known—and an equally mysterious death. I was wondering, Colonel Julyan, if—”
“Time for my nap,” I said firmly. “We’ll discuss that another day. Down , Barker—in heaven’s name what’s the matter with that blasted dog? Will you stop that infernal whining and whiffling? Down , dammit, Gray is leaving….”
W E DID DISCUSS IT ANOTHER DAY—ON MANY OTHER days. At least, Gray attempted to do so, and I grew more recalcitrant and evasive. The habit of silence is hard to break, and a twenty-year-plus silence on this subject was, on my part, near insuperable. Things were not made any easier by my knowing full well that in Kerrith my failure to cooperate was unusual. Everyone else
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