Rebecca

And then he glanced quickly at Maxim, his eyes touching lightly upon those of his employer in a nervous, hurried way. Favell’s arguments started to become gradually clearer. I did not like it. I did not like it at all. Maxim de Winter? Murder his beautiful wife Rebecca? No one in this part of the world would believe it for a second. But then that glance. I looked over at his new wife, standing nervous in the corner, the coloured drained from her face leaving her white and pallid, almost transparent like the pages of a book. I had to read between the lines, that was my job, but still Maxim? I glanced over at the new Mrs de Winter again, her eyes downcast as Mrs Danvers entered the room. I had seen her before, at parties and gatherings at Manderly, but now she looked different. Her person had lost a certain sense of purpose and pride and though her features were cemented, she moved in a careful almost lost manner and looked at the other men in the room with a guarded sort of anxiety. ‘Good evening, Mrs Danvers.’ My voice rang out through the room, breaking the apprehensive silence that seemed to envelop my hosts. Their faces all mirrored a different kind of reverie. ‘Good evening, sir’ she replied. Her voice didn’t give anything away. I wanted to give the mechanical check of status that I’d been trained to do, but something made me want to choose my words carefully