We had lunch at a quarter to one. Frank came. Thank heaven Beatrice had telephoned that she could not get over. The boy Roger had arrived home with measles; they were all in quarantine. I could not help blessing the measles. I don't think Maxim could have borne it, with Beatrice sitting here, staying in the house, sincere, anxious, and affectionate, but asking questions all the time. Forever asking questions.
Lunch was a hurried, nervous meal. We none of us talked very much. I had that nagging pain again. I did not want anything to eat. I could not swallow. It was a relief when the farce of the meal was over, and I heard Maxim go out on to the drive and start up the car. The sound of the engine steadied me. It meant we had to go, we had to be doing something. Not just sitting at Manderley. Frank followed us in his own car. I had my hand on Maxim's knee all the way as he drove. He seemed quite calm. Not nervous in any way. It was like going with someone to a nursing home, someone who was to have an operation. And not knowing what would happen. Whether the operation would be successful. My hands were very cold. My heart was beating in a funny, jerky way. And all the time that little nagging pain beneath my heart. The inquest was to be held at Lanyon, the market town six miles the other side of Kerrith. We had to park the cars in the big cobbled square by the market-place. Doctor Phillips' car was there already, and also Colonel Julyan's. Other cars too. I saw a passer-by stare curiously at Maxim, and then nudge her companion's arm.
'I think I shall stay here,' I said. 'I don't think I'll come in with you after all.'
'I did not want you to come,' said Maxim. 'I was against it from the first. You'd much better have stayed at Manderley.'
'No,' I said. 'No, I'll be all right here, sitting in the car.' Frank came and looked in at the window. 'Isn't Mrs de Winter coming?' he said.
'No,' said Maxim. 'She wants to stay in the car.'
'I think she's right,' said Frank; 'there's no earthly reason why she should be present at all. We shan't be long.'
'It's all right,' I said.
'I'll keep a seat for you,' said Frank, 'in case you should change your mind.'
They went off together and left me sitting there. It was early-closing day. The shops looked drab and dull. There were not many people about. Lanyon was not much of a holiday centre anyway; it was too far inland. I sat looking at the silent shops. The minutes went by. I wondered what they were doing, the Coroner, Frank, Maxim, Colonel Julyan. I got out of the car and began walking up and down the market square. I went and looked in a shop window. Then I walked up and down again. I saw a policeman watching me curiously. I turned up a side-street to avoid him.
Somehow, in spite of myself, I found I was coming to the building where the inquest was being held. There had been little publicity about the actual time, and because of this there was no crowd waiting, as I had feared and expected. The place seemed deserted. I went up the steps and stood just inside the door.
A policeman appeared from nowhere. 'Do you want anything?' he said.
'No,' I said. 'No.'
'You can't wait here,' he said.
'I'm sorry,' I said. I went back towards the steps into the street.
'Excuse me, Madam,' he said, 'aren't you Mrs de Winter?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Of course that's different,' he said; 'you can wait here if you like. Would you like to take a seat just inside this room?'
'Thank you,' I said.
He showed me into a little bare room with a desk in it. It was like a waiting-room at a station. I sat there, with my hands on my lap. Five minutes passed. Nothing happened. It was worse than being outside, than sitting in the car. I got up and went into the passage. The policeman was still standing there.
'How long will they be?' I said.
'I'll go and enquire if you like,' he said.
He disappeared along the passage. In a moment he came back again. 'I don't think they will be very much longer,' he said. 'Mr de Winter has just given his evidence. Captain Searle, and the diver, and Doctor Phillips have already given theirs. There's only one more to speak. Mr Tabb, the boat-builder from Kerrith.'
'Then it's nearly over,' I said.
'I expect so, Madam,' he said. Then he said, on a sudden thought, 'Would you like to hear the remaining evidence? There is a seat there, just inside the door. If you slip in now nobody will notice you.'
'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, I think I will.'
It was nearly over. Maxim had finished giving his evidence. I did not mind hearing the rest. It was Maxim I had not wanted to hear. I had been nervous of listening to his evidence. That was why I had not gone with him and Frank in the first place. Now it did not matter. His part of it was over.
I followed the policeman, and he opened a door at the end of the passage. I slipped in, I sat down just by the door. I kept my head low so that I did not have to look at anybody. The room was smaller than I had imagined. Rather hot and stuffy. I had pictured a great bare room with benches, like a church. Maxim and Frank were sitting down at the other end. The Coroner was a thin, elderly man in pince-nez. There were people there I did not know. I glanced at them out of the tail of my eye. My heart gave a jump suddenly as I recognised Mrs Danvers. She was sitting right at the back. And Favell was beside her. Jack Favell, Rebecca's cousin. He was leaning forward, his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed on the Coroner, Mr Horridge. I had not expected him to be there. I wondered if Maxim had seen him. James Tabb, the boat-builder, was standing up now and the Coroner was asking him a question.
'Yes, sir,' answered Tabb, 'I converted Mrs de Winter's little boat. She was a French fishing boat originally, and Mrs de Winter bought her for next to nothing over in Brittany, and had her shipped over. She gave me the job of converting her and doing her up like a little yacht.'
'Was the boat in a fit state to put to sea?' said the Coroner.
'She was when I fitted her out in April of last year,' said Tabb. 'Mrs de Winter laid her up as usual at my yard in the October, and then in March I had word from her to fit her up as usual, which I did. That would be Mrs de Winter's fourth season with the boat since I did the conversion job for her.'
'Had the boat ever been known to capsize before?' asked the Coroner.
'No, sir. I should soon have heard of it from Mrs de Winter had there been any question of it. She was delighted with the boat in every way, according to what she said to me.'
'I suppose great care was needed to handle the boat?' said the Coroner.
'Well, sir, everyone has to have their wits about them, when they go sailing boats, I won't deny it. But Mrs de Winter's boat wasn't one of those cranky little craft that you can't leave for a moment, like some of the boats you see in Kerrith. She was a stout seaworthy boat, and could stand a lot of wind. Mrs de Winter had sailed her in worse weather than she ever found that night. Why, it was only blowing in fits and starts at the time. That's what I've said all along. I couldn't understand Mrs de Winter's boat being lost on a night like that.'
'But surely, if Mrs de Winter went below for a coat, as is supposed, and a sudden puff of wind was to come down from that headland, it would be enough to capsize the boat?' asked the Coroner.
James Tabb shook his head. 'No,' he said stubbornly, 'I don't see that it would.'
'Well, I'm afraid that is what must have happened,' said the Coroner. 'I don't think Mr de Winter or any of us suggest that your workmanship was to blame for the accident at all. You fitted the boat out at the beginning of the season, you reported her sound and seaworthy, and that's all I want to know. Unfortunately the late Mrs de Winter relaxed her watchfulness for a moment and she lost her life, the boat sinking with her aboard. Such accidents have happened before. I repeat again we are not blaming you.'
'Excuse me, sir,' said the boat-builder, 'but there is a little bit more to it than that. And if you would allow me I should like to make a further statement.'
'Very well, go on,' said the Coroner.
'It's like this, sir. After the accident last year a lot of people in Kerrith made unpleasantness about my work. Some said I had let Mrs de Winter start the season in a leaky, rotten boat. I lost two or three orders because of it. It was very unfair, but the boat had sunk, and there was nothing I could say to clear myself. Then that steamer went ashore, as we all know, and Mrs de Winter's little boat was found, and brought to the surface. Captain Searle himself gave me permission yesterday to go and look at her, and I did. I wanted to satisfy myself that the work I
