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.
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.