"They've gone down,' she whispered,
'Mr de Winter, and Major and Mrs Lacy.
Mr Crawley has just come.
They are all standing in the hall.'
I peered through the archway at the head of the big staircase, and looked down on the hall below.
Yes, there they were.
Giles, in his white Arab dress, laughing loudly, showing the knife at his side; Beatrice swathed in an extraordinary green garment and hung about the neck with trailing beads; poor Frank self-conscious and slightly foolish in his striped jersey and sea-boots; Maxim, the only normal one of the party, in his evening clothes.
'I don't know what she's doing,' he said, 'she's been up in her bedroom for hours.
What's the time, Frank?
The dinner crowd will be upon us before we know where we are.'
The band were changed, and in the gallery already.
One of the men was tuning his fiddle.
He played a scale softly, and then plucked at a string.
The light shone on the picture of Caroline de Winter.
Yes, the dress had been copied exactly from my sketch of the portrait.
The puffed sleeve, the sash and the ribbon, the wide floppy hat I held in my hand.
And my curls were her curls, they stood out from my face as hers did in the picture.
I don't think I have ever felt so excited before, so happy and so proud.
I waved my hand at the man with the fiddle, and then put my finger to my lips for silence.
He smiled and bowed.
He came across the gallery to the archway where I stood.
'Make the drummer announce me,' I whispered, 'make him beat the drum, you know how they do, and then call out Miss Caroline de Winter. I want to surprise them below.'
He nodded his head, he understood.
My heart fluttered absurdly, and my cheeks were burning.
What fun it was, what mad ridiculous childish fun!
I smiled at Clarice still crouching on the corridor.
I picked up my skirt in my hands.
Then the sound of the drum echoed in the great hall, startling me for a moment, who had waited for it, who knew that it would come.
I saw them look up surprised and bewildered from the hall below.
'Miss Caroline de Winter,' shouted the drummer.
I came forward to the head of the stairs and stood there, smiling, my hat in my hand, like the girl in the picture.
I waited for the clapping and laughter that would follow as I walked slowly down the stairs.
Nobody clapped, nobody moved.
They all stared at me like dumb things.
Beatrice uttered a little cry and put her hand to her mouth.
I went on smiling, I put one hand on the bannister.
'How do you do, Mr de Winter,' I said.
Maxim had not moved.
He stared up at me, his glass in his hand.
There was no colour in his face.
It was ashen white.
I saw Frank go to him as though he would speak, but Maxim shook him off.
I hesitated, one foot already on the stairs.
Something was wrong, they had not understood.
Why was Maxim looking like that?
Why did they all stand like dummies, like people in a trance?
Then Maxim moved forward to the stairs, his eyes never leaving my face.
'What the hell do you think you are doing?' he asked.
His eyes blazed in anger.
His face was still ashen white.