Chatting with Frank
Dec 30, 2007 16:22:23 GMT -5
Post by Micaela on Dec 30, 2007 16:22:23 GMT -5
*Micaela had nipped down to the kitchen to ask for a late lunch (she had missed the noon one in her meeting with the decorator), eaten it, and was now lounging in the drawing room, knitting because she was bored. She wasn't very good at it, but she was valiantly trying to knit a pair of baby booties. And failing.*
*Frank walked in and she set the knitting aside, smiling and standing up to greet him. She always liked talking to him; he was quiet and didn't assume things. Unlike many people she talked to here.* "Frank! Were you looking for Maxim?"
*He shook her hand and shook his head.* "No, I already found him. He was on the telephone, though, so he told me to come wait in here." *He stood awkwardly and she sat, motioning for him to do the same. He sat in the seat opposite hers.* "Do you know he's phoning?" *She asked.*
"Just the bank." *He commented. She nodded, though she knew they could spend without a care for the next hundred hears and not make any real dent. They made smalltalk for a while, but something was nagging at Micaela's head.*
*Frank knew things--things that had been bothering her. She could feel it when the tenants looked at her, when the staff thought she couldn't hear. They compared her to Rebecca, the mysterious first wife. She'd gathered almost nothing about the woman except that she'd drowned in a boating accident. After a heavy moment of deliberation, she finally made a move.*
"Frank, could I ask you something?" *She asked shyly.*
"Of course--I'll answer as best as I can." *He responded, looking at her curiously. She wasn't normally so reserved.*
"What... what was Maxim's first wife like?" *She asked, all in one breath. His face went very pale, and when he finally spoke, his voice was strained.*
"She... I suppose she was very beautiful." *He said awkwardly. She hated to push an awkward subject, but he was really the only one she could talk to about this without either pushing him into an intense brooding session, like her husband or a stony glare, like Danvers.* "I mean... what was she like? I know that, every time one of the staff looks at me, they're comparing me to her. Everyone--the tenants, the servants, especially Mrs. Danvers..." *She trailed off awkwardly.* "People even say to me how different I am for her, but what do they mean?" *She asked desperately.* Sometimes I even feel like Maxim is comparing me to her.
*He sat there sort of awkwardly.* "Mrs. de Winter..." *He pursed his lips.* "Rebecca was... she was enthralling. She drew a person in, and she kept them there. It was... it was hard to deny her anything she asked, and if she told you to believe something, you would." *He tried to explain.* "She... she seemed very kind, and the tenants all loved her. Most of the servants did, too."
"She... seemed?"
*He frowned.* "She was kind when she wanted to be." *Suddenly, he looked at her sadly.* "I'm sorry, Mrs. de Winter, I'm not in the right position to be telling you these things." *He said suddenly, standing to leave. She stood up to call him back, but he was gone.*
*She sat down on the couch, thinking. It had been worse than she thought. The woman had been sparklingly beautiful, enthralling... Micaela could see her being the belle of every ball, manipulating and bending people to her will... but what had Frank said when he said that she was only kind when she wanted to be? Had she been kind to Frank? Poor, shy Frank, who was so easy to stomp on? Had she... had she been kind to Maxim? She curled her feet under her and stared at the fire, brow furrowed and tears lurking just behind her eyes. One hand rested on her stomach, reminding her of the baby, but she was still irrationally afraid that Maxim... that he still thought of Rebecca when he held her, when he looked at her...*
*Frank walked in and she set the knitting aside, smiling and standing up to greet him. She always liked talking to him; he was quiet and didn't assume things. Unlike many people she talked to here.* "Frank! Were you looking for Maxim?"
*He shook her hand and shook his head.* "No, I already found him. He was on the telephone, though, so he told me to come wait in here." *He stood awkwardly and she sat, motioning for him to do the same. He sat in the seat opposite hers.* "Do you know he's phoning?" *She asked.*
"Just the bank." *He commented. She nodded, though she knew they could spend without a care for the next hundred hears and not make any real dent. They made smalltalk for a while, but something was nagging at Micaela's head.*
*Frank knew things--things that had been bothering her. She could feel it when the tenants looked at her, when the staff thought she couldn't hear. They compared her to Rebecca, the mysterious first wife. She'd gathered almost nothing about the woman except that she'd drowned in a boating accident. After a heavy moment of deliberation, she finally made a move.*
"Frank, could I ask you something?" *She asked shyly.*
"Of course--I'll answer as best as I can." *He responded, looking at her curiously. She wasn't normally so reserved.*
"What... what was Maxim's first wife like?" *She asked, all in one breath. His face went very pale, and when he finally spoke, his voice was strained.*
"She... I suppose she was very beautiful." *He said awkwardly. She hated to push an awkward subject, but he was really the only one she could talk to about this without either pushing him into an intense brooding session, like her husband or a stony glare, like Danvers.* "I mean... what was she like? I know that, every time one of the staff looks at me, they're comparing me to her. Everyone--the tenants, the servants, especially Mrs. Danvers..." *She trailed off awkwardly.* "People even say to me how different I am for her, but what do they mean?" *She asked desperately.* Sometimes I even feel like Maxim is comparing me to her.
*He sat there sort of awkwardly.* "Mrs. de Winter..." *He pursed his lips.* "Rebecca was... she was enthralling. She drew a person in, and she kept them there. It was... it was hard to deny her anything she asked, and if she told you to believe something, you would." *He tried to explain.* "She... she seemed very kind, and the tenants all loved her. Most of the servants did, too."
"She... seemed?"
*He frowned.* "She was kind when she wanted to be." *Suddenly, he looked at her sadly.* "I'm sorry, Mrs. de Winter, I'm not in the right position to be telling you these things." *He said suddenly, standing to leave. She stood up to call him back, but he was gone.*
*She sat down on the couch, thinking. It had been worse than she thought. The woman had been sparklingly beautiful, enthralling... Micaela could see her being the belle of every ball, manipulating and bending people to her will... but what had Frank said when he said that she was only kind when she wanted to be? Had she been kind to Frank? Poor, shy Frank, who was so easy to stomp on? Had she... had she been kind to Maxim? She curled her feet under her and stared at the fire, brow furrowed and tears lurking just behind her eyes. One hand rested on her stomach, reminding her of the baby, but she was still irrationally afraid that Maxim... that he still thought of Rebecca when he held her, when he looked at her...*