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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 16:56:56 GMT -5
"Yes, but we haven't had any... I believe the word is 'dates'."
This was hardly the ideal solution. Dating this rodentlike thing would mean further time with her, further time away from his real family, but at the same time Richard knew that if he was anything, he was stultifyingly boring, and with luck she'd notice that and leave in disgust.
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 13, 2008 17:01:33 GMT -5
Emmy actually paused to consider this. "Hmmm, you're right. Do you want to go on dates? I thought it would be nicer if we just got married. Then we could...enjoy being married, if you know what I mean..." She scooted closer and moved her hand from his chest down to his stomach...
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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 17:04:07 GMT -5
"Is that a whale I see out there!?" Richard shouted frantically. He did his best to jump to his feet, but instead proved Lerseth's Third Theorem- namely, gimpy leg+sand=Richard facedown on the beach.
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 13, 2008 17:09:00 GMT -5
Emmy laughed gaily and scooted over to where Richard now lay, clutching his shoulders and turning him to face skywards. "I don't see any whale," she told him, though she hadn't looked.
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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 17:14:13 GMT -5
He pulled himself upright at last and started rather frantically walking toward the staircase built into the side of the cliff.
"This is de Winter's private beach, his wife drowned out there, there's no need for us to-"
He stopped. There was a little path leading from the stairs and down a small incline.
Richard approached the start of the inclined path, shaded his eyes, and looked down it.
"Her cottage is down there," he said softly, and he started treading toward it.
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 13, 2008 17:19:27 GMT -5
She watched him annoyedly but got up to follow him, determined not to be left behind. "Richard," she called as she stumbled after him, "where are you going? What are you talking about?"
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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 17:28:09 GMT -5
Richard went up to look in the window of the cottage, but it was too dusty to see.
"Don't worry about it. Never mind-"
He heard a loud creaking noise and turned to see another man standing in the doorway, a man with facial features suggesting something had not quite clicked mentally.
"Is you here for Mrs de Winter?" the second man asked softly. "Mrs de Winter is up at the main house at the moment. My... Emmy and I were just looking around at the beach, and-" "She's gone, isn't she?" the man in the doorway asked. "Mrs de Winter? I said just now, she's back at the house-"
The man in the doorway grinned. Most of his teeth were gone.
"The fish gonna nibble at her, ain't they?" he asked, his voice a soft whine. "Gone to the sea, she is."
A wave of recognition suddenly washed over Richard.
"Oh, you mean Rebecca. The... old wife."
Did Anne remember him at home now? If he did, was he just "the old husband"?
"She's at the bottom of the sea now," said the man in the doorway. "Yes, I heard she drowned. That was a long time ago. Two years, at least." "She won't come back no more." "No, the dead don't come back," said Richard, even though he knew that his own presence was making a liar of him. "I heard nothing!" the other man objected suddenly. "I seen nothin-"
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 13, 2008 17:37:26 GMT -5
Emmy finally caught up, having scraped one of her Prada heels on the way down the slope and stopping to swear at the offending rock before following Richard to the cottage. "What's going on? Who is that?" she added in an undertone to Richard.
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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 17:40:31 GMT -5
Richard made a shushing sort of gesture at her and turned back to the other man.
"Are you a servant at Manderley then?" "Ben- Ben was-" "Is that your name then? Ben?"
The man nodded.
"I was just cleaning some of me shells in the sink..."
Ben turned and saw Emmy standing there.
"You like winkles, miss?"
He thrust a handful of the shells at her.
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 13, 2008 17:49:39 GMT -5
Emmy gasped and jumped back, moving so she was standing almost directly behind Richard and peeking around his back at Ben. "No, thank you," she said curtly.
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Post by Richard on Feb 13, 2008 18:06:00 GMT -5
"If you're leaving, do you suppose it's all right for us to come in and have a look?"
Ben set down his pail of winkles and pulled off his hat to reveal a shaven head. He worked the cap between his hands, looking nervous.
"I didn't see nothin'. I didn't hear nothin'..."
He picked up his bucket and wandered up the path toward the shore.
"Poor devil," Richard sighed, and he stepped inside the boathouse.
It was evidently built on a large flotilla, as the whole structure bobbed up and down very slightly. It was dark inside, and everything but the sink where Ben washed his shells was covered in a thick layer of dust.
There was a ship in a bottle on the mantle, and even the tiny twine rigging of the little model had small, fluffy loops of dust hanging from it. The furniture was plain, bourgeouis, but had been decorated with frills and lace of all sorts, and a piece of carpet was cut from the floor near the fireplace with odd inexactitude.
At the center of the little room was a small sofa, with a side table next to it. On the table was an ashtray full of cigarette stubs from who knew how long ago.
The air was thick, stifling. Richard accidentally barked his shin on a desk, upsetting a picture frame and causing a music box to emit a few sad notes.
When he had regained his composure, Richard picked up the music box. It was clearly half of a set- a female dancer posed for a minuet, her base shaped to indicate that a partnering figurine was supposed to be displayed with her, but there were no other figurines of that sort anywhere in the room.
He reached to upright the picture frame again. As he did so, he saw it was a portrait of a couple. The man was clearly Mr de Winter, which meant the woman was-
"Rebecca," Richard said softly.
Poor, lovely, drowned Rebecca. Now she had a face- a beautiful, pale oval of a face, with a delicate upturned nose and large, luminous eyes, surrounded by a cloud of waved, bobbed dark hair.
She was smiling, showing beautiful teeth and a pert mouth to good measure. Mr de Winter's smile, however, looked distant, odd.
He set the portrait down again and put his hands behind his head while emitting a great sigh.
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 14, 2008 14:05:10 GMT -5
Emmy followed Richard into the cottage hesitantly, half afraid of what might be inside and half afraid of the dust getting on her Ralph Lauren sweater and skirt set.
She whispered to Richard, glancing over her shoulder to watch the other man in the distance. "Richard, what are we doing here? Don't you think we should be getting back up to the house?" When she got no response (Richard was busy looking at an old photograph), she continued. "I still have to pick out a dress for tomorrow..."
She sighed. She wasn't getting through to him. He was obviously more interested in all this junk than he was in her well-being, and it struck her very distantly that, if she hadn't been so in love with him and possitive that he was in love with her, this might not be the most attractive trait in a fiance.
Well fine, she thought to herself. Venturing a few feet from him, she pointed at the place where the carpet had been removed. "Hey, what do you think this is for?"
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Post by Richard on Feb 14, 2008 14:07:32 GMT -5
"Probably got dirty or something. She likely intended to have it refurbished."
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Post by Emmy Rossum on Feb 14, 2008 14:08:35 GMT -5
"She who?"
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Post by Richard on Feb 14, 2008 14:11:52 GMT -5
"Rebecca. The old wife."
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