Work Text:
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
“In the silence of the perfumed nights,
When the weeping wave kisses the shore,
To the trembling radiance of the stars,
I bow my sad, fainting brow.
And I see the chaste shadows
of the deliriums of happy youth pass by;
I press my heart, torn apart
by the bloody claw of longing.
How sweet is the memory of that time
When the ground of existence was made of flowers,
When the murmur of the spheres sang
The tempting couplet of love!“
Resignação ( Resignation ) – Narcisa Amália
﹏𓊝﹏﹏﹏﹏
It has been two weeks since Maxim left in a trip to Berna, under the pretext of a negotiation between friends, things from the male business world that I did not seek to intrude on. He left without the said 'goodbye kiss', and hadn't spoken to me since the ball. The damned ball. He turned his face away from mine like light turns away from darkness. How could I be so stupid? How could I not realize the terrible mistake I was about to make? I don't blame him. I shouldn't. I can't.
In his absence, Manderley turned to me. The sensation fit me like an uncomfortable garment, and I wanted to escape it, but I couldn't. I couldn't face it, either, so I retreated to my quarters. I pity the novice servants, for I fear that I resemble a ghost, leaving my quarters only for the morning room and vice versa, avoiding everyone. I didn't do much in that room, except for trying to write a letter or two, and scribble faces and places on paper until my wrist tires; At the end of the morning, the trash bin would have twice as many crumpled papers as at the beginning of the day. Due to the silence of the place, the phone ringing never failed to scare me. I never answered it again. I'd simply watch it, hoping, perhaps, that it would magically cease ringing, but that never happened. It vibrated on the table for almost a full minute before it retreated into insignificance, and I resumed whatever activities I was doing. Mrs. Danvers must have known I would still be in the room, because without fail, Clarisse or even Alice would knock on the door, bringing the daily menu.
I haven't seen Mrs. Danvers since the ball. Not that I wanted to see her. Surely, she wouldn't want to, anyway. I wouldn't forgive her for what she did, for what she put me through. I was right, I thought, I was right from the start! Mrs. Danvers never liked me. Her deep morbid gaze and thin disdainful lips were enough signs of that, and I found myself shaking my head, my chin trembling like a child, chastising myself for being so foolish. I remembered the infamous night, the cursed costume, Maxim's look of horror. I imagined her, watching with pleasure as he yelled, humiliating me in front of the guests. Under the cloak of shadows, always lurking as the chaos unfolded, like a woolen thread tangled in her own hands. I imagined her, as I stumbled up the stairs in tears, with her machiavellian smile, which outlines her thin cheeks so macabrely well. I remembered looking into her eyes, seeing the happiness and satisfaction on her pale face as she followed the path of the tears that fell from my chin – I ran, because I saw the devil in her eyes.
'She is a tenebrous woman', I whispered to the walls of Manderley, so that they would keep the words.
I didn't wish to think about it anymore. I stayed here too long, and I could feel the ambience gradually getting heavier. I stood up, crossing my arms stiffly, and walked to the door of the morning room. The scent of the flowers already brought the harbinger of a migraine. When I touched the cold handle, I didn't need to turn it, because it turned by itself. I took a step back as the door opened, and the figure standing before me was as stunned as I was.
“Mrs. de Winter.” The words took a long time to leave her mouth, and when they did, they were unexpectedly quiet.
I didn't respond, I was looking at her eyes in a way I shouldn't have – not at all like a lady should, but I've never had class, and it wouldn't be now that I would gain a sense of etiquette. I hoped to convey with my gaze everything I felt for her: the anger, the disdain, the distrust, the disappointment. But her gaze was firm, much more so than mine, and I lost the battle. I looked to the side and down, away from the dark ocean of her irises.
“I imagined you would be in your room.” She continued, already recovered from the little surprise.
"I'm not." I uncrossed my arms, immediately regretting doing so.
“Well,” She looked to the side, down the hall. "Forgive me. I’ll get back to my chores.” And with that, she straightened her blouse and turned around.
There was no regret in her eyes, as if she had never done anything wrong. For a second, I could see a slight smile on her lips. I felt so small, so much so that I almost saw Maxim in her retreating figure – I didn't like that.
“Mrs. Danvers!” I don't know why I called her, but I waited for her steps to stop before continuing. I'm still not sure what I wanted to say, maybe I just wanted to make sure I was still her Lady, that the orders were mine. “Change the side dish. I don’t like that pasta.”
She looked at me, for a second, two. And nodded, her eyes drinking in my figure as if it were a bitter chalice. It was then that I realized that I was still in my night clothes, with a wool robe which tried to keep my image less sloppy than it actually was. I felt uncomfortable under the judgment in her eyes and I closed the robe tighter, walking to my room.
﹏𓊝﹏﹏﹏﹏