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“Today was a success, wouldn’t you say, Danny?” Rebecca’s eyes were closed. She sat very still on the chair in front of her vanity, allowing Danny to pull pin after pin from her hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the sun. A small, satisfied smile played around the corners of her mouth.
“A great success, madam,” Danny said.
They had planned the garden party together, honing each detail until the whole thing was as close to perfection as a party could be. Raspberry ices served in airy tents, a string quartet, footmen moving about the crowd with cold drinks. The lawns had been dotted with the genteel and well-to-do. Ladies with lace parasols, gentlemen sipping champagne. The gardens had rung with laughter and Rebecca had been in the middle of it all, a shining beautiful hostess.
Danny had kept in the background as always. She had hurried back and forth between the house and the servants’ tent, watching over the procedings. Now and then she had envied the ladies in their light gowns, but her envy had faded whenever Rebecca had caught her eye and smiled. The prospect of tending to a happy Rebecca — of having her all to herself once Mr de Winter had gone to bed — had been enough to make her shrug off the heat and her querulous maids.
“You did very well today.”
“Thank you, madam.”
As she continued to undo her careful work from the morning, Danny found herself wishing that Rebecca had not praised her just yet. It had not been a conscious concern, the nagging worry that something might have escaped her, that Rebecca might be dissatisfied, but now that it was gone, Danny began to feel the strain of the day. There was a dull pain in her lower back and another, sharper pain near her temples. Her hands stilled on Rebecca’s hair.
“Is anything the matter?” Rebecca’s eyes were still closed.
As Danny made to reply, one of Rebecca’s hairpins slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a clink. Danny bent down to pick it up, but the movement was too fast. It sent her off balance, her head spinning. She dropped to her knees, hoping to pass off the movement as deliberate. The world around her was out of focus, the floorboards grainy and washed out. She could not see the pin. Her hand moved aimlessly across the floor. A moment later her head made contact with something soft, warm. Rebecca’s thigh.
“Danny?” There was concern in Rebecca’s voice now.
Danny tried to lift her head, to make a reply, but it was impossible. Even the smallest movement sent the world spinning around her.
“Danny?” Rebecca’s hand on her hair, then on her forehead, the gentle pressure of her fingers. “You’ve had too much sun. Are you dizzy?”
Danny made a noise of assent.
“You should have listened to me when I told you to take a break. Frith and the maids would have managed perfectly well without you.”
“Frith—” Danny broke off. She had meant to say that Frith had had his hands full with the footmen, but the words would not come. A wave of nausea rose from her stomach. Danny closed her mouth.
“Never mind all that now,” Rebecca said. “We have to get you off the floor and upstairs to bed. Do you want me to call for the doctor? Don’t look at me like that. Sunstroke’s no laughing matter. Well, we’ll try and get you to bed first and if it gets any worse, I will call.”
It took several minutes until Danny was able to lift her head. Rebecca knelt on the floor next to her, steadying her despite Danny’s feeble protest. With Rebecca’s arm around her waist, she was able to stand up. She managed to take a few steps towards the door before she had to pause, leaning against Rebecca’s bed for support.
They made their way out into the corridor and up the servants’ stairs into the attic. It took much longer than usual. Danny’s steps were uncertain. The house was still rotating around her, swimming in and out of focus.
The whitewashed attic lay in silence. The rest of the staff had gone to bed hours ago while she had sat up with Rebecca, first in the morning room and then in the west wing. They had gone over every detail of the party, as was Rebecca’s habit. There was no hope of persuading her to go to sleep before she had drawn her résumé of the day.
With clumsy fingers, Danny unlocked the door to her room. “Thank you for helping me upstairs, madam. I’m sure I’ll be alright if I just rest for a few moments. I’ll come back down to help you with your hair.”
“Nonesense,” Rebecca said at once. “I’ll manage on my own. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“I’m sure. Good night, madam.”
“Good night.”
Danny went over to the bed with slow, careful steps and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. Then she sat in the chair by the vanity. Even the low light of the lamp made her dizzy. Her hands shook as she reached for the pins in her hair.
“This is ridiculous.”
Danny flinched. She turned in her chair to see that Rebecca was still standing in the doorway, watching her. A moment later, the door was closed and Rebecca stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.
“Madam,” Danny whispered. “There’s no need…”
“We shan’t speak about it,” Rebecca said.
Danny’s hands dropped into her lap. Rebecca’s hands took their place, pulling the pins out of her hair until it unraveled, heavy and warm. Danny closed her eyes. Rebecca’s hands were gentle, not as clumsy as Danny might have suspected. Rebecca did not allow the brush to catch in her hair, nor did she grow impatient. When Danny’s hair finally fell down her back in one long braid, Rebecca’s hands found their way back to Danny’s shoulders.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“No, nothing.”
Rebecca hesitated, her hands still resting on Danny’s shoulders. Eventually, Danny felt her step closer. She closed her eyes as Rebecca bent down and kissed the top of her head.
“Good night.” A few light steps, the click of the door closing and Rebecca was gone.
“Good night, madam,” Danny whispered.