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Manderley was a ruin. By the time they arrived there was nothing left of the once so venerable, once so menacing property that until this moment had been their home, by the time they arrived the smoke and flames denied them any chance to see, to see whether there was anything to be saved, whether they would…
They would not be able to return, it was not to be saved, not like this, not now that it was too late. This was the end. She knew, felt that this was the end, truly, the end of Manderley, the end of... It had been her home, too, yet never been within her control, no matter how many times she would have called herself mistress, wife of Maxim de Winter, no matter how many quiet, faltering orders she had dared to give.
Manderley had never been within her control as Rebecca had always reigned over the mansion and her servants, as she had reigned until death and so much beyond… She could nearly hear her laugh amongst the screams, could nearly see her face, for a brief, foolish moment allowed herself to believe that it had been her spirit alone that had put the house aflame… Rebecca had always reigned over everything, everyone…
Her husband could scarcely breathe as he stood there beside her, his fingers tightly enclosed about her wrist as though to seek hold, could scarcely breathe as he watched everything fall apart before his very eyes, seemed paralysed only for a moment…
But soon he regained his control, soon he once more found his voice and began to shout questions, directions, at the servants, releasing her wrist and leaving her behind as she could do nothing but stand there, as she could do nothing but watch, her gaze focused on the sea of flames as though she had gone into a trance…
They all were safe, she heard Clarice whisper, voice trembling with fright, they all were safe, even Jasper… They all were safe except for Mrs Danvers who was nowhere to be found, who was not amongst the others, Mrs Danvers who perhaps had left the house early, who…
Mrs Danvers. Could it have been her? Could it possibly have been her, desperate beyond words, could she have ignited the fire and escaped before being harmed, could she…?
The thought alone was outrageous but hadn’t she been Rebecca’s most faithful servant, hadn’t she cared only for her even long after the accident, hadn’t she considered herself her confidante? Rebecca… She seemed invincible, seemed to live on through her servant and would not let go, would never let go… And she would laugh… Would laugh through Mrs Danvers’ voice, laugh and never fall silent… Of course she would laugh, triumphant over those she had declared her enemies, even in afterlife. She would laugh…
Mrs Danvers… Had it truly been her? Was she truly capable of…? But who else could possibly have committed such a deed, who else could possibly have considered…? What would become of her now, if she truly had escaped, if Manderley was truly empty and she was safe? What would become of her if… The thought alone…
“Maxim!”
She cried out his name before realising that she had opened her mouth, before realising that she had intended to speak, so suddenly afraid, afraid of lingering, afraid of spirits that she had long promised herself would be incapable of hurting her further, afraid of the future… She cried out his name, suddenly desperate to dispel the thought of Rebecca, the thought of Mrs Danvers from her mind, suddenly desperate for hold but not expecting for him to come… Of course he would not come for her as didn’t he have things of greater importance on his mind? What a foolish girl she was, still… A foolish child…
Manderley was a ruin. And while they both had called it their home, hadn’t she done so merely for a couple of months while Maxim had never known a different place to live? While he had spent his childhood, his youth within these walls? So why… Why should she expect him to care for her in the moment he was forced to watch his past, his entire existence, to fall apart?
She cried out his name… Maxim… And truly he turned around, truly he came for her, taking her hand into his once more… His breathing was ragged, heavy, he had come too close to the burning mansion as there were black blemishes upon his skin as though he had come close to entering the building to ensure that truly everyone was safe… But he was here, here with her… He was here, looking at her, giving her hold as once more she surrendered to her fright, looking at her with such a strange expression within his eyes…
Relief.
There was anger, fright, as he, too, seemed to think about Rebecca, as he, too, seemed concerned about Mrs Danvers, perhaps asking himself whether she… But there was also relief, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, as though he were… Relief.
Manderley was a ruin. It would still haunt them in their dreams but perhaps only now they would be capable of liberating themselves from all these shadows, perhaps only now, only through this they would be capable of leaving the past behind at last, perhaps they ought to be grateful…
And she was grateful. Of course she was grateful that nobody had been harmed, grateful that they had not been at home, that they were together… What worth were belongings, why should it matter, when they still had each other? Why should anything matter?
They would overcome anything; she knew that they would overcome anything, anything at all, that they would even defeat Rebecca, as she had no power over them beyond the walls of Manderley, as she would no longer reign… They would overcome anything, everything… And together, only together, they would be free at last.
