Tea under the chestnut tree, walks through the Happy Valley with Jasper, visits with Beatrice, these were all relics of my past life I had to give up. Yet one look at him, and I know it was worth it. This hasn't been an easy lifestyle adjustment for either of us, but it's been hardest on him. Sometimes he'll grow quiet and stare off into space and I know he's thinking of Manderley, of the devil who's lost against us. He looks so much older from when I first married him; this ordeal has aged us both at least twenty years, but we've escaped from Manderley, that house of horrors, together. We're safe now. The devil is gone from our live forever.

I wondered where the former staff of Manderley was, how they were faring. Was the young footman, Robert, waiting on another couple? Perhaps a family with children, I mused. Robert seemed like he would be splendid with children, as young as he was himself. Where was Frith? Surely he hadn't retired; he was too old fashioned, too tied to his job, to want to retire. My musings moved to each member of our grand staff, imagining where they were now. I hoped they were happy, wherever they were.

My thoughts inevitably turned to Mrs. Danvers. I didn't want to think of her, didn't want to remember her, but my mind had a will of its own. Mrs. Danvers always compared me to Rebecca, raising her on a pedestal and crushing me beneath her heel with every word she spoke. I couldn't do anything about it; her menacing eyes challenged me to try to dismiss her, but I didn't dare take Mrs. Danvers to task on her rather unfavorable comparisons of myself to Rebecca. I was much too meek, too girlish, to go against Mrs. Danvers. But all thatm no longer the young girl I was when I moved to Manderley, all that time ago. Was it only a few years? It feels like lifetimes have past since then.

I'm torn from my memories by the feeling of strong arms around my waist, my husband's warm and familiar scent washing over me. He must have woken up and noticed I wasn't curled up beside him like I usually was. "Come back to bed, darling," he murmured against my neck, his moustache tickling my skin. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I'm fine. I just needed some fresh air," I mumbled as he led me to our bed, much like a father would to a sleepy child who didn't want to go to bed yet. I let him; if it helped him to take care of me, who was I to stop him? Despite the sudden and severe changes to our life, we were much the same people deep inside. With a chaste kiss to my forehead, Maxim whispered "Sweet dreams, darling," and was back asleep within minutes. I lay awake, thinking about our past life, until I, too, succumbed to sleep.