Congressus is Latin for, "a meeting".
Congressus
The following morning, there was a note left on her bedside table from Noctis to greet her.
"Off to take care of some matters regarding the estate in the city. Though I think this break from me is welcome." – Noctis
How wrong he was. She cannot help but think it a rejection because of the events the night before. What she really wanted, what she has always wanted, was Noctis. Just Noctis. All of everything else she could do without, gladly. She had never wanted much so none of that other stuff mattered. The only reason for her to be here and to try so hard, was so that she could be with him. To see him taking a day away from her is a fierce blow. How could he not know that she would not have married him otherwise? That he did not even realize that this has had her in tears ever since she had read the note. She is crying still when one of the maids, Hilda, brings in her tea sandwiches on a freestanding tray.
Upon hearing the door opening, she turns away from the older maid's eyes to hide how fitfully she has been weeping and wipes her eyes surreptitiously with her own handkerchief. She watches from the corner of her eyes as Hilda goes about setting the tray carefully in front of her. Feeling the other woman too close for comfort, she rises to cross the length of the Morning Room to stare out of the windows behind the writing desk. The view affords her a direct line of sight to the West Wing, making the small movement of someone closing a window on the third story obvious.
"Hilda," she says, without turning away from the sight. "The West Wing. Nobody uses it anymore do they?"
"No Madam," Hilda answers quickly. "Not since the death of the Princess."
Then who would be up there? Without waiting on Hilda to finish setting up her tea, she quietly leaves the Morning Room to investigate. On quiet feet she almost makes it to the stairway before she hears voices from the top of the stairs and quickly ducks in to the library instead.
"I must say all this sneaking around makes me feel like a criminal," comments a male voice she has never heard before. He sounds amused and a little bit chiding. His footsteps are heavy, followed by a lighter step down the stairs.
"It is best you not come back again, Mr. Jack," replies Mrs. Etro's voice softly. "She is in the Morning Room. If you go out this way, she won't see you."
"Ah yes. We must not disturb Cinderella, should we?" he jokes. "Oh well, too-da-loo Ettie."
The sound of the front door closing reverberates back to her and Casper lets out a whine at her feet.
"Quiet Casper," she whispers, used to his odd appearances here and there, before hesitating a moment before taking a step towards the…
"Looking for me?" states that same amused, male voice loudly from behind her.
She whirls around to see the man leaning against one of the large open windows and lets out a squeak.
"Sorry," he chuckles. "I did not mean to frighten you."
With a happy bark, Casper rushes towards the stranger and demands to be petted. Which the stranger does, most affectionately.
"There you are now Casper," he says, dotting on the adorable canine. "At least someone in the family is happy to see me." She takes that moment to observe him distantly, if not all together perplexed at his blatant familiarity with Manderley and why he was being so secretive.
He is tall and broad shouldered, handsome in that sly scoundrel sort of way. The kind that knew how to charm with a smile and always had a bit of mischief in their eyes whenever they looked at you. He is dressed rather stylishly and more daringly than Noctis' more elegant way. He might have been the same age as Noctis but you could see the world of difference between the two. She is not sure what to make of him and is still deciding when Mrs. Etro enters the library beside her.
"Ettie, all your precautions were for naught," he comments sardonically, making a show of reaching into his breast pocket and lighting a cigarette. Then he points to her. "The mistress of the house was hiding behind the door."
"I did not know who it was," she states, waiting for him to answer that unspoken question.
"And how is old Noctis these days?"
"He is doing very well, thank you," she says, not liking the tone of his question.
"How good for him," he states, though he does not sound very glad of it.
"Ettie, why don't you introduce me to the bride?" he suggests eagerly.
"This is Mr. Favell, Madam," states Mrs. Etro.
"How do you do?" she states by way of introduction.
"How do you do?" he replies, easily hopping through the open window to shake her hand.
"Won't you stay for tea?" she offers to be polite though she makes sure not to keep her hand in his for too long.
"I've been invited for tea Ettie," he boasts a bit triumphantly. "And I've a mind to accept it."
She does not turn to look at Mrs. Etro but Mr. Favell shrugs at whatever her nonverbal response is.
"Yes, I suppose it's best if I went on my way," he turns to speak to Casper. "We musn't lead the new bride astray, should we, Casper? Pity, when we were getting along so well and all." He tsks in mild disappointment and then shrugs, making his way back to the window. "Oh!" He says, turning to her again. "I wondered if you would be so kind as to not mention your seeing me to your husband. You see, he doesn't exactly approve of me."
"All right," she agrees, not at all ready to upset Noctis again about anything anyway.
"That is very sporting of you," Favell compliments with a grin that looked too practiced to be genuine. That untrustworthy glint in his eye.
It made her decidedly uneasy, but she did not want to be rude when he was being so friendly.
"I wish I had a bride of three months waiting for me at home," he laments dramatically. Then he hops right back out the window in a way that seemed too, again, practiced for any gentleman. "But I am but a lonely bachelor."
"Good bye," she bids, not getting too close to the window, when he turns to her as if reminded of something.
"I know what was missing in our introduction," he says, leaning in as if to impart a secret to her. "You see, I am Rebecca's favorite cousin." He has an odd twinkle in his eye when he states his relation, but she is too bothered by his reference to Rebecca to make much note of it. She is only more determined not to mention him to Noctis. "Too-da-loo!" He bids before disappearing.
She blinks several times after he is gone, unsure of how to process his strange appearance in the house, in the West Wing of all places. It is in her to ask Mrs. Etro for more information but finds that the older woman has vanished herself. The question that immediately comes to mind is what this Mr. Favell and Mrs. Etro were doing in Rebecca's room. What was in that room anyway? Now, more than ever, she feels the need to face the one room in the house she has not dared to enter yet. Perhaps she could find answers there.
Steeling her resolve, she climbs slowly up the steps that would take her to the entrance of those chambers that she thought, no one ventured in. None of the servants had entered it to clean. Never, in the time that she has lived here, had she seen Noctis even look in this direction either. She needed to face whatever was behind these doors. So, she opens one of the double doors and steps into the epicenter of Rebecca's world.
The room is as vast as it is broad. High vaulted ceilings with a grand crystal chandelier floated above plush couches in a little sitting area. White fur rugs are laid tastefully along the floors and a long, elegant, white chiffon curtain separates the sitting area from the main bedroom area that dominated the rest of the space. A large bed with silky satin sheets lay against the right wall beside a series of midsized windows. The same windows that were visible from the Morning Room. To the right was a fainting couch and beside it an entrance to a wardrobe closet and beyond that a bathroom. Even from where she was in the middle of the room, she could see the large sunken tub that looked more like a small pool than a place to bathe. Finally, at the far end, in front of her, was an ornate vanity full of cosmetics and combs, with the view of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the sea. Her hand idly touches a brush and she startles away from it. The bedroom, as the Morning Room, looked in readiness for Rebecca's return. She almost expected Rebecca to come out of the bath and ask her what she was doing here, the other woman's presence is so strong. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature permeates her bones as she stands taking it all in.
"Do you require anything, Madam?" Mrs. Etro's clipped voice nearly scares her out of her skin.
She turns to see the chilling silhouette of the head maid beyond the separating curtain, before it is pulled aside to reveal the stern figure. Those cold black eyes stare at her in that assessing way that always made her feel lacking.
"I…I noticed a window open and …." She tries to explain.
"There was no window to close," Mrs. Etro states knowingly. "You just wanted to come up here, didn't you?" A pause as she walks closer. "You always wanted to see this room, haven't you? Why did you not ask me to show it you? I waited every day for you to ask."
She swallows thickly as the older woman motions towards the mirrored closet that she had spied earlier.
"I keep all her things exactly as she kept them," Mrs. Etro explains, her voice the most touched with emotion she has ever heard. "Her and the Prince were always invited to all the most elegant parties. Everyone loved her and everyone wanted her to be at their party. I used to wait up all night, no matter how late and help her get ready for bed. She would undress here and enter her bath, telling me about all the people she had see and met."
She walks her toward one of the mirrored doors. "You would like to see her wardrobe, wouldn't you?" she asks in a voice that seemed eager to share.
She can only nod wordlessly, powerless to do anything else.
With a flourish, Mrs. Etro opens the door and reveals an entire line of meticulously hung garments of various styles and fabrics. Those pale hands grasp a hanger with a mink coat and runs the furred sleeve along her equally pale cheek before running it across her own.
"Beautiful isn't it?" she asks her. "It was a gift from the Prince. He was always buying her expensive gifts, all year round." She carefully re-hangs the coat and closes the door gently before walking to the other wall and opens a series of spiral drawers. "Her undergarments were sewn by the nuns in the convent. Have you ever seen such lovely pieces?" Mrs. Etro seems to marvel at them herself before re-closing each drawer quietly. "After her bath, she would walk over here to the vanity," she motions for her to follow with her narration and sit upon the bench in front of the mirror.
She finds herself sitting on the bench despite her fears and listens to the chilling re-telling.
"I see you've touched her brush," Mrs. Etro clucks her tongue and moves the brush the half inch to the left from it must have been before. "There now. Just as she always left it."
She can feel tears gathering at her eyes as she thinks of all the things that differed between her and Noctis' first wife and fear. Fear that she was in way over her head.
"Then she would say, 'Go on Ettie,' and I would brush each section of her hair a hundred strokes at a time. Then when I was done she would turn to me and say, 'Good night Ettie'."
Cold hands urge her to rise and guide her towards the side of the bed.
"Then she would walk over to her bed." Those boney fingers pull against a silk pillow sleeve with an elaborate "R" stitched in the middle. "I made this for her myself," Mrs. Etro tells her, before pulling out a black, transparent nightgown made of silk. "Have you ever seen anything so delicate?" Those black eyes stare mesmerized and in awe of the nightgown and carefully places her hand between the sheer material. "Look, you can see my hand through it."
Noctis' words from before come back to haunt her. "Promise me never to wear black satin…" A black gown such as this was what she had pictured that day and she knows now that he must have pictured this gown in particular. No wonder he had asked her never to wear something to this likeness. He would see Rebecca in her stead.
The thought makes her feel queasy and sick. She cannot take being in this room any longer. Tears rush down her cheeks and she rushes towards the door.
"You wouldn't think she had been gone for so long, would you?" asks Mrs. Etro from behind her, halting her from opening the door.
She presses her back to it helplessly as the other woman approaches to stand just in front of her.
"Sometimes, when I'm walking down the corridor, I fancy I hear her just behind me. That quick, light step. I wouldn't mistake it anywhere. Not just in here, but in all the rooms of the house. I can almost hear her now." She looks at her with an almost demented gaze. "Do you think the dead come back to watch the living?"
"I don't believe it," she cries, cringing away from that beady stare.
"Sometimes, I wonder if she comes back to Manderley. Maybe to watch you and the Prince while you are together."
The image of Rebecca watching her and Noctis at night together terrifies her.
"You look tired," Mrs. Etro observes. "Why don't you stay here and lie down for a bit. You can listen to the sea. How soothing it is." Her head cocks to the side as if to listen herself. The craze look in her eyes is eery as she urges her to listen to the sounds of the ocean.
So distracted does the other woman seem that she takes advantage and makes her escape. Chills race through her, but she forces herself to run back to the warmth of the fire in the Morning Room. Once there, she stands before the flames and rubbing her arms to get rid of the icy cold that Mrs. Etro's behavior has stolen into her bones. Before long, she finds herself standing in front of the writing desk and staring at the emblazoned "R" that marked everything there. Rebecca's mark was everywhere.She is not sure how much time passes as she stares at that initial through tear blurred eyes. When she does come back to herself, she shakes her head and grabs hold of the house phone to tell Hilda to have Mrs. Etro come and see her.
Then, she proceeds to open all the drawers and begins dumping all the old RSVPs and stationery addressed to Rebecca. Among the pile, she comes across an invitation to a costume ball addressed to Jack Favell. His response on the RSVP written in the corner sounds just as cheeky as he had been in person. It gives her an idea though. An opportunity to prove her worth. Not just to the servants, but to everyone, including Noctis. She looks up then to see Mrs. Etro smoothly enter the room. The lady's stoic features no longer glazed and maniacal. There is only the cool disdain that is usually on her face when she looks at her.
"Mrs. Etro," she says, standing straight and tall. "I want you to get rid of all these things." She gestures to the invites, stationary and other things now scattered along the desk.
"But these things belong to the Princess," objects the older woman showing a vulnerability in stating so.
"I am the Princess," she states, finding the strength to sound authoritative and strong for the first time.
Mrs. Etro looks taken aback at her uncharacteristic sternness.
"As you wish," Mrs. Etro finally responds. It is the first time she has seen the woman look at a loss. "I shall give the instruction."
The distant sound of a honking horn signals the return of Noctis just then.
At last!
She rushes to the door but stops once she reaches the head maid.
"Mrs. Etro, I have decided not to mention Mr. Favell's visit to the Prince. In fact, I would prefer to forget everything that happened here this afternoon," she states with a note of finality in her tone and then leaves before she can be given a response.
Noctis is just making his way inside when she rushes toward the foyer and she dashes up the short steps to him and flings herself into his arms.
"Noctis you have been gone all day!" she cries, happily clinging to his neck.
"You are choking me!" he laughs, hugging her back in return. He leans back to get a good look at her. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
"Oh, I have been thinking," she states, leading him towards the library, but still clinging to him fiercely.
"What would you want to do that for?" he teases, giving her a squeeze.
Once they enter the library, she twirls them around together in a small dance. "Darling," she says, full of nervous excitement. "Can't we have a costume ball here at Manderley?"
He lets go of her to give her a questioning look. "Now who put that in your mind? Has Beatrice been at you?" he asks.
"No, not at all," she assures. "I want to have one here to show everyone that Manderley is just the same as it always was."
He continues to look at her quizzically, wondering at the change in her usually timid nature around a lot of people. "You know you would have to play hostess to hundreds of people. Then the kids from the city will turn this place into a nightclub," he warns, sitting down on the edge of a chair. He does not look against the idea, only puzzled as to why she seems so insistent.
"Oh but I want to," she pleads, smiling up at him when he stands at her approach to stay near him. "I have never organized such a thing before but I can learn. I promise you will not be ashamed of me."
He looks thoughtful for a moment, weighing everything together in his mind in that way that she always finds adorable. She responds to his look with another enthusiastic smile.
"Oh all right, if that is what you want," he concedes.
"Oh thank you, darling!" she cries, hugging him fiercely again, causing him to laugh.
"You are going to need Mrs. Etro to help you," he suggests.
"I do not need Mrs. Etro to help me," she replies, lifting her chin stubbornly. "I can do it myself."
"Okay, my sweet," he chuckles, giving her chin a reassuring squeeze.
She is so happy to have his permission to host a party that she hugs him again. He laughs at her again, his gaze adoring and keeps his arms around her waist while she keeps her hands entwined behind his neck. She just wants to keep him close. With him back, she feels so much more at ease and happy.
"What will you go as?" she asks.
"I never dress up for costume parties," he insists. "It is my one privilege as host."
She giggles at his act of rebellion.
"What will you go as?" he asks. "Alice in Wonderland with a ribbon in your hair?"
"No," she laughs. "I am going to design a costume all by myself and give you the surprise of your life!" She proclaims, hugging him fiercely again.
The loud, free laugh that comes out of his chest in response makes her feel on top of the world.