Proventus is Latin for, "A growing up".
Chapter Twelve: Proventus
Despite her lack of experience and overall timid nature, she has found great enjoyment in planning the costume party in the following month. The servants, as a whole, seemed delighted to be having such an event hosted at the house once again and have been very eager and ready to offer her any assistance. She had given herself this month to organize and plan over this elaborate effort and finds that she likes all the work. It has given her something to do rather than being idle.
Not only has she been listening to the various tips and pieces of advice from the staff, she had a little bit of her own experience in accompanying Mrs. Harper to use as guides. So she was not completely clueless as to what is to be expected. She did not want anything too outlandish, but wanted to make things just enough to convey that none of Manderley's opulence was going to waste simply housing her and Noctis. They, neither of them had anything to be ashamed of in their marriage and they needed to show this. Manderley was just as beautiful as it has always been and should be seen. The stunning estate should be showcased and appreciated and she is determined for this party to be a success. All in all, it has been both a learning experience and a bonding experience, as it has allowed her to get to know everyone better. Now she felt more intimately acquainted with the staff and therefore more comfortable around them. It also gave her a glimpse of what exactly was involved with the upkeep of such a grand house. This made it easier for her to make any needed instruction as to her preferences. Which, of course, were not many since she was not particular but at least she was becoming more at ease with her position.
Between all the many meetings for arranging and organizing, she has been sketching away on possible costume ideas for herself. She thought of all her favorite heroines growing up and had thought she had plenty of options to choose from, from just her imagination. However, once she had drawn them on paper, they had not been quite right. One option had been a medieval gown with a high coned headdress, which she thought would be too ostentatious. Definitely not a good first impression and would convey a bit of conceit on her part. She wanted something empowering and feminine. The latter one was realized when she found herself sketching a rendition of Joan of Arc. She had imagined her grand entrance being interrupted when she clumsily fell down the stairs under the weight of all that chain mail. Besides, all that metal would not look appropriate beside Noctis' usual elegant tuxedo either.
Noctis, who has been so indulging and obliging through all these preparations and overall utter madness of planning. He would watch her as she rushed about with a mixture of pride and adoration at her efforts. Though he did not offer to help, he was always there for her when she had a question. During their afternoon walks together, he listened attentively to her various ideas and would offer his input on them. She made sure not to overburden him with the trivial things involving the party, but he never discouraged her from telling him all about what she was doing. It was very much like he had been when they had been getting to know each other. He is still that ever attentive ear for her and never made her feel silly for saying what she did. Once or twice he had tried to get her to tell him what costume she would be wearing and she always responded with a warm smile and a chiding admonishment to be patient.
On one afternoon, she was just sketching a few more ideas while lying idly on her bed when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she summoned, adding another stroke with her pencil.
As the person entered, she looked up to find Mrs. Etro standing there and she sits up straight at the other woman's slow approach.
"Robert found these sketches in the library, Madam," Mrs. Etro explained, holding out a few of her earlier rejects. "Had you wished for them to be thrown out?"
"I did," she responded. "Those were just some ideas for my costume for the ball."
"Has the prince not suggested anything?"
"No, I want to surprise him," she replied. "I do not want him to know anything about it."
"I thought," Mrs. Etro offered with an uncertain smile. "You might take a look at some of the old family portraits down the hall for some ideas."
"You mean the gallery at the top of the stairs? I shall go take a look," she said, jumping off her bed and headed towards the line of portraits that immortalized Noctis' ancestors.
"This one right here," said Mrs. Etro, leading her towards a particularly lovely portrait. "I have heard the Prince comment that it was among his favorites. It is his great grandmother."
The old Queen was wearing a summer dress. White lace with off the shoulder sleeves and full skirts. A time of stiff, full circle petticoats and boned corsets with a large straw hat and a vibrant satin sash around the waist to showcase the whiteness of the dress. It reminded her of Scarlett O'Hara. The design was feminine and flattering and all together perfect for her.
"How lovely! Thank you, Mrs. Etro," she said excitedly, turning away from the portrait to smile at the older woman in gratitude. Only, to see that Mrs. Etro had disappeared without a word.
That the older woman was a complete enigma to her was the only justification she could come up with for that abrupt departure. She had not been able to give the head maid's actions much thought afterward, however, because her focus had been the construction of the dress and ordering the various materials needed in order to complete it. Then finally, the night of the ball has come.
The entire day saw her in a flutter of nervous energy. Everything was coming together just wonderfully and a happy aura surrounded the house as decorations were placed and trays upon trays of scrumptious delicacies were laid out upon freshly pressed linen. She has not been down to see the finishing touches but trusts that the servants would know how to handle everything to satisfaction. It was time to get her costume on and prepare herself to look the part of mistress of the house. A feat that has been painstakingly long considering a few pieces needed to be sewn together after being placed upon her body.
Piece upon piece with layer upon layer of the dress has come on. It has easily been the longest she has ever taken to get ready. Her maid, Helen is currently sewing the last of the silk flowers onto her skirts while she fiddled with the position of her wide brimmed straw hat on her head.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Madam," Helen says with a sincere and excited smile on her young face.
"Do you really think so?" she asks, fidgeting in the mirror.
A curt knock at the door sounds before Beatrice's stern voice comes from the other side.
"It's Beatrice! Do you need any of my help, Dear?" Beatrice asks, before opening the door.
"No Beatrice!" she cries. "Do not come in, please! I will be down directly."
"Oh, well, hurry dear," admonishes Beatrice. "The guests will be arriving soon."
"I will!" she reassures her sister in law and then waits for the sounds of retreating footsteps before asking Helen for her fan. "Are you sure I look all right?" she asks, taking one last look in the mirror.
"You are going to shock them all with your loveliness, Madam," exclaims Helen.
She smiles gratefully at the younger girl, grateful for her company yet again. It has been a comfort to have someone as unfamiliar to Manderley as she, to tend to her. With one last smile, she lifts up the front of her skirts and makes her way to the staircase. On her way down, she gets a chance to gaze upon everyone before they see her and she feels her excitement build.
Noctis is dressed in his tuxedo. Miles is dressed as a caveman. Beatrice is dressed as a viking with a long blond wig with pigtails trailing behind her while Ignis is dressed as a university graduate. They all have their backs to her in conversation but her eyes are only focused upon Noctis' broad back as she comes up behind him.
"Good evening, Prince Noctis," she greets nervously.
He turns at the sound of her voice to look at her and his body goes completely rigid. The ready smile vanishes. The color drains from his face as he continues to look at her in shock.
Giles lets out a gasp of stunned surprise while Beatrice gasps one word, "Rebecca!"
At the mention of the name, Noctis' face flushes red and he looks positively furious.
"Why are you wearing that dress?" he demands in a dangerously low voice.
"What's wrong with it?" she asks through a strangled throat.
"You need to get out of that dress," he seethes.
"What is it?" she pleads, trembling in dismay at the dark expression on his face.
"She can't change now," Beatrice protests for her sake.
"The guests are arriving now," adds Giles.
"What will she wear?" asks Beatrice.
"I do not care what she wears so long as she is not wearing that," Noctis replies in a voice choked with anger.
She has never seen him look so angry and feels an overwhelming sense of despair at making him so. Without another word and to prevent everyone from seeing her crying, she whirls around quickly to race back up the stairs in humiliation. Once atop the landing, she happens to turn and catch the black figure of Mrs. Etro walking into Rebecca's room on the other side. Her own anger boils inside her at the sight of the source of her turmoil. The very person responsible for her angering Noctis so. This was not to be born. This had to stop. Her hat falls from her head as she follows behind the head maid into the room. She throws the door to Rebecca's room open to find Mrs. Etro carefully arranging fresh flowers in a crystal vase.
"I watched you go down," Mrs. Etro states without compunction. "Just as I watched her a year ago. Even in the same dress you could not even compare." There is no hiding the disdain in her voice.
"You knew!" she accuses with a shout. "You knew she wore this dress and yet you deliberately suggested I wear it. Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to deserve your scorn?"
"Because you tried to take her place," Mrs. Etro accuses just as venomously. "You let him marry you. I have seen his face, his eyes. I used to hear him late at night, pacing the floors restlessly night after night missing her, wanting her." With each word, Mrs. Etro creeps towards her, causing her to back away towards the side of the bed closest to the windows. "You thought you could be the Princess, but even dead, she is stronger than you. Nobody ever got the better of her, nobody! In the end, it was not a man or a woman that had gotten her, but the sea!"
"I don't want to know!" she cries out in heartbreak. "I don't want to know!" She finds herself falling onto the side of the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
Through all her efforts to make tonight such a completely success, she has failed again, astronomically. She has failed herself. She has failed Noctis. Right now she could die from her misery.
"You are overwrought, Madam," Mrs. Etro states calmly. "I have opened a window for you. The sea air will do you some good."
As if on cue, the suggestion makes her lungs expand in agreement. So she slowly lifts herself back up and staggers towards the wide open window to take a deep breath of sea air. The night air is cold and moist. A thick veil of fog makes everything outside look shrouded and far away. Dreary. Like her life. The hazy stretch looks so daunting and overwhelming. She tries to picture how her life will be after this. The endless gossip of her failure this night that would follow. How would she ever face Noctis again? How could she ever live up to the expectations placed upon her? She slumps against the window frame in defeat and tries to continue breathing.
"Why don't you go?" suggests Mrs. Etro. "Why don't you leave Manderley?"
She had suggested that very thing to Noctis and he had not tried to persuade her to stay.
"He doesn't need you," insists Mrs. Etro, her voice edging closer. "He doesn't love you. He just wants to be alone again, alone with her."
She could not argue that point at all. Looking down at the stone steps far below her, she begins to wonder if it was just easier to fall towards them.
"You don't have anything to live for, do you?" points out Mrs. Etro. "Look down there. It would be so easy wouldn't it? To just let it all go. Why don't you? Go on. Don't be afraid."
How easy it would all be if she did. All she had to do was lean further. It was so very tempting. The hypnotic way in which the other woman beckons her to jump from the window is very hard to resist. She feels the air around her seem to wish her to jump from the window too. What else did she honestly have left? Slowly, she leans even further out. She is almost there when a loud exploding boom rocks through the thick fog and a distress flare lights up the murky sky.
"Shipwreck!" someone shouts from down below, followed by screams and the sounds of many rushing bodies.
Her anxiety now forgotten, her eyes frantically search the many rushing bodies through the thick fog and finally spies Frank helping Noctis into a thick coat.
"Noctis!" she cries, but he cannot hear her over the noise of the rushing masses as men continue to run towards the beach to give aid. She tries to shout his name again but he is then rushing off towards the beach as well, disappearing through the white mist.
It is then that she fully realizes how precariously close she is to falling from the edge of the wide window. She leaps back, noting Mrs. Etro's disappointed face and flees the room before the other woman can say anything else.