daphne du maurier my cousin rachel book review

The allowance my cousin Philip gave me was more than enough. The idea of our marriage rather than the reality of it. The symbol of what could have been before he turned on me. I simply wanted to see the home Ambros talked about. I have the means to do so now, though God knows it’s not why I came here.

That his ridiculous present of his entire fortune will surely convince me to stay. That he thinks I’m so sure to agree it’s as if I’ve done so already. I half-believe in his mind we’re already married. His fantasy is as complete as the paranoia that claimed Ambrose. Would he wrap his hands around my throat again and expect me to make myself his? Would he force me and afterward tell me I liked it and must marry him? While me … I know not what he’d do were we alone now. The worst he’d do is throw her out of the house. Should I feel guilty for bringing Mary Pascoe into this house? Surely his fury won’t touch her, too. The slightest squeeze more and I’d not have been able to draw the thinnest breath. My cousin Philip could have snapped my neck, though he wouldn’t have had to. Stronger than the ones Ambros once put around my neck. Those big, powerful hands of a man who works on his farm every day and stands a head taller than me. I still feel the pressure of his hands at my throat. A younger, more devoted Ambros to worship me once again if only for a moment.Īnd how could I have known that he meant marriage by his comment about lacking warmth and comfort? Or that he thought I’d agreed to be his when he took me into those primroses? Or that he would get so drunk he’d announce our engagement to his godfather and poor Louise at dinner? A birthday gift that would mean more than that stupid little pearl cravat pin. He knows too little of the world to realize what I gave him was nothing more than a thank you. It was a foolish thing on both our parts, the midnight of his birthday. Or perhaps not him, but Ambros back in my life.

They were orders, though I turned a blind eye to it then because I wanted him. More than I could resist when he asked me to stay. To see his face - that beloved, tormenting face - staring into my eyes once more was more than I could leave. If my cousin Philip had not been so like Ambros perhaps I could have left.

Daphne du maurier my cousin rachel book review