欧宝娱乐

My Cousin Rachel was published in 1951, and is a gripping story of suspense. It very much recalls the feel and style of her earlier mystery novel "Rebecca" of 1938.

The novel's narrator is Philip Ashley, a young man who had been orphaned at the early age of seven. He was raised by his bachelor uncle Ambrose, the owner of a large country estate on the Cornish coast. In the first chapter, we learn Philip's life story up to the age of 24.

Ambrose had been a very unconventional guardian, teaching Philip his alphabet by using the initials of swear-words, for instance, but Philip clearly idolised him. As Philip grew up, they ran the estate together in an all-male household, where Ambrose taught Philip to have nothing to do with women; that they were a "race apart." Although Philip feels himself to be mature, the reader infers from the start that for much of the narrator's life he has been overprotected, and his experience very restricted. The only women in his life have been slight acquaintances, whom he usually found laughable. He does have one female friend, Louise Kendall, the daughter of his godfather, but he views her as young and immature.

During this chapter, in which Philip shares his thoughts, it is clear that something has gone badly wrong. There are frequent mysterious allusions. Philip is clearly tormented by feelings of guilt towards someone he calls "Rachel" - possibly the Rachel of the novel's title.

"No one will ever guess the burden of blame I carry on my shoulders;" he says, "nor will they know that every day, haunted still by doubt, I ask myself a question which I cannot answer. Was Rachel innocent or guilty? Maybe I shall learn that too, in purgatory."

The reader is intrigued to know whatever could have happened. The narrator seems bent on mentally torturing himself with reminiscences.

"Some instinct should have warned her that to stay with me would bring destruction, not only to the phantom that she encountered, but finally, in the end, upon her too."

Having trapped us in her web of mystery and intrigue in the very first chapter, Daphne du Maurier proceeds to use her mastery and control of the narrative to entice us further in.

She does this by slowing the novel right down. Although Philip is speaking in flashback, his memories of the events he is recounting from chapter 2 onwards feel very much like the present. The language is at times poetic; the images lush and beautiful, especially the parts set in Italy. (view spoiler)[ Ambrose although only 43 had had to spend the winters in a warmer climate because of his health. His letters told Philip that while he was in Florence, he had fallen in love and married a cousin of theirs called Rachel, the widow of an Italian nobleman, Sangalletti. Sangalletti had been killed in a duel, leaving her childless and in a precarious financial position. They wanted to travel to England, but it would not be for a long time as there were many financial affairs to sort out.

Philip was devastated by this news, but also ashamed that he could not be pleased for Ambrose, while everyone else seemed delighted for the happy couple. Ambrose's letters became increasingly sporadic, and unlike the carefree Ambrose of old. When he did write he complained of the relentless sun, the stuffy atmosphere of the villa Sangalletti and terrible headaches. Ambrose also said that a friend and advisor of Rachel's called Rainaldi had recommended that he see a different doctor, whom he referred to as "a cut-throat. They are liars, the whole bunch." He said he could trust no one. "She watches me all the time." This resolved Philip upon immediately dashing across to Italy to find out what was happening. (hide spoiler)]

The reader too is firmly gripped in the author's clutches by now. (view spoiler)[ We know Ambrose's father had a brain tumour; we know Philip is an impressionable naive young man; we know his jealousy of Ambrose's unknown new wife. He constantly shifted between viewing her as as some kind of overbearing bossy dragon, or as a prissy feminine creature making unreasonable demands. We have many possible scenarios in our minds, but nothing substantial.

On Philip's arrival in Florence the tension is cranked up another notch when he discovers that Ambrose has died there in suspicious circumstances, and that Rachel has left. The description of the countryside, the villa Sangalletti and the servants through Philip's eyes make it clear that he cannot understand how Ambrose could have ever been happy here. Already we have the dichotomy. Is Philip's view of the world impossibly sheltered, or has there been some sort of conspiracy? Philip is badly shocked by the realisation that he will never see Ambrose again. Is this colouring his views? He calls on Rainaldi, who seems startled when he sees Philip, but quickly recovers himself and explains that Ambrose's condition had deteriorated quickly, with his behaviour becoming very strange and that this was because of pressure on his brain. The reader knows this to be possible, as Philip's godfather, Nick Kendall, has explained that Ambrose's father had himself died of a brain tumour, having suffered terrible headaches beforehand. Nevertheless, Philip feels intense dislike and mistrust for Rainaldi and hatred of the unknown Rachel

"the shadowy hated figure of that woman I had never seen鈥� she had become a monster, larger than life itself."

Philip returns to Cornwall, to try to cope with the devastation of Ambrose's death. Shortly afterwards his godfather receives a letter from Rainaldi. The death certificate confirmed that Ambrose's cause of death was a brain tumour. In addition, Ambrose had never changed his will in Rachel's favour so Philip is still heir to the estate. He will inherit the estate and all the consequent duties in a few months, when he becomes 25. Again we have the jarring note. Why did Ambrose not change his will? Why is there no provision whatsoever for his widow?

During the next two weeks Philip builds up a mental image of the hated Rachel whom he blames for wrecking both their lives. But then word comes to say that Rachel has arrived by boat at Plymouth. Apparently she has all Ambrose's possessions with her and wants to return them to Philip. It is impressed on Philip by his godfather that he must, however reluctantly, invite her to stay with him briefly. The servant Seecombe pulls out all the stops to prepare the house for a female visitor, unearthing silver which Philip had never seen before and so on. On the day Rachel is due to arrive, Philip goes out so that there will be no one to receive her. He determines to do as little as possible for his visitor despite the servants' excitement. When Philip does eventually meet his cousin he is brusque to the point of rudeness, and tries hard to maintain a cold demeanour. (hide spoiler)]

This part of the novel is lighthearted, providing some relief from all the previous tension. The reader sees Philip's dilemma. (view spoiler)[ Rachel is a quiet self-contained character, not at all what he expected her to be. She has a mischievous sense of humour, which deflects all Philip's bombast. Her unpretentiousness and knowledge of the estate - the lands, buildings and all the tenants - unnerve Philip, and he begins to learn that she and Ambrose were very close. Philip finds himself at ease with her; all thoughts of anger, hatred and fear disappear very quickly.

The next day Philip shows Rachel around the estate and introduces her to the tenants in the surrounding farms. She is instantly welcomed and liked by all, seeming to have a true empathy with people. Philip is startled by this, especially when Seecombe refers to her as "the mistress" and it is made clear both how much she is liked for herself, and also how everybody would have loved Ambrose to have brought his new wife to live on the estate.

It only takes a couple of days for Rachel to have completely destroyed any intentions Philip had to make her feel unwelcome. On the contrary he now resents the fact that she was supposed to stay with the Kendalls, and seems to want to keep her all to himself. The reader deduces that this impressionable young man is becoming besotted with this mysterious, older woman. His friend Louise tells him that she is beautiful, but he claims on the contrary that she is

"the most ordinary woman I have ever met."

And in contrast during the narrative he feels himself "blundering,鈥actless,鈥nfeeling, oafish and illbred."

Rachel herself is portrayed very engagingly; we do not doubt that she loved Ambrose and is grieving for him. Rachel has brought many plants from Florence and she spends a lot of time working in the gardens with Tamlyn, the head gardener. Evidently Rachel is an expert on plants and herbs and often provides advice on the use of herbal remedies to the staff in the house and the families in the nearby farms.

"We are very old, and very wise, who come from Florence,"

she says. Rachel becomes well-loved by all, and Philip comments that she seems to know far more about many of the people than he has ever managed to learn in his entire life.

Louise, however sees her differently.

"How simple it must be," she says at one point, "for a woman of the world like Mrs Ashley, to twist a young man like yourself around her finger."

Her point of view may be consistent throughout the novel, but is it the correct one? She is, after all, possibly in love with Philip and therefore jealous. Rainaldi too is depicted as unreliable; he is "disliked intensely" by the narrator. But is Rainaldi's judgement sound? We have glimpses of his own view of Rachel,

"the nature of her impulses has not always led her into happiness."

And what of Nick Kendall's view that "There are some women鈥� good women very possibly, who through no fault of their own impel disaster." (hide spoiler)]

The reader feels continually on edge reading this novel. Daphne du Maurier is in total control, manipulating our loyalties. In addition, one of the unusual and almost hypnotic elements of this novel is the changing moods created by the author. The main character's feelings are constantly mirrored by the manner of describing the locations, and especially the weather. When Philip is dreading the arrival of his visitor he goes walking in the wind and rain. He gets wet "nearly to the skin." Again after a violent disagreement we are again told that it is a cold, rainy day. The wind is blowing and by the time he returns home he is chilled and wet.

(view spoiler)[When he and Rachel are searching through Ambrose's boxes of belongings, (hide spoiler)]

"The rain was lashing at the windows of my old room, and a patch of damp had appeared on the ceiling. The fire, which had not been lit since last winter, burnt with a false crackle."

And in the middle of this heightened tension, (view spoiler)[ Philip discovers another note from Ambrose

"it's a disease of course鈥� like kleptomania or some other malady, and has no doubt been handed down to her from her spendthrift father鈥� I dare not let her have command over my purse or I shall be ruined."

During another section, when Philip is in a sort of limbo, not understanding his own feelings for Rachel or whether they are truly reciprocated, (hide spoiler)] Nature seems held in suspended animation; in contemplative mood.

"My nights of vigil held a quality harder to bear. There was a sort of beauty to them, cold and clear, that caught at the heart and made me start in wonder. From my window the long lawns dipped to the meadows, and the meadows to the sea, and all of them were white with frost, and white too under the moon. The trees that fringed the lawns were black and still鈥� suddenly from the hush and stillness I heard that high sharp bark of a vixen鈥� away in the distance in the open park鈥� and now the full moon toppled the trees and held the sky and nothing stirred on the lawns beneath my window鈥� here about me was a wealth of beauty that we might have shared."

Although this passage is much shortened, the stillness is almost tangible; the reader almost feels able to reach out and touch it.

Later, when Philip feels that he has succeeded with an audacious plan to secure the future he desires most, he

"rode home with a reckless feeling in my heart鈥� I would have sung aloud but I could not keep to a single tune. The hedgerows were green, and the willows were in bud, and all the honeyed mass of golden gorse in bloom. It was a day for folly and high fever."

And when Philip is again happy with anticipation,

"It was a night for walking. I did not run, but for all that I achieved the beacon hill. The moon, so nearly full, hovered, with swollen cheek, above the bay, and wore about his face the look of a wizard man who shared my secret鈥� there were the flickering lights of the little towns along the western coast, and our own harbour lights to the east as well鈥� I climbed down鈥� and laughing to myself at this folly most sublime plunged into the water."

Contrast this with an episode when he feels himself betrayed and cannot see a way to proceed,

"The bluster that should have been in February and March had come at last. Gone was the mellow warmth of the past weeks, the smooth sea, and the sun. Great clouds with dragging tails, black-edged and filled with rain, came scudding from the west, and now and again with sudden bursting fury emptied themselves as hail. The sea was a turmoil in the western bay."

And later, "The clouds came lower than they had before, turning the mist, cloaking the trees on the opposite shore.

Threaded through the entire novel is the tension set up between the two main characters. Daphne du Maurier is a master at ambiguity as well as suspense. She holds her audience in thrall throughout, making the reader constantly sway between one theory and another, believing in one character and doubting another, only to have this turned on its head by a chance occurrence.(view spoiler)[ A letter from Ambrose, found in an old overcoat by Sam Bate, the tenant of East Lodge, states,

"One thought possesses me, leaving me no peace. Are they trying to poison me?"

This is discovered in the middle of the story, and is the longest letter found so far. And a little later, "She has done for me at last, Rachel my torment." But who is being honest, who deceitful? Has the pressure in Ambrose's brain made his hallucinations yet worse? Is it true as he says that

"Money, God forgive me for saying so, is, at the present time, the only way to her heart." ?

Louise says of Rachel, near the end,

"She came to England, and to Cornwall, for a purpose, which she has now accomplished." (hide spoiler)]

Is anyone duplicitous - or not? Is anyone impossibly naive - or anyone overly suspicious? The author keeps the doubts and suspicion going right until the end of the novel.

So does the reader ever discover the answers? Well now, that would be telling! One sentence maybe sums it up

"Only cold hard facts, twisted to distortion."

But which ones?


Edit: WARNING - Only click to expose this spoiler if you have already read the novel:

(view spoiler)[The ambiguous ending here is a favourite device of Daphne du Maurier. In an interview from 1977, she was asked,

"In My Cousin Rachel, was Rachel good or evil?" and she replied,

"Lots of people have asked that and, to tell the truth, I don鈥檛 know. You see, I was Philip when I wrote the book ... When one is writing a novel in the first person, one must be that person."

Interesting, isn't it? And you have it there from the horse's mouth. (hide spoiler)]


Here are links to my reviews of:

Jamaica Inn
Rebecca
The House on the Strand
The Scapegoat

and one play:

The Years Between