The Keys to Manderley

A recent re-read of Daphne Du Maurier’s timeless novel, Rebecca, had me scurrying to watch the three Rebecca films I like. They are the Alfred Hitchcock version from 1939, the popular 2020 movie, and the 1994 mini-series adaptation with Charles Dance and Emilia Fox.

I first read Rebecca in 9th grade English Literature when our marvelous teacher, Mrs. Otis, began the class with a series of Gothic novels. Mrs. Otis passed out small paperbacks of Rebecca with the ominous-looking Manderley, the ancestral home depicted in the novel, on the cover. I remember how Rebecca scared me to bits, always bearing in mind that my teacher’s definition of a Gothic story always included a mysterious house (think Thornfield in Jane Eyer). Rebecca was my first grown-up book.

Missing from the story was the name of the second Mrs. de Winter who was never identified and guessing her name has been the subject of many controversies and contests since the book was published in 1938. Du Maurier did tell us via Maxim that her name was exquisitely beautiful. More confounding to me was that Mrs. de Winter was a rather milk-toast character who never really came into her own until much later in the story. I was always aggravated that she was so frozen in place by Manderley’s spirits that she wouldn’t even order herself new underwear from London on her husband’s ample account.

The largest character in the novel was Manderley, the beautiful stately manor belonging to husband Maxim de Winter. Its bewildering history housed the ghost of the first Mrs. de Winter, the enigmatic larger-than-life Rebecca and her cruel and very much alive, lady-in-waiting Mrs. Danvers.

I’m off-track now but let me take you back to the afternoon Maxim brings his new wife to Manderley for the first time. In the Charles Dance mini-series, Mr. de Winter’s roadster stops at a clearing on the access road to the manor and asks the new Mrs. de Winter what she thinks of her new home. “I like it”, she states. “Good, because it’s YOURS”, he replies.

This is not in the novel. I checked. But that lovely scene with Manderley tucked in a vale – imposing and large – Maxim basically gives all his worldly goods – the money, the house, the servants, the grounds, etc. over to his wife, a mere girl old enough to be his daughter. And he barely knew her.

This sequence speaks to the honor and seriousness of marriage. The what’s mine is yours, the “your people shall be my people” mindset that is so old-fashioned, romantic and perhaps so naive considering today’s standards of high divorce and lack of commitment. It makes me wonder how often we see this allegiance in relationships today. You are my wife, my husband, my friend, my family…here are the keys to my Manderley. All for you. No questions asked.

I realize this is sounding personal. It’s true that my marital status tells you that I was never given the keys to anybody’s anything no questions asked. At least not by any man. But I have friends and family that have given me their Manderley “keys”. I know them by the help, comfort and love I have received from them over the years. Their generosity of understanding when I call them late at night with concerns that are holy only to me. Their care and commitment and faithful sensitivity have been lifelines and I am grateful beyond mere thanks for the keys to their Manderley.

I’ve given my keys to others too. Love and caring is not always found in grand “Manderley” gestures but also in small moments of kindness and presence.