'When are you going there?' I asked.
Rachel did not reply.
A day or two later, a letter arrived for Rachel in Rainaldi's handwriting. As I drank tisana with Rachel that evening, I saw the letter on her desk. Was it a love-letter? I had to know.
That night, when Rachel was in bed, I crept into her sitting-room and searched the desk. The letter was not there. But in one small drawer, I found an envelope. Inside it were some small, green seeds. They were laburnum seeds, poisonous to animals and to men.
I put back the envelope and returned to my room. There were two bottles of medicine on the table. I poured the medicines out of the window. Then I went downstairs. The cups from which we had drunk our tisana had not been washed. Did the liquid in my cup have a bitter taste? I could not be sure.
I went to bed and lay there thinking. I was not angry, but I was very unhappy. I remembered Ambrose's words: "Are they trying to poison me?... Rachel has won - I am dying..."
The following day was Sunday. Rachel and I went to church as usual. As she sat beside me, her face was calm and happy. I wished I could hate her, but I could not.
After church, Rachel went to speak to Mary Pascoe. A workman came up to me and said, 'Excuse me, Mr Ashley, but I wanted to warn you. Don't walk on the new bridge over the sunken garden. It is not finished yet. Anyone walking on it would fall and break their neck!'
'Thank you,' I said. 'I will remember.'
At dinner, Rachel was kinder than she had been for a long time. She talked about Florence. She said she would look for a stone statue there to make a fountain for the sunken garden. She made tisana as usual, but I refused to drink it. I would never again drink anything she gave me.
'But it is good for you, Philip,' she said.
'No,' I said. 'You drink it.'
'I have drunk mine already,' Rachel said. 'I will pour this
away.'
We talked together for half an hour or so and then Rachel said, 'I think I shall walk for a little. I want to look at the sunken garden. Will you come with me, Philip?'
I shook my head. 'Take care, Rachel,' I said.
'Of what?' she answered with a smile. 'There is no danger here, Philip.'
I sat by the window until it was almost dark. Rachel had not returned. At last, I ran out of the house and down to the sunken garden. The bridge was broken. My cousin Rachel lay on the ground below. I climbed down and held her hands in mine. They were cold.
'Rachel,' I said. She opened her eyes and I thought she knew me. But she called me Ambrose. I held her hands until she died.
You know now who killed Rachel. But how did Ambrose die? Did Rachel kill him? I shall go on asking myself that question until the day I die.
I live alone now. I am a young man, but I think only of the past. The two people I loved are dead. I have an empty life in front of me. That is my punishment and it is worse than death.
Daphne Du Maurier, My Cousin Rachel
(Series: # )
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