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"Dear Diary,",

Rebecca wrote onto the page, and thought about her next lines. This was her third entry. So far, nothing.

"Another day at Manderley has gone by much like the others. We are all excited for the upcoming fancy dress ball. Danny has a been a tremendous help."

'there we go', Rebecca thought, carefully considering.

"I do so look forward to putting on my dress. We had it especially made, Danny and I. We spend so much time together, I could almost feel married to her, rather than Max."

Another pause, another caution - don't overdo it, this has to be believed. It was all part of the game.

"He used to be the one to brush my hair but now Danny does it, and I wouldn't have anyone else for all the world. Her tender strokes always make me feel like"

She initially blotted the next words out, as if she had written something scandalous. She could just envision Mrs Danvers' face upon seeing those stains. How her imagination would run wild with images of Rebecca, how every stroke of the brush would in the future become a metaphorical stroke on Rebecca's skin. She set the pen down again.

"I barely dare to write it. One should not become quite so attached to the house staff. But Danny has been with me always. There is nothing I do not trust her with. She always treats me so gently, like a"

Rebecca left the word "lover" just visible under the lines that crossed it out. This would have to do for today. She signed "Rebecca" with that tall, sloping R, closed the diary and hid it in its usual space - knowing Mrs Danvers would find and read it later. She would believe she had discovered Rebecca's mind and knew her true. Her heart would tear and render over Rebecca, with unquenchable longing that could only be stilled with ever longer looks and touches, until temptation gave way to a single taste - a kiss - and then... Well, she had Mrs Danvers right where she wanted her to be.

She would scold her for her scandalous transgressions, and reward her at the next turn. She would say the word "mistress" in so many inflections that Danny lost and found all meanings of the word.

She would own her. Soon.

Rebecca smiled at the hidden diary and the brilliance of her little schemes, entirely convinced that this deception would yet again work. After all, she had written "diaries" like this before. She had done the same exact thing, to her cousin Jack, who had looked at her just like Danny did.

'And look where they are now', she mused, striding into the next room to pick a dress for dinner.