wanda1969

Title: “Rebecca”
Author: wanda1969
Prompt: “Rebecca”
Pairing(s): Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Rating: PG
Warnings: very occasional expletive. ALSO, SOMEONE HAD TO BE MRS DANVERS...
Spoilers: More for “Rebecca” (mainly the Hitchcock movie) rather than Torchwood
Disclaimer: I have created no characters here: I have merely borrowed the Torchwood characters from the BBC & their creators. I have also borrowed the plot and some characters from Daphne Du Maurier and Hitchcock (and his scriptwriters). No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, I know this film so well, it was really hard for me not to completely ‘quote’ it...I hope I have paraphrased where necessary.
Author's Notes: Torchwood characters shoehorned into “Rebecca”. Written specifically for the reel_torchwood challenge.

This is closer to the Hitchcock film than the book. I’ve also added an Epilogue which is a bit like one of the first chapters of the book, but at the end- THE EPILOGUE IS THE ONE TO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO STOP WHERE THE FILM DID. I’ve deviated from the book by (mainly) not writing in the first person, and also by allowing the “second Mrs De Winter” to have a ‘name’.

My aim was for romantic drama/suspense in the 1930s film/book stylee with a bit of modern fanfiction (this is set in the modern day).

Many, many, many thanks to the very lovely and patient janiemc for both beta-ing and putting up with me...I am painfully pedantic (if only that would translate to tidying up...). Sorry Janie! I am not PC savvy enough to know how to make your name into an ‘lj link’!

Rebecca- First part- Prologue plus chapters 1 & 2

***

Prologue

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again, and it seemed to me that I stood at the gate but could not enter, the gates being rusted shut and chained together.

I looked to the gatehouse and found it deserted, and then, all of a sudden, it seemed to leap into life, looking as it had all that time ago, climbing red and white roses growing up the walls. I turned to see Bill, the Gatekeeper, smiling and waving as he pulled the gate open for me

The driveway wound this way and that, but now the trees and shrubs were unkempt, and bracken, nettles and ground ivy had taken over and were now starting to claim the gravelled drive, making it appear narrower than I’d remembered all those years ago. As I travelled further, I reached spindly rhododendrons and azaleas, now uncared for, reaching their outer branches across the driveway.

And then I came suddenly to a corner. I turned and there it was: Manderley, still beautiful with the moonlight upon it. As I neared it, it appeared as if the windows glowed with light and I could hear music and laughter, evidence of gaiety and parties- parties that had taken place many years before I first went there.

Then just as suddenly, a cloud drifted across the full moon, and the light went from the windows, and the music and the laughter faded. Now, the house was as I last remembered it- a deserted and bleak shell. The remains of its roofs had long since fallen, and here and there I could see the remnants of the rafters

We can never go back to Manderley again, that much is certain, and waking I know I am many hundreds of miles away, in a foreign country, far away from the events that took place there so many years ago.

Sometimes in my dreams I do go back there, back to my life all those years ago, and how it changed, all that time ago... All those years ago in the South of France...in Monte Carlo...”

***

Chapter 1

Packing away his sketch pad and pencils, the young man rose from the rock where he’d been sitting, overlooking the bay, and made his way along the cliff top path back down towards Monte Carlo. The weather was unseasonably stormy and the winds ruffled his short dark hair as he pulled his casual outdoor jacket around him. He was used to the weather; he’d been born in Newport and spent his weekends on the Pembrokeshire coast.

As he rounded a rocky outcrop, he could see a man, maybe ten or fifteen years older than himself, standing at the cliff’s very edge, staring down towards the swirling sea far beneath him. The man appeared transfixed by the waves crashing violently on the rocks below, his expression dark and brooding. Worryingly, he also seemed to be leaning further and further towards the edge.

“No, stop! Careful! The edge of the cliff is unstable!”

The man’s head snapped upwards and his eyes settled on the younger man.

“Good God! You startled me- I could have slipped. And what the hell are you shouting at?” The man sounded irritated by the interruption. He was also unmistakeably American.

“Well, I thought...I...”

“Oh you did, did you?” he paused. “What’re you doing up here anyway?”

“Just walking....” he hadn’t been expecting the other man’s reaction and his voice tailed off.

“Well...well...just...keep on walking then. And stop shouting!” The American sounded almost exasperated as he shook his head and then turned away, as the young man squeezed past him on the pathway and rushed down the track back down to town.

***

Chapter 2

“This is the last time I come here for the season. Unless the Grand Prix is on, Monaco is a great place to make contacts and do business around the race weekend. And the parties are amazing....But this year there’s no-one here of any use.”

Ianto listened, sitting in the Hotel Hermitage’s bar in a large leather armchair as his employer Edward Van Hopper droned on about his social and business contacts. He tried his best not to look too noticeably bored. Mr Van Hopper’s family had made their millions in gold mining, and he was considered ‘old money’ in his native South Africa. Unfortunately, he was also frequently quite arrogant, and insufferably boring.

“Talking about the right kind of people...Is that Jack Harkness? Things could be looking up- Harkness is one of the richest men in Britain. Owns half of Cornwall.” Mr Van Hopper waved across the bar. “Jack! Jack! How are you doing?”

Ianto followed the direction of his gaze, only to meet the eyes of the American he’d encountered up on the cliff top earlier that day; he felt uncomfortable, remembering the way that the American man- Jack Harkness?- had reacted to him earlier. On the cliff top, he hadn’t had time to take in the man’s features before making his hasty retreat. Here in the bar he had time to look at the man properly. He was about forty, dark haired and a similar height to Ianto. He was undeniably good-looking; if the truth be told, he was possibly one of the most handsome men that Ianto had ever seen. But the most transfixing thing about him, were his eyes which were a deep yet piercing, bright blue. His own eyes were blue, but nothing like this.

Harkness looked as if he was going to rush away until his eyes settled on Mr Van Hopper’s companion, surely the man from earlier today, but who was now immaculately dressed in a dark three piece suit, and deep red shirt and matching tie.

“Join me for a Scotch! Go on, make yourself useful, go and get Jack a Scotch...” Van Hopper turned to look at the young man.

“No, no. You two are joining me,” said Jack Harkness as he took a spare seat around the bar table, before raising his hand and calling a waiter for more drinks.

“Of course, of course. Anyway, how are you? Not seen you since that time in London, ‘bout two years ago- at the Grovesnor Casino? Or have you given up the tables?”

“It’s a young man’s game, and I’m getting older...Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Edward?” Jack asked.

“This is Jones, Ianto Jones, my PA. Ianto, this is Jack Harkness.”

Jack said nothing about their meeting earlier on the cliffs and smiled, reaching over to shake the young man’s hand.

“So, what brings you to Monte Carlo, Jack? Business or pleasure?”

“I’ve just been driving through Italy and stopped off for the night. I was thinking of heading out to Nice and then Marseille tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t blame you! This year it’s so dull, boring even- there’s no-one here.”

“I wouldn’t say that- but what does your Mr Jones here think of Monte Carlo? If he thinks about it at all?” Harkness’ gaze was disquieting; he stared Ianto straight in the eyes as he smiled subtly, eyes creasing gently at the corners.

“Well it’s all a bit...artificial”

“Jones! Most men, or women, would give their eyes to spend the summer in Monte Carlo!” Hopper chastised him with a look that made it quite obvious that his employer thought he was possibly the most ungrateful employee he’d ever had.

Jack Harkness raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that that would kinda defeat the object of the whole thing?” That underlying smile was still there as he continued to look directly at the Welshman. Ianto did his best to keep his face a mask of unamused neutrality. He failed to stifle a small smile, and was greeted with the American raising his eyebrows.

“This year is so dull...I wonder that you come here Jack- if I had Manderley, I’d never leave. That house is magnificent!”

“Well, perhaps familiarity breeds contempt...It’s been a long time since I’ve been back there, it’s a different life...Now if you’ll excuse me...I must have dinner. It was nice to see you Edward...and nice to meet you, Ianto.” The young man noticed Harkness’ eyes had darkened; he looked as he had when he’d met him earlier on the cliffs. He stood and nodded to the both of them, “Goodnight.” And with that he was gone.

“Well what do you suppose that was about, Jones?”

The Welshman didn’t answer; he could quite see why the man had beat a swift retreat. If only he’d been able to do the same.

“He lost his wife just over a year ago...he adored her. I guess it’s hit him hard.”

Ianto wasn’t sure why this information affected him so much, but it did.

***

The next day Ianto walked into the almost empty dining room for a late breakfast, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Mr Van Hopper had sent word to his room that he’d suddenly come down with ‘flu; Ianto’s services would not be needed today. Ianto was overjoyed and he’d started to plan a trip into town. As he was shown to a small table a familiar face looked up. The young man was surprised to see Jack Harkness seated only a table away. He had said that he was leaving for France this morning, so he hadn’t expected to see the American again. As he smiled over, not looking quite what he was doing, Ianto placed his newspaper on the table knocking over a small vase of flowers. Before Ianto knew it, a waiter was righting the vase and wiping down the table cloth, and Jack had risen from his seat.

“Good morning Jones, Ianto Jones! Please, come and join me at my table. You can’t eat at a wet table.” Suddenly, Ianto found Jack Harkness standing right next to him.

“It’s alright, Mr Harkness, Everything will be fine when the table has been wiped down.”

“Join me- I was going to ask you even before you knocked over those flowers. Please, please- take a seat,” Jack had placed a hand lightly on his elbow and was steering Ianto to a seat at his table. Ianto was feeling increasingly nervous in Jacks presence, perhaps a result of the older man’s staring- something that he was doing yet again.

Jack started the conversation again. “So, you’re van Hopper’s PA? How on earth did you get into a job like that- with, of all people, Van Hopper?”

“You know how it is...My company was in financial difficulties, just split up with my girlfriend. I felt like a change. And not only does Van Hopper pay well, the fact that he needs his PA when he travels, means that most of the time I don’t even touch my salary, apart from bills...you get used to him.” Ianto finished apologetically.

“I’ve no idea how you put up with him!” he laughed. “I shouldn’t have said that should I? Anyway- Ianto, that’s a very unusual and interesting name.”

“My father gave it me...he was pretty unusual...and interesting. He was an artist...and it’s not that uncommon a name in Wales. I’m Welsh.”

“A beautiful country, with a beautiful accent.” There was a certain flirtatiousness to the comment.

Ianto wasn’t sure what to say, so quickly said the next thing that came into his head. “And from the accent, I assume you’re American?”

The ‘American’ laughed. “Actually, no. I’m British, but my mother was from the US, so I was always visiting. She insisted I spent a lot of time there and I even did quite a few years at a school near Boston, and had an exchange year there, at University. We’re quite a cosmopolitan family! My sister’s adopted, originally from Japan...I haven’t seen much of her in the last few years...”

“I know what you mean. I haven’t seen my sister Rhiannon for years- since our dad died...” Ianto said wistfully.

Jack changed the subject quickly. “Anyway what’re you up to today? Lots of ‘PA-ing’?”

“No, I’ve got the day free. Mr Van Hopper’s got what he thinks is a possibly life threatening strain of the ‘flu,” he laughed. “I thought I’d go sketching...”

“Aah, So you take after your father? Where’re you going?

“I hadn’t thought...I just thought I’d go walking”

“Look, why don’t you finish up that breakfast- I’ll drive you somewhere. We could even have a picnic? And you know I’d like to apologise for yesterday- I can only blame my rudeness on spending far too much time on my own these days.”

“Ok, apology accepted... and that would be nice. A drive, I mean...”

For the first time, Ianto thought he could see a smile actually reach Jack Harkness’ eyes.

***

That first day out they’d spent their afternoon on a garden terrace with stone benches, high above the town, overlooking Monte Carlo from the West. Ianto sketched as Jack sat close by. They chatted all the while, and they’d snacked on the bread and grapes and brie that Jack had brought. By mid afternoon, Jack was impatient to see Ianto’s work despite the Welshman’s protests.

“That’s wonderful...The bay looks just like it would in a photograph! And with the windy weather, you’ve captured the whole feel...the waves crashing against the rocks. The clouds."

“Just because it’s the Mediterranean, doesn’t mean to say it’s all beaches and sun-bathing. Look at the sea, It’s so calm and so warm, warm compared to England, and most definitely Wales! But I hear there’s a dangerous undertow. Only last month a tourist was drowned...”

The carefree demeanour had vanished and Jack’s brows furrowed and his eyes were dark again. “C’mon. I should be getting you back to Van Hopper.”

Ianto looked away, but he could feel an atmosphere between them. When he turned back, Jack was walking away from the terrace and back towards the open-topped car. Ianto gathered up his things and followed him. On the drive back they fell into conversation and Jack’s mood seemed to lift again.

***

In the morning, Ianto was called into Mr Van Hopper’s suite, ready to take his instructions for the day. Van Hopper was tucked into bed, a hired nurse at his side. He’d never been one to shirk the melodramatic, and at the first hint of a sneeze the day before, he’d called the hotel’s switchboard and engaged a temporary nurse.

“I just don’t know why Harkness isn’t replying to my e-mails, after all he must be so bored here- I’ve sent him about five trying to get him to call by. Mind you, he’s never been the same since his wife drowned so tragically twelve months ago... She was beautiful, the life and soul of every party. I knew her before she married...Rebecca Henstridge...he adored her. I don’t think he’s ever got over it, he’s a changed man. I don’t think he ever will get over her.”

Mr Van Hopper continued to babble, but all Ianto could think of was the day before; how Jack’s behaviour had changed abruptly at the mention of the sea, and of drowning.

***

Chapter List: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/17042.html