The husband in Rebecca

Earlier, I mentioned some red flags about Maxim de Winter. As the story unfolds, it becomes manifest that he’s not a nice man, even if the narrator adores him. 
At the beginning of the story, she’s 21, he’s 42—he’s old enough to be her father, and treats her as such. 

“He considered me a moment, his eyebrows raised, whistling softly. "Listen, my sweet. When you were a little girl, were you ever forbidden to read certain books, and did your father put those books under lock and key?"
"Yes," I said.
"Well, then. A husband is not so very different from a father after all. There is a certain type of knowledge I prefer you not to have. It's better kept under lock and key. So that's that. And now eat up your peaches, and don't ask me any more questions, or I shall put you in the corner."
"I wish you would not treat me as if I was six," I said.
"How do you want to be treated?"
"Like other men treat their wives."
"Knock you about, you mean?"
"Don't be absurd. Why must you make a joke of everything?" (Ch.16) 

What a creep. 
This is not an equal relationship. Often, Maxim says to her “my sweet child” condescendingly, and he makes her feel like Jasper, the dog—he can just pat her now and then, give her a bit of attention, and she’s happy. 
Even if he doesn’t get angry or raise his voice, he’s often rude to her—curt, abrupt, unkind, sometimes even mocking. 
For example, when she breaks the china cupid and places the pieces in an envelope and hides it in a drawer, not telling anyone, he may be correct to say that she acts like an in-between maid, not the mistress of the house. However, he doesn’t bother to understand why she acts that way, why she feels like she doesn’t fit in, and what she can do other than “making an effort”. 
I’ve also noticed that Maxim never apologises or tries to soothe her, it is the narrator who says sorry when he gets grumpy or offended. 
Now look at this passage: 

“He stared at me moodily, his hands in his pockets, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. "I wonder if I did a very selfish thing in marrying you," he said. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
I felt very cold, rather sick. "How do you mean?" I said.
"I'm not much of a companion to you, am I?" he said. "There are too many years between us. You ought to have waited, and then married a boy of your own age. Not someone like myself, with half his life behind him."
"That's ridiculous," I said hurriedly, "you know age doesn't mean anything in marriage. Of course we are companions."
"Are we? I don't know," he said.
I knelt up on the window seat and put my arms round his shoulders. "Why do you say these things to me?" I said; "you know I love you more than anything in the world. There has never been anyone but you. You are my father and my brother and my son. All those things."
"It was my fault," he said, not listening. "I rushed you into it. I never gave you a chance to think it over."
"I did not want to think it over," I said, "there was no other choice. You don't understand, Maxim. When one loves a person..."” (Ch.12) 

There is indeed a big age gap between them, but the main issue is incompatibility and lack of communication. Maxim and the narrator are very different (note from the beginning: she bites her nails, he has an emery board in his pocket). 
They don’t share much with each other either. The narrator may make out like they enjoy talking and have a good time when alone (in this sense, she’s an unreliable narrator), but he never talks about the past and never really talks about his feelings. Jane Austen would distrust him, for his lack of openness. Maxim doesn’t tell the narrator about Jack Favell and Mrs Danvers. 
On her side, the narrator doesn’t share much with him either—her insecurities, her fears, her obsession with Rebecca and feelings about Mrs Danvers are all kept to herself. She doesn’t tell him about the book with Rebecca’s handwriting, nor the visit to Rebecca’s morning room and their old bedroom, nor the encounter with Jack Favell in the house, nor the incident at Maxim’s grandmother’s house, nor the references to Rebecca that the employees make, nor anything of importance. There is no communication in their marriage.  

“I seized advantage of his smile, I smiled too, and took his hands and kissed them. "How absurd to say we are not companions," I said; "why look how we sit here every evening, you with a book or a paper, and me with my knitting. Just like cups of tea. Just like old people, married for years and years. Of course we are companions. Of course we are happy. You talk as though you thought we had made a mistake? You don't mean it like that, do you, Maxim? You know our marriage is a success, a wonderful success?"
"If you say so, then it's all right," he said.
"No, but you think it too, don't you, darling? It's not just me? We are happy, aren't we? Terribly happy?"
He did not answer. He went on staring out of the window while I held his hands. My throat felt dry and tight, and my eyes were burning. […] 
"Well, why don't you answer me?" I said.
He took my face in his hands and looked at me, just as he had before, when Frith had come into the room with tea, the day we went to the beach.
"How can I answer you?" he said. "I don't know the answer myself. If you say we are happy, let's leave it at that. It's something I know nothing about. I take your word for it. We are happy. All right then, that's agreed!" He kissed me again, and then walked away across the room. I went on sitting by the window, stiff and straight, my hands in my lap.” (ibid.)  

Poor naïve girl. If he doesn’t say he’s happy, he’s not. He doesn’t say he loves her either. That is very telling. Does Maxim ever say love? Not during the proposal. Not now. 
As readers learn more about Rebecca, we start to realise that Maxim marries the narrator because he can easily control her, which we can guess he couldn’t quite do with Rebecca. 
All this examination of Maxim de Winter’s character and behaviour towards the narrator is not idle musings. It is, I believe, key to interpreting the novel as a whole. I’m on chapter 17, about the fancy dress ball at Manderley, but I’m aware of the 2 main interpretations of Daphne du Maurier’s book. We have to see how the story unfolds. Du Maurier’s a brilliant plotter, I should add. 
I suppose, interpreting the book might be difficult, because the narrator is perceptive but unreliable—she’s head over heels in love with Maxim, for whatever reason. But at the moment, we can see all the problems, and can also compare him to some other male characters in the book. His agent Frank Crawley, for example, seems like a very kind, considerate man. It would be much better for her if the narrator’s married to him instead of Maxim (I know, I know then we wouldn’t have the book). Maxim’s brother-in-law Giles Lacy also seems nice—fat and probably boring but nice—see the way he tries to comfort her at the ball whilst Maxim is cold to her all evening. A woman’s stupidity in love always gets on my nerves. 
By the way, there is an interesting detail. Remember how Beatrice (Maxim’s sister) asks the 2nd Mrs de Winter about pregnancy and she talks like it’s not a possibility, even after Beatrice suggests sometimes there’s no morning sickness (Ch.15)? 
Look: 

“I got into bed, my legs very weary, a niggling pain in the small of my back. I lay back and closed my eyes, thankful for the cool white comfort of clean sheets. I wished my mind would rest like my body, relax, and pass to sleep. Not hum round in the way it did, jigging to music, whirling in a sea of faces. I pressed my hands over my eyes but they would not go.
I wondered how long Maxim would be. The bed beside me looked stark and cold.” (Ch.17) 

They sleep in different beds.