My Cousin Rachel: Philip’s other side

In my previous blog post about My Cousin Rachel, I wrote that Philip Ashley’s a naïve, inexperienced man, an easy prey for Rachel—she twists him around her fingers. For some time, I thought that he was foolish, blinded by his infatuation, easily manipulated, and willing to give up his fortune in the name of love. 
Daphne du Maurier subverts expectations by depicting a relationship between a man without much experience and an older woman—it is a remarkable scene of the day after Philip and Rachel have sex, Philip exultant then confused, believing that it means they will married, Rachel serene like nothing happened.
However, the relationship is not so simple—Daphne du Maurier doesn’t depict a simplistic situation where Rachel is charming and manipulative and Philip is an innocent victim. 
Look at this scene when Rainaldi, Rachel’s Italian friend, is visiting: 

“He had power over her, because he had the management of her affairs, and it was this power that might take her back to Florence. I believed that was the purpose of his visit, so to drum it into her, and possibly to tell her also that the allowance the estate paid to her would not be sufficient to maintain her indefinitely. I had the trump card, and he did not know it. In three weeks’ time she would be independent of Rainaldi for the rest of her life.” (Ch.20)   

I read this passage, amused by Philip’s naïvete and lack of awareness, especially when he believes himself to have the trump card. Such a fool. His godfather Nick Kendall and a letter from Ambrose tell him about Rachel’s extravagance, and he still wants to transfer his whole estate to her. During Rainaldi’s 7 days in the house, he and Rachel talk in Italian, and Philip has no way of knowing what they talk about and what they plan, except that now and then he hears his name mentioned. 
When Rachel, Rainaldi, Nick Kendall and his daughter Louise, talk about Rachel going to London, Philip thinks: 

“They little knew I had a plot to fox them all.” (ibid.) 

Again, I thought, what a fool. 
But now my view of Philip is no longer the same. We know that he grows up with Ambrose, a self-proclaimed woman-hater, who doesn’t have a female servant. We know that he has little experience with, or knowledge of, women. But he’s not just naïve. 
For example, look at this early scene, after an argument: 

“I poured myself out a glass of claret, and sat down alone at the head of the table. Christ! I thought, so that’s how women behave. I had never felt so angry, nor so spent. Long days in the open, working with the men at harvest time; arguments with tenants behindhand with their rent or involved in some quarrel with a neighbour which I had to settle; nothing of this could compare to five minutes with a woman whose mood of gaiety had turned in a single instant to hostility. And was the final weapon always tears? Because they knew full well the effect upon the watcher? I had another glass of claret. As to Seecombe, who hovered at my elbow, I could have wished him a world away.” (Ch.13) 

That is the behaviour of a 14-year-old, not a 24-year-old. 

“This, I supposed, was what men faced when they were married. Slammed doors, and silence. Dinner alone. So that appetite, whipped up by the long day’s outing, and the relaxation of the bath-tub, and the pleasure of a tranquil evening by the fire passed in intermittent conversation, watching with lazy ease hands that were white and small against embroidery, had to simmer down. […] And what was she doing? Lying on her bed? Were the candles snuffed, the curtains drawn, and the room in darkness? Or was the mood over now, and did she sit sedately in the boudoir, dry-eyed, eating her dinner off the tray, to make a show for Seecombe? I did not know. I did not care. Ambrose had been so right when he used to say that women were a race apart. One thing was certain now. I should never marry. . .” (ibid.) 

She’s angry and upset, but all he cares about is himself and his loss of appetite. It is the same later, whenever they have a misunderstanding or a quarrel, Rachel is the one to apologise or soothe him, he sits there sulking like a spoilt kid. 
Philip, as a narrator, wants readers to think he’s naïve and foolish, but now and then lets it slip that he has something impulsive, even violent in him. He wants to strike Louise, wishes his godfather to die or go to hell because of the disagreement over the pearls, spends money on repairing the house and thinks his godfather can go hang himself if he doesn’t like it, wants to hit people for talking about Rachel leaving for London, etc. 
To go back to his decision to transfer the whole estate to Rachel, on the surface we see a foolish man losing reason and giving up his fortune for love, despite the gossip about Rachel’s extravagance and the suspicion about Ambrose’s cause of death. However, it is his way of preventing her from leaving, or to put it more crudely, his way of buying her, especially when he adds a clause in the document to prevent her from remarrying.  
If he wants to marry her, why doesn’t he ask? He doesn’t even confess his feelings. Instead, he sneaks behind everyone’s backs, gets Ambrose’s unsigned will and turns it into a valid document, transferring the whole estate to her on his 25th birthday (when his godfather is no longer his guardian), and keeps silent for 3 weeks.   
Afterwards, I mean after they have sex and after Rachel reads the document, he asks for marriage (in a so-not-romantic way) and they realise they have a misunderstanding, how does he react? 

“I tried to think what else I had to give. She had the property, the money, and the jewels. She had my mind, my body, and my heart. There was only my name, and that she bore already. Nothing remained. Unless it should be fear. I took the candle from her hand and placed it on the ledge, above the stairs. I put my hands about her throat, encircling it; and now she could not move, but watched me, her eyes wide. And it was as though I held a frightened bird in my two hands, which, with added pressure, would flutter awhile, and die, and with release would fly away to freedom.
‘‘Never leave me,” I said, “swear it, never, never.” She tried to move her lips in answer, but could not do so, because of the pressure of my hands. I loosened my grasp. She backed away from me, her fingers to her throat. There were two red weals where my hands had been, on either side of the pearl collar. 
“Will you marry me now?” I said to her. 
She gave no answer, but walked backwards from me, down the corridor, her eyes upon my face, her fingers still to her throat…” (Ch.22) 

What an ass. 
I don’t know why I’ve read quite a few reviews of My Cousin Rachel, and most of them only talked about Philip’s naïvete.