The Midnight Rose (7 page)

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, touched by the gift. “I’ll put it in water right away.”

Eventually, finding Mrs. Trevathan in the kitchen, she explained that she needed a vase for her rose and that the gardener had said there was a phone in the study. Mrs. Trevathan led her into a small, dark room lined with bookshelves, the desk piled high with unevenly stacked papers.

“There you go, but don’t be too long if it’s to America. His lordship has a fit as it is over the telephone bills. I’ll bring the rose up to your room later.”

Mrs. Trevathan left the room, and Rebecca thought that “his lordship” sounded like an ogre.

Sitting down and finding the number on her cell, she picked up the receiver of the ancient telephone, which had a circular dial with numbers written on it. Finally, having worked out what to do, she inserted
her finger into the holes one-by-one and turned the dial to call Jack. Guiltily, she felt relieved when she heard it go straight to voice mail.

“Hi, it’s me, and I’m someplace where there’s no Internet or cell phone signal. I’ll be moving to a hotel later today, so I’ll contact you then. I’m fine, by the way. I—” Rebecca paused as she thought what to say to him, but the subject was so big and complex that no words came neatly to mind to describe it. “I’ll call you soon, bye.”

Picking up the receiver once more, dialing and getting the voice mail of Victor, her agent, she left a similar message.

Leaving the study, she went in search of Steve, determined to pin him down and find out exactly where she was going to stay for the duration of the shoot. She found him by the location catering van, set up in the courtyard to the side of the house.

“I know, I know, Rebecca, you want to know where you’re going,” Steve said, obviously harassed. “As a matter of fact, I was just coming to find you with what I hope is good news. Lord Astbury came to see me five minutes ago and said it was fine if you wanted to stay here for the duration of the shoot. I’m somewhat surprised, given his previous antipathy to the idea. We had found you a discreet bed-and-breakfast in one of the nearby villages, but to be frank, the accommodation probably isn’t up to your usual standards. And there’s no guarantee the paps wouldn’t find you there eventually anyway. So, it’s up to you.”

“Okay, can I think about it?” Even though she loved the security and tranquility of her current accommodation, she was uncertain of sharing it with the so far unseen Lord Astbury.

“Yes,” said Steve as his walkie-talkie crackled. “Excuse me, Rebecca, they need me on set.”

Back in her room, Rebecca ran through her lines in preparation for seeing the voice coach in half an hour. She stood up and gazed out of the windows. She really did feel secure and tranquil here. More than anything, she needed peace and quiet to concentrate fully on her performance. This role would make or break her future career.

•  •  •

After the session with the voice coach, Rebecca found Steve on the terrace and said she’d be delighted to stay on at Astbury Hall.

“What with your current circumstances, I think it’s probably the only sensible thing to do,” Steve replied, relieved that the problem had been solved. “And Mrs. Trevathan said she’d be happy to feed you in
the evenings. She seems to have taken you under her wing.” He smiled at her.

“Oh, I rarely eat much in the evening, so—”

“Hello there,” said a voice from behind them.

Rebecca saw the gardener walking up the terrace steps toward them.

“Good afternoon, Lord Astbury. Rebecca has said she’d like to stay on,” Steve said. “It really is extremely kind of you to make an exception for her.”

“Anthony, please,” the man said.

Rebecca looked first at Steve and then at Anthony, shocked.

“Maybe in the evenings, Miss Bradley, when everyone has left, you can come and help me with the gardening,” he said, an ironic glint in his eye.

“I—
you’re
Lord Astbury?” she managed to splutter.

“Yes, although as I just said to Steve, everyone calls me Anthony.”

Rebecca felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m so embarrassed, I didn’t realize who you were.”

“No, well, perhaps I wasn’t quite the image you had in your mind,” Anthony answered calmly. “Sadly, these days, the poor, penniless gentry have to do their own dirty work. No black tie and tails for us any longer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some laburnums to attend to.”

He turned away and headed around the side of the house.

“Oh, Rebecca.” Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Classic! I’m not sure how it goes in the States, but the modern aristocracy here in England tend to be the scruffiest bunch in society. It’s become their badge of honor to wear the oldest clothes and drive clapped-out cars. No self-respecting peer of the realm would think of dressing up at home. It just isn’t done.”

“I see,” Rebecca replied, feeling very stupid and very foreign.

“Anyway, your ignorance doesn’t seem to have done you any harm,” Steve continued in her silence. “It’s solicited an open-ended invitation to stay here with him.”

James Waugh appeared and sauntered over to them. “Rebecca, I was just going to ask you, are you busy tonight? I thought maybe we could have a bite to eat and get to know each other a little better. We have our first scene tomorrow morning and it’s rather—how would one put it—up close and personal.” He gave her a cheeky grin.

“Actually, I was going to have an early night,” she replied.

“I’m sure Graham can come and collect you afterward, so that you can still do that.”

“I’d . . . rather not. The press . . .”

“All gone, as of this morning,” James confirmed. “And you really can’t let all that celebrity business get in the way of your performance, can you?”

“No. Okay,” Rebecca conceded finally, not wishing to appear aloof.

“Good.” James smiled. “I’ll see you at eight at the hotel. And don’t worry, I’ll tell them to find us a discreet table.”

As James left, Steve’s eyes twinkled at Rebecca. “Think you’ve made a hit there too. Watch him, he’s got a reputation for being a naughty boy.”

“I will. Thanks, Steve.” She walked off, her head held high.

Back upstairs in her bedroom, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

It was Mrs. Trevathan. “Sorry to bother you, Rebecca, but I hear that you’ve met his lordship.”

“Yes, I have,” Rebecca murmured as she continued hanging her few items of clothing in the old mahogany wardrobe.

“Here, let me do that,” said Mrs. Trevathan.

“No, it’s fine, I—”

“Sit yourself down and we can talk as I sort you out.”

Rebecca acquiesced and perched on the end of the bed as Mrs. Trevathan put away the remaining contents of her case.

“You really haven’t brought much with you, have you, dear?” she commented. “Anyway I came to say that his lordship has invited you to join him for dinner tonight. He always eats at eight p.m. sharp.”

“Oh no—I’m afraid I can’t. I have a prior engagement.”

“I see. Well now, his lordship will be disappointed. And after his being so kind as to have you here.”

Rebecca could hear the disapproval in the housekeeper’s voice. “Please apologize to him for me, and tell him I’d be delighted to join him any other night,” she said placatingly.

“I will. He really doesn’t enjoy people swarming all over his house. His lordship prefers peace, and lots of it. But needs must when the devil drives, I suppose.”

“Pardon me?”

“I mean, dear, he needs the money from the film to keep the house going,” Mrs. Trevathan said, clarifying her previous statement.

“I see. Does Lord Anthony have a family?” she inquired tentatively.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“So he lives alone here?”

“Yes. Right, then, I’ll be seeing you in the morning. Bright and early, I hear. Don’t you be getting home too late tonight, now, will you, dear? You need to be fresh for tomorrow.”

“I won’t, I promise. Thanks, Mrs. Trevathan.” Rebecca knew the older woman was mothering her, and it was a comforting feeling.

Her early childhood was not a time Rebecca cared to go back to. Very few people, not even her agent, knew the truth of her past. Although one evening, when Jack and she had taken a short vacation in an autumnal, windswept Nantucket, she had told him the truth.

He had held her as she’d cried, tenderly wiping the tears from her eyes.

Rebecca shook her head and sighed. She had felt truly loved by Jack then. She stood up and paced across the creaking floorboards, the memory so at odds with more recent times when he’d been high, incoherent and aggressive. Not for the first time, she wished with all her heart that they were just Mr. and Mrs. Average, like they’d been that weekend, wrapped up against the chill and unrecognized. Just a boy and a girl in love.

But that wasn’t how it was, and she knew it was pointless wanting it to be.

Brushing those thoughts aside, Rebecca saw she had less than an hour before she joined her costar for dinner.

G
ood evening,” said James as Rebecca entered the small sitting room of his suite, where a table had been set up for dinner. He kissed her on both cheeks and led her toward it. “Thought you might prefer to eat up here, under the circumstances.”

“Yes, thanks,” agreed Rebecca, grateful for the privacy from beady-eyed diners, but at the same time worrying about gossip among the hotel staff. Being spotted entering her attractive costar’s suite at night was in many ways worse than being seen with him in the hotel’s public restaurant.

“And don’t worry about the staff saying anything.” James seemed to read her mind as he pulled the chair out to sit her down. “Robert informed me the hotel has signed a privacy clause while we’re all staying here. If one word leaks out to the press on any of the cast’s activities, the production company’s lawyers will sue the hide off them.”

“Okay,” said Rebecca.

“It’s madness, really, isn’t it?” sighed James, sitting down opposite her. “Anyway, the soup is already here, so tuck in before it gets cold. Wine?” He proffered a bottle.

“No, thanks,” said Rebecca. “I need to be fresh for tomorrow.”

“So, how did you get ‘discovered’?” asked James, pouring a healthy slug of wine into his own glass.

Rebecca stirred the bowl of thin, nondescript soup as she considered how to answer, thinking that Mrs. Trevathan’s offerings were far superior to this. “I don’t actually feel I ever
was
discovered. I just got a small part in a TV series when I was twenty, and from there, the parts just grew and grew,” she shrugged.

“I’m yet to make it to Hollywood,” said James. “The press attention here in the UK is bad enough, but from what I’ve heard, it sounds like a nightmare in LA.”

“Oh it is,” agreed Rebecca, “which is why I don’t live there. I have an apartment in New York.”

“Good for you. I think you’re wise. I have a friend who went across
to do a movie in LA a couple of years ago and he says that most film stars literally never go out. They barricade themselves in their homes in the hills behind their high-security walls and banks of cameras. That wouldn’t suit me at all,” he added with a grin.

“Your friend is right, and it doesn’t suit me either. New York is way more relaxed.”

“Except for times like now, when they even stalk you in deepest Devon.” James raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, it’s a nightmare right now.” Rebecca gave up on her soup and placed her spoon on the plate beside it.

“I always find it ironic that every young actor’s goal is your kind of fame and fortune,” James mused. “But the price is high. I’m not in your league, of course, but even
my
antics end up in the papers.”

“I guess you’re supposed to get used to it.” Rebecca sighed. “It becomes normal. But it’s the lies they tell that get me.”

“But this engagement isn’t a lie, is it, Rebecca?”

Rebecca paused and thought how to answer, while James cleared away the soup and produced two dishes from the warmer that room service had provided.

“I’d say the announcement was a little . . . premature. But yes, Jack has asked me to marry him.”

“And you’ve said yes?”

“Kind of. Anyway, let’s talk about the film, shall we?” she said abruptly.

“Of course.” James took the hint. “So, Miss Bradley, tomorrow morning, I get to kiss one of the most beautiful women in the world. Woe is me.” He raised his eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically. “Acting really is the most rubbish job. And I have to say, Rebecca, you really are the most gorgeous-looking creature.” James leaned forward to study her features. “I can’t even detect a speck of makeup on that face of yours. Not even lipstick.”

“Then you won’t recognize me tomorrow. They’ll be plastering it on. I’ll resemble a painted doll, for sure.”

“Well, it was the era for that kind of look,” said James equably. “So, apart from Jack, have you ever fallen for any of your costars before?”

“No,” Rebecca answered honestly. “Have you?”

James took a sip of his wine. “I wouldn’t say that my reputation has been exactly spotless,” he admitted, with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I have been a bit like a child in a sweet shop, working with
so many gorgeous women. To be honest, I’ve been no better or worse than any other red-blooded young man in his twenties; the difference is I’ve done it in the media spotlight. So, moving swiftly on,” he smiled, “how are you finding England so far?”

Over the course of the evening, Rebecca found herself warming to James. For a well-known actor, he was self-deprecating and possessed a keen sense of humor. She liked the fact that he didn’t take himself or his career too seriously; he saw his acting very much as a job. After Jack and his preciousness about his talent and the lack of chances he’d had to show off his ability in the roles he’d been given, James’s attitude was a breath of fresh air.

“Let’s face it,” he said over mint tea for her and coffee and brandy for him, “if you and I both looked like the back end of a bus, it’s doubtful we’d be playing Elizabeth and Lawrence. That’s just the way it is.”

Rebecca smiled. “I really have to go,” she said, seeing it was already after ten o’clock.