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“A vibe. What matters most is your chemistry with Sophia,” I add, “And the way you look at her from across the room. Austen is all about secret, longing looks from across the room. It’s all in the eyes,” I add, remembering the way Fraser used to look at me. “You have to stare at her differently to how you look at anyone else, like she’s the center of your whole world and you’re helpless to resist her…”
I stop, wondering if I’ve overstepped. After all, this man is an award-winning actor, I don’t need to tell him how to do his job!
But Hugo is nodding along, looking interested. “Like this?” he says, fixing his brown eyes on me. His brow furrows slightly, and it’s suddenly like he’s staring into my soul; the gaze laced with longing, and passion, and…
“Wow, yes,” I blink, startled. “Just like that.”
As quickly as he turned it on, the gaze is replaced with Hugo’s regular bashful smile. “Excellent,” he exclaims. “I’ve been working on that one. I was aiming for a mix of brooding sincerity and helpless devotion.”
I have to laugh. “Then Darcy is in safe hands,” I reassure him.
There’s a tap on the door, and then a PA pokes his head around. “They’re ready for you in wardrobe.”
Hugo gets up, and then gallantly gestures for me to go first. “After you.”
I exit the trailer—and see Fraser loitering nearby, talking to some other crew. His head snaps around, and I see him look back and forth between me and Hugo, his expression unreadable.
“Wait,” I find myself saying to Hugo. “You’re forgetting something.” I reach up, and peel off his gel patches, making sure to smile and bat my lashes at him a little.
“Thanks,” Hugo replies easily. “And thanks for the advice. Vibes. I’ll remember that.” He gives a wink, and heads off to wardrobe, while I peek to see Fraser’s reaction to my little flirt session.
He’s nowhere to be seen.
I deflate. Well, OK.
The irony of wanting to avoid him, but also being annoyed when he leaves me alone, isn’t lost on me. I obviously need to clear my head, and when I check my schedule, I find there’s nothing that needs my attention on set for the next couple of hours.
Perfect.
I decide to make like Lizzy Bennet and take a bracing stroll through the countryside, so after stopping by craft services to grab some snacks, I head out, leaving the main house behind as I follow a trail that winds up the hill, towards some pretty woodlands.
Ah…
I take a deep breath of country air, feeling better already, the further I get out into nature. It’s a glorious, blue-skied summer day, and the views over the nearby fields and hills are lush and quintessentially English, like a picture postcard. No wonder Austen heroines were always tramping through the fields when they needed an escape; with scenery like this, it’s an instant boost to my mood.
I follow the trail further, our base camp getting smaller behind me as I enjoy the grasses and wildflowers dotted all around. There are even some cows basking lazily in the next field, and I can’t resist whipping out my phone to snap some photos. I text them to Tessa.
See? It’s like Jane herself walked these hills!
A moment later, my FaceTime call sounds. It’s Tessa, on video from her back porch at the B&B. “Are you kidding me?” she asks. “Am I looking at a postcard right now? Or your actual life?”
I settle in, sitting on the ground against an old oak tree, and showing her the whole vista. “Isn’t it beautiful? Almost enough to make up for the ex that’s skulking around set, trying to humiliate me.”
“Fraser skulks?” Tessa asks. Of course, I filled her in with all the humiliating details last night in a stream-of-consciousness text thread that turned to an ALL-CAPS rant session. “I thought he was too tall and strapping to skulk.”
“Metaphorically!” I protest, and bring her up to date with the latest curt run-in. “I feel like I can’t go anywhere on set without finding him waiting around the next corner.” I sigh. “Tell me it’ll get easier, and this is just early shock that will wear off, leaving me utterly indifferent to his good looks and charm.”
“I mean, sure,” she replies, sounding dubious. “Whatever you think.”
“You’re supposed to be giving me the BFF pep talk,” I wail, and she laughs.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. All this awkwardness will be like the twenty-four-hour flu: Terrible, and then gone forever, leaving nothing but that utter indifference behind!”
“That’s more like it, thank you,” I say. “I don’t believe you for a second, but boy, wouldn’t it be nice?”
“I can’t believe he’s a corporate suit now,” Tessa says, munching on some delicious looking pie. “He was like the ultimate art-boy crush. All those gorgeous ink drawings he did for you? And those Polaroids you took, with him all soulful and moody…”
“Don’t remind me,” I say grimly. I couldn’t bring myself to burn them all.
