CHAPTER TEN
Meet Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp
Felicity
5:12 p.m.
I clenched the arm of my chair as we hit yet another pocket of turbulence. He had warned me sitting would be uncomfortable, and he’d followed through on that. My ass stung badly, but I didn’t want to let it show.
“Are you all right?”
He sat across from me, holding a glass of scotch in one hand and a script in the other. His black hair was a mess, but nothing else was out of place on him. Even his damned cuff links were on straight. There was no sign at all he had spent two hours torturing me in the best sort of way in his office. It bothered me to no end. He was as sexual as me, yet I was the one who always had the got fucked real good face, and the one who could not sit in chairs.
“I’m fine,” I tried to say smoothly as I crossed my legs, even though I didn’t want to, and took my glass of wine.
“You look….”
“I’m afraid of heights,” I lied, knowing he was going to say I looked uncomfortable. Okay, he’d won. He didn’t need to rub it in.
He laughed. “I was just going to say you look beautiful.”
I glared at him, and he went back to reading the script.
“Are you directing this movie?” I asked, hoping to distract him and myself.
“No, producing.”
“Doesn’t that mean you hand them your wallet to fund the movie? Can’t you do that from anywhere?”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m very selective about what I take on. If it has my name on it, it has to be done right.”
“Are we talking about your personal life now, or your business one?” I asked, uncrossing my legs, watching him as he watched me.
“Both.”
“Really. I thought all a girl had do was play the piano at your house.”
“Girls, no. Women, also no. You, yes,” he said, putting down the script as if waiting for me to challenge him on that, but I wasn’t even sure what to say. Luckily the airhostess came by to take our glasses.
“Sir, we will be landing in Ambler shortly.”
He nodded, and she gave us a both a short smile before moving back to the front of the plane.
Excited, I lifted the panel on the window to look out. Since it was only May, it wasn’t dark at this time yet. All I could see were greens of the trees top below. “What is this movie about?”
“A couple at the end of the second world war.”
I frowned, not liking the outcome in my head. “It’s going to make me cry, isn’t it?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Location, period. It’s not going to have a happy ending.”
The script was in his hands again. He flipped the pages until he got to where he wanted.
“It ain’t always gonna be sunshine and rainbows, Margaret. It’s gonna hurt. The world is gonna hurt us. I’m gonna hurt you. You’re gonna hurt me, but we’ll live, and we’ll remember in those times how happy we were and how happy we’ll one day be again. There ain’t no such thing as a happy ending. There is just an ending, and on the road there, I want to be right next to you. Happy, sad, I don’t care. I just gotta be next to you because I love you, and that’s what love is. So get in the car.” He finished as the plane touched down, and I wasn’t sure if it was the plane or him that made my heart drop to my stomach.
He left me speechless sometimes. Taking off my seatbelt, I stood and stretched. When he took my hand, I jumped slightly.
I clenched my purse. The pilot and airhostess saw us off the plane, but all I could focus on was his hand in mine. It wasn’t the first time he had held on to it or me, but for some reason I was much more aware of it.
There were two cars waiting. One was a dark blue vintage two-seater with the top down, and the other a black Range Rover next to it, for our bags to go in.
“Do you mind stopping by the set first, or are you tired?” He held open the door to the two-seater for me.
“After the shower on the plane, I feel rested. Can I see the script?” I slid into the passenger seat, looking around for the pages he had been reading since we left his office. But just as I was about to seize them, he moved them out of reach.
“What is it, top secret?”
“Yes. But that’s not the reason you can’t see it.” He sat behind the wheel and pulled off his tie, dropping it in my lap.
“Okay, so what’s the reason?” I asked when he took out two pairs of aviator sunglasses from the glove compartment. He handed me the lighter one before starting the engine.
“Just sit back and enjoy it, Felicity. You’ll see parts of it. It’s better when you don’t know what’s going to happen yet. Knowing you, you’ll probably skip ahead to the ending.”
I frowned because he was right. Putting on the glasses, I sat back and pulled my hair to the side to make sure it didn’t get caught too badly in the wind.
“You haven’t planned anything this week, right? You’re working, and I’m just watching and waiting for you to come back to bed with me.”
He didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.
I should have known better.
5:22 p.m.
The drive was short. I spent most of my time staring at how beautiful everything was. Beautiful southern mansions were exposed by the gaps in the tree-lined road until we got to a large, gated estate. The house was beautiful and white, and the security at the gates waved us in without Theo needing to stop once they noticed the license plate.
The grounds were covered with crewmembers, a food truck, and lights. Theo drove around the water fountain in the center of the driveway before coming to a stop near the left side of the house.
“Mr. Darcy.” A young, meek-looking man with pink-shaded sunglasses and unruly hair came out of the house and walked quickly forward with his hand outstretched. Theo didn’t shake it though, the asshole.
“Are they still being difficult?” he asked in a tone so cold the man looked like he was going to piss himself.
He dropped his hand, sighing deeply. “We’ve shot most of the other scenes already—”
“Tell them to go home. They’ve been recast,” Theo replied with his hands in his pockets, looking around the grounds. “Where is hair and makeup?”
“Of course, sir, but recast? With who?” The man followed beside him as he walked. I tried not to laugh, but between the height difference and the way the man acted, eagerly awaiting command, he kind of reminded me of Dobby from Harry Potter.
“Me,” he replied, and he stopped to observe me.
“Theo—”
“And her.”
For the first time, the man noticed me standing shocked and confused a few feet away.
“Yes, I can see it.” The man nodded, looking me over.
Theo snapped his fingers in front of him. “I’m still waiting for hair and makeup.”
“Of course—”
“Whoa.” I held my hands up as if that would stop them in order to ask, “Can someone fill me in on what is going on right now please?”
“Go,” Theo said to man and then focused on me. “We’re going to be in a movie.”
“I didn’t sign up for that! I can’t even act—”
“I’m hoping, only hoping, this will humble two of the actors a little. They seem to hate each other and are refusing to work together. If they believe they are both being replaced, then maybe they will get over it,” he said. It was a good plan with the exception of me.
“Still, Theo, I’m not sure I would—”
“You get to fight with me. I think there are even a few slap scenes. How did I know you would be pleased about that?” He grinned, shaking his head at me.
Without even realizing it, a grin spread across my face. Damn it. Trying my best to retain some composure, I stepped up. “Well… I mean if you absolutely need my help, how can I possibly say no?”
He leaned in and whispered, “I would if my face was going to be as red as your ass will be this afternoon.”
“Mr. Darcy, here they are!” the man yelled, coming back to us with people behind him. Theo turned, standing at my side.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as I’m sure Mr. Hamilton has told you, Ms. Felicity Harper and I will be taking over the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp.”
Mrs. Beauchamp?
“Please follow them, Ms. Harper. We’ll get you your lines.” The man I guessed was Mr. Hamilton pointed to the crew.
I smiled, even though my nerves were now getting the best of me. They led me into a trailer. The whole thing was filled with clothing that looked like it came from the 1940s or ’50s. It was a lot bigger than I thought they would be.
“What are your measurements?”
Do people just know that off the top of their heads? “I don’t know. I’m usually between a four and six.”
She looked me over for a second and took a tape measure. “Can you lift your arms? Okay, thank you. I’m not sure what will fit, but we’ll make it work. I’ll send Charlie in to work on your hair while I alter some of the dresses.”
Say what now? She made it seem like it was my body that was the problem. She opened the door and said, “She’s all yours.”
“Hi.” The woman with short blue hair and a camera around her neck walked in. “I’m Charlie. I’ll be doing your hair and makeup. Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty. I love that it’s so long. I can do so much to it and not use a wig.”
She was already at the vanity, pulling out a chair for me. Taking off her camera, she began pulling curling irons from her bag.
“Can we have some ground rules? Like please don’t cut or dye my hair?”
She laughed. “I promise we’ll return you to your natural state once we’re done. Sit. The director asked me to bring this, first scene for you.”
The script was huge.
I was supposed to memorize this before going in there?
“So, what else have you acted in?” she asked. I felt like she needed to buy me dinner first, with way she was running her hands through my hair.
“Nothing.” I sighed as I lifted the script.
“How did you end up here?”
“I keep asking myself that same thing.”
Oh, I was going to hit Theo so hard for this.
7:22 p.m.
I looked like a vintage Stepford Wife.
I wore a bright yellow dress with a cinched waist. My hair had been curled and put up into a pin-up styled bun, and my makeup… I couldn’t even go there right now. All I needed was a broomstick, and I would have looked like one of those ridiculous posters from the ’50s, trying to con women into thinking how glamorous domestic housework was.
I could hear it now. “Look, ladies, I find time to get dolled up and still clean my house! My husband is so proud of me.” Cue leg kick and smile.
“Ms. Harper?”
“Huh? Yes, sorry.” I focused on the man in the doorway.
“They’re waiting for you in the living room. Just watch out for the wires on the ground.”
“Thank you,” I said as I walked inside to where all the lights were focused—the living room on the other side of the stairs.
There, beside the fireplace, Theo sat reading his lines. His hair was parted and smoothly combed, not one strand out of place. He wore dark circular frames, and he had replaced his fitted suit with a slightly looser one. The jacket was gone so you could see suspenders and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his breast pocket.
I wanted to laugh, but he still looked hot.
“You’re here,” Mr. Hamilton said, and everyone finished setting up. For the first time I realized he was the director. He was so young.
Theo finally glanced up at me. He stared through those fake glasses of his, and I couldn’t look away.
“Ms. Harper—no, Margaret, Margaret Beauchamp.” Mr. Hamilton nodded to himself. “Mr. Darcy told me you were nervous. Don’t worry, none of this is real. Well, of course it isn’t real, but what I mean is, don’t be nervous. We’re just going to test this. I doubt it will— What I mean is, I’m sure you will do great, but this—”
“Mr. Hamilton, I’m sure she understands,” Theo said, not moving from his spot near the fireplace.
“All right, everyone, places!”
I moved over to Theo. “The directors seems more nervous than anyone else,” I whispered.
He didn’t look at me. “It’s his first movie. Of course he would be, and this isn’t your place, Margaret, so go back to the kitchen.”
Our scene wasn’t in the kitchen. He was just being, well, Ernest Beauchamp.
“Careful, Ernest. That’s where we women keep the knives,” I shot back.
The corner of his lips turned up as I took a seat on a chair. A needle and threaded handkerchief was waiting for me. The prop team handed him a glass of scotch on the rocks, which was really juice apparently.
Knowing this wasn’t going to be seen, on top of it being Mr. Hamilton’s first movie, I felt more relaxed. I could mess up, but I was going to try my hardest not to. I wanted to do this.
The lines were all running around in my head, and I just needed to breathe and grab the right one.
Breathe, Fel—no, Margaret.
“And… ACTION.”
“Andrew came by,” I said softly, concentrating on the sewing in my lap. He didn’t speak. “I told him you were out. He was kind of shocked he didn’t see you in town. Where did you go?”
Silence.
Theo—Ernest—drank, staring into the fire.
“Ernest? Ernest, are you—”
“I was about,” he finally replied.
“About where?”
He sighed, finishing his drink. “I’ma turn in for the night—”
“Ernest, please talk to me.” I stood up and walked to him, but he backed away.
“I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”
“I ain’t got nothin’? When did you start talking like them? And look at her—”
“Goddamn it, Margaret!” he yelled, throwing the glass so it flew past my head and into the wall. I jumped, and it was not acting. Finally turning toward me, his face was hard, his eyes angry. “When are you going to realize the man you married is dead?”
“Do not say—”
“He died in the war. He died killing men while trying to come home to you. He died, Margaret. Who gives a damn how the hell I speak, or if I do or don’t spend my time with some halfwit who ran off instead of fightin’! The world ain’t the same anymore—”
“Stop it!” I yelled, slapping him hard across the face. “You weren’t the only person to go to war, Ernest. You weren’t the only one who saw things and lost people. It was hard here too. We weren’t laughing and filling our faces all day, no matter what you might think. The war is over. It’s over. So come home.”
“Ain’t that what this is?” He stood in the middle of the living room with his arms raised. “I am home, Margaret—”
“No.” I shook my head and stepped back. “You used to say home was me. That home was being with me. That even if this house had no roof or walls, if I was here you were happy. I’ve been waiting and waiting for my Ernest to come back. Everyone else has either buried their husbands or held them in their arms again. I don’t got either. Instead you drink and you drink until you have got nothing in you, you ain’t a person at all—Urgh! Goddamn you, Ernest Beauchamp! You should have died.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes, trying to glare at him. He still had one more line.
He looked at me for the longest time before finally saying, “You’re right. So let me go die, then.”
I waited for him to walk out. The scene said I was supposed to crumple to the floor and cry, but I didn’t. I saw the broken glass, fetched the handkerchief, and picked up the pieces one by one.
“And CUT.”
“Ah—” I hissed, cutting my finger.
“Ms. Harper?” Mr. Hamilton rushed toward me.
“I’m fine. Stupid idea, huh? I just couldn’t break down—”
“No, no!” He grinned, helping me back up. “I thought it was brilliant! Margaret, even though she’s angry, is still trying to put together the pieces of Ernest. In fact, you getting cut is even more symbolic. How did you think of it?”
“I figured with a house this clean, she’d want to keep it that way even when she’s angry.” I shrugged. He thought about it for a moment, but I added, “Your meaning was so much better though.”
“What happened?”
We both turned to Theo, who was staring at the cut on my finger.
“I’m fine. My creative liberties went astray,” I replied before sucking on the wound.
“Mr. Hamilton, let me know what the actors say tomorrow. We’ll be leaving now,” he said as he took my hand and led me out the front door.
“Theo, hold up. I have to go change,” I said when my feet touched the gravel outside.
He smirked, and I saw the lust in his eyes. “Not yet.”
Oh boy, the things that turned us both on.