Beauchamp Hall

by Danielle Steel

  For the next week on the set everything went smoothly, and everyone seemed in a good mood, even Nigel. Winnie noticed Matthew sitting on the sidelines several times that week, and then conferring with Michael and nodding. She wondered if he had figured out a storyline yet to cover Bill and Elizabeth’s absence the following season, and if they would be bringing in new actors. At the end of the day on Friday, before a weekend off, the production team called a general meeting, and when she got there, Winnie saw Matthew waiting to speak to all of them, and she got an odd feeling about it. He waited until everyone was there before he started.

  Before saying anything else, he praised them for how exciting the season had been. They had a week left in their shooting schedule before the hiatus, and he said he thought it had been their best season. The most impressive and the most professional, and breathtaking in every way. He said what they’d been shooting would play in the coming months as their seventh season. They were due to return in October to shoot the following season, but he didn’t mention it. Everyone knew it anyway. He said he’d been working frantically to come up with alternate plot lines to explain Elizabeth and Bill’s absence from the series. And he had come to the conclusion that no matter how many new actors they added or plot turns he devised, they had already given the viewers their best work, and it would be a mistake to dilute it now or trivialize it in some way, and disappoint people. He said every show had its lifetime and he had realized that Beauchamp Hall had reached the end of its natural life, and trying to extend it artificially would be a grave mistake. So with gratitude to everyone involved and great regrets, they were canceling the show, and ending it when they finished shooting the remaining episodes. He had tears in his eyes when he said it, and added, “I will never be able to thank you enough for the life you have breathed into this series. We have pleased people all over the globe and given meaning to their lives, just as you have to mine. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. I’ll miss Beauchamp as much as you will, and much, much more,” he said, and then walked quietly off the set with tears running down his cheeks. The entire cast and crew sat mesmerized, watching him go, as though they hadn’t understood what he told them, and then burst into tears and hugged each other. It was over. They had pulled the plug. Beauchamp Hall would never have another season beyond the one they were shooting now. It would be over forever in a week, and all the joy it represented for the viewers and for those who made it. After almost seven years, it was finished.

  There was chaos on the set for half an hour, and then people disbanded, to discuss it among themselves, digest it, mourn it, and celebrate it. Winnie made her way to where Edward was sitting and he looked like he was in shock.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him and he nodded.

  “I’m stunned. I didn’t expect that, but maybe I should have when Liz and Bill left. I thought he’d pull a rabbit out of the hat one more time. But no more rabbit, no more hat. I’ll be okay,” he reassured her, and also himself. “I’d better call my agent tomorrow.”

  “You’ll get another series,” she said with conviction. He was one of the best actors on the show, and the most reliable, even if he didn’t have top billing, which was the problem. The actors who had left them flat were their strongest and most marketable, and Matthew didn’t think they had a viable series without them, no matter how talented the rest of the cast was. He didn’t want to weaken the show now with inadequate support, and new stars who couldn’t carry it.

  When Edward left the set to call his agent and fiancée, she went to look for Nigel and couldn’t find him at first, and then she saw him in a knot of sound technicians who looked thunderstruck. They had feared that the end was coming, but no one was sure until now. Now it was certain. The worst had happened. The end had come for all of them. Matthew had always pulled it off before, but this time he refused to. He didn’t want people comparing the show to what it had been and not liking it as much, or sponsors abandoning them. It was a reasonable concern, and had been a wise decision, and surely a hard one, that would affect a multitude of people, all of whom had just lost their jobs.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Nigel when she walked over to him. He looked both angry and sad at the same time.

  “Do I have a choice?” he said with an ironic look.

  “There’s always a choice,” Winnie said gently. “Especially in how you look at it.”

  “Don’t give me that philosophical Pollyanna bullshit. I just lost my job, and God knows where I’ll be working two months from now. Probably somewhere heinous on a shit show, or wherever the union sends me. There’s something to look forward to. And they certainly didn’t give us much notice. They never do when they cancel a show.”

  “So I’ve been told,” she said, sympathetically. “I think they just made the decision. Bill and Elizabeth didn’t give them much notice either. Do you want to come home with me?” she offered. This was a blow and a loss for her too.

  “I’m going out with the guys,” he said with a hard edge to his voice, as though their canceling the show was somehow her fault. She was sad about it, very sad, but it wasn’t as devastating to her. She loved the show, but didn’t need it to survive. He did. She had come here on a lark, taken a break from her life, and fallen in love with the people involved and the production. But she could still go back where she came from, in theory. Except she didn’t want to, even now. She wanted it to go on forever, but destiny, and the writer, had decided otherwise. She had no idea what to do or where to go next.

  * * *

  —

  She walked home alone, feeling sad about the show being canceled and almost like a symbol of closure, she saw Rupert with his food truck. She had seen him when she first arrived, and now here he was again. She hadn’t noticed him in weeks.

  She stopped to say hello, and he looked as devastated as the crew and cast when they left the set. “I just heard. That’s terrible news for all of us. The town will never be the same without Beauchamp Hall. The show saved us. There won’t be any jobs here again now. All the life will go out of the place.”

  “What about you, Rupert?” she asked him with concern. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll have to give up the truck. I’ll sell it. No customers after you lot go. There may be a few tourists for a while, but not enough to live on. I feed the crew every day. They won’t be here now. Another week and it’s all over for me, and a lot of people around here. This is a hard blow for us. I guess I’ll go back to what I was doing before. I’m a chimney sweep. I hate it, but there it is. My father was too. I sold the business when I bought the truck. I’d rather sell tea and orange juice than be crawling up everyone’s chimneys with a black face for the rest of my life.” His voice quavered as he said it, and her heart went out to him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently, listening to him for a few more minutes, and then they said goodbye and she went home. It was going to be a tough situation for the villagers, not just the cast and crew. Matthew Stevens had made a big decision that had hit them all hard, and as Winnie walked the rest of the way to the cottage, she was crying too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winnie spent a quiet night watching old Beauchamp DVDs from previous seasons. There had been some incredibly wonderful episodes and twists and turns of events. Unforgettable moments, and spectacular performances from amazing actors who had brought their talents and well-honed skills to the show. Many who had grown from being on it. And a few who had gone, thinking they were forging ahead to greatness, and instead had disappeared, as often happened when actors left a successful series. Thinking about ending the show now made her sad. But losing two major players, shortly after losing two others, was a crippling blow Matthew Stevens didn’t think the show could recover from, and possibly he was right. They couldn’t afford to lose that much. The hole in the hull was too big now for the ship to sail on. And he was left to wrap up all the plots and subplots as elegantly as
he could with the cast and material on hand. Winnie was sure it would be a challenging task.

  When she got up in the morning, the day after the announcement, she realized that Nigel hadn’t called her the night before. His concern about his future had given him a sharp edge recently, and that coupled with his unfounded jealousy of Edward had impacted their relationship considerably, and it wasn’t likely to get better now. She hadn’t come to any definite conclusions about it, but he wasn’t seeking solace with her, instead he was at the bars with his coworkers. And she suspected he’d been too drunk to come over the previous night, so it was probably just as well that he hadn’t.

  She was thinking about him when she made a stop at the dry cleaner on her way to work. They had all gotten a text asking them to work through the weekend to shoot the final scenes until they wrapped. They had a lot of work to do with new scripts to conclude the show.

  She dropped off her laundry too. She didn’t have the convenience of Mrs. Flannagan’s two big washing machines now that she had her own cottage. There was a tiny machine that didn’t work very well.

  She found herself standing behind a familiar blond figure ahead of her. When the woman turned around, Winnie could see that it was Lady Beatrice Haversham, and this time she didn’t smile when she saw Winnie, although she recognized her.

  “Bad news yesterday,” Lady Beatrice said cryptically. She didn’t know what Winnie’s job was, but knew where she worked. “It’ll be back to Poverty Flats for us, when the show goes. My brother and I will be selling scones and pencils on the street one of these days.” Winnie hoped she didn’t mean it, but clearly the castle was expensive to maintain, and the show had provided a big cushion for them, and been their primary source of income for the last seven years. “And not much notice on top of it. It’ll be all over in a week. It’s quite a shock.” There was a sad look in her eyes.

  “People will want to come and visit here for a long time,” Winnie said, trying to sound encouraging, but the young noblewoman shook her head.

  “Not for long. They’ll forget. They’ll fall in love with some other show, and we’ll fade back into the mist like all the other great houses with owners who’ve run out of money. Faded curtains run out of charm rather quickly, when there’s nothing else going on there. The show was a great blessing for us for a long time. I’m grateful for it, but the situation is going to be dire for all of us who depended on Beauchamp Hall. My brother is going to have to sell his horses, like it or not.”

  “Just so you don’t sell the house,” Winnie said, deeply moved by her admissions.

  “It could come to that. That’s where we were when they decided to set up the show here. We had just come to the conclusion that we’d have to sell. We’ve had a nearly seven-year reprieve. But half the businesses in town will be closed this time next year, and us along with them.” It was in fact the situation the British aristocracy had been in for the last hundred years, their lifestyle dramatically changed, their homes in jeopardy, trying to squeeze out enough to live on however they could. There was a long list of houses in England, castles, manor homes, and great halls that the public could tour.

  “Don’t give up yet. You’ll figure something out. The show must have come as a surprise when it happened. As they say, ‘They’re not the only show in town.’ ”

  “They are in this town,” Lady Beatrice said realistically. “No one will set up a show here again. It’s been done. We’ll have to get creative, but I haven’t figured out how yet. My brother is more inclined to wait for a miracle to fall from the sky.” Winnie remembered that it was Lady Beatrice who had written the book, and whom she saw from time to time on the set, conferring with the producers and consulting on the show. She knew everything there was to know about the history of the house, who had visited there and stayed there, and colorful anecdotes that turned up in the plot. Her brother never seemed to be around, although he lived at Haversham too. He looked more aloof the few times Winnie had glimpsed him. Lady Beatrice seemed more down-to-earth, and engaged with people around her, as she was with Winnie now. “I suppose I’ll see you around for a while longer,” she said almost wistfully and Winnie smiled.

  “We’ll all be sad to leave and I’ve only been here since May.”

  “We’ll be equally sad to see you go.” She smiled warmly and then left, and Winnie paid for the sheets they had laundered and the skirt she’d had cleaned. She thought about Lady Beatrice as she walked up to the castle, and what a blow this was for them. Winnie felt very sorry for her. Others weren’t as interested in the family, and thought they were just a bunch of silly old snobs who were no longer relevant, but Winnie had been intrigued by them since the first time she’d seen the show. The history of the castle and the family gave credibility to the whole series, and the issues they had dealt with at the time. And what they were dealing with now wasn’t much different. They were fighting to keep their heads above water and were the last survivors of a lost world.

  Winnie went to look for Nigel as soon as she got to the set, and forgot about the Havershams. She was worried about him.

  “How was last night?” She tried to sound light about it, but he looked rough.

  “About the way you’d expect. Sorry I didn’t make it over. At least I had the good sense not to knock on your door. You should be glad I didn’t. I called the union yesterday. There are half a dozen new shows starting. The new ones are pretty well staffed by now, but something will turn up.” He tried to sound optimistic, but didn’t look it, and she knew pride had kicked in. He didn’t want to look pathetic to her. She kissed his cheek lightly and headed for Edward’s trailer. He was reading the London Financial Times when she walked in, and seemed surprisingly calm, when he looked up and smiled at her.

  “Wow, everyone’s in an uproar all over town. The food truck, the Havershams, the sound guys,” she said to him.

  “It’s going to make a hell of a difference to the locals. The rest of us should be used to it. It’s the nature of the business. I called my agent last night. He’s not worried. We’ve turned down some good parts in new series recently. If they haven’t filled the parts, I liked a couple of them very much. One in particular, and I hated to turn it down.” He was the consummate professional, and Winnie was impressed by how calm and philosophical he was. “The ones who will probably take a hard hit are the small businesses who depend on us and have done well because of us for all these years. And the Havershams were probably hanging by a shoelace when we got here. Running a place like this costs a fortune. They won’t be able to afford to without the show.”

  “I saw Lady Beatrice at the laundry this morning, and that’s pretty much what she said. And I get the feeling they may not have been saving a lot of it, between upkeep and expenses.” She had looked seriously worried.

  “Her brother has some very fancy horses and cars. He gave me a tour of all of it one day.”

  “She said he’ll have to sell his horses.”

  “I’m not surprised. That’s the trouble with the aristos, they always put their money on the wrong stuff. They have no sense of commerce or investment, they’re not equipped for the modern world. You’d think they’d have learned that much by now.”

  “She seems pretty practical,” Winnie defended her.

  “I’ll wager you her brother isn’t, not with a stable like that. And he has some fabulous antique cars in the barn. He has three or four Bugattis, he let me drive one of them. I’d have bought it from him, but I couldn’t afford it, and he wouldn’t sell it. Great car to own, just for the thrill of it.” Edward loved cars, and had several of his own, including a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, and the Aston Martin he’d used to drive Winnie to the airport.

  Other than Edward, who seemed remarkably stable, the whole cast seemed distracted, anxious, and off-kilter that day. Actors who normally learned their lines perfectly were stumbling and blowing them, with new scripts they
had to learn rapidly. One of the producers had distributed new scripts to the entire cast. Matthew had reworked the storylines and outcomes leading up to the end, to conclude the show. It was a challenge to make it all go smoothly and tie up all the loose ends, so people who had studied the scripts and knew their lines had to learn an entirely new script for each remaining day. It would be that way now for the next week until the end. And they all expected to work overtime to finish it.

  It was a long stressful day, and even Edward looked tired by the end of it, and Winnie felt drained. She was so worried about everyone that she was distracted too. She hadn’t called Marje to tell her the news about the show being canceled. She didn’t want to mislead her and give her the impression that she was coming home. Going back to Beecher after Jimmy’s accident had convinced Winnie that she didn’t belong there, at least not yet. She hadn’t played out her hand in England, and Edward had said that day that he wanted to take her with him if he got a part on a new show. It was an appealing idea and she was flattered. But he didn’t have a new show yet and they still had Beauchamp Hall to deal with, before she thought of anything else. For now, and for some time, Michigan was not in her plans.

  Marje called her a few days later, and had heard a rumor that the show had been canceled. They’d said it on Entertainment Tonight.

  “Is that true?” She sounded shocked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. They announced it to the cast and crew a few days ago. They’re not going to shoot a new season. After this one, we’re done. They’re wrapping up the conclusion now. Everyone is very upset about it, even the local townspeople.” Marje could hear that she was sad as she said it.