Dreaming of Mr. Darcy

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Oh, Adam. You sound like an anxious parent,’ Kay said with a little laugh. ‘No, of course he’s not said anything, but you don’t always need to, do you? I mean, emotions are sometimes bigger than words, don’t you think? Anyway, that’s how I feel, and it’s a wonderful feeling too. I feel like I’m flying—like Louisa Musgrove from the Cobb, only without the unhappy landing.’

  They reached the little wooden bridge.

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thanks for today. I always have such a good time with you.’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

  Kay laughed, and the two of them walked over the bridge together. He really was a sweet guy, she thought. Gemma was a lucky girl indeed.

  Chapter 33

  Coming home to a cat usually made Adam smile, but that day, it just made him sigh. As much as he adored Sir Walter, he wished there was somebody human rather than feline with whom to share his life.

  ‘No offence, buddy,’ he said as Sir Walter greeted him and deigned to be stroked. The cat seemed to realise he was being fussed and insulted at the same time.

  What a disastrous afternoon it had been! After plucking up his courage to tell Kay how he felt about her, his plans had been dashed by her insane belief that he was in love with Gemma. She looked so thrilled at the thought that he and Gemma were a couple that all the things he was going to tell her—all the pretty little speeches he had tumbling around in his head—evaporated. The words wouldn’t come out after that.

  Just as well, really, because then had come the big revelation about Oli. He had guessed, of course, but he’d hoped Kay’s feelings for him were more of the starstruck onlooker and that they would pass as soon as Oli left town. He hadn’t realised they were quite so deep.

  ‘Let’s get you some tea,’ he said to his feline companion, opening a can of food and filling his Posh Paws red-and-white bowl. Sir Walter stuck his little nose up at the food as if to say, What do you call this? He was soon tucking in all the same, though.

  ‘She doesn’t love me,’ Adam told the cat. ‘She loves a movie star, and who can blame her? What have I to offer her? I’m just a saddo who talks to his cat.’

  Sir Walter looked up at this statement as if he understood and gave Adam one of his disdainful looks that was so human it was spooky.

  Adam watched as the cat ate. How simple life was when you were a cat. One didn’t get knotted up by emotions such as love. One ate and slept and occasionally stalked about in the fields. Adam decided there and then that he was going to be reincarnated as a cat. Life would be much easier then.

  ***

  When Kay got back to Wentworth House, she had a quick tidy round, making sure everything was perfect for her guests. She popped out to the shops to get a few necessary items for breakfast and some fresh flowers for the living room and dining room.

  Once in her bedroom, she picked up the sketch she had made of Oli and examined it. She really was in love with him, wasn’t she? After all the things she’d said about not falling for the hero, here she was falling for the biggest hero of them all—a handsome movie star.

  She put the sketch down. She had something to get on with, didn’t she? Since being with Adam and hearing him talk about her drawings, she’d been dying to get back and get things moving again. It was one of the promises she’d made to herself when Peggy left her the money—she was going to make something of her life—follow her dreams and achieve something for herself and for Peggy’s memory.

  ‘And that’s going to start right now.’ She got up and opened the blanket box at the bottom of the bed. It was an old stripped pine box, but it didn’t contain blankets; it was filled with all her sketches for her new book, The Illustrated Wentworth. The Illustrated Darcy was in there too, but he was all tidied away neatly into a folder. Poor Wentworth, however, was all over the place, with doodles here and half-finished paintings there. It was a mess that needed to be sorted out, especially if she was ever actually going to submit the thing to a publisher.

  Adam thought she should definitely give it a shot.

  ‘But he’s never seen your pictures,’ she said to herself with a wry smile. ‘He was just being supportive, like a good friend would be. It doesn’t mean you’ve got the talent to make it.’

  She picked up a drawing from the Darcy folder. It showed the hero sitting at a table writing a letter to his sister, Georgiana. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, because he was being teased by Elizabeth in this scene and probably was still thinking about how fine her eyes were. Kay held the pen sketch up to the light. She liked it, but then again, she liked everything she did, because it was from her favourite books, and you couldn’t go wrong with Jane Austen, could you? She therefore was not necessarily the best judge of the merit of the work.

  There was only one way to find out if it was really any good, and that was to send it out into the world. Adam was right about that.

  ‘I’m going to do it,’ she said to herself, and she got to work sorting the sketches into neat piles.

  She was still sorting through everything when she heard the door opening downstairs. Looking up, she saw it was after seven o’clock. Was everyone back from filming already? She had expected them to be later.

  She popped the sketches and paintings back into the safety of the blanket box and headed downstairs.

  ‘Hello?’ she called.

  ‘Just me,’ Sophie’s voice came back.

  ‘Nobody else with you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Sophie said. ‘They all disappeared into the pub. Well, Gemma didn’t. She said she was going for a walk, and Teresa’s off with Annabel.’

  ‘Everything okay?’

  Sophie flopped into a sofa in the living room and ruffled her hair with her hand. ‘Teresa and Oli let rip.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A big fight.’

  ‘Oh, no! What happened?’

  ‘Teresa was furious with him for taking Annabel, and they wouldn’t stop shouting at each other. It was awful. Filming stopped completely for hours.’

  Kay sat down next to her. ‘She doesn’t like Oli, does she?’

  Sophie laughed. ‘He winds her up like nobody else. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘And was Annabel there when this was going on?’

  Sophie shook her head.

  ‘Someone took her into Marlbury for lemonade. I don’t think she heard anything.’

  ‘It must be tough having a mother like Teresa,’ Kay said. ‘I mean, I know she’s a brilliant director but—’

  ‘She must be the strictest mother ever.’

  Kay nodded.

  ‘I don’t think it’s all her fault, though,’ Sophie said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think he’s hiding something,’ she said.

  ‘Oli?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s he hiding?’ Kay asked, leaning forward on the sofa.

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s something he’s keeping hidden from everyone.’

  They were silent for a few moments.

  ‘You don’t think he’s gay, do you?’ Kay blurted.

  ‘Oli—gay? You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘Gosh, imagine that—a gay Captain Wentworth.’

  Sophie giggled. ‘As bad as a gay Mr Darcy?’

  ‘Oh, don’t even joke about it,’ Kay said, horrified by the idea.

  ‘Just imagine Pemberley if Mr Darcy was gay. It would be all pink drapes and floral cushions.’

  ‘And he’d probably end up proposing to Mr Collins instead of Elizabeth,’ Kay said, getting into the swing of the alternate Austen world.

  ‘Yes!’ Sophie said. ‘My dear Mr Collins. In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ She laughed. ‘It’s hard to think of the Regency period as being anything but perfect, isn’t it? I don’t think it was perfect, but it was pretty damn close. Apart from the mortal
ity rate and lack of medicine and the hygiene issues.’

  ‘And the lack of chocolate,’ Kay added. ‘And jeans.’

  ‘And job opportunities for women.’

  ‘Yes. Apart from all that.’

  They stopped laughing, and Sophie looked at Kay. ‘You mustn’t fall in love with him,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kay asked in surprise. ‘Everyone’s in love with Mr Darcy, aren’t they?’

  ‘I didn’t mean Mr Darcy.’

  Kay sighed. ‘I know.’

  ‘I expect it’s too late for me to warn you, isn’t it?’

  Kay bit her lip and didn’t answer at first, but then she said, ‘Probably.’

  Sophie grimaced. ‘Oh, Kay! You know these things never last, don’t you? They’re like holiday romances. It’s all heady and heat of the moment stuff. It’s unsustainable. What happens on the set stays on the set.’

  ‘But I’m not on the set,’ Kay said.

  ‘But Oli is, and he’ll be moving on.’ Sophie’s face was gentle and sympathetic. ‘Look, I don’t want to be the voice of doom—Oli’s a great guy, and I can absolutely see why you’ve fallen for him, but this happens wherever he goes, and he’s not settled down yet.’

  Kay pouted. She wanted to tell Sophie that she was wrong and that this was the film-set romance to prove everyone wrong.

  Sophie got up from the sofa. ‘Take care of yourself; that’s all I’m saying. You’re sweet, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.’

  Kay watched as Sophie left the room. Why did nobody believe this could work? Why had Adam sounded so worried? And why did Sophie have so little faith in Oli? Why couldn’t she be the girl to change Oli Wade Owen? Even the wildest of film stars settled down sooner or later, didn’t they? Why shouldn’t it be her that he chose to settle down with?

  Kay knew there was only one thing left to do, and that was to prove everyone wrong.

  Chapter 34

  When the minibus got back to Lyme Regis, everyone made a run for The Harbour Inn for food and a drink, but Gemma wasn’t in the mood. She didn’t want to chat and have a laugh, and neither, it seemed, did Oli. She watched him as he crossed the road and headed towards the Cobb, but he didn’t climb the steps and walk along the grey length that stretched out to sea. He turned right onto a beach strewn with white pebbles.

  Gemma wondered where he was going. His head was down, and he didn’t seem to notice the tourists around him with their trays of chips and ice creams, and before she had time to realise that she was following him, he turned around and caught her.

  ‘Gemma?’ he said. ‘You after me?’

  The question made her want to laugh and shy away at the same time, but she did neither. ‘I… er… just wanted a walk.’

  He waited for her to catch up to him. ‘Me too,’ he said, his blue eyes staring out to a sea that matched them perfectly.

  They walked along together for a bit, Gemma carefully watching her step as she walked across the fist-sized pebbles. It was a bright evening, and the air sparkled with light, but there was a chilly wind around the harbour, and she was glad she brought her denim jacket with her.

  They walked by a line of white wooden beach huts, and she wondered what Oli was thinking about and if she should ask him, but she didn’t have to, because he surprised her by volunteering something.

  ‘I’ve been thinking of giving it up,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gemma said.

  ‘Acting.’

  Gemma’s eyes sprung wide open. She’d expected him to say alcohol or women or—well, anything but acting.

  ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘I’m deadly serious.’

  She stared at him and realised that he did, indeed, look serious. ‘What’s brought this on?’ she asked. ‘The argument with Teresa?’

  He took a deep breath of salty sea air and sighed it back out again. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘She said some things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Just things. It’s not important. But it makes you take a step back, you know? Makes you look around you for a bit and assess things.’

  ‘And what are you assessing?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘Everything,’ he said, his voice low and serious.

  They continued walking for a bit, passing a row of holiday chalets. The pebbly beach continued out towards tree-covered cliffs that followed the coast all the way into Devon. It was a beautiful spot and far too lovely to be sad and thoughtful in.

  ‘Oli?’ Gemma said.

  He turned to look at her.

  ‘You’re not really thinking of giving up acting, are you?’

  He smiled at her. ‘I did four films last year. Four. Two full-blown movies and two for television. It barely left me time to breathe. Don’t get me wrong—I love my work, and I certainly love the lifestyle it’s allowed me, but there’s got to be more to life.’

  Gemma nodded and smiled at the uncanny resonance of his words. ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’

  He looked at her and chuckled. ‘You were?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then you should do something about it.’

  They began to walk again, their feet stumbling over the white stones on the beach.

  ‘Acting’s all I’ve ever known,’ Gemma said.

  Oli nodded. ‘Me too. Although I did that modelling stuff as a teenager.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gemma said, remembering seeing the pictures that had been recently rediscovered and splashed all over the papers. ‘I did that too.’

  ‘God!’ Oli suddenly said, coming to a standstill and raking a hand through his hair. ‘I mean—God!’

  Gemma watched him in silence for a moment. He appeared to be wrestling some inner demons.

  ‘I need to do something different,’ he said at last. ‘I need a change, because this just isn’t working out. I mean—I’m a mess. My life’s a bloody mess, and I’ve got to sort it out.’

  Gemma wondered what he was talking about. Did he mean the endless stream of girlfriends he was photographed with? The empty relationships and the never-ending line of airports and hotels where hours were wasted so that a two-hour film could be made?

  ‘I’ve been thinking—for a while now—is it all worth it—what we do? Does it make us happy? And I’m not just talking about that momentary happiness that comes from a good day’s work but real, satisfying happiness that comes from knowing you’ve made a difference.’

  Gemma was a little surprised to hear all this from Oli. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘films can make a difference to people. They’re powerful things sometimes. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to be an actress. I remember watching Terms of Endearment when I was a kid and crying for weeks after, and I couldn’t help wondering what it must feel like to be an actress and have such an effect on your audience.’

  Oli nodded. ‘It was Indiana Jones for me. I wanted to be a hero and make the girls swoon.’

  ‘And you are—you do,’ Gemma said, sure a little blush was colouring her face.

  ‘But I’m just not connected to it like I was before, you know? It doesn’t give me that same buzz.’

  They both stood for a moment, gazing out to sea.

  ‘You’ve met someone, haven’t you?’ Gemma said, looking at Oli. ‘That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’

  He didn’t answer for a moment. He looked down at the pebbly ground and kicked one boot against the other like a schoolboy.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘there is somebody.’ A tiny smile played around the corners of his mouth. ‘And I’m not being fair to her. In fact, I’ve been an absolute bastard, because my work takes up pretty much all of who I am. If I’m not reading scripts, I’m acting them out or promoting them or travelling from location to location or in meetings with agents and directors. It never ends, and I know I’m sounding like a spoilt kid, and I know this was exactly the life I’d dreamed of all those years ago, watching those Indiana Jones movies, but it’s not the same now.’ He took a deep b
reath and held it for a moment before exhaling.

  Gemma wondered if she dared to push for more. ‘You’ve been seeing her for a while?’

  Oli looked at her and grinned. ‘Long enough to know,’ he said.

  Hm, Gemma thought. That could mean anything. It could be a long-term relationship or a whirlwind romance, and it was more likely to be the latter with Oli.

  ‘That’s brilliant, Oli,’ she said. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He gazed at her with his big blue eyes, and Gemma felt a little bit jealous that it wasn’t her that his feelings were being channelled towards.

  Pull yourself together, she told herself. Oli Wade Owen is nothing more than a crush. You’re not in love with him—not really.

  She looked at him again as they began to walk back towards the town. For years she’d thought he was the perfect hero—the perfect man. With his tall, lean figure, handsome face, and roguish ways, he made for many a happy fantasy, but having worked with him over the last few weeks, Gemma had slowly come to realise that she wasn’t in love with him at all. She still found him attractive, which was just as well, because it was much easier to get into the character of Anne Elliot if she actually fancied the man playing Captain Wentworth, but as Gemma Reilly, she was realising that she was looking for more than a handsome face. She wanted somebody she could talk to—really talk to—and somebody who was interested in her. Like Rob.

  She frowned. Why had his name popped into her head? The fact that they’d had a couple of conversations didn’t mean she was interested in him, but at least he seemed interested in her, whereas Oli clearly had somebody else on his mind.

  As they walked back towards Wentworth House, moving through the evening crowds in search of seaside food, Gemma wondered who Oli’s girl was. He’d certainly been flirting with Kay at the bed and breakfast. Was she the girl who was about to change his life around?

  Something else about what Oli said resonated with her, though. She wasn’t happy, was she? Whereas Oli had slowly felt himself moving away from acting as a profession, Gemma was realising that she’d never totally engaged with it. It wasn’t right for her, and something had to change.