Authors: Lucinda Riley
When she appeared on set, she received many hugs of welcome from the cast and crew. She wasn’t sure whether the warmth of their greeting was because they all knew her relationship with Jack was over or because she’d been unwell.
Robert came over to speak to her privately before the cameras rolled.
“Darling, you’re a trouper, and we thank you. I’ll try and get this scene done as quickly as possible and then I want you straight back upstairs to rest. You’ve got a heavy schedule tomorrow.”
James gave her the biggest hug of all as they waited to begin their scene. “Sorry to hear about Jack,” he said. “Is it really curtains?”
“Unless he sorts himself out, definitely.”
“I’m feeling rather guilty about my role in his fall from your favor. I was hardly an unwilling victim during our nights out on the tiles in Ash-burton together.”
“How was the waitress?” Rebecca asked acerbically.
James blushed and she knew she’d scored a bull’s-eye.
At that moment, Robert shouted “Action!”
“As a matter of fact, I can’t remember her terribly well,” James replied after Robert had professed himself satisfied with the take. “I’m not trying to put the blame on Jack, because I was easily led, but that boy certainly knows how to party.” Rebecca was saved from having to reply by Robert’s calling, “Action!” again.
After about half an hour of stop-and-start filming, Robert indicated
they had got what they needed for the scene and Rebecca fled to Wardrobe. As she exited ten minutes later, Mrs. Trevathan called to her. “Rebecca, I’m glad I caught you. His lordship wondered if you were up to having dinner with him tonight. He said he hasn’t seen you for a few days.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, feeling guilty for having neglected her host.
“Good, I’m sure it will cheer him up. He’s not been himself recently.” Mrs. Trevathan frowned anxiously.
“Is he sick?”
“No, dear, not really. What with the film crew here, then all this talk of his grandparents with the arrival of Mr. Malik, it’s all been a bit much for him. Oh, by the way, Dr. Trefusis telephoned to say he’d be around with the results of your tests tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Trevathan, I’ll see you later.”
As she made her way upstairs, the name “Trefusis” jangled in her brain, until she made the connection with the doctor from Anahita’s manuscript. There seemed to be no end to the blurring of past and present in this place . . .
Having rested for an hour, she awoke feeling a little better and took a bath. At seven o’clock, as she was deciding what to wear for dinner, there was a knock on her door. She opened it and saw Ari.
“Hi, come in.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m okay. I’m having dinner with Anthony tonight.” Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “To be honest, I could do without it.”
“The good news is that he never makes it beyond nine thirty, so at least you won’t be on for a late night.”
“I feel bad about the uproar with Jack, so it’ll give me a chance to explain and apologize. Are you joining us?” Rebecca looked hopeful.
“No, I wasn’t asked, actually,” said Ari.
“Oh, by the way,” remembered Rebecca, “I realized today that the doctor who came to see me the other day must be related to the one who was in league with Maud Astbury. They share the same surname, anyway—Dr. Trefusis.”
“Really?” said Ari. “That’s another possible line of inquiry for me—so, thanks. Right, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good evening with Anthony and if by any chance you need me, my room is just down there on the right.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Steve told me the film crew are shooting out in the park until at least midnight tonight. They’ve fallen behind, due to a difficult horse forgetting his lines. At least it wasn’t me causing the problem today,” Rebecca replied with the ghost of a smile.
“Okay, see you later.” As Ari left the room, Rebecca looked at her watch and saw that it was time to get ready for dinner with Anthony.
Twenty minutes later, she entered the dining room and was surprised to see Anthony wearing what looked like a new tweed jacket. His hair was washed and combed neatly and he was freshly shaved.
“Good evening, Rebecca.” He offered her one of his rare smiles. “Do come and sit down.”
“Thank you.”
“Mrs. Trevathan tells me you’re still not feeling yourself, so I’ve taken her recommendation and we’re having fish. Nothing too heavy for a delicate stomach.”
“That’s kind of you, Anthony,” she said as she sat down.
“And may I say, you look absolutely charming tonight.”
“Thank you,” said Rebecca, a little puzzled by Anthony’s none-too-subtle efforts to please.
“So, are you fully recovered from the drama of having to send your young man packing?”
“I’m feeling better about it, yes. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but, sadly, he left me with little choice.”
“Well, if one has fallen out of love, then one must do the right thing.”
“Well, it wasn’t quite as straightforward as that, but, yes, I’m feeling okay about it.”
“Let’s raise a glass to calmer waters and a return to normality,” Anthony interjected, proffering the wine bottle.
“Really, I’ll stick to water tonight,” Rebecca said insistently as she covered her glass.
Mrs. Trevathan entered and began to serve the fish.
“This looks very healthy,” Anthony commented. “You Americans love fish, don’t you? I know Violet had it sent in fresh from Lynmouth when she was here. We British tend to be more carnivorous.”
“Most Americans enjoy a good steak too,” Rebecca replied.
“So,” said Anthony, picking up his knife and fork, “only one more week, and I presume you’ll be on your way back to the Big Apple?”
“More or less, yes, although there are a couple days of post-production
stuff in London. I guess it’s going to be strange being back in New York. I’ll miss the peace and quiet of Astbury Hall.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, it’s been wonderful here, Anthony. I can’t thank you enough for your generous hospitality and kindness toward me.”
“No need for thanks, it’s been a delight having you.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“Well, that was extremely good,” Anthony said as he finished, and wiped his lips on a napkin.
“It was,” Rebecca agreed.
“My dear Rebecca, are you absolutely positive that you’re not related to my grandmother Violet?” Anthony asked suddenly. “Because I really do feel that you were somehow sent here to Astbury for a reason.”
“As sure as I can be. I guess it’s just coincidence.” She smiled at him, trying to ease the sudden tension she felt as he put his knife and fork together and stared at her intently.
“Well, I don’t believe it is.”
Rebecca watched Anthony’s hands as they drew together, the long fingers interlocking as they clenched and unclenched. “The thing is, Rebecca, I . . .”
“Anthony, what is it?” she asked, knowing he was desperate to say something.
“Forgive me if the timing may not be appropriate, but I thought I must speak to you before you begin to think about leaving. I . . . well, from the first moment I saw you, I knew you’d been sent to me. You, the living, breathing image of my beautiful American grandmother, Violet. Rebecca, do you believe in reincarnation?”
“I’ve never really thought about it, to be truthful,” she replied nervously, dreading where this conversation appeared to be heading.
“Well, I do,” Anthony said. “My mother always said I was like Violet when I was a young boy, and indeed, I did look very like her. But you, coming here from America, so young and so beautiful, just like she was.” Anthony reached for Rebecca’s hand suddenly and grasped it tightly. “Don’t you see it was meant to be?”
“What was meant to be?” Rebecca asked, confused, and uncomfortable with the grip on her hand.
“You and I, of course! Donald and Violet, who both died so tragically
young and were unable to take the Astbury estate into the future. But now, together, I’m sure that we can.”
“I—”
“I know that this is a shock to you,” Anthony said urgently, tripping over his words, “but of course, as a gentleman, while you were engaged to another man, I couldn’t make my feelings toward you clear. But now he’s gone, it’s as if fate has decreed it. Our path lies clear before us. Don’t you see, Rebecca?” he urged her.
“Anthony, I—I really don’t know what to say.” Rebecca looked to the door for the normally ubiquitous Mrs. Trevathan to arrive to clear the dishes and break the tension.
“I’ve told Mrs. Trevathan that we’re to be left alone to talk until I call for her,” said Anthony, following her eye line and reading her thoughts. “So don’t be afraid that we’ll be interrupted. The reason I’ve told you this tonight is because I knew you’d need a few days to think about it.” Anthony reached into his pocket and brought out a worn leather box. “Rebecca Bradley, I would like to ask you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Rebecca watched as he opened it to reveal a magnificent sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring.
“This was the ring Donald gave to Violet when he proposed. It sat on her finger from that moment until the day she died. It’s only right that it should now sit on yours. Give me your hand, Rebecca, and let us see if it fits.”
He reached for her hand and in a daze, she watched as Anthony slid the ring onto her finger. It fitted perfectly.
“There!” Anthony smiled in pleasure. “It’s back where it was always meant to be.”
Rebecca gazed down at the ring, which glinted as it caught the light from the overhead chandelier.
“So, what do you say, Rebecca?” Anthony asked her eagerly. “Will you think about it?”
Rebecca knew she must choose her words carefully. “Forgive me, Anthony. I’m very flattered by your offer, but as you said, up until yesterday I was engaged to another man. I don’t think I’m able to move on from that just yet. And besides, I hardly know you—nor you me.”
“I understand you might need time to think, but, Rebecca, we’ve spent many hours together since you arrived, and I took you into my
home when you needed sanctuary. I’m in no doubt that you’re the woman I’ve been waiting for all my life. Just think how we could rebuild Astbury together! Your presence here has lifted the atmosphere, just as Violet’s did in her time. With you by my side as the new Lady Astbury, I’d have the strength and belief to make this house as beautiful as it once was for the future generation we’ll produce together. Violet, please say yes,” he said, pressing her.
“Anthony, my name is Rebecca,” she replied firmly.
“I apologize.” He smiled gently at her. “Understandably, it’s an easy mistake for me to make.”
“Yes, but—”
“Come here.” Anthony lurched across the table, gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him. Before she could stop him, his lips were upon hers, violently and aggressively forcing them open to kiss her. She struggled to free herself, but the iron grip on her shoulders was too powerful. Suddenly he pulled away and released her. Rebecca rushed to stand up and began to make for the door, but as she did so, he grasped her hand and pulled her to a halt.
“Please accept my apology, I was suddenly overwhelmed. You are so beautiful,” he added, looking sheepish. “Forgive me for losing control.”
She turned to face him and pulled her hand away from his. He let it go without any resistance, his eyes full of desperation, his shoulders suddenly slack. She felt a mixture of sympathy and disgust. Slowly, her right hand moved toward her left and she pulled off Violet’s ring and handed it to him. “I’m so sorry, Anthony, but I can’t marry you. I think it’s best if I leave the house as soon as possible,” she added. “Thank you for your hospitality over the past few weeks. Good-bye.” Rebecca turned away and walked quickly toward the door.
“Please, don’t go, Violet, don’t leave me—”
She was out of the dining room, racing up the stairs toward the sanctuary of her bedroom. Reaching it, she sank into a chair, panting heavily.
She knew now, without a doubt, she must leave Astbury immediately. Anthony, the poor, deluded man, genuinely believed she was Violet. In a daze, she threw her possessions into her suitcase, wondering how she could leave the house without Anthony trying to stop her. First, she would see whether Ari was in his room, and if not, she knew that the film crew were somewhere in the park on the night shoot.
She tentatively opened the door and peered out along the corridor. It seemed to be deserted, so she knocked on Ari’s bedroom door and, when there was no response, opened it to find it empty. Not wanting to spend another second in the house, she hurried back past the main staircase and toward the back stairs that would take her down to the kitchen and out of Astbury. Almost tripping down the narrow steps in her hurry, she flung open the door to the empty kitchen. Crossing the lobby, she breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out into the courtyard at the side of the house and weaved her way between the lorries used to store the camera equipment.
Night had fallen, and it was very dark, with no moon to light the sky. Hiding behind the hedge that edged one side of the courtyard, Rebecca paused to get her breath and to listen for any sounds that would guide her to where the film crew were shooting. There was only silence. Racking her brain to remember which scene it had been—something to do with the horse—Rebecca deduced they must be somewhere near the front drive. Making her way as quietly as she could across the gravel, she headed toward the front of the house, sticking close to the shrubbery to give her protection from prying eyes. As she rounded the side of the house and walked onto the park that flanked the drive on either side, Rebecca could see she’d made a mistake. From here, the bright lights used on a night shoot were now just visible from the moors beyond the back garden.
Stowing her case in a bush—she could collect it later, for now it was slowing her down—Rebecca began to retrace her footsteps, zigzagging around to the back of the house, then along the shadowy edge of the walled garden. Beyond the tall yew hedge that separated the garden from the moors, she would be able to follow the lights toward the crew and safety. She doubled her speed toward them. Arriving at the hedge, she walked through the opening and there, not three hundred yards away, saw the film set.