‘Fancy a walk?’
‘Aren’t you needed on set?’ Kay asked.
‘Nah. Not for ages. They’re about to film the retrenching scene – you know, the one with Sir Walter Elliot?’
Kay nodded, remembering the scene from the book.
‘Come on,’ he said.
They left the noise of the cast and crew behind them and skirted round the side of the house, through two tall hedgerows that led into a secluded knot garden.
‘It’s lovely,’ Kay said, reaching out and pinching a lemon balm leaf between her fingers before sniffing it appreciatively. ‘How old’s the house?’ she asked him.
‘Marlcombe Manor?’ Oli said, seeming surprised by her question. ‘Oh, it’s old. Very old. Stone Age or Roman or something like that.’
Kay laughed.
‘And these gardens,’ he continued. ‘Very fine gardens, I’m led to believe. They were designed and everything.’
She laughed again. ‘You don’t know very much about Marlcombe, do you?’
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I’m just an actor. I go where they tell me and I attach myself to the locations with great aptitude but I rarely get to know them at all.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘That’s the life of an actor. You can’t get too attached to anything because you’re always moving on.’
Kay wondered if his comment was a veiled warning to her. You can’t get too attached to anything . But maybe she was reading too much into it. Anyway, who was to say that he had any notion of attaching himself to her? She must stop thinking like that.
‘So, what’s it been like for you with us all invading?’ he asked.
‘Wonderful,’ Kay said, the word slipping out before she had a chance to rein herself in and appear cool and aloof. ‘I mean, I’ve just opened so it’s wonderful to have all the rooms full.’
They walked in silence for a moment, their feet crunching lightly on the gravelled pathways. Kay could hardly believe it. She was walking in a beautiful English country garden with the most handsome actor in the world and he was dressed as one of her favourite heroes from literature.
‘You look happy,’ Oli suddenly said.
Kay looked up and, for a moment, she really did see Frederick Wentworth standing there.
‘What were you thinking of?’ he asked.
She looked away, distracting herself by plucking a leaf from a peppermint plant. ‘Just thinking,’ she said.
‘Tell me.’
‘You’ll laugh.’
‘No I won’t,’ he said.
Kay took a deep breath and turned to look at him. ‘I was just wondering what it would be like to be Anne Elliot and live in a place like this with – with Captain Wentworth.’
‘Ah,’ Oli said.
‘What?’
‘You have Captain Wentworth fever!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s like Mr Darcy fever only slightly less acute and that’s only because poor old Wentworth’s never had a wet shirt moment. Not yet, anyway.’
‘You’re teasing me!’ Kay said.
Oli nodded. ‘I’m merely making an observation. As an actor, one has to be aware that some roles come loaded with expectation and I think all the Austen heroes fall into that category.’
‘But you weren’t put off by that?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s a dream come true,’ Oli said. ‘Think about it – I’ll be forever associated with one of the sexiest heroes of all time! Women will throw themselves at me even when I’m an old man and have lost all my hair. What actor could possibly say no to such a role?’
Kay grinned.
‘I know I’ll never reach the heights of Colin Firth but I like to think that I’ll earn my place in the hero hall of fame. I mean, I might not have the wet shirt but Wentworth does have the advantage of a uniform, doesn’t he?’
Kay nodded, eyeing up the very handsome uniform before her. ‘I’m illustrating all of Austen’s stories,’ she told him.
Oli’s eyebrows rose. ‘Really? You’re published?’
‘Oh, no!’ she said. ‘Not yet. I’d like to be but it’s just something I do for myself at the moment.’
‘And is that
‘Aren’t you needed on set?’ Kay asked.
‘Nah. Not for ages. They’re about to film the retrenching scene – you know, the one with Sir Walter Elliot?’
Kay nodded, remembering the scene from the book.
‘Come on,’ he said.
They left the noise of the cast and crew behind them and skirted round the side of the house, through two tall hedgerows that led into a secluded knot garden.
‘It’s lovely,’ Kay said, reaching out and pinching a lemon balm leaf between her fingers before sniffing it appreciatively. ‘How old’s the house?’ she asked him.
‘Marlcombe Manor?’ Oli said, seeming surprised by her question. ‘Oh, it’s old. Very old. Stone Age or Roman or something like that.’
Kay laughed.
‘And these gardens,’ he continued. ‘Very fine gardens, I’m led to believe. They were designed and everything.’
She laughed again. ‘You don’t know very much about Marlcombe, do you?’
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I’m just an actor. I go where they tell me and I attach myself to the locations with great aptitude but I rarely get to know them at all.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘That’s the life of an actor. You can’t get too attached to anything because you’re always moving on.’
Kay wondered if his comment was a veiled warning to her. You can’t get too attached to anything . But maybe she was reading too much into it. Anyway, who was to say that he had any notion of attaching himself to her? She must stop thinking like that.
‘So, what’s it been like for you with us all invading?’ he asked.
‘Wonderful,’ Kay said, the word slipping out before she had a chance to rein herself in and appear cool and aloof. ‘I mean, I’ve just opened so it’s wonderful to have all the rooms full.’
They walked in silence for a moment, their feet crunching lightly on the gravelled pathways. Kay could hardly believe it. She was walking in a beautiful English country garden with the most handsome actor in the world and he was dressed as one of her favourite heroes from literature.
‘You look happy,’ Oli suddenly said.
Kay looked up and, for a moment, she really did see Frederick Wentworth standing there.
‘What were you thinking of?’ he asked.
She looked away, distracting herself by plucking a leaf from a peppermint plant. ‘Just thinking,’ she said.
‘Tell me.’
‘You’ll laugh.’
‘No I won’t,’ he said.
Kay took a deep breath and turned to look at him. ‘I was just wondering what it would be like to be Anne Elliot and live in a place like this with – with Captain Wentworth.’
‘Ah,’ Oli said.
‘What?’
‘You have Captain Wentworth fever!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s like Mr Darcy fever only slightly less acute and that’s only because poor old Wentworth’s never had a wet shirt moment. Not yet, anyway.’
‘You’re teasing me!’ Kay said.
Oli nodded. ‘I’m merely making an observation. As an actor, one has to be aware that some roles come loaded with expectation and I think all the Austen heroes fall into that category.’
‘But you weren’t put off by that?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s a dream come true,’ Oli said. ‘Think about it – I’ll be forever associated with one of the sexiest heroes of all time! Women will throw themselves at me even when I’m an old man and have lost all my hair. What actor could possibly say no to such a role?’
Kay grinned.
‘I know I’ll never reach the heights of Colin Firth but I like to think that I’ll earn my place in the hero hall of fame. I mean, I might not have the wet shirt but Wentworth does have the advantage of a uniform, doesn’t he?’
Kay nodded, eyeing up the very handsome uniform before her. ‘I’m illustrating all of Austen’s stories,’ she told him.
Oli’s eyebrows rose. ‘Really? You’re published?’
‘Oh, no!’ she said. ‘Not yet. I’d like to be but it’s just something I do for myself at the moment.’
‘And is that
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