Dreaming of Mr. Darcy by Victoria Connelly

Author:Victoria Connelly [Connelly, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2011-11-08T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Gemma’s scene with the actress playing Lady Russell was cut short several times by the heavy showers. They’d been shooting in the beautiful knot garden behind Marlcombe Manor, and Teresa—for once—had been pleased with how the scene was progressing. Gemma, too, had thought it was going well. She got on well with the older actress, and they found that they could portray Anne Elliot’s and Lady Russell’s intimacy easily.

But not everybody was as pleased with their performances. Sheltering in the orangery, which was stuffed with extraordinary palms, Kim Reilly sidled up to her daughter.

‘She’s not very good, is she?’ Kim said in a sort of stage whisper.

‘Shush!’ Gemma hushed. ‘She’ll hear you.’

‘I don’t care if she does,’ Kim said, sniffing unrepentantly. ‘That sort of acting shouldn’t be tolerated.’

‘She used to act with the Royal Shakespeare Company,’ Gemma pointed out. ‘And they think very highly of her.’

‘The Royal Shakespeare Company!’ Kim made a tutting sound. ‘Call that acting? That’s just standing on stage spouting poetry.’

Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘And she’s very well respected as a television actress. You should see her CV.’

‘I don’t need to,’ Kim said. ‘I bet she’s ruined every role she ever touched. I don’t know what Teresa’s thinking. I would have done a much better job, and I’m your mother, too.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘That scene you were shooting—it’s between mother and daughter.’

‘Lady Russell isn’t Anne’s mother.’

‘Isn’t she?’

‘No,’ Gemma said. ‘You really should read the book, Mum.’

‘The only things I read these days are the glossies and Vive! I can’t be doing with any Austen or Shakespeare.’

Gemma knew she wasn’t joking. Even when she was growing up, there had been a shocking dearth of books in their house.

‘I’ll wait for the script, my dear,’ she’d told her agent.

Gemma wished she could operate like her mother, but she always had to read the source material and anything else she could get her hands on, anything to help. It was exhausting, but worth it, she hoped.

‘So many interruptions,’ Kim said, looking out of the orangery as the rain slowly waned. It had been drumming on the glass roof like a thousand tiny tap dancers when the actors rushed inside, but now it was a gentle patter.

‘I expect we’ll be back to it soon,’ Gemma said, tidying a stray strand of hair.

Kim nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully, dragging the single syllable out.

Gemma was on immediate alert. ‘What?’ she said.

Kim’s mouth narrowed into a nasty little line, and Gemma knew what was coming: criticism.

‘No,’ Kim said, shaking her head. ‘You won’t want to hear. You never do. You know what you’re like when I have some advice to give you—you get all upset and uptight.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Gemma said.

‘Yes, you do. You know you do.’

‘Just tell me, Mum!’ she said, knowing she wouldn’t get any peace until she had her say.

‘You want my advice?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Mum! Just tell me.’

‘Okay,’ Kim said, taking in a deep breath before sighing out slowly and dramatically, as if she were about to give a long-awaited speech on the world’s stage.

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