Modern English, page 4
“I’m not taking orders from some pimply kid who wants me to stand behind a yellow rope,” Brian said with more force than he’d been able to muster earlier.
“Nor would I expect you to,” Victoria said amiably. “I have several staff members who will liaise with your team to schedule the times and dates for filming various scenes, and a team of preservation specialists who’ll work with you to make sure your needs are met while still protecting our possessions. And I’ll be present to assure all the various stakeholders can move forward without issue.”
“You personally?” Sophia finally spoke. She hadn’t meant to. The words just sort of slipped out.
Victoria met the blue eyes boring into hers. “Certainly. Everything that happens here is ultimately my responsibility.”
Sophia didn’t break her gaze. “Yours? Not your father’s? Not your man James’s? Not your secretary’s?”
Victoria’s mouth twisted slightly, only for the barest of seconds, before she nodded, but Sophia saw it, and she leaned forward, looking more closely for any other soft spot in that armour.
“So, to be sure, if we have a conflict with any of your people at any point, we should contact . . .”
“Me.” Victoria lifted her chin as if she heard a challenge in the question. “First and last.”
“Not a problem at all,” Talia cut back in before Sophia could push any more.
Out of respect for Talia, she took her cue to sit back, but she exchanged a glance with Tommy, whose green eyes reflected a hint of the surprise she felt at Victoria’s little pronouncement. It wasn’t uncommon for a filming location to assign someone to work with the film crew, but it was unusual for that person to be a rich, beautiful heiress of British nobility.
“Good.” Victoria stood. “If we’re in agreement, I’ll have our people amend the contract and present it to you as soon as possible.”
Talia rose and shook her hand. “I really appreciate this. The film is very important to me.”
Victoria nodded seriously. “And to me as well.”
Then she stepped out of the trailer, but before Talia had a chance to close the door behind her, Sophia jumped up and followed.
“Um, excuse me,” she called. Not her strongest opening. “Ms., um, Your uh, Ladyship?”
Victoria turned around, her smile bright but polite. “Seeing as how we’re to be colleagues, why don’t you call me Vic?”
That seemed odd, but then again, so had every other encounter with this woman, and first names would at least give the appearance of a more level playing field. “Okay, Vic. Before you rush the contract off to your undoubtedly talented lawyers, could I press you to reconsider one of your restrictions on where we can film?”
“You may press, but I feel it only fair to warn you it may be a fool’s errand.”
“I’m familiar with those, trust me, but I have a lot at stake here. I need the film to be a success, which means we can’t cut corners on cinematography. A smaller tower means smaller shots, and the loss of 360-degree panoramas. It’ll constrict everything at precisely the moments when we need the views to feel endless.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about filmmaking, but isn’t it unusual for a lead actress to concern herself with camera angles when the director didn’t have any trouble making accommodations?”
“He’s an idiot.”
“That’s less than inspiring to hear about a man to whom I granted a great deal of access. Maybe I need to rethink some tighter restrictions.”
“Oh, come on.” Sophia exploded. “Are you seriously going to extend your little power trip even further?”
Vic blinked in surprise, and for a second something akin to hurt flashed in her eyes before she regained the politely distant veneer all her social training had likely stamped onto her features. “I’m sorry you feel I came here in a power play, or anything other than sincerity.”
Sophia didn’t buy that, and her body language must’ve said so, because Victoria sighed heavily.
“Perhaps I failed to make my own personal stake here clear. I certainly understand that for most people, this place—” she gestured expansively to the castle behind her, “—feels like a movie set, but it’s my home. I live here. My family lives here. My grandparents lived their entire lives here. The people I love have their fingerprints all over the place. Would you give a stranger, whom you yourself consider an idiot, carte blanche to trample all over your family’s home and heirlooms?”
Sophia folded her arms across her chest. “I have no heirlooms, and my family home is quite often inhabited by idiots who ran roughshod over every part of my life for as long as I let them. If you’re planning to gain sympathy with some family history argument, or an emotional connection to inherited wealth, then it’s no surprise your appeal landed better with Brian, as he has plenty of both. I, on the other hand, have only ever had what I’ve been willing to fight for.”
Victoria’s smile faltered again, and this time it stayed that way, making her appear genuine for the first time all morning. “I’m sorry to hear that, but, the fact that you chased me down to go against the will of all your colleagues suggests you’re long past the point where you’ll accept less than you deserve.”
“Touché.” Sophia appreciated the quick turnaround of her sad story. “But now that you know that about me, I hope you also realize this isn’t the last conversation we’ll have on filming details.”
“What makes you think we’ll need multiple discussions?”
This time it was Sophia’s turn to smile. “Because I’m beginning to suspect neither of us is the kind of woman who wilts under pressure.”
Victoria’s lips parted softly, and a myriad of emotions flashed across her beautiful features. Sophia couldn’t read them all, much less understand what sparked them, but for the first time, a part of her wanted to.
Chapter Three
“Oh, my goodness,” Emma exclaimed before Vic fully opened the door to her car for her. “It’s finally happening.”
She smiled at her friend’s exuberance as Emma threw an arm around her waist and gave a little squeeze. The brief contact felt better than it should have, and she allowed herself a second to rest her head on Emma’s shoulder, breathing in the soft lavender scent of her long blond hair, before stepping back and asking, “How’s Brogan?”
“Ugh, she’s swamped. The lifeboats got called out yesterday, and it set the sailing tours back, so she’s offering extra runs today. Then, tonight she’s promised a sleepover for all the nieces and nephews so her siblings can have time with their overtaxed spouses.”
“So, in other words, she’s still utterly perfect?”
“Basically.” Emma’s face radiated so much love Vic felt only the slightest pain at not having been the one to spark such a reaction. It wasn’t that she still harboured any romantic intentions for her. They’d settled into such a lovely companionship filled with quiet understanding and heartfelt conversations, plus no one would deny Brogan made Emma happier than she ever could have, but the fear that she might never make someone so happy still left her sad sometimes.
“Have you met Talia yet?” Emma asked, oblivious to the path Vic’s mind had wandered.
“I have, a few times actually. We had some minor details to hammer out.”
“Uh-oh . . . is that why you’re back from Scotland?”
“Not at all,” she said honestly. “I came home before I knew the crew had arrived, but that’s neither here nor there at this point. I’m sure you’re eager to see your friend.”
Emma beamed. “You’ll come with me, right? I can’t wait to have my best American friend and my best British friend in the same room. Don’t you love it when worlds collide?”
“Indeed,” she said, when what she really loved was hearing that she was Emma’s best British friend. Such a silly little thing shouldn’t have made her heart swell, but it did.
“Tal messaged and said she was in the guest hall. I know you’re always busy, but let’s go be movie stalkers for a little while.”
She got swept up in Emma’s excitement. “I suppose I could spare some time.”
“Good.” Emma bounded out of the courtyard, seeming so much brighter than when they’d first met. Her cheeks had taken on more colour these days, her clothes no longer hung limply from her slender fame, and her smile sparkled with ease. Love looked good on her.
Vic followed her out of the inner courtyard and across the grassy bailey before she remembered her way around her own home. “Um, the guest hall is over by the west garret.”
Emma stopped, then laughed, the sound so light and airy. “Can you speak that in American?”
Vic pressed her lips together as she tried to translate things that came naturally to her but virtually no one else. “There’s the Barbican, and the Ravine Tower, and . . . I’m not making this any better, am I?”
Emma shook her head, then grabbed her hand. “Show me.”
Her breath caught at the contact, and she hoped she managed to act cool as she closed her fingers around Emma’s and walked under a large stone archway into a more open parade ground. Only a few landscapers were present this early in the morning. The main gates wouldn’t open for another hour, and many of the seasonal help wouldn’t even recognise her, much less care if she held the hand of a beautiful and very-much-spoken-for American, but none of those facts stopped her from glancing over her shoulder as she passed a young man with a wheelbarrow full of sod.
They skirted an outer wall until it flared into a low building. She used her free hand to pull open the door, but she hadn’t needed to worry about being the one to break contact because as soon as Emma saw Talia, she bolted across the room.
Talia, for her part, saw Emma coming and squealed as they collided into a massive, rocking, clutching hug. The embrace was so unrestrained, unencumbered, and seemingly endless that Vic looked away from such an American display of emotion. Only, when she did, she found herself staring straight into the dark eyes of Sophia LeBlanc.
She stood atop a pedestal only a few meters away, presumably in a costume fitting. Either that or she’d added another, much poofier layer to her character acting, as the period dress she wore swept down from her voluptuous hips in a flowing, ruffled, floor-length skirt and up into a much more form-fitting bodice. The entire ensemble was hued in a deep, shimmering maroon with black accents that clung to some of her finer features and revealed a few others.
Vic mentally chastised herself for allowing her eyes to linger, but Sophia’s expression held no such decorum as an almost impish quality radiated from the upturned corners of her tightly pressed lips. Honestly, the hint of a smile did more to Vic’s heart rate than the corset had.
Vic quickly turned back to find Talia and Emma talking excitedly as Emma practically skipped down a row of props.
“They’re all perfect,” Emma gushed over each jewelled hairbrush and pearl-handled mirror.
“I’ve been obsessive over every detail,” Talia said with a firmness Vic didn’t doubt. “Every piece is exactly how you wrote it in the book. I could see it all so clearly. I made Addie do hundreds of drawings, even though she’s started art school now.”
“I hope she doesn’t flunk out of NYU over this film. I’d feel terrible.”
Talia waived her hand. “Meh, there are worse ways for college students to make money, and I’d rather it go to her than someone’s lackey nephew. Besides, if I hadn’t insisted on the best, Sophia would have. She may be the only person I’ve worked with who’s more of a stickler for detail than I am.”
Vic fought the urge to turn back toward the actress, but Emma didn’t share her sense of propriety. Her eyes lit up as she noticed Sophia in costume, and her mouth formed the most adorable o of awe.
“She’s stunning,” Emma effused. “Introduce us?”
“Of course.” Talia led her to the actress. Vic suffered the sudden urge to excuse herself or maybe slip away quietly, but just as she started to back away, Emma spotted her and said, “Vic, come meet my Regina, er, Sophia. Isn’t she perfect to play Regina though?”
Vic pulled on her most polite smile. “We’ve actually met, but yes, she’s well-suited to the role.”
Sophia’s eyebrow arched slightly, but before she had a chance to respond, Emma cut back in to bury her in a pile of compliments. “Your face, your body type, the little look you just gave Vic, so haughty, but playful, too. You were born to play this role . . . and probably many other ones. Oh, by the way, I’m Emma Volant.”
“Watch out,” Talia warned, “I feel a hug coming on.”
Sophia laughed lightly and opened her arms for Emma to jump in.
Vic stifled a prick of jealousy at their emotional freedom so in contrast to her own physical boundaries. Never in her life had she said or done anything so unguarded with someone she’d just met. Honestly, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been openly affectionate, even with longtime friends or family members.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said, stepping back, but she didn’t sound sorry. “I’m not usually like this. I’m just so excited to have my first movie made here, with my friends. Talia and Vic are both the best. It means so much to have people I can trust on board.”
Sophia cast Vic a bit of side-eye she couldn’t quite interpret, but the smile she directed at Emma appeared genuine. “It’s an honour to be part of your team.”
Emma turned to smile at Vic.
“Likewise. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“You already have,” Talia said. “She’s been much more than accommodating with the date snafu and all the schedule rearranging.”
Emma frowned, making it clear this was new information for her.
“She didn’t tell you?” Talia said. “Our contract writers used American dates and—”
“And it’s all taken care of now.” Vic cut her off, forcing an airiness into her voice she didn’t feel.
Talia paused with a quizzical expression, and Vic willed her not to say anything else that might put a damper on this moment or Emma’s uninhibited joy.
“We’re all set now, and as I understand it, principal photo-graphy begins tomorrow,” Vic asserted, bringing them back to business.
“Yes,” Talia said slowly, seeming to pick up her tone. “We’re on schedule, thanks to your friend here. We owe all the smooth sailing to her.”
“Smooth,” Emma laughed lightly. “That’s our Vic.”
She brushed off the compliment. “I can’t promise there won’t be complications along the way, some of which we probably need to address sooner rather than later. We’ll need to know where you plan to shoot some of your early scenes, so we can have our archivist catalogue any pieces that need to be relocated.”
“Maybe we could do that with Emma here,” Talia offered. “No one will have a better vision for the rooms in the book than her.”
She nodded. “Should we also bring along your director?”
Talia made a slight grimace. “He was supposed to be here this morning, but I gather he’s a bit . . . indisposed.”
He’s an idiot. Sophia’s comment echoed through Vic’s ears as she read between the lines. She turned back to the actress and raised an eyebrow of her own this time. “Ms. LeBlanc, since you seem to have stronger opinions on the subject than he does, would you care to accompany us in his stead?”
A tinge of pink coloured Sophia’s cheek, or maybe Vic merely imagined the hint of pleasure at the invitation. As it quickly faded behind a more neutral mask, she said. “I suppose I’d probably better.”
••••
“This main circuit through the official state rooms will be off limits from ten till four-thirty every day, but I gather you will have significant outdoor filming to do when you have the natural light.” Vic glanced toward Talia, who nodded, but Sophia hung back and reserved her judgement on these updates to their filming regimen.
There were times she felt certain she had this woman pegged. For instance, the way she threw around terms like “governess quarters” and “garrets” with the casualness Sophia might use to say “station wagon” or “front yard” spoke of an almost mundane regard for the extravagant. Yet, at other times she seemed so walled off and carefully controlled, the very opposite of opulent.
“And Talia said they can film outdoors even when the tourists are here?” Emma asked.
“My staff agrees the filming could serve as a draw for locals to see a real movie in production, but I was under the impression there were still a few details to be made out around sound?”
“We can certainly make tourist presence work on several days,” Talia said. “The script calls for places where the instrumental score would more than cover, and also a montage where no one has any lines to deliver, so our sound mixers wouldn’t have to differentiate between actors’ voices and crowd noise, if we do decide to admit a crowd.”
Vic nodded resolutely, but as she turned to Emma, her smile grew warm. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
She started walking again, then stopped, causing the rest of them to bunch up behind her. “Actually, if you’re going to admit locals to observe filming, would it be possible to give preference to young arts students, either from the upper school or nearby universities?”
Talia shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“Good,” Vic said resolutely. “Let’s see if we can inspire a new generation of Northlandian filmmakers.”
Emma beamed at her, and Talia once again seemed impressed. Sophia would grant, it was a nice touch for her to consider the peasants as she paraded around her castle, but she’d yet to see anything in Vic to inspire the devotion the other two women had clearly developed for her. It wasn’t as if she walked on water. Though she did walk fast once she got going, and backwards, like some tour guide on speed.
“This wing of the estate was built in the early thirteen hundreds and refortified after a siege during the Wars of the Roses. With your movie taking place in the late eighteen hundreds, it would’ve all been decorated differently, mind you, but actually”— she backed quickly through a doorway she couldn’t have possibly seen unless she had eyes on the back of her head— “the wallpaper in here is authentic Victorian.”
