Page 60 of Give Me a Reason

Kent was a place steeped in beauty and history, and their shooting locations were more picturesque than Anne could have ever imagined.

As one of the oldest counties in England, the aptly named “Garden of England” boasted ornate Elizabethan and Jacobean architecture—wide, symmetrical stone buildings with numerous windows and intricate decorative elements.

While the grand castles and manors reminded Anne of Downton Abbey, which delighted the fangirl in her, it was the smaller, wood-framed houses that truly charmed her.

Shooting outdoors on a beautiful, clear afternoon, Anne felt as though she’d opened a picture book and stepped inside a fairy tale.

The rolling green countryside felt vibrant and sparkling, and even the air tasted sweeter, as though untouched by pollution.

It felt fitting to channel the proud, spirited Elizabeth Bennet in this breathtaking place, secreted away from time.

Elizabeth was young and full of life. She was free to fall in love for the first time—to discover the depth of Darcy’s feelings for her and to realize that she reciprocated those feelings with all her heart.

When she was Elizabeth, Anne could hide from the cold, Frederick-size void inside her and be free in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.

In today’s scene, Elizabeth was angry and hurt because Mr. Darcy had confessed his love to her in the worst imaginable way.

She was also devastated for reasons she didn’t understand yet, so she lashed out at him with all the confused fury inside her.

When the last cutting words left her mouth, Elizabeth wanted to sink into the ground, because her heart was breaking with the wrongness of it all.

“Cut,” Andrew shouted and pushed off the director’s chair.

Anne turned away from Mason, the perfect Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth, with a sheepish laugh.

She extracted herself from the scene with effort, her heart thundering beneath the fitted bodice of her dress.

Her costar blew out a long breath and shook out his long limbs, his dark-honey skin flushed from the height of Darcy’s emotions.

“Beautifully done.” With a hand over his heart, Andrew jogged over to them. “You portrayed the internal struggles of Elizabeth and Darcy to perfection . Can we sink into that energy a little more and do another take?”

Anne bit her cheeks to hold back a smile. It was just like Andrew to tell his actors they’d performed the scene perfectly only to ask them to do it again but better , all in the same breath.

“Absolutely,” Mason said with a knowing wink at her. With his broad shoulders and immaculate posture, he carried off his regency costume impressively. Were it not for his cheeky grin, he would be the picture of aloof, aristocratic beauty. “We’ll do it a little more perfectly.”

“Fine, I asked for that.” Andrew chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant it was nearly perfect, so a little more of that perfection would be great.”

“A little more perfection. You got it.” Anne gave him a solemn nod, pressing her lips together, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

Andrew stared at her for several seconds too long, and Mason made a show of studying the sky, whistling tunelessly under his breath. Anne burst out laughing at her costar’s teasing, even as she blushed under Andrew’s attention.

Although they had begun filming less than a week ago, Anne and Mason had become good friends—close enough for him to tease her relentlessly. As a matter of fact, the entire tight-knit crew joined in teasing Anne and Andrew, since he hadn’t been subtle about his interest in her.

It felt liberating to work in Hollywood.

If this were Korea, her fans would have buried her—with a row of literal funeral wreathes—for even a hint of romance with her director.

But if she had not been pining for Frederick and someone had captured her heart, she would not have gone down quietly.

After all, she was American, born and raised.

“You two can make fun of me all you want once we wrap for the day.” Andrew clapped his hands smartly and trotted back to his seat. “Let’s go again. I’m not asking for much. Just absolute perfection.”

Even though she and her fellow cast members joked around with Andrew, there was no question they all respected him tremendously.

He worked them hard—asking for perfection—but he worked hard alongside them.

What actors really wanted was to work with a director who could harness their full potential—someone who brought out the best in them—and Andrew did that for them.

By the end of the day, Anne was yawning into her hand but feeling good about a job well done.

With every scene, Elizabeth became more real—more alive—through Anne.

It was exhilarating and distracting. The long hours of being Elizabeth helped her forget about being Anne.

About how she’d never worked up the nerve to call Frederick.

About how it made no difference since he belonged to another.

About her ever-present regrets and longings. About how much she missed him.

With weary steps, she headed for the SUVs going back to their lodgings. The sleek, modern vehicles looked out of place next to an old stone church in the woods. She probably looked odd as well in her street clothes with her hair in a regency-era updo.

Before she got far, Andrew stopped her with a light touch on her arm. She glanced askance at him, her head cocked to the side. He was always energetic, but he nearly twitched with restlessness tonight.

“Anne, may I escort you back to your castle?” He bounced lightly on his feet. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

He wasn’t joking. Anne, along with the rest of the cast, had been set up in a beautiful converted castle dating back nine hundred years. The enchanting hotel was situated on a private island surrounded by an expansive moat with a main castle, a stable, and several cottages.

Anne loved her room in a sixteenth-century tower overlooking a lush, green garden. The stunning greenery extended beyond the island, which was surrounded by verdant forests on all sides. The castle had become her sanctuary, and she wanted nothing more than to return to it as soon as possible.

“I was going to take one of the SUVs…” Anne gestured toward her ride at the same time it drove off without her, and a perplexed frown settled between her brows.

Had Andrew already told them she was riding with him?

Before she agreed? When her thoughts were interrupted by another yawn, she relented with a tired smile. “Sure.”

While flattered by his attention, Anne felt a bit wary of being alone with Andrew. The crew had been good-natured about them so far, but she didn’t want to give them the impression there was anything more than harmless flirting between them.

But the castle wasn’t far away, so she didn’t see much harm in driving with Andrew—even if he’d been heavy-handed in sending the SUVs away. Anne had nearly drifted off to sleep when Andrew spoke from the driver’s seat—on the right —of his silver Aston Martin.

“Do you mind if we make a quick stop?”

“Not at all,” she responded automatically even though she was eager to return to her lovely tower room. She couldn’t wait to sink into her claw-foot tub for a hot bath, then recharge with a glass of wine and some much-needed alone time. Peopling was hard for an introvert.

Her eyes widened when Andrew parked in front of a quaint period building with a sloping brown roof. A rustic, wooden sign with white writing proudly proclaimed it as a pub and inn.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, torn between annoyance and curiosity.

Andrew stepped out of the car, rounded the hood, and opened the passenger door for her. She took the hand he offered, a frown tugging at her brows, and unfurled her body from the plush leather seat. Groggy with fatigue, she couldn’t figure out what was happening.

“Trust me.” He urged her inside the bustling pub with a hand on her lower back. “You’ll like this surprise.”

Anne dug her heels in just inside the door, her frown deepening. She wasn’t in the mood to be charmed by the interior of the pub with its dark wood floors, warm cream walls, and a low ceiling with exposed wooden beams. She turned to Andrew with a hint of impatience. “What surprise—”

“ Surprise! ” Bethany squealed and launched herself into Anne’s arms.

“Bethany?” Before Anne could extricate herself, a second pair of arms wrapped around her from the back. “Imo? What are you guys doing here?”

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” Auntie Sharon said into her hair, squeezing the air out of her.

“What is going on?” They loosened their hold enough for Anne to spin around and face her aunt. “How are you guys in England?”

“We came to see you, of course.” But her aunt added with a sheepish smile, “And to scout for a wedding venue for Bethany. Two birds, one stone.”

“You know I’ve always wanted to get married in a small countryside church in England,” Bethany told Anne with a blissful smile.

“You’re getting married ?” Anne nearly dislocated her jaw, and panic set her limbs trembling. No, no, no.

Bethany held out her hand to show off the teardrop diamond ring on her finger. “I sure am.”

The edges of Anne’s vision turned black, blurring everything around her. Bethany and Frederick were getting married? She felt a hand on her arm that brought her back from the brink of fainting. She heard Andrew say from far away, “Why don’t we continue this reunion at a table? I have one reserved.”

“What… How…” Anne dropped into her seat at the four-person table and reached for the nearest cup of water. She chugged half of it down and plunked it back on the table.