Page 10 of Persuading Penny (Jane Austen Association #4)

S eeing as Keely insisted that I arrive early, that is precisely what I did the next day. I pulled up to the home that served as the Elliots’ residence and noticed the green Range Rover pulling into a spot nearby.

“You’re in charge of finances, right?” Cliff barked the moment we both stepped out of our respective vehicles.

“Yes,” I said.

“The payment didn’t come through.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“No. I’m just making that up to have an excuse to talk to you,” he barked back. “Yes. Of course, I’m sure.”

I reached into the back seat of my car and pulled out the documents relevant to his payments. “I have here that you’re with the Process Bank.”

“That’s right.”

“And your account number is 9116 2754 8127?”

“Well, I don’t know that by heart,” he barked back.

Growing frustrated with his imperious tone, I barked back, “Well, look it up.”

Surprised by my outcry, he pulled out his phone, looked through to his bank information and read out, “9116 2734 8127.”

“Well, there you have it. I have here 2754 and you’ve just told me it’s 2734.”

“Good,” he said as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “I imagine that you will now fix your mistake.”

“My mistake? It is you who filled out the bank information form.” I pulled out the form. “Here. That’s your handwriting.”

He barely looked at the page.

“Your 5s look like 3s.”

“It’s the other way around, but regardless,” he said, resuming his haughty air. “Fix it.”

And with that he walked off to get to work.

I fumed for a brief moment as my many emotions collided with one another.

Still ruffled by the exchange, I went to the back of the house and sat on a stool near the back door. At this discrete distance I watched the crew set up, watched the actors take their marks and watched as Cliff did his magic shooting several scenes in the gardens.

Then Bridget arrived for her scene. As Anne Elliot, she was barely recognizable.

Her hair was pulled back in an unflattering manner, with an odd curl down her forehead.

Her attire was drab and unremarkable, muted blues and greens, compared to the livelier colors of the others in the scene.

When she spoke, she said her lines perfectly, with the full weight they required. She never stammered or hesitated.

Increasingly, the cast and crew were impressed with her abilities and talk of her previous work was never mentioned.

Of those who were impressed with her work was Cliff. During a break earlier in the week, he’d quickly gone to her and had spoken with her for quite some time. They’d laughed together and she’d frequently set her hand on his arm.

And now, as Keely called for another break, Bridget quickly ran to Cliff, and he welcomed her with a broad smile. Even from my distant perch, I could hear her laughter, no doubt brought on by Cliff’s quick wit.

A rush of hot tears blurred my vision, but I sniffed the emotions back and refused to allow the ache to take over me.

But the emotions bubbled up, fought with my reasoning and ultimately won.

As much as I tried to shake it off, seeing him with her.

.. smiling, laughing, clearly enjoying himself.

.. it hurt. It hurt more than any pain I’d felt in a long time; probably since that day when I’d dropped that letter in the mail.

Why had he come back into my life? It’d taken so long to finally get through a day without crying, without thinking of him.

And now... it was a dagger through my heart every time I saw him.

As the crew came my way to go inside and grab a bite to eat, I heard numerous comments about the golden pair.

“They’re adorable together,” one woman said.

“I bet that guy has to beat them off with a stick,” an older man said.

“The guy is talented. To have talent and to look the way he looks, no wonder all the girls are mad about him. It doesn’t seem fair, now does it?”

I had to accept what was clear before me. Cliff had come into my life again, but we may as well have never known each other before.

Accept it.

I’m trying.

He’s moved on. You are no more than a person he works with.

I know.

It hurts more than I could have ever imagined.

Oh, my. They were coming. Their heads bowed in intimate conversation, Bridget and Cliff were coming my way. I couldn’t bear it. No. I couldn’t stand there and smile as they passed. I would sooner die.

Not knowing where to go, I simply turned my back to them and feigned admiration for the large rose bush.

To show my earnest interest in the bloom, I reached out to grab its stem in order to bring it closer to my curious nostrils, but pricked my fingers so deeply on the numerous thorns that I couldn’t hold in the gasp of pain.

“Are you all right, Miss?” a young actor said.

“Just fine.” I made the mistake of glancing back at the young man and, in the process, caught Cliff’s hard glare.

He clearly was not concerned with whatever pain I might or might not be in.

Or was he? As he averted his gaze, I caught the briefest, the ever so slightest crease of his brow. Was it concern or disgust?

It was hard to tell.

Once everyone was inside, I headed out to see Keely.

“Is that another scene that went well?” I said.

She grabbed the thick script and held it to her chest as she met up with me. “Things are going swimmingly. I can hardly believe it.” She glanced up at the heavens. “Why do I feel like my luck is about to run out?”

I laughed and helped bring some of her other items back to the main house.

“What are you doing here so early?” she said, having forgotten her own request. “I saw you arrive just before we shot the first scene.”

I pressed my lips together, not sure I should remind her. After all, being forced to chat with Cliff when his interest clearly lay elsewhere... what was the point?

“Why aren’t you inside having a bite to eat?” she went on, not waiting for an answer. “It’s been an incredibly long morning.”

I shrugged. “I’m not really hungry.”

She looked at me with a crooked grin. “You know, now that I think of it, I believe I’ve never seen you eat. Is everything all right?”

As soon as I can move on and get over Cliff once and for all, everything will be fine... great... wonderful. But instead of saying any of that, I simply said, “I eat quite a bit.”

At the entrance to the house, she turned to me. “Then prove it. Dinner tomorrow night with the Healy’s.”

Stunned, I stopped. “Tomorrow? Dinner? You mean, like at my house?”

Ugh.