Page 21 of Love At First Fright
“Through there you’ll find the kitchen, with a gas stove and a fully stocked fridge. Do let us know if there’s anything specific you want, and we’ll send someone to town for it. For now, I just bought a selection of things.” Mrs. Fairfax then turned to the left, leading them through to a pale-blue-panelled living room that looked out over the front of the house. A hearth stacked with firewood, currently unlit, was the heart of the room. Cosy armchairs and a sofa that looked large enough for five people took up the rest of the space by the fire. On the other side of the room were a few bookshelves and a smallpiano. The walls were covered in various mismatched landscape paintings and miniature portraits—it was maximalist heaven.
“This is the main living room of the house, feel free to use it anytime you like.”
“Who would have lived in this house, back in the day?” Rosemary asked.
“The Gatehouse was once occupied by Dowager Lady Lightbourne, mother of the duke of Lightbourne. It was said she hosted some beautiful parties in this room,” Mrs. Fairfax said, running a hand over the polished cherrywood of the mantelpiece.
“As shall we,” Lance exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Now that I’ve seen there’s a piano, we absolutely must host a soiree of our own, don’t you think? Tonight, we shall congregate here after dinner so I can get to know you all better.” He smiled and nodded at them in a way that brooked no disagreement.
8
Within five minutes of settingfoot in Hallowvale Manor proper, Rosemary knew without a doubt that it was haunted. Maira, one of the location managers, and Mrs. Fairfax were giving Ellis, Rosemary, Lance, and Vincent a tour of the manor, this time focusing just on the rooms where they would be filming.
She sent up a silent thanks to Josephine, her film agent, for negotiating so hard for her to be included in every aspect of the production. She saw Ellis’s surprise at her staying on location. That was probably another reason Ellis wasn’t a fan of hers, she was too meddlesome. Well, what did he know? His entire career wasn’t riding on this one movie being a hit.
In the main entrance hall, where two curving staircases looped around onto a mezzanine landing, all warm wood lit in a kaleidoscope of colour from the stained glass windows at their back, Rosemary saw different departments from the film setting up. Set dressers and the camera team were passing back and forth from the main doors to different rooms off-shooting from the hall, carrying Peli cases, tripods, and other filmequipment Rosemary didn’t know the names for. One team appeared to be stacking Peli cases on top of one another, leaving the hard black boxes in a tower in the corner and heading back out to grab more equipment.
That’s when Rosemary noticed them; two women dressed entirely at odds with the slick, black, sporty clothing of the crew. They were probably in their mid-twenties, though their clothing placed them in the Regency era. Both were in half-dress, simple cotton day dresses dyed in pale pink and cream, and both had their hair pinned back in chignons, one with deep brown curls, the other with flaxen blond. Even if for a split second she’d considered they could be extras, they both had that preternatural glow about their edges. That and the fact that they were arguing at the top of their lungs and no one else seemed to bat an eyelid.
“How dare you!” the brunette ghost shouted at the other. “All this time and you never told me.”
“Don’t look at me like that, you would never have understood,” the other ghost shouted back with a pained cry.
Rosemary felt the emotional tumult radiating off them in waves, and perhaps it wasn’t just her, everyone around seemed to look a little grumpier, sadder, than they had a moment prior. But ghosts couldn’t infect the living with their emotions, could they?
The brunette ghost picked up some sort of script packet that was resting on top of a Peli case and threw it at the other ghost. A couple of people seemed to notice, but there were so many crew members milling around they probably assumed someone else had thrown it. In Rosemary’s experience, people’s minds didn’t stray to ghosts the moment they saw something peculiar.
The script didn’t pass through the other ghost’s body asRosemary had expected. She let out a strangled scream, more from frustration than pain, and stalked off, leaving the other ghost seething across the hall from her.
“Don’t ever speak to me again!” she called after her, before running headfirst through a nearby wall and disappearing.
Rosemary wasn’t entirely surprised that Hallowvale had ghosts. It was an old house, after all. But she hadn’t expected to see a pair of ghosts that must have been around for hundreds of years who still retained the ability to manipulate matter. They could hold things and throw things, but also move through solid walls as if they were made of air? She would have to rethink her definition of what ghosts could do.
What disturbed her the most was the way the viciousness of their spat appeared to momentarily bleed through to the living. Perhaps she’d just imagined it, though. Either way, Rosemary would have to keep her wits about her and use the ghost-repelling candle Dina had made her. Tonight, and every night until they left Hallowvale, Rosemary would be lighting that candle and sprinkling her bedroom doorway with salt.
Realising that she’d dilly-dallied too long, Rosemary hurried to follow the recce tour, stepping into a shadowy corridor, portraits of stern men with their hunting dogs eyeing her from the walls.
She heard mumbled voices ahead of her and stopped short of entering one of the side parlours. She wasn’t sure what stopped her. The voices became clearer.
“…would be better as just RP,” Jeremy was saying, “that’s what the studio asked for.”
“Better for who?” Vincent shot back, in a half-whisper.
“American audiences, no doubt.” That was Ellis.
“Well, if this is something they’re going to kick up a fuss about, then I suppose we can make RP work. Ellis?” Vincentsaid. Rosemary crept closer, hoping she didn’t step on a squeaky floorboard. It was odd, listening to these men have what appeared to be a covert meeting without her. She supposed she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t have included her if she hadn’t lagged behind, but the way they were speaking in such low voices raised her suspicions.
“I think American audiences were fine with shows likePeaky Blinders,so they can handle a light Mancunian accent.”
“Does it really matter, though?” Jeremy whined.
“Yes. It matters. Alfred’s Northern accent feeds into his character. It means his uncle views him as having a lower social status. It will give the movie more nuance,” Ellis said. Was he…defending her book?
“Yes, yes. I agree with Ellis.” Vincent replied vehemently. “Sorry, Jeremy, you’ll have to give the bad news to the studios.”
“They won’t be happy,” Jeremy said.
Rosemary stepped back, slinking into a small alcove with an arched window. Ellis had defended her script, argued on her behalf to make sure the movie stayed accurate, and she hadn’t even been in the same room when it happened. Why would he do that? Rosemary remembered the heavily annotated book and script Ellis had brought to the meeting at the Cloverwood Hotel.Maybe he cares,she thought. There was something about the decisive way he’d spoken, too. Not an order, no. But just the barest hint of a command in his voice. That meant what he was saying was final. It was, Rosemary had to admit, hot. Their interaction from last night came back to her, the feel of Ellis’s warm breath on her collarbone as he’d told her she was blocking his way. Okay, so it was really hot. There was something about him that made her think he’d be like that in bed. Commanding. Kind. Not that that was ever going to happen because (A) Rosemary, as much as she was proud of the way shelooked, did not have the physique of what men of this century believed to be attractive, and (B) Ellis was dating Jenna Dunn, and they seemed, if a little mismatched, happy enough. Rosemary wasn’t a home-wrecker. But, she could let herself imagine certain things, couldn’t she? There was no harm there. Maybe Ellis wasn’t as terrible for Alfred as she had thought him to be.
