Page 34 of Love At First Fright
Ellis’s billowing white shirt hadbeen sent to torment her. She’d come to observe a scene in which Ellis’s character was alone in his chambers for the first time, and he had just thrown his cravat to the ground in anger at his uncle’s dismissal. Who knew the sight of a man in period dress removing something as insignificant as a cravat could be such a turn-on?
It was their third day of filming, and a blustery dawn had cleared to a bright morning, the grass outside the manor now streaked with dew. The crew had placed some blackout material against the windows of one of the ground-floor rooms, re-dressing it to look like a Victorian bedroom at night.
“Why don’t they just film it at nighttime?” Rosemary had asked Lyn, who had found her on the way back to set.
“They’re saving the night shoots for more of the external shots and the final explosion scene, since that will take more time to plan out.” Lyn paused, handing Rosemary a lemon drop from a bag. She couldn’t remember when she’d told Lyn she had a weak spot for classic British boiled sweets, but her PAknew everything about her. “How was your tea date with Ellis Finch?” Lyn raised an eyebrow.
“What are you talking about? That wasn’t—he wasn’t—”
“Chill, Rosemary. I’m kidding. He just asked me how you take your tea.”
“He’s with Jenna.”
“Oh really? Not sure why you felt the need to tell me that if it wasn’t a date.”
She hadn’t fooled Lyn.
“I would never—I’m not that kind of person,” Rosemary said firmly.
Lyn smiled. “I know. I can tell. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to worry about on the Jenna front.”
“What does that mean?” Rosemary frowned, but Lyn simply threw her a wink and stalked off.
“Alright, everyone, let’s set up. Can I have quiet on set, please?” the first AD shouted. The second and third ADs followed suit, parroting to the wider crew, so all Rosemary could hear were murmurings of “Quiet on set” until a hush fell.
“Action,” Vincent said, and Ellis sprang to life as Alfred Parlow. She’d been so wrong to think he couldn’t play her main character. His posture, his mannerisms, had all become foreign. A small part of Rosemary wondered when his actual mannerisms had become so familiar to her in the first place.
After throwing his cravat on the floor, Ellis/Alfred poured himself a brandy (apple juice and iced tea combined) and chugged it down in one go. He then began rifling through papers. This was one of Rosemary’s favourite scenes, because out of the corner of the viewer’s eye, moving so slowly that at first you wouldn’t notice it, was the ghost of an elderly woman. She would hover, blurred in the background, just watching Alfredas he read through his uncle’s papers. The ghost, played by Marissa, who was draped in laced greys and with some rather horrifying makeup, would gradually move closer and closer to Ellis. Right now, as Rosemary looked over Vincent’s shoulder to one of the camera screens, only Marissa’s arm was in sight, hovering just behind the curtain. It was deeply unsettling—exactly how she’d hoped it would be.
“And cut!” Vincent yelled. “Okay, let’s bring in the bathtub and put it by the fire and we’ll pivot around to face that way,” he said.
Wait, the bathtub? Rosemary pulled out her script and took another look. There was no bathtub in this scene. Sighing, she realized they’d changed something else without telling her. She wanted to speak to Vincent, but he was deep in conversation with one of the set designers and first AD, so she settled for Jeremy, who was tapping away on his phone in the corner.
“Jeremy, why is there a bathtub in this scene?”
“Huh? Oh, hey, Rosemary,” he said, barely glancing up from his phone. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just something for the fans.”
“I’m sorry, the fans?”
“Yeah, Ellis has a requirement in all his contracts for a minimum of one topless scene. So we put one in.”
“Someone should have told me.”
“Sure, sorry about that.” She didn’t hear one iota of apology in his tone.
Rosemary turned back to see the set designers placing the final touches on the wide copper and tin bathtub by the fire. In minutes they had somehow redressed the left corner of the room to look like a small bathing chamber, and if she weren’t so grumpy about the addition of the topless scene, she would have been awestruck.
“Only necessary crew staying please, the rest of you out,” the first AD shouted, and the room began to clear. No one told her to leave, though, and Lyn had left the room before the last shot so she couldn’t ask them if she counted as necessary crew.
Rosemary backed away into the semi-dark of the room, leaning against a bookshelf. It wasn’t until she’d stood there for a few seconds that she realised she wasn’t alone. Beside her, watching the scene unfold with mild interest, was the brunette Regency ghost. The same one Rosemary had seen crying in the living room the other night. Rosemary was able to get a better look at her, without the ghost noticing that she was watching. Her face reminded Rosemary of a robin: cherubic but also a little pointy.
The ghost seemed particularly interested in watching Marissa, and Rosemary wondered if the ghost thought that’s what she looked like. The lore said that vampires weren’t able to see themselves in mirrors, but Rosemary wondered if the same applied to ghosts.
Just then, the other ghost slipped in through a wall.
“There you are, Juliet! I’ve been wanting to speak to you.”
Juliet—the brunette ghost—turned to face the other one. “We’re done speaking. I don’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth.”
