Dreaming of Mr. Darcy by Victoria Connelly

disappointing it could be if actors in literary adaptations didn’t live up to expectations. Such was one of the major worries about adapting a much-loved novel. People knew the characters well and had incredibly strong views as to how characters should be portrayed and what they should look like.
    â€˜I don’t care how handsome he was,’ a fan might say, ‘he was not my idea of Mr Darcy.’
    â€˜Her hair! Did you see Fanny Price’s hair? What were they thinking?’
    Gemma sighed. Adapting a classic novel was a minefield, and taking on the role of its heroine was fraught with potential disasters.
    As Gemma got up to leave the relative warmth of the van and was rudely accosted by the wind, which quickly whipped around her thin muslin dress, she could only hope that her performance wouldn’t disappoint the legion of fans out there.
    She was trying to take shelter in the curve of the Cobb until she was needed, when a dark-haired man walked past her. It was the man from the bar at The Three Palms—the one on whom she’d turned her back.
    â€˜Hello,’ he said.
    Gemma nodded.
    â€˜You okay?’ he asked. ‘You look cold.’
    â€˜I’m fine, thank you,’ Gemma said politely, half expecting him to move on to wherever he had to move on to. But he didn’t.
    â€˜That dress doesn’t look very substantial,’ he said.
    â€˜It isn’t,’ Gemma said and then blushed as she saw his eyes sweep over her exposed bosom.
    â€˜ Rob? ’ a voice yelled from the other end of the Cobb. ‘Get over here, will you?’
    The man shrugged. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ he said, and as quickly as he’d appeared, he disappeared, leaving Gemma with the impression that he was, indeed, very wicked. Rather cute, too.
    ***
    Adam always felt like a bit of a spare part when he was on set. For a start, he wasn’t really needed. Nobody asked him his opinion about the way a scene should be shot, and if there were any questions about the script, they were always directed to Teresa. He didn’t mind, though. He quite liked being in the background. It gave him a chance to observe everything that was going on around him. He loved the bustle of film sets; the excitement had never waned over the years. No matter how many he’d been on, there was always something different to experience. For the Persuasion shoot, it was the transformation of the Cobb. There were canteen trucks, trucks for the actors full of costumes and makeup, vans full of cables, dolly tracks for the camera, and ropes cordoning off several streets, with notices apologising for any inconvenience. He’d been working on a film up in Scotland when the 2006 production of Persuasion had been shooting in Lyme Regis, and he’d been gutted to miss it. Now he took a step back and gloried in the chaos that he caused by sitting down to write a script one day.
    He’d been told about the burst pipe at The Three Palms and how Teresa had managed to find Wentworth House. Adam smiled as he thought about its new owner. It had been her, hadn’t it? The girl with the toffee-coloured hair he’d seen outside the estate agents. She hadn’t recognised him, but how could she have? He hadn’t exactly made his presence known that day, had he? But he remembered her. There’d been something about her that captivated him immediately. She had a sweetness about her the like of which he’d never seen before, and it had been easy to talk to her. He’d been surprised at how at ease he felt in her company. Women usually had the effect of tying him up in knots, but Kay loosened him. Gemma was the same. He adored Gemma and cared enormously about her, but she didn’t give him the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach that Kay did.
    Adam took a deep breath of salty air. Now was not a good time to fall in love. He’d just started a new screenplay and was up to his eyeballs in