The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series)

by JS Taylor

  I still feel myself melting, just at the sound of his deep tones over the phone. “Misbehaving as usual,” he adds.

  “Really?” I counter. “Because your stepmother called and said you weren’t in the studio.”

  I don’t add that I scared myself silly walking home through an empty cornfield to track him down.

  “So I think it’s you who’s misbehaving,” I add.

  This comes out more like an accusation than I mean it to. But to my surprise, he laughs.

  “Touché, Ms Green. But I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with where I actually was.”

  Oh.

  “Where were you then?” I ask.

  “You’ll find out. But you have to go to the main hall like a good girl. I’ll arrange a car to collect you,” he adds.

  “No need,” I reply. “I’m back on the estate already.”

  “Oh?” He sounds surprised. “How did you get back?”

  “Never you mind,” I say, remembering he didn’t want me to walk alone. “You should have returned my calls. What have you been doing?”

  “Go to the main hall,” he repeats patiently. “And you’ll find out.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Disobedience, Ms Green? I think we both know what that results in. I still have access to a riding crop.”

  “Oh no,” I say, trying to ignore the sudden feelings his words are stirring. “That’s not how we decide things, Mr Berkeley. You said you’d try to be a little more millennial. Remember?”

  There’s a pause. “Very well then,” he says after a moment. “In the spirit of being a modern man, how about this. It’s up to you whether you follow my instructions. But I think you’ll like what is waiting for you.”

  “You won’t tell me what?”

  He laughs again, a deep, wicked sound. “I’m not quite that modern yet, Ms Green. Don’t push me. Just do as you’re told and go to the main hall. Or I might decide to spank you after all.”

  He hangs up the phone. And I’m left uncertainly staring the display.

  Ok then. Part of me wants to rebel and disobey his instructions. But I can’t deny that my curiosity is getting the better of me.

  What has he been up to?

  From past experience, this is probably going to be good. Smiling at my exasperating boyfriend, I head to Berkeley Hall.

  Chapter 6

  The big house seems empty when I arrive. But the lobby lights are on. I push open the large door leading into the marble-floored entrance hall.

  My eyes land instantly on a small table, right in the centre.

  Artfully displayed in an antique vase is a light pink rose. It’s such a soft colour, it’s almost white, but the pink tint gives the petals a delicate hue.

  It’s lovely. I move towards it instinctively, plucking it out of the vase and inhaling the fragrance.

  There’s a handwritten card next to the rose, and I read the message.

  Soft pink. For admiration. Because you are worthy of more admiration than you could ever know.

  I am smiling, deeply touched. What a lovely thing to write. And roses again. The Berkeley calling card.

  Oh James. You are more worthy of admiration than you realise too.

  I turn the card to see there’s more writing.

  These are measured

  words that first made me,

  fall in love with you.

  Find them, to find your

  next clue, my darling.

  It’s a treasure hunt! I feel myself grinning. I love treasure hunts. How did he know? I re-read the card, thinking about the words carefully.

  The words that first made him fall in love with me? What could they be? I think over our conversations when we first met. When did he first fall in love with me?

  James first told me he loved me in his apartment in the Berkeley Studios. I play back our conversation.

  We’d just talked about his past. His being sent to boarding school after his mother’s death. Are those the words he meant?

  I read the clue again. Measured words. Measured. I frown, thinking hard. I don’t really measure any of my words. They just come out. In fact, after James told me about being blamed for his mother’s death, I remember being angry. Furious even.

  Certainly my words weren’t carefully chosen. And measured would be planned, wouldn’t it?

  As in… a script?

  Hmmm. The movie script we’re now working on. I guess that would have measured words. Where would a copy belong? That could be anywhere. With any of the actors, for a start. Or in his studio maybe.

  He can’t mean the movie script, I decide. There are too many places a copy could be. Then another possibility occurs.

  Wait. That isn’t the only script we’ve worked on.

  A thought bubbles up.

  The first words I ever read to James… were from Romeo and Juliet.

  Suddenly the clue makes sense.

  Measured words. Shakespeare writes in iambic pentameter. Every line has an exact amount of words. Measured.

  I look back to his clue.

  These are measured

  words that first made me,

  fall in love with you.

  Find them, to find your

  next clue, my darling.

  It’s written in iambic pentameter. Five syllables to every line. Like Shakespeare.

  I break into a wide beam of pleasure.

  So that would mean… He fell in love with me when we very first met?

  I feel a little dizzy with emotion.

  So James loved me from the very first. It’s almost too much to take in.

  I’m smiling, remembering that first audition. The way I felt, being close to him. I hold the card against my heart, closing my eyes at the memory.

  Did I love him too then? I think part of me did.

  Thinking back to our first meeting brings back so many feelings.

  I was so nervous, and Berkeley’s manner threw me completely. It’s funny to think how I was back then. Since I’ve met James, I feel like a different person.

  I definitely feel older. Am I wiser? I think so.

  I return my attention to the clue.

  Ok. So. Now we’re getting somewhere. The logic part of my brain is kicking in again. Shakespeare. So where would Shakespeare belong?

  In a library?

  Berkeley Hall has a library. James showed me it on a tour of the house, so he knows I’m aware of its existence.

  I’ll bet that’s where he means.

  Pocketing the clue, I head towards the library.

  Almost as soon as I’m through the door, I realise I’ve guessed right. A flash of colour reveals another rose, tucked into the book shelf. This one is a soft lavender colour.

  I tug the bloom free. There’s no note, and then I see a copy of Romeo and Juliet next to the flower.

  I pull out the book and see a note is tucked inside.

  Lavender. For love at first sight. The book is a gift. Read it and remember I love you always. From the very beginning and forever after.

  Once again I’m reeling. I feel like an old-fashioned heroine, about to swoon from his love letters. How does he say such perfect things?

  And James loved me, even from the first audition. That is such an unexpected and touching revelation. Though the rest of his words are even more beautiful.

  From the very beginning and forever after.

  For me too James. Forever.

  I gaze at the message, wishing James was here so I could tell him how much I love him in return. The play is a folio edition, bound in red and gold, and Romeo and Juliet’s words are printed in heavy type. It’s a lovely gift. Made much more so by James’s note.

  I pull out my phone and send him a message.

  This is so beautiful. Thank you. I love you more than words can say. Forever yours xx

  Instantly my phone beeps.

  Forever mine. I accept. Are you glad that you did what you were told?

  I suppress a smile. S
marty pants Mr Berkeley. But of course I’m loving his romantic treasure hunt. What girl wouldn’t? I text back.

  Maybe just this once.

  Then I turn the card to see my next clue.

  You danced the dance of love,

  And wore this dress.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off you.

  I still can’t.

  This is so incredibly romantic. I am literally aglow with happiness.

  I can’t believe that James has gone to all this trouble. And his notes. The roses will fade, but I will keep the notes forever.

  I concentrate on working the latest one out. Dancing. The night I danced flamenco? But that isn’t a dance of love. James knows that. It’s a dance of sorrow.

  The answer comes to me suddenly.

  The night we danced tango!

  James is referring to our first date. The night we danced tango together. I flush at the memory, remembering his proximity as we whirled across the floor. Him confidently leading. Me submitting to his guidance.

  I want to show you to enjoy submission.

  I raise an eyebrow, amused by how far I’ve come since then. He’s taught me alright. I wonder if either of us ever thought how ready I would be to submit to him.

  That night I was hesitant, and afraid, that James’s old-fashioned ways would undermine me as a person. I feared submission would make me weak and degraded. But that hasn’t happened at all.

  Submitting to James has made me strong, empowered. And open to more pleasure than I knew was possible.

  I study the clue again. What did I wear that night? I can’t believe that James remembers my actual outfit. I guess he pays more attention to my dress than I realised. I picture what I was wearing at the Cathedral de Tango.

  I wore my green halter neck with the flowing skirt.

  My heart sinks. That dress is back at my apartment in Chelsea. Did I get the clue wrong? I’m sure I didn’t.

  Then I remember. James had a parcel of my clothes sent to the studio. They would have been sent on to my accommodation here as well. So the dress will be at the little cottage where I’m staying at Berkeley Estate.

  I’m so excited by the prospect of finding the next clue, that I race across the grass and back to the clutch of cottages where the actors are housed. I wrench open the door and run to my closet.

  Sure enough, my clothes have been sent on, and some member of staff has hung them all out.

  Impatiently, I riffle through the dresses, and then my fingers close on the green halter neck.

  Part of me thought that James might not remember the right dress from that night. But I see instantly that he was paying close attention. Inside is another rose. Peach coloured this time.

  I remove the flower, and a card, which is pinned lower down inside the dress.

  Peach, for appreciation.

  Because every day you show me something new

  To make me appreciate how lucky I am to have you.

  I am grinning again, and I can’t resist sending him another quick text.

  You sure know how to make a girl feel loved. xx

  My phone beeps.

  With you it’s easy Now get on with the treasure hunt, so I can get MY prize!

  Oh. His prize. Hmmm. I guess he must mean me. So I’ll be seeing him as soon as I finish my hunt. The thought makes my heart leap. I can’t wait to tell him how happy he’s made me. This urges me to solve the next clue.

  I turn the card.

  In Mauritius we don’t just say I love you.

  We say ‘Mo Content Toi’.

  It means: ‘You are the place where my heart feels at home.’

  You are that place Issy. And my heart is very, very happy.

  I stop reading because my eyes are suddenly blurry with tears. The place where his heart feels at home. I love that he’s written that. Because he’s found a way to explain how I feel about him too.

  When I’m around James, it’s as though I’ve come home. Like my heart has found a place to be.

  I feel my whole body sigh aloud, in love for him. Now all I want to do is be in his arms.

  So solve the clue.

  I wipe my eyes and read the rest of the card.

  So come to another place for secret hearts.

  And I’ll tell you all my secrets.

  All his secrets! Does this mean he’s decided to open up to me? Surely it must. The thought prompts a wave of love. He meant what he said earlier, that I was breaking down his armour. James is ready to take the next step. To bring us closer.

  The realisation brings another surge of urgency to track him down. I turn my attention back to the words.

  A place for secret hearts.

  Secret hearts.

  My mind runs over all the places this could be. It must be somewhere on the estate. Suddenly the answer presents itself as easy.

  The secret garden. The walled off part of the grounds which James showed me earlier. He told me that lords and ladies would go there for private time.

  That must be it. The place for secret hearts.

  Quickly, I race away from the cottages and head for the stables, and the walled garden.

  As I near the long red-brick wall, I see a flickering of light on the underside of the tree branches, inside the garden.

  I guessed right!

  James has organised some kind of lighting inside.

  I follow the wall around, worrying that the entrance might be hidden too. But unlike the children’s book, the door isn’t covered over by ivy. It’s an ordinary looking wooden door with a surprisingly domestic round metal handle.

  I turn it and open my way into the walled garden, with no idea of what might be inside.

  And I gasp in amazement when I see what James has made.

  Chapter 7

  Behind the door is like a fairy wonderland. My eyes grow wide, taking it all in.

  Inside the walls is a lovely garden lit by candles.

  Ahead of me is a little path dappled in white blossoms and bordered by beautiful lilac trees, thick with purple flowers.

  The pathway is lined with silver tea-lights. Their little flames flutter prettily, lighting the darkness to make a little grotto from the trees and path.

  At the end of the pathway is a larger area, bordered by a riot of flowering plants, trees, and trailing hedgerow.

  There are more candles here, in a circle. Rose petals have been laid over the grassy ground, and a little picnic set out. A bottle of Champagne has been laid in an ice bucket, and I can make out various luxurious-looking canapés laid out on a round white tablecloth.

  And standing in the centre, like the knight in a fairy tale, is James.

  My James.

  He’s still wearing the grey flannel pants and open linen shirt from the earlier movie shoot. And I realise he hasn’t had time to change his clothes. He’s been so hard at work making this vision for me.

  My heart bursts in my chest, and I run towards him.

  “James!” I throw myself into his arms, and he scoops me right off the floor and meets my lips in a deep heart-felt kiss.

  “Hello baby,” he whispers, drawing back. “Did you like your treasure hunt?”

  I am covering his face with kisses.

  “I loved it! I loved it so much. It was just beautiful. I can’t believe you went to all that trouble for me.”

  He smiles and rests me gently back on the floor. I’m still holding the copy of Romeo and Juliet which he gifted me, and I give him another kiss.

  “Thank you,” I say, “for all the beautiful notes. They meant so much, truly. And thank you for this. I’ll treasure it. I love that you’ve given me a memento of when we first met.”

  James’s eyes are glowing.

  “You make me so happy,” I whisper.

  He kisses my mouth gently. “I have one last gift for you,” he says.

  “You do?” I am getting close to being overwhelmed.

  “Yes.” He reaches down and picks up a small square gift wrapped in gold
paper. “Don’t get too excited,” he adds, handing it to me. “It’s not expensive.”

  I bat him with the wrapped present.

  “As if I’d care! Anything from you is priceless.”

  He smiles. “That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

  “It’s true,” I frown. “I don’t love you for your money.”

  “I know. Open your present.”

  I smile and kiss his mouth. “Thank you,” I say.

  “You don’t know what the gift is yet!”

  “Whatever it is, I’ll love it. I know I will.”

  He raises an eyebrow, but looks pleased. And I start to carefully tear away the thick gold paper.

  The wrap falls away to reveal a book. With a beautiful hand-tooled leather cover.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t expensive,” I say. “This looks like it cost plenty to me.”

  “Not expensive by my standards,” he clarifies. “And nothing compared to the things I plan to buy you.”

  I grin at him. “Mr Berkeley, you shouldn’t spoil me like this. I might get used to it.”

  “I’m hoping you will.”

  I gaze back down at the gift and continue my unwrapping. At the edge of the book, I find a pen. It’s a calligraphy style fountain pen. And by the weight of it, it’s real silver.

  “I hope you don’t mind silver. I thought gold might be a little vulgar,” he shrugs. I laugh at his generosity.

  I’ve freed the book entirely now, and I let the pages fall open, anxious to see what he wants me to read. But to my surprise, the pages are blank, and lined. Ready to be written in.

  “It’s a notebook?” I’m grinning again.

  James nods, and I flick to the front page.

  There’s an inscription there.

  To my beautiful Issy.