I survey the small crowd with their coats and bags. Margot is nowhere to be seen.She’s gone.She must’ve snuck out early in the morning before breakfast.
Sandra marches up to me and gives me a bear hug. “Thank you again, Jonas!”
“You,”—I sweep a hand around the room—“all of you have already thanked me more times than I can keep track of. Have mercy!”
The hall reverberates with giggles.
In a more serious tone, I add, “If anyone should thank anyone, then it is me who should thank you. You made my dream of playing a part as a professional actor come true. And not just any part, but the incomparable, irresistible, one and only Mr. Darcy!”
More laughs and cheers.
“This immersive show was an experiment nobody believed in,” Sandra says. “I couldn’t find a single producer, so my husband and I ended up producing it ourselves, and a week was all we could afford. Nobody expected it to be such a success.”
Liam jumps in, “The nextImmersive Pride and Prejudice Experiencewill last six weeks over the summer! We have a coproducer now, and we just signed with a theater in Bath.” Bubbling with excitement, he adds, “The show will be coupled with a guided tour of the Jane Austen locations across the town.”
“You should extend your Bloomsbury Tour to the public the next time you produce the show in London,” I encourage Liam.
“And you,” Sandra says to me, “should play Darcy again. Will you join us for the Bath season?”
“I’m flattered, but my summer is already locked in, as is the rest of my year.”
“Bummer.” She pulls a face. “But I understand.”
Liam extends his hand. “It was a pleasure and an honor to work with you, Count d’Alenq!”
“We’re on first-name terms forever now.” I shake his hand. “The pleasure was mine.”
After that, I receive an avalanche of handshakes, shoulder taps and hugs.
When the thespians begin to file out of the room, I catch Sandra by the sleeve. “If you ever decide to direct for the screen, give me a call.”
“It won’t be anytime soon.” Grinning, she gives me a wink. “But you’ll be the first film producer I’ll notify the day that happens.”
“Good.”
“I hope you can make it to the party at my house next Saturday,” she says. “But if you can’t, I wish you all the best, and I’ll keep an eye out for Royal Riviera’s productions.”
Just as the last of them walks out the door, I receive a call. It’s Louis.
“No rest for the wicked!” he teases. “I’m in London outside of your house.”
“Come on in, then. But I have plans for later today.”
“I know.”
He does?
Then again, given who he is, and what he did only a month ago, I should’ve expected he’d be read in. I’m glad he was. I’m even gladder that my day is now looking so full there’ll be no time to think about Margot.
Ten minutes later, Louis and I are in the basement “dungeon.”
He looks around the stark room. “Charming. Not even a chair, huh?”
“You’ll be allowed to sit down in the chimney room or in the library. And if you’re good, you can grab a quick lunch with me.”
“I’m afraid there won’t be time for that today,” he says. “I have a meeting with the British PM, and then I fly home.”
I raise an eyebrow. “British PM? That’s rather high-level for a tiny hidden-from-general-public principality’s envoy to France.”
