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house was obviously well tended. Flowering plants and shrubs grew along the borders in immaculate abundance, their delicate colors softening the green of the central lawns. Beyond the tall yew hedge which encircled the formal garden lay the moors, their ruggedness in direct contrast to the flat, manicured lawns below her. Kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the bed, the mattress comfortably softened by years of wear.
    When Mrs. Trevathan knocked softly on the door ten minutes later and entered the room, she saw Rebecca was fast asleep. Putting the tray down on the table by the fireplace, she covered her gently with the bedspread and quietly left the room.

2
    M y lords, ladies and gentlemen, may I welcome you all to Astbury Hall, which I’m sure you’ll all agree is the perfect setting in which to shoot The Still of the Night . I certainly feel honored to be allowed to film in one of England’s most beautiful stately homes, and I hope our time here together will be happy and productive.”
    Robert Hope, the director, smiled benignly at his assembled cast. “I should think these old walls are positively quaking with the vast array of talent and experience they currently contain. Many of you will know each other already, but I’d like to extend a special welcome to Rebecca Bradley, who joins us from America to put a touch of Hollywood sparkle on us fusty old Brits.”
    All eyes in the room turned to Rebecca, who was hiding in a corner, overwhelmed by the sight of so many iconic British actors. “Hi,” she said, blushing and offering the room a smile.
    “I’ll be handing you over now to Hugo Manners, whose wonderful screenplay is going to bring out the best in all of you,” continued Robert. “We’ll be issuing you all later with the final script, hot off the press. Steve, the production manager, will also be handing out your schedules. So all that remains for me to say is, here’s to a successful shoot of The Still of the Night . Now, here’s Hugo.”
    There was a round of applause as Hugo Manners, Oscar-winning screenplay writer, took to the floor. Rebecca half-listened to what he had to say, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at what she’d taken on. What worried her most was her English accent; she’d been taking lessons in New York in diction and pronunciation and had done her best in the past two months to speak like an Englishwoman in her daily life. But she knew only too well that by accepting this part, she’d put her head above the parapet and might very well be shot down. There was nothing the English media liked better than to annihilate the performance of an American actress playing an English role. Especially an actress who had seen as much commercial success as she had.
    It didn’t seem to matter that she had attended the Juilliard dramaschool in New York on a scholarship and had won her year’s award of Best Actress for the role of Beatrice in a production of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing . Every actress in Hollywood considered herself “serious,” even if she had come down the model route, which Rebecca most definitely hadn’t. She knew that this was her chance to prove herself as a classically trained actress, to make the leap to critical acclaim.
    There was another round of applause as Hugo finished speaking and Steve, the production manager, began to hand around the new script and a personal schedule for each of them.
    “You’ll be glad to know you’re not needed on set tomorrow, Rebecca. You have a morning in Wardrobe with the costume designer and her team for dress fittings, and after that, Hair and Makeup want to see you. Robert has suggested you also have an hour with the voice coach to go over your lines for your first day’s shoot.”
    “Fine. Have you any idea when I’ll be moved to my hotel? I’d like to unpack and get settled.”
    “Apparently, the photographers are still hovering outside. So for tonight, Lord Astbury has agreed with Robert that you can have a room