Chapter I

She comes in colors ev'rywhere
She combs her hair
She's like a rainbow

For the umpteenth time, he checked his Rolex, just to be sure he wasn't late. And, for the umpteenth time, the watch eased his mind: no, he was perfectly on time. It was 7 p.m. and his appointment was set to begin ten minutes later… he had ten minutes, ten minutes to enter the offices of the film company, show up at the reception, take the lift up to the fourth floor –or was it the fifth? Well, his father had told him he had to go to the top floor, so there was no way he could be mistaken- and, finally, cross the hall on the right. Then, he would find his destination: the office of Mr. Charles Carson, one of the most important producers and entrepreneurs of the British film industry.

For a moment, Robert Crawley trembled at the thought of standing in front of Mr. Carson.
Nonsense, the young man internally snapped, opening the door of the black BMW and getting out of the car; he checked if he had everything he needed with him: his wallet, his coat and his folder. Especially the folder, since it contained the reason he was there in the first place: the very first draft of his very first screenplay, rigorously handwritten. People kept on telling him it was a pretty silly way of writing, since smartphones, tablets and personal computers allowed you to type everything you needed, change it whenever you wanted it and save it in various files… But Robert just liked to feel the words flow through his blood, his fingers, the pen and onto the piece of paper. That was his dream: to write down his stories and to see them transposed on screen.
He closed the BMW and headed to the Carson Studios.

Mr. Carson had made himself very clear: he could give him fifteen minutes of his time –it wasn't much, but Robert hadn't complained-, then he had to leave to participate at some festival the young man had never heard of.
Walking towards the building, he felt thrilled, but not… completely. And the reason was simple: he perfectly knew Carson wasn't particularly interested in his screenplay… it was just one of the many ideas he daily examined. No, Carson had given him that appointment just in honor of his friendship with his father, Patrick Crawley. They had been to Cambridge together and when Carson had decided to invest in the cinematic industry, his father had been there to help him financially.
Robert tapped his fingers nervously on the folder: well, his father had always invested his money any time he had a chance. For example, the main incomes of his family came from an hotel chain he had founded thirty years earlier… but, anyway, being a Count, the Earl of Downton Abbey, he had always been rich. Robert sighed: one day he was going to be an Earl too… he just hoped that wouldn't mean giving up his dreams.

He found himself in front of the sliding door and entered the building.
It was almost closing time, so the hall was practically deserted, except for a couple of attendants and the girl at the reception. Robert smiled to her, tapping his finger on the counter.
"Good evening, my name is Robert Crawley", he said politely, "I have an appointment with Mr. Carson". The secretary raised an eyebrow, nodded and started typing something on her computer.
"Mr. Carson waits for you on the fifth floor", she stated after a few seconds. Robert thanked her and headed to the elevator, whistling an old song by the Rolling Stones.
That's when it happened. Or, better, when he saw her: the lift's door was open and inside there was a woman… a young woman, probably, since her lilac dress perfectly clung around her slim body. She was petrified, her head lowered down and a folder pressed to her chest, but she was uncontrollably shaking. Robert snorted: the last thing he wanted was to be late because a strange girl had barricaded herself inside the damn lift! Suddenly irritated, he approached her.
"Sorry, what's the problem?", he snapped, trying not to sound too angry, "Hey, can you hear me? Miss? Whatever is the matter? I have an appointment on the fifth floor and I have no time to lose".
"I'm not going to make it… I'm never going to make it…", the girl managed to mutter, her voice low and distorted, as if she was trying desperately to breathe.
"Well, maybe you could make it", he ironically replied, raising his hands polemically, "But if you keep on panicking like this, I am not even sure you're going to survive!". He wanted to get inside the lift. Right now.

But the young woman kept on trembling; suddenly, she put her hands on her chest and it was clear now that she really couldn't breathe; her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Unexpectedly, a realization hit Robert… a terrible realization: he had already seen someone in the same situation before. Same symptoms. Same tremor. Same terrible and infinite sadness.
She was having a panic attack. He was pretty sure of that, Rosamund, his sister, had always suffered from panic attacks just like that. He went pale and his stomach tightened: he was just the greatest idiot ever. Was that the way you treat a young woman in need of help? God, where had his manners gone? Those manners he had always been so proud of… was his dream so important he could forget to be polite to others? Certainly not.
"Come with me", he told her, taking her arm gently, but the girl, her head still lowered and her hands still shaking, clearly couldn't move. Robert, anyway, had no intention to give in: he just had to make it right… he had behaved so badly and he was not going to leave her alone now. "Come with me", he repeated politely, "I know what I'm doing".

He guided her in front of a huge window that looked out into a wide open space, filled with roulettes, hangars and vans… those were the real studios, where all the shows and movies were filmed. At a different moment, maybe, Robert would have watched the view, dreaming of his future, but now he couldn't: he opened the window and the cool air of London entered the hall, filling his lungs. The girl was still confused, but when the caress of the wind messed her hair up, the tremble slowly stopped… Robert still hadn't had a chance to look at her face, but he immediately noticed her hair: it was extremely nice, he couldn't help to tell himself. It was dark brown, almost black, and it looked soft to the touch. It smelled sweet, too. Wait… what? That thought… he had no idea where it came from… God! He blushed and felt ashamed: what on earth was he thinking?

"Come on", he encouraged her, smiling shyly and massaging her back gently. He still felt kind of embarrassed, really: he had never been a Casanova and the idea of touching a woman he barely knew was really odd. Odd, but not unpleasant… not at all. He blushed again and cursed his mind for having such ridiculous thoughts. He was just helping a girl, nothing more… why did he always have to make everything so difficult for himself?

Meanwhile, someone had called the lift, that closed its doors and started going up.
Under his touch, he felt the girl fussing. "You couldn't get into the lift… because of me", she stuttered, and started to shake once again; her folder fell from her hands. For a few moments, Robert feared that all of his attentions had been in vain. The young woman started to cry uncontrollably. "It's all my fault", she kept on saying, as if she had just done something terrible, something that couldn't be fixed. She lay her head on his chest, sobbing; that touch caught him unprepared and he didn't know what to do. What can you do when a young lady suddenly embraces you and you don't even know her? His parents had taught him a lot about manners, but that encounter still felt quite unusual to him. Still, he knew something: he had to make her understand that nothing bad had happened. Because that was the truth… The only thought that she could feel guilty when he was the one who had been extremely rude, was too much for him to bear. He just… he just wanted her to be okay. Was it wrong? No, it wasn't. Just… strange, in a way. He had always hidden his feelings and yet, now they had just exploded and he couldn't control them. They had exploded for a stranger girl. It was absolutely absurd… Yes, but, once again, not wrong.
"Don't worry about the lift, please", he whispered slowly, trying to calm her down, and kept on massaging her back, "Just try to breathe deeply, miss, and you'll be fine. Please". He surely wasn't convincing, he knew that very well… but what else could he do?

Little by little, the sobs started to fade away, and her breath finally felt steady against the fabric of his shirt. It was probably all wet and covered in make-up, but it was alright. He didn't care about that. He cared about her head leaned on his chest or the feeling of her body so close to his... God, he had never felt so ridiculous in his life… and yet, he couldn't stop to think about her… that way.
And he couldn't stop thinking about how damn stupid he had been. "I'm so sorry for my behavior, I was such an idiot, I…", he stammered, gesticulating. How could he find to words to apologize, when he had been so egoistic and unfeeling? "I couldn't care less about the lift, I mean… Usually, I'm not so hopelessly rude, I swear…".
The girl didn't reply. Well, it did make sense. What was she supposed to say? That it was alright? That it didn't matter? Of course it did matter.
"I got angry when you were panicking… I have no words to justify such a reaction. So don't apologize to me about the lift… I should be the one apologizing. Because whenever a gentleman sees a maiden in difficulty, he should behave and help her".
Why on earth was he talking like a Jane Austen's book? Gentleman? Maiden? Was that the introduction of Pride and Prejudice?

Unexpectedly, he felt her lips curving in a smile against the fabric of his shirt and, soon enough, a sweet and delicate laughter came out of her lips.
Suddenly, she raised her head for the first time and Robert was surprised by a strange and unexpected itch running through his stomach and reaching his temples, that started pulsing. She was beautiful.
But not in a trivial and conventional way, her beauty was… pleasingly different. Unique, that was the right word to describe her. His heart started to race as he took a look at her: he still couldn't guess the color of her eyes, since they were all red because of the tears, but they were so incredibly sweet… a warm feeling pervaded him just by looking at them. Her dark hair was combed in a very simple way, but was very elegant… maybe just because she was smart and dashing, and every kind of hairstyle would look good on her. And then her lips… oh, her lips. They were curved in a shy smile. A smile that made him feel even more guilty about his behavior: how could you ever be rude with someone who has that smile?

"Thank you… you made me chuckle", she muttered, a bit clumsily. Now that he was paying attention to it, even her voice was one of a kind: it was low and deep. And her accent… it was unusual.
"Are you American?", he asked, and immediately cursed himself for the stupid question: you don't usually talk about ethnicity to someone who just had a panic attack. Still, she laughed again, and that sound felt like a caress to his heart.
"Yes", she admitted, shrugging, "And I have no idea where to go. I had an appointment in this building at seven o'clock, but I got lost and panicked and… I'm… I'm so sorry".
"Don't be, miss", he just replied, "An appointment, you said?".
"An audition, actually. I was trying to figure out which floor was the right one, but I couldn't find it… and the girl at the reception probably thought there was no reason to help an American girl".
An audition? So… was she an actress? Well, she looked like one. One of those actresses of the Forties or the Fifties… strong women with a lot grace. "An audition, you said? Then you're in the wrong part of the Studios", he explained to her. He remembered very well where the auditions had always taken place: sometimes, when he was just a boy, his father had taken him to watch them. "You must go to the third floor".
She nodded, a bit embarrassed. She probably was a very introverted woman. Robert got down and took her folder, that had previously fallen from her arms, and gave it to her with a gentle smile. Then, without saying a single word, they headed to the lift. They called and it quickly arrived, but when they both entered it, Robert realized he didn't know what to do.

He looked at his Rolex: in three minutes he had to be at his appointment. He passed a hand through his curls, those curls he had tried so hard to comb to look decent in front of Mr. Carson. Then he thought about his suit, a Prada suit his father had bought him for big occasions like that… He looked at the buttons of the lift… he just had to press the number five…
It's none of your business, said a voice inside of his head, It's not your fault if she suffers from panic attacks, nor if she got lost.
It was true. Maybe it really was none of his business. But he could never ignore her situation… and it wasn't only the guilt talking, no… There was some kind of loyalty and justice in his heart that had never abandoned him, and he was not going to change now. And maybe, to be honest, the smile of that stranger young woman had played quite a big role in the decision he was about to make… such a sweet and gracious smile… almost childlike.
He took a deep breath and pressed the button for the third floor. The doors closed and the lift started going up.

Robert was carefully trying not to make eye contact with her, but still, he could notice an expression of surprise in her features.
"I'm coming with you", he informed her, before she could ask anything.
Now, the girl was really astonished, with her pretty mouth and her beautiful eyes wide open. Even if he was quite nervous, Robert found himself almost smiling, thinking about that genuine reaction: just with a few gestures, she had shown him true gratitude. It meant a lot.
"Please, if it is a problem, feel free to reach your appointment", she murmured.
Well, it was a problem, in way. Actually, Robert was beginning to realize that he was going to miss the appointment he had been preparing for… he just had to hope Mr. Carson would give him another chance, in the name of the glory days with his father in Cambridge. He hated to be privileged just because of the name of his family, but he saw no other options.

Yes, it was a problem, but there was more inside him –in his stomach that was dancing wildly, in his head full of thoughts and in heart, that was pounding hard. There was a new awareness: he could never leave her alone, not now he had seen her cry in his arms, so fragile and vulnerable; not now he had seen her get back up and smile so tenderly. He was embarrassed by his own thoughts… they were kind of new to him. His mother would always say he was a very sensitive young man, but he wasn't so sure about it.

"No, really, miss, I'm staying with you", he just said, looking right in front of himself. He wanted to hide from her all those emotions that were racing inside his brains.
"You said you had an appointment…".
"Nothing important", he stated, shaking his head, "Coming with you is far more important".
He took his smartphone from his pocket and began to type a message:

Mr. Carson, I had a hiccup and I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to our appointment. I hope it is not too much to ask, but could we fix another date? It would mean the world to me.

It did sound a bit desperate… but, in fact, he was a desperate, so there was nothing wrong about it.
When the doors of the lift opened once again, Robert immediately got out and guided the girl across a small hall he remembered very well. He could perfectly recall the afternoons spent running around the studios, while his father was busy discussing his own business with Mr. Carson.
"Why are you here, miss?", he asked, interrupting the silence that had fallen between them.
"I'm an aspiring actress… I'm here for a role in the next Daniel Aldridge movie".
"Daniel Aldridge, you said? Well, it's quite a big name", he replied, winking. Daniel Aldridge was one the most important directors of the last thirty years in Britain and all of his works had been accepted very positively by the critics. She surely wasn't that bad, if she had the chance to have an audition for his new film.
"And you… why are you here?", she asked.
Robert didn't reply. He didn't mean to be rude, of course, but he didn't like to talk about his own aspirations. Whenever he spoke about them, he felt childish and naïve, so he just pretended he hadn't heard her question and kept on walking.

They turned a corner and finally found a door, with a sign with the word "Auditions" written on it. Bingo!
They got closer and noticed a woman with a very serious expression standing beside the door: she was probably an assistant and in her hands she was holding a bloc-notes… it surely contained the names of the actresses who had been auditioning for the role. Robert decided to step aside and let the girl speak.
"I'm sorry", she murmured with a shy smile, "I'm here for the auditions, my name is Cora…". Before she could finish, the woman interrupted with a rude gesture. Robert frowned, but inside of his head he couldn't help but repeating her name frenetically, as his whole life depended on it: he couldn't forget it, he couldn't forget it! Cora, Cora, Cora… A short name, that had flown sweetly out of her lips, a name that made him smile, without a reason. Maybe just because it was her name.
"I think you know you're late. And there's a girl auditioning, now", the assistant groaned, checking her watch multiple times. She clearly couldn't wait to go home. "To be honest, I don't think Mr. Aldridge will have time to…".

"He will find the time", Robert abruptly interrupted her, and found himself surprised by his own initiative. He usually wasn't very forward… but this time, he felt he had to speak up. "The building closes at eight o'clock… there's still plenty of time for Mr. Aldridge to take a look at her performance".
The assistant frowned and looked at him angrily. "And you are…?", she asked.
I'm the son of Lord Patrick Crawley, if you really must know, he thought, but he didn't say it. He didn't want people to know who he was… especially because every time they found out he was the son of an Earl, they suddenly changed. He surely didn't want Cora to change.
"I'm just someone who thinks that a small delay shouldn't be a reason to deny a young and determined girl the chance of her life", he explained, shrugging. Meanwhile, the girl was quiet and motionless by his side… was she embarrassed by his behavior? He didn't want to speak for her, but he just couldn't prevent it.
"Very well. Just sit down and wait for your turn", the woman replied coldly.

Robert smiled triumphantly, but his face immediately clouded over when he saw Cora trembling again. Was she nervous? Yes, she probably was. His stomach tightened at the thought of seeing her panic once again. Now he had seen her smile, there was an unknown force inside him that didn't want to lose it. He checked his smartphone… Mr. Carson hadn't replied to his message yet. He was worried, but the look in Cora's eyes made him feel worse. He swallowed: he couldn't leave her alone in that state. Not now his appointment had fallen through. Not now that… that… his face blushing and his stomach dancing wildly finished the sentence for him.
"Would it help if I stayed here with you?", he asked clumsily, trying to sound determined, "I wouldn't want… I don't want you to panic again".
Cora looked bewildered. "Really, you don't have to feel obliged…", she started, but he interrupted her.
"Please… else I'll worry", he admitted, "Just tell if my presence would help".
For the first time, the girl blushed in front of him. "It'd help me a lot".
"Well, then it's decided", he exclaimed, in what apparently was quite a funny voice, because Cora started laughing sweetly. He would have done any kind of silly tone to hear that sound again… oh, God, was he having those thoughts… again?

They sat one beside the other on two little stools near the door and they put both their folder on a small plastic table. Robert was trying hard not to stare, but still he kept looking at her, just to understand whether his presence was really helping her. The way she calmly crossed her beautiful legs and naturally put her small hands on her knees filled him with warmth and pride: he felt satisfied… was it because he had made her happy?

"You may stop to call me 'miss'", Cora told him, "I think we're about the same age". No, she was probably younger, Robert was sure of that. Two or three years younger than him. He was pretty good in that kind of thing.
"Nervous?", he then asked.
She nodded and her brown curls danced rhythmically with her head. "I am, this would be my very first role. I spent all my life preparing for this moment… Well, actually, it was my mother who spent the last twenty-three years of her life preparing me for this moment".
When Robert gave her a puzzled look, she kept on explaining. "When she was a young girl, my mother wanted to become an actress. It was her biggest dream. But fate didn't help her: she came from a simple family from Ohio and had no money to travel nor study… Soon enough, after a short 'career' in a little theatre in Cincinnati, she had to abandon her ambitions and began to work as a waitress. That's when she met my father". She paused for a second and Robert, still studying silently her gentle features, noticed that her cheeks had turned to a brighter shade of pink when she was talking about her family. "They got married and, in a few years, my father's construction company took flight. We're actually quite a rich family, but… that wasn't enough for my mother. She still wanted to fulfill her dream. So she decided it should become my dream as well: ever since I can remember, I have attended the most prestigious drama schools and I had to give up every other ambition to try to become a professional actress… and the tension of this goal never really left me. That's why I decided to start my career here in Great Britain and not in the US… I wanted to escape from my mother's claws, really". She stopped, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, I don't want to bother you with my problems", she murmured, "And I also don't want you to think I don't like acting. I do… a lot. I just… I don't think that is my calling. But I never found the courage to tell my mother and her constant worries surely don't help to deal with the stress".
A terrible doubt crossed Robert's mind. "Is it because of this whole situation that you suffer from panic attacks?", he asked, astounded.
Cora shrugged. "Well, I can't be sure… but yeah, it could be because of that".
Suddenly, Robert felt protective of that girl he barely knew. He frowned, his eyes darkened and, mysteriously, he had a feeling Cora had noticed his mood had changed. It was… strange, really. It was like her blue eyes could see every little thing, every detail, every truth. It was so good to be watched carefully by those two eyes.
"Did I say something wrong?", she asked softly.
Robert immediately shook out of his thought… he didn't want her to be worried. "Yes… I mean, of course not", he stuttered, "Just… I know how it feels to be constantly controlled and judged by parents. And I know it is the most unnerving experience".
Now it was Cora's time to frown, even if he doubted she felt protective over him. Why would she? He was just a stranger. "You don't get along with your parents?".
"Well, let's just say that I traditionally should inherit my job from my father, but I decided to do something completely different". For the moment, he should have added, but he didn't. A count is a count and cannot escape is fate. One day he was going to be an Earl too.

"And what is it that you decided to do?", she asked, and even though he was kind of expecting a question like that, Robert found himself surprised by it. Why was she interested in him? Why would she care for his dreams? People would normally think they were foolish and that he was going to be a count, an hotel owner and nothing else. But she… she seemed to care.
"I would like to write or direct movies", he said shyly, and looked in her eyes: they were blue, he was sure about it now. How hadn't he noticed? Anyway, it wasn't their color that attracted him, it was their… expression. There was some sort of light, a certain sweetness in them, something like… damn, he wanted to be a screenwriter but could not even find the words to describe those eyes. He took a look at his folder, that folder that contained his words… words that matter everything to him; it was then that he decided that he would spent the evening trying to find the right, no, the perfect adjective to describe those eyes.

"To be completely honest, I'd like to write and direct movies". Then he remained silent. He was astonished by his own revelations. He usually wouldn't talk about his dreams… of course, he was in the building of the Carson Studios, so it was clear he didn't want to become a lawyer nor a waiter, still, he was always extremely skeptical when it came to open up his heart to others. Maybe because every time he had tried to mention his ambitions to his parents, they had always replied with grunts and threats.
"Well, a total artist, practically", she commented, and smiled to him, straightening a crease in her lilac dress.
Robert couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his curly head. "Well, I wouldn't say that. I don't think I can be considered an artist, really".
Her red lips curved in another lovely smile. "Allow me to disagree", she replied quietly, "Just because you are not famous yet, it doesn't mean you're not an artist".
He blushed at the subtle compliment, probably because he usually didn't get many… well, it wasn't too surprising, since he never let anyone read his screenplays. "Thank you", he stammered, playing absently with the cover of his smartphone, "But you cannot be sure of that".
He had been wrong before, he knew that now: Cora absolutely wasn't a shy person. Not that she wanted to impose her own opinions, but with her grace she seemed to be able to convince anyone to change their mind… even a stubborn and shy Englishman who always wanted to be right.

"What's your favorite movie?", she suddenly asked, raising her eyebrows in a funny way.
Robert laughed. "Are you testing me?", he replied ironically.
Cora shrugged. "Maybe", she just said, her voice full of sarcasm, "Come on. Tell me".
Robert was quite amused by the whole situation, so he smirked and decided to make it even funnier. "Well, guess it".
The young woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "There are billions of movies! How am I even supposed to guess?".
"You could start by excluding Sharknado or every kind of B-movie like that", he suggested.
"I have no idea what Sharknado is".
"It's a movie about a tornado made of… er, it doesn't matter. Come on, try to guess it", he encouraged her once again. He was curious to see what she would say. Very curious, actually… almost excited, like a child who is about to open his birthday presents.
The girl closed her eyes, as if she was really thinking about it. "Well, well…", she murmured, "I don't think you are one of those guys who go crazy for blockbuster. You know, I could never picture you crying while watching the last Transformers movie".
"Good, because I couldn't picture myself doing that either", he smirked.
"Great, then it is surely not a blockbuster…", Cora said, and stared at him, as if she could understand his favorite film just by looking at his face. It felt strange to be examined like that… but as long as it was her who examined him, it was fine. Still, he began to look at his nails, embarrassed as always.
Meanwhile, Cora had a breakthrough. "I think…", she exclaimed, "You are a sensitive young man, somehow a bit melancholic and sarcastic… I think… you might enjoy some big drama film, with a lot of pathos and tragedies… Something like The Indian Runner by Sean Penn".

Robert decided to abandon the contemplation of his nails and, as soon as he heard the title she had said, he couldn't help being surprised: she was almost right. He passed his fingers through his curls, embarrassed and perplexed: was she really that intuitive or had she just said a random title?
"Not The Indian Runner, but Into the Wild. That is my favorite", he told her, "But you practically got it right".
"Why Into the Wild?", she then asked.
"I like… well, I know it's quiet trivial, but I like the whole message of the movie and how it evolves: at the beginning, what you desire is some kind of endless and boundless freedom, but in the end…". He stopped, uncertain. The last thing he wanted was to tell her the ending of a film she hadn't seen. "You've watched the movie, haven't you?".
She laughed. It was good to see her laugh… she looked so strong and beautiful now, and the tears that had come streaming down her face seemed like an old memory. "Yes, I've watched it, don't worry. You're not going to spoil anything", she replied.
"Well, in the end you realize that nothing makes sense if you don't have someone by your side. Someone you love, I mean. Not even freedom… especially freedom", he concluded, shrugging, "A bit pathetic, probably".
"Not at all", she said, and she looked as if she was telling the truth. She was always so genuine… Robert felt completely at ease with her. "Now, it's your turn", she abruptly added.
"Beg your pardon?", he asked, puzzled.
"My favorite movie", Cora explained, "Guess it".
"Oh", he replied, chuckling clumsily, "But I'm not as intuitive as you are, I don't stand a chance". That effortless and sweet conversation had almost made him forget his appointment, the opportunity he had thrown away… everything just felt fine. The look in her eyes, the elegant way she moved her hands when she talked, the light that caressed her cheek and her hair… Yes, everything was fine. That strange itch began to torment his stomach once again… but it was a lovely torment.
"I'll give you one hint", she helped him, "My favorite director is Italian".
Robert nodded approvingly, but before he could say anything –he wasn't sure, did she look like a girl in love with Fellini's technique or with Bertolucci's themes?-, the door opened and an old man came out; he was probably the co-director or something like that. He looked at the assistant. "Are we finished?", he asked in a particularly annoying voice.
"There is one more", she just replied and pointed at Cora.
The co-director made a grimace and started gesticulating vaguely. "Then follow me, miss. Let's just be done with this whole thing".

Robert got up, helped Cora getting back on her feet and took the two folders from the small table. He handed her hers… it was to moment to say goodbye, he knew that… and it felt sad, in many ways. He could… he could ask her number, he could ask her out for a drink, but… no, no, he couldn't. The fact he liked her so much didn't mean she liked him too. She was beautiful and clever, while he was… well, he was himself. The same stubborn curly Englishman.

"Good luck", he murmured, smiling encouragingly.
"Thank you", she mumbled, "I may need something more than just luck, though. Maybe talent, but I'm not sure I have any…".
"Well, I would love to have you as the main character of one of my movies", he stuttered, and realized just after finishing the sentence what he had just said. What on earth had come over him? He blushed, lowered his head and was about to look away, but he stopped: even Cora's ears had turned red. Then he wasn't the only one who was embarrassed… he smiled, encouraged by that thought: that awareness raised his spirit and aroused it at the same time.
"Thank you for staying here with me", she said, looking right into his eyes, "I really… I really think it was a generous act. Other people probably wouldn't have done it… even because I was ridiculous, crying and panicking like that… And you even lost your appointment…".
"As I told you, it wasn't important", he replied, shrugging, but she probably had understood that he was lying, because her eyes filled with gratitude and sadness, "And believe me, you could never appear ridiculous to my eyes".
"I owe you a favor".
"Now you're being ridiculous! Really, I would do it again, it was a pleasure", he mumbled, looking at regular intervals at Cora's blue eyes and his black shoes. Anyway, he surely did know which of the two visions was the most enchanting one. "And most of all, it was a pleasure to meet you".
She blushed, shook his hand and breathed deeply; then she turned around and disappeared with the co-director behind the door. Robert sighed… maybe he could wait for her there and ask her how the audition had gone… no, he couldn't. They barely knew each other, he didn't want to frighten her with his persistence. Those two syllables kept on ringing inside his head: Co-ra, Co-ra, Co-ra…
He turned around, sighing once again, and headed to the lift. He took a look at his smartphone and, swallowing hard, he found a message from Mr. Carson. He opened it:

Alright, son. I can see you in two weeks, on the 16th of September. I will have fifteen minutes to give you, from 17 to 17:15. I don't usually like hiccups, but you're just like you father, and I know I can trust a Crawley.

The lift arrived and its doors opened, and Robert got in, pressing the button that would take him to the ground floor. It was pretty clear to him that Mr. Carson couldn't care less about his screenplay… he was doing that whole thing as a favor to his father. Nothing more.
He thought about Cora, about the words she had told him. She had believed in him, even if they had never met before. He got out of the building and the wet breeze of London messed his hair… he felt lucky, in a way: he had lost a chance, yes, but Mr. Carson had given him another one… but, most of all, he had been given the greatest chance of his life: he had gotten to know Cora's smile.
Losing himself in that sweet memory, he started whistling that Rolling Stones' song again… She's a rainbow. Yes, she was a like a rainbow, filled with colors and beauty. But she was a rainbow he had lost forever.
As he headed towards his car, these thoughts in his head, he felt blue… but just because he still had no idea that fate was planning quite a big surprise for him.

Hello everyone! I'm back with a new project, my very first AU… and I hope it will work out fine. I already have the whole story in my head… I just need to write it down, so I can share a bit of fluff, angst and good ol' hurt & comfort with you all. Please, do leave a review, not only because it may encourage me to write more, but also because English in not my first language and I do want to know if anything's not clear.
So thank you for taking a look at this first chapter! I'm not sure when I'll post the second (I'm on holiday at the moment), but I hope soon enough.
Love,
Thrandelly