A/N:Hello friends!
I'm sorry I'm late (I'm trying to post this fic either on sunday, monday or tuesday... key word "trying") - work and family birthdays got in the way.
But, anyway, I am HERE. So, as always before you read let me remind you all I'm slowly giving the backgrounds, motivations etc, so yes there's a lot to explain still.
For later on the chapter: when they are reading from the script (or ad-libbing) the words are in itallic.
Penelope Featherington had always led a tranquil life.
Or maybe that was the description she preferred since dull, out of place, and invisible felt harsh.
Since she was young, she was taught that security was the utmost priority in her life. Being a mother of three, Portia Featherington always instilled in her children the belief that in their world, every Featherington woman had to rely on herself. So forget about relying on someone, or worse, harbouring a hopeless fantasy. Become a physician, lawyer, or engineer. Make money. Everything else would take care of itself.
And for an embarrassingly long time, Penelope held onto her belief. Even if begrudgingly.
That might be the reason why she and Eloise Bridgerton remained friends for such a long time. She appeared as imprisoned in her family's expectations as Penelope was. Except, maybe Eloise agreed with Penelope's mother, if only partially; she detested the Bridgertons' power in the entrainment world, where, as Penelope would say, "Everything is fake and women are sold like cheap, dim-witted cattle to the highest bidder."
But, from Penelope's point of view, she had never seen it like that. She loved the make-believe. More than that, she cherished the concept of being able to be anybody she wanted, to express anything she needed, even if it was hidden behind a tale, a song, or a performance.
If she were honest, she loved it all. She had always loved the pretty dresses and ridiculous makeup, the dramatic scenes and memorable performances, and the Barbies who dressed fancy and shone brighter than the entire world.
(Barbies that her mother promptly confiscated, but details.)
As Penelope finally went to college, the weight of pretending became increasingly difficult to bear. Caught in an unending cycle of abhorrent textbooks and peers who looked down on her, she couldn't help but reflect on why she had ever thought law school was a good decision. And then, when everything was threatening to suffocate her, she turned to the arts for comfort.
More specifically, the drama classes she attended as an exotic, non-serious, optional class.
Except it became serious.
And the problem was that she excelled at it. On stage, she was someone else. No longer the short, plain-looking child pushed about by her mother. No longer the twenty-something never kissed girl no one wanted. No longer the voiceless, tasteless, and irrelevant Penelope Featherington.
She was anyone she wanted to be, and, oh, she shone brightly. Brighter than the entire world.
Soon, she found herself attending auditions in the middle of the college finals season. Waiting for the phone was more stressful than waiting for any of her grades. By the time she graduated from a prestigious college in a profession she despised, she had received her first casting call.
And that was when her life changed, both for the better and, unfortunately, for the worse. For the better since she learned, after hearing the opposite for almost her whole life, that sometimes her wishes did come true.
And for the worse, because she had nobody to tell. Let alone someone to seek advice from. Her mother would kill her, her sisters would mock her, and Eloise… Eloise would be furious.
Which left her with only one option.
"Pen?"
Her eyes scanned his messy hair, perplexed eyes, and the way his white t-shirt seemed to mold perfectly to his body. She honestly didn't know what she was thinking. But her first table read was only in a few days, and the anxiety was slowly eating away at her mind.
"I didn't know you were at the house," Colin said, closing the door behind him and joining her on his porch.
Since his college days, Colin had been living in the house at the end of the street, close to the Bridgerton residence. He wasn't always home, but it was summer, and Violet made her kids spend time together for a few days. Penelope knew that meant Colin was probably around.
"Um. Yeah, I've been here since graduation," she said, fidgeting with her hands. "Eloise swears this is the last time we'll spend so much time together. It's as if we're going to die instead of tackling the professional market."
Colin laughed, which made her feel ridiculously pleased.
With a smile still playing on his lips, he absentmindedly scratched the back of his head, revealing his well-defined tricep. "Did you… did you need anything?" he asked.
Right. The reason she was there was to bother him in the first place.
As she glanced down at her feet, a frown appeared on her face. "I need advice," she said.
"Advice?" He asked, his forehead scrunching up in bewilderment. Colin Bridgerton was renowned for various attributes, but having the wisdom of the ages was certainly not one of them.
"Yes, I..." she cleared her throat, bracing herself for the mind-blowing information she was about to share with him. She glanced between him and his expensive rustic tiles, her eyes lingering on the intricate patterns, before saying, "I have landed a role in a short TV series and—"
"What?" he immediately interrupted her, his voice faltering as it rapidly escalated. His tone immediately grabbed her attention, and when she glanced at him, the unmistakable sparkle in his blue eyes was clear. There's no doubt that he was completely shocked. But much to her relief, instead of anger, he seemed to be filled with delight.
"Yes," she said, her throat tight. "I've been going to auditions and—"
"Pen, since when?" He interrupted her again, stepping closer until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
Fidgeting with her hands, she hesitated for a moment before finally admitting, "Sometime during college I..." Inhaling deeply, she made up her mind to tackle the situation with unwavering honesty. "I was unhappy with my major and I tried… I looked for something to make me feel better. So I tried many different things, including drama class, and I liked it. I really liked it."
She paused, her eyes fixed on him, waiting for his reaction. All she received was a smile of pure amazement.
"Why have you never said anything?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know... I…" She felt as if her dreams were meaningless, foolish delusions that would never take her anywhere. Not to mention that she was not prepared for Eloise to find out. "I don't know," she repeated.
Despite not fully understanding, Colin nodded in agreement. He could sense from Pen's expression that she was reluctant to delve into the topic.
"But what happens now? Is this something you want to pursue?" he asked, leaning on the pillar next to him and patiently awaiting her answer.
Her eyes shifted to her hands, fingers slightly trembling, before she gave a deliberate nod. "I think so."
Even though she couldn't see him, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. And as she lifted her head to meet his eyes once again, her response was delivered with a stronger sense of certainty.
"Yes," she said.
"No more office hours? No more endless stacks of papers?" he asked.
She shook her head, as if to signify that her existence as a law student was over. Or of a lawyer. And it made his grin bigger and brighter than the sun.
"I don't think I can continue," she said. "Living life like that. It is as if I am not meant to. I tried, Colin, I really did, but I—"
"I know exactly what you mean," he added. And when Penelope noticed his expression, all she saw was pure understanding.
Naturally, Colin would be the person who understands her better than anyone else in the world.
Scratching the back of his head, he then said, "I know it may seem like it was an easy choice for me, but I—"
"It doesn't," she said, shaking her head vigorously, as if trying to dismiss that idea. However, he raised his hand, as if to assure her that everything was alright.
"It's okay, everyone assumes things because of my family, even my own family," he remarked with a soft chuckle, perhaps thinking about Eloise in particular. "But I know how it feels; sometimes the stage seems like the only place in the world for us."
That…that was exactly it. Penelope was positive that her recognition flashed through her face as she nodded, for he seemed to beam back at her.
"So..." she choked out, unable to meet his eyes as her face turned red. "That's why I'm here—you're the only one who can help me. I've never been cast in anything before, obviously."
As his hand suddenly grasped hers, a tingling sensation ran up her arm, leaving her with goosebumps. She glanced up at him, only to find him on the verge of laughter, seemingly unaffected by their contact, as usual.
"Do not worry, Pen. I remember how it was at first," he remarked, then took his hand away from hers, crossed his arms, and continued, "The first thing you have to realise is that it doesn't matter if you are new to this; if you are in, you deserve to be there."
She blinked. Penelope anticipated receiving practical advice on working on a set from him, but instead, he immediately touched upon one of her insecurities. It turned out that they weren't as rare as she had thought.
"So don't keep your head down and don't allow anybody to tell you that you are less than you are. Do you hear me?" He inquired, lifting his eyebrows as if he meant it.
She could only nod, enthralled by him like the idiot she was.
"Second thing is don't give any ledger for anyone to say you don't deserve to be there, which may seem contradictory with what I just said but—" He adjusted his position on the pillar and gestured towards her, emphasising his point. "You're quite skilled at your work, so don't get cocky. Demonstrate your true abilities and make a lasting impression. I'm not suggesting that you should work yourself to exhaustion; rather, carry out your duties with efficiency and silence any envious comments from others."
With a slight furrow in her eyebrows, she gave another nod. That part was more difficult. She couldn't picture herself ever being able to silence someone, even if she really, really wanted to. Not to mention, she had no idea how he could be so certain of her abilities when she was not herself.
"How do you know if I'm good at what I do?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even know I was acting, Colin."
His lips curled up into a small, mischievous smirk. "You're Pen. How could you be bad at it? I have known you my entire life, and I have yet to find something you are bad at."
At that, she scoffed. "Really? Not even my social skills? You had me, but now I completely mistrust your teachings."
With narrowed eyes, he pointed accusingly at her. "Not even your social skills. I swear, you don't give yourself nearly enough credit."
Giving up on winning any sort of argument against Colin Bridgerton, she let out a loud huff and waved her hands around in defeat. "Fine, what else, my dear professor?"
He straightened his back again, crossed his arms for the umpteenth time, and brought his hand up to his mouth, deep in thought. "Alright, so since it's a short TV series, the first time you'll see most of the cast will be at the first table read, just like in any other show or movie."
"Okay…" she answered, unsure of his intended meaning.
"Take advantage of it to discover who you're working with, who's friendly, who's not, who you can rely on, and all that. Like I said earlier, don't hide in your shell, hold your head up, say hi to everyone. Having a network is crucial in our line of work."
Our line of work. In a strange way, it both scared and thrilled her at the same time. She wondered if anyone in her life would take her as seriously as Colin did right now, who so readily considered her one of his own. It wasn't unexpected, given who Colin had always been. Generous, nonjudgmental, and kind.
"Alright," she said, feeling her cheeks flush again. Then, as if to shift her focus away from her own emotions towards the men in front of her, she gestured towards him and remarked, "Do not think I didn't notice you said I can't be in my shell, so you do admit my social skills are lacking."
Rolling his eyes affectionately, he leaned towards her and said, "I know you have excellent socials skills when you want to. Without a doubt, our first meeting was the most memorable one I've ever had."
As her face warmed, she nearly squeaked, "We were children!"
"Exactly," he grinned with an infuriating smile. "Just be as carefree as you were children, and everything will be fine."
Not being able to hide her exasperation, she rolled her eyes at him, finding it hard to stay irritated when he kept complimenting her. Sometimes, Colin had that power over her, and it was incredibly inconvenient. The kind that made her believe in herself, or even more dangerously, made her think he saw her as someone other than the shy girl who befriended his sister.
"Okay?" he said, lifting his brow to ensure she would listen to him.
With a huff, she glanced at him shyly, her face flushing and her eyes sparkling, before uttering, "Fine."
"Colin?"
Penelope closed her eyes, suppressing the urge to let out a deep sigh. Because, of course.
Colin shifted his attention to the girl next to the door, who was small and had brunette hair. She was wearing a familiar striped shirt that appeared oversized on her.
"What is going on?" she asked, squinting at the sunshine since Penelope had arrived at Colin's door pretty early.
"I'm just helping a friend, Ash." He said, "I'll be back in a bit."
As his girl nodded and retreated to the house, Colin turned back to Penelope. And in that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to run and leave everything behind. She couldn't fathom why she repeatedly deluded herself, without ever learning from her mistakes. In Colin's eyes, she was forever confined to the role of the vulnerable, shy childhood friend.
"Don't worry about it, Colin," she said, waving her hand and forcing a smile. "You already gave me so much advice, I don't even know what to do with it."
"Are you sure?" He asked, skeptically raising an eyebrow to confirm.
Her nod was accompanied by a subtle, tense tightening of her lips. "Really. Thank you. For everything."
Despite his lingering uncertainty, he nodded back in response. He then went back inside, and Penelope turned around and left without looking back.
And that would be it, if Penelope hadn't run into Eloise as soon as she rounded the corner.
Resting against the small wall that divided Colin's property from his neighbor's, her friend appeared lost in thought, her gaze fixed downward, her forehead displaying a deep frown. In that fleeting moment, the redhead's fears momentarily subsided, as she convinced herself that her friend's presence was purely coincidental. However, as Eloise raised her head to meet Penelope's gaze, her expression spoke volumes of betrayal, ultimately crushing any hope the aspiring actress had.
"Eloise, it's not—"
"Oh, spare me, Penelope," she interrupted, her eyes growing suspiciously moist. "Do you have any idea how many times I've seen this?"
As Penelope opened her mouth, preparing to defend herself, Eloise swiftly interrupted her by raising her hand.
"Oh wait, you do know because you've been my friend my whole life," she exclaimed, her voice rising in anger as she closed the distance between them, her fists clenched. "You know how often this has happened, how many times I've come to you in tears because a friend was only using me to get close to my family."
"This is not what this is. I swear, Eloise, this is not," Penelope replied, her voice failing, heart pounding with stress.
"...and I foolishly believed it would be different this time. That things would be different with you," Eloise kept accusing her, not paying any attention to what Penelope said.
"They are! I don't know what you heard but—"
Eloise sneered as a tear ran down her face. "Oh! Are they? Haven't you been lying to me for months, maybe years?"
The more Eloise refused to listen, the stronger Penelope's frustration became, churning in her stomach. "I didn't tell you exactly because I knew you would react like this."
"Is this the justification for all of this lying, then? For sneaking off to secret auditions and then talking to Colin behind my back."
As her hands balled into fists and tears formed, Penelope said, "I didn't go to him behind your back. He's my friend and I needed his advice."
"It's 7:00 AM, Penelope. Do you know how scared I was when I got up and went to your room and saw no one there? Then I looked for you, foolishly fearing something was wrong, but you were going to my brother behind my back to beg for a favour."
At that moment, Penelope questioned if she should even continue defending herself. If her friend of many years could think so poorly of her in just a few minutes, how true was their friendship to begin with?
Worst of all, Colin was also a good friend of hers. While she wasn't as intimate with him as Eloise, she had known him for just as long, if not slightly longer. However, the way Eloise stared at her and accused her somehow made all her memories seem disjointed. There was now a nagging suspicion that her friend's trust was never as solid as it seemed. And it felt as though her friendship with Colin was never as significant as Penelope had imagined.
Penelope suddenly realised that she had no clue how much of their talk Eloise had heard, but she was beyond caring.
Keeping those thoughts in mind, she gently wiped her tears away with her thumbs, directed her gaze towards her former friend, and nodded. "Fine, Eloise. If that is how you want to be."
And that day, when Penelope packed her belongings and left the Bridgerton estate, never to return, marked the end of the week that altered her life.
She just never thought that a week that would transform her life in the same way would arrive five years later.
"They were asking again if you were going to the Graham Norton Show."
With a weary sigh, Colin reached for his Persol sunglasses before rushing to the car, wanting to shield himself from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Without looking up, he sensed the presence of his agent as the car tilted under the weight of his burly frame settling into the passenger seat.
"You know I hate talk shows," the actor said, glancing out the window.
"You hate talk shows, magazine interviews, and podcasts. You also dislike photoshoots and detest journalists," his agent snapped, turning around in his seat to give him a piercing glare. "The only thing you seem to enjoy is being a pain in my arse."
Colin just scowled at him in response, which should have been ineffective given that he was wearing sunglasses, but his expressive eyebrows made it work.
"Wanna know the worst part?" Lowering his sunglasses, the other man locked eyes with Colin, his voice filled with accusation, "When I met you, you sold me this idea of how it would all be so easy. You didn't need to rely on your family influence or money; instead, all you needed was to captivate the public with your charm. I wonder where that man is now."
"When you met me, I was a clueless and naïve boy who knew nothing about the world, let alone the sneaky, lying snakes in the press," he added, his voice sharp as a knife.
As the car rolled down the street, his agent turned around and gazed ahead, scanning the cityscape. Given his extensive knowledge of Colin's complicated relationship with the media, he found it difficult to contradict him. Still, stubborn as ever, he let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, "If you were going to be like this, you shouldn't have convinced me to leave the bar."
As Colin stared at the back of his dramatic friend, he couldn't help but mention, "Will, you're making ten times more than you did at the bar."
Will tilted his head slightly and remarked, "That is true, and ten times the stress too." He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Colin shaking his head in exasperation. "You will go to the Graham Norton Show."
"Fine," Colin replied, his breath escaping in a frustrated sigh as he glanced out the window once more.
"And where is the script for the table read today?" Will asked.
Colin jerked his head sharply, peering incredulously into the review mirror. "When did you turn into my mother?"
Will chuckled ironically and said, "If only I could have become such an incredible woman. Now, where is it?"
"Anthony has it!" He snapped back. "Don't you know my brother at all?"
There was no chance on that earth Anthony would risk having a script of his movie leaked, not even by the hands of his own family.
As the car pulled into the parking garage, engulfing them in darkness, Will turned to him and said, "I only know the directors you've worked with in the past. That's how dedicated I am to your ungrateful arse."
Colin took off his sunglasses and gave him an eye roll, his hand instinctively reaching for the door handle as the car pulled over.
"We will be back by the end of the afternoon," Will said sheepishly. "Sorry, I can't stick around. Alice will have my head if I don't help Nicky pick up his wedding tux."
Even though they were always arguing, Colin grinned. "It's all good. Say hi to them for me," he said as he opened the door and stepped outside.
"Enjoy yourself!" Will shouted as his friend headed for the lift.
Without even glancing behind him, Colin raised his hand to show that he had heard him. As he walked towards the lift, he caught a glimpse of his assistant rushing to join him out of his peripheral vision.
"Morning," Colin said, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
His assistant, still panting, struggled to juggle papers and folders in his arms. Despite his recent hiring, he had a chronic problem of being late. However, his intentions were noble, and he didn't seem to have any ulterior motives or engage in gossip, which, according to Colin, set him apart from 90% of his colleagues.
Not that Colin would ease his current situation much. Having worked in the industry for years, he learned the importance of remaining vigilant and not being too trusting.
"I apologise, Mr Bridgerton," he said between gasps for breath. "I'm still not used to the traffic in London."
With a ding, the lift doors glided open, and John instinctively reached out to keep them from shutting on Colin, who was about to step inside.
"Just call me Colin, John," he said, frustrated with his assistant's constant formality despite having reminded him countless times. John, in turn, also hurriedly entered the lift, his hand darting to press the button for their floor, despite Colin being perfectly capable of doing it himself.
"Has Anthony sent you the script?" Colin asked just to be certain, since he was sure he already knew the answer.
Still completely oblivious to the ways of the Bridgertons, John whipped his head towards the man, his eyes widening. "No. Why? Was I supposed to collect it?"
The lift dinged again, signalling their arrival, and Colin merely peered at him from the corner of his eye. With a sigh, he replied with a confusing, "No."
And then, with another deep breath, he walked down the hallway as he mentally braced himself for another first table read. If he were to be honest, Colin found joy in almost every step of the acting process, even the ones that frustrated him. Because they were all aspects of a process directly tied to his work, not incessant interviews focused on prying into his personal life and dismantling what little remained of it.
However, in recent times, the first table reads had become increasingly difficult to navigate. Having gained expertise in the field, he had a natural aptitude for seeing things right from the beginning. Such as poorly written scripts that had the potential to result in awful movies, or even worse, colleagues who had the potential to make his life unbearable. He wasn't always this sceptical. First reads used to fill him with a sense of joy and curiosity, much like everything else in his life. However, life had a way of hardening people's hearts. Especially after a few exposés, one or two backstabbings, and the like. But then he reminded himself that Anthony, at the very least, would never accept a lousy script. That at least gave him some comfort.
With that slightly more optimistic thought, he opened the door to the conference room. And as he walked in, the room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him, including some familiar faces in the crowd.
Thomas Dorset, with whom he had previously worked on a questionable sitcom, now appeared to have a career as secure as Colin's. Agatha Dunbury, the producer, one of his mother's oldest friends and one of the most painfully sharp people he had ever met. Dolores Stowell, an up-and-coming actress, rose to prominence following her outstanding performance in a dark horse winner of the Cannes Golden Palm for Best Short Film.
And, well, Cressida Cowper.
The most annoying, conceited, self-serving, and untalented actress he had ever encountered. A woman with whom Colin was certain he would never be paired romantically in a million years since they could never have any chemistry. With that in mind, he looked around and noticed the last person he recognised in the crowd: his brother.
"Finally," Anthony said, his eyes scanning Colin from head to toe as he smoothed out his own shirt. All the while ignoring Colin's frantic and inquisitive eyes, which had to know right away that Cressida was only there to play a minor role as a character whose death would occur within the first ten minutes of the film.
"Everyone." Anthony turned around to address everyone sitting around the table, while Colin continued to glare at the side of his head. "I don't suppose introductions are required, but this is Colin Bridgerton." He gestured towards the man. "He'll be taking on the role of Leonidas, as some of you may already be aware. He is also my brother, but don't blame me for that," he added, eliciting a few chuckles from the cast and crew. Then he turned to his sibling and suggested, "You should take a seat beside Cressida."
"And why is that?" Colin snarled, almost murderously.
Anthony wrinkled his brow in confusion at his brother's response. Then, without paying him any mind, he glanced past the man's shoulders and at his assistant. "Ah, John! Perfect. I need to have a chat with you about script confidentiality," he said as he walked towards him, leaving Colin to reluctantly make his way towards the vacant chair next to Cressida.
Thankfully, no one dared to strike up a conversation with him on his way, sensing his darkening mood and knowing his notorious temper. Which was ironic given his upbringing as the always eager to please Bridgerton's mama's boy.
"It seems we'll be partners after all," Cressida said.
Colin's eyebrows twitched up ever so slightly as he pulled the chair, the metallic creaking filling the air with each movement.
"So it seems," he replied curtly.
"I'll be Catherine, by the way," she said, leaning towards him despite the fact that he was looking at the other side of the room.
Colin almost let out a humourless chuckle, but then he remembered he needed to maintain his composure. He just wished Anthony would stop chattering with John, and Agatha would end her phone conversation, so they could finally dive into the scripts.
"I had a hunch," he mumbled, still fixated on the wall instead of looking at her.
Thomas was sitting across from him at the table, near the wall Colin was focused on. Amused, he arched an eyebrow at the interaction unfolding before him. Although he wasn't as acquainted with Colin as he was with Anthony, he, like the rest of the country and the industry, knew about the charming actor's reputation for having a temper.
Many people reckoned this was because of his fame, which made sense, because when Thomas met him, he seemed like a friendly, though unassuming, bloke. Or maybe life had moulded him that way, just as it had done to everyone else. In any case, he couldn't help but find it hilarious to watch Cressida Cowper's struggle. The beautiful actress seemed to have the world at her fingertips, with lucrative advertising contracts, prominent roles in the latest blockbusters, and a dating life that made others envious. It was a shame that her personality made it impossible for anyone who actually knew her to root for her. So maybe being cast in a movie with Colin Bridgerton, of all people, was just what she deserved.
While contemplating those matters, he couldn't ignore the fact that his colleagues were also watching the new member with great interest. And then, an unexpectedly bizarre event unfolded.
Colin Bridgerton smiled.
"Pen?" he said, rising up abruptly.
Confusion filled the air as everyone around the table exchanged perplexed glances, trying to make sense of the situation. Then they saw a short woman with red hair walk into the room and look around while her cheeks turned pink. Upon catching sight of him, her eyes widened slightly, and she greeted him with a small wave.
"Hi, Colin," she said.
The actor in question then practically sprinted towards her, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the man Thomas had met years prior.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab both of hers, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Even though he asked her, he had a very good feeling about why she was at that table read.
Despite biting her lip, her eyes glowed with happiness. "I was cast as Nora?" she said, recoiling just a little as she anticipated what he would say next.
As if injected with a surge of joy, Colin's eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly, his face lighting up with delight. "And you didn't tell me?" he asked.
"I know, I know," she conceded, withdrawing her hands from his and briefly covering her eyes. "I was just so shocked," she exclaimed, now gesturing enthusiastically with her hands. "It didn't feel real until..." she hesitated and looked up at him. "Until I was right here, really."
Colin, having been her friend for years, could easily spot the unmistakable glimmer of happiness in Penelope's eyes. If this was an incredible opportunity for him, who was already an established actor, it held even greater significance for her.
"Pen," he said, his voice full of pride and a huge grin on his face. She grinned back at him, as if she knew precisely what was on his mind without him having to say it.
As he pulled her into a tight hug, she felt her feet leave the floor, twirling through the air as her laughter filled the surroundings. And that wasn't anything new, truly, as Colin had embraced her like that on several occasions throughout their friendship.
Except that virtually all the other individuals in the room were unaware of this information.
And if they were already perplexed earlier, now they were certainly gaping in at the duo. Cressida's face was so distorted from astonishment and indignation that she would most likely need a few Botox injections to correct it. The younger members of the cast whispered among themselves, amazed to discover that Colin Bridgerton had a secret relationship. And Thomas raised his eyebrows skyward, contemplating the possibility of sharing Botox sessions with Cressida.
Meanwhile, as Colin gently placed Penelope back on the ground, Anthony bid his goodbyes to John and made his way over to the pair. Agatha stood nearby, her smile never wavering, seemingly unperturbed by the unfolding spectacle. The oldest Bridgerton brother was just about to crack a silly joke about not needing to introduce them, but his plans were quickly thwarted by the arrival of yet another newcomer.
"Who's this?" Standing by the door, Charlotte Mecklenburg-Strelitz couldn't help but cast a discerning gaze upon Penelope. Her eyes carefully assessed Penelope's appearance, before shifting to Colin, whose arms were still wrapped around her.
"Um." Anthony coughed politely as Colina and Penelope distanced themselves from each other, "Penelope Featherington, Charlotte." He stood next to the actress and in front of the writer, seemingly shielding the former from the latter's well-known fiery nature, saying, "She's our Nora."
Charlotte gave him a puzzled look, then glanced at Penelope, Colin, and finally Cressida. Looking back at Penelope, she responded with a casual, "Oh. Good." Her mood appeared to have brightened upon receiving the information, for some unknown reason. She then made her way over to sit next to Agatha and asked, "Have you already begun? Is everyone present?"
When Charlotte finally turned her attention elsewhere, Penelope and Colin exchanged silent wide looks, as if they were back in their teens, caught breaking his mother's century-old jar while trying to steal Christmas cookies. Colin then moved quietly back to his seat, knowing Penelope would follow. As they walked, Penelope made a point to maintain eye contact with everyone she passed, greeting them with a friendly "Hi" and quietly introducing herself as Penelope Featherington, a habit she had formed years ago based on Colin's advice.
Noticing her slow pace, Colin furrowed his eyebrows and reached for her hand again, whispering, "Come on, Pen," as he pulled her towards the end of the table where his seat awaited.
And, unfortunately, Cressida Cowper's.
Penelope halted in her tracks when she saw her, her heart racing with disbelief at the unexpected encounter. Despite her long-standing friendship with a well-known actor and her own acting career, she couldn't help but feel a bit star-struck when meeting the most famous faces in real life.
"Hi," Penelope said softly, her voice barely audible as she struggled to maintain eye contact. "I'm... Penelope Featherington."
Cressida's sharp blue eyes locked onto her, carefully assessing her appearance from head to toe, lingering momentarily on Colin's hand intertwined with hers. With a sneer forming on her mouth, she sarcastically uttered, "Charmed."
The red-head furrowed her brow, taken aback by the actress' hostility. However, before she could respond, Colin shot Cressida a sharp look and promptly sat down, tugging Penelope's hand as if silently urging her to join him in the vacant chair to his right.
Meanwhile, Anthony, still frozen in place, turned to Charlotte and said, "No... not yet. Seems like we're still missing our main actress," he grumbled, glancing at his watch with irritation
Pursing her lips and narrowing her gaze in contemplation, Charlotte asked, "What was her name again?"
Agatha saw how the cast looked at her nervously. So she turned to her friend, a wide smile stretching across her face as she tried her best to appear unaffected. "Kate Sharma."
The name didn't seem to ring any bells as Charlotte furrowed her brow in momentary confusion.
Anthony then strode confidently towards his chair, positioned at the head of the table and next to Charlotte. "Perhaps we should begin without her, as we wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting," he grumbled, frustrated by his main actress' apparent indifference towards the project.
"Without the leading lady?" Agatha arched an eyebrow at him, expressing the thoughts that were on the minds of nearly everyone in the room.
"She is late, isn't she?" While Charlotte spoke, her fingers rummaged through her purse, searching for her lipstick, as if her own lateness didn't matter. As she finally found her favourite burgundy shade, she grabbed a small pocket mirror and nonchalantly applied it. "If we aren't important to her, I don't see why we shouldn't return the favour."
The room seemed to quieten at that, as it was Charlotte's usual effect on people, even the most prepotent of them. It wasn't just that she was a famous author, a business woman, owner of clothes and perfume brands, and every bit an A class celebrity — It was the fact she commanded any room she was in as easily as breathing.
And that would typically clash with Anthony's assertive demeanour, but this time his annoyance outweighed his usual stubbornness. Penelope had the decency to send a message ahead of time explaining her traffic delay, but Kate remained completely silent, leaving everyone waiting.
"Alright, let us start on page five," he said casually, gesturing to the group seated across from him: Colin, Penelope, and Cressida. However, he seemed to have overlooked the fact that they hadn't received the script beforehand, leaving them completely clueless about his reference.
Colin furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, then shifted his gaze to the thick stack of papers on the wooden table in front of him. The sound of pages fluttering on both sides reached his ears as Penelope and Cressida joined him in silently reading the script.
INT. CASTLE ON THE SOUTH/THRONE ROOM- NIGHT
LEONIDAS BLACKWELL (28)'s legs come into view, gradually fading as the camera pans upwards. Positioned with his back towards us, our only view is of him taking a sip from a cup made of gold, wearing a crown that is both golden and rusty, askew on his head.
And then, suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang.
"Ah, Miss Sharma, glad you could join us," Agatha said, her face lighting up with her usual appeasing smile.
Kate, on the other hand, appeared far from glad to be joining them. With her nose and chin raised up in the air, she simply answered with a nonchalant "I suppose," before swiftly making her way towards the vacant seat next to Thomas.
The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the exchange of glances. Agatha's concealed surprise and Anthony's pure annoyance were palpable.
Penelope's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she glanced at Colin, silently asking him whether this was a regular situation or if her unfamiliarity with high-profile table reads was to blame. The man in question met her gaze, shaking his head and shrugging in confusion.
"I'm sorry for being late," Kate stated to the room as she adjusted her chair. "You know us old-aged actresses. Sometimes we can get confused."
And then the silence was broken by hushed whispers, as she managed to confuse everyone else instead. Except for Anthony, whose anger had mysteriously disappeared and was now replaced with a pale, expressionless face.
"But oh well," Kate continued, hastily grabbing the script and noisily flipping through the pages. "I suppose us women do not need to be all that clever, as long as we keep on being attractive and pleasing to the eyes of the audience." With pointedly raised eyebrows, she continued to stare at the screenplay, as if it had personally insulted her.
At this point, Agatha's face contorted with confusion. "Wha—" she was about to ask Anthony until she looked at him and saw his expression. Having known the man for nearly four decades, she could easily recognise the familiar look of shame and guilt on his face. With a hiss, Agatha's voice became low and menacing as she asked, "What have you done?"
From across the room, the other person who had known Anthony for decades could also easily discern his familiar expression. Colin, still confused but slightly less so, put his hand over his mouth and muffled a chuckle.
"What is happening?" Penelope whispered to him, her eyes darting between the amused man and the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them.
With a shake of his head and a slight smile on his lips, Colin couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he said, "I don't know."
But when he laid eyes on Anthony, he concluded that whatever had happened, it was clearly Anthony's fault.
"Did he used to date her or something like that?" she asked, her voice lowering even more.
As he watched his big shot of a brother shrink on his chair, he bit his top lip, his eyes shining with amusement as he glanced at Penelope. "I haven't got a clue," he said.
Penelope looked back at him, suppressing a laugh herself as the Bridgerton's shenanigans continued to be as ridiculous as ever.
They didn't even realise when Cressida caught onto their interaction, giving the friendly pair a suspicious look. Nor did they notice when Anthony redirected his focus towards them.
"Anyway, page five?" He asked, his voice suddenly becoming high-pitched and awkwardly adolescent. "Let's continue and then we will go back."
The unexpected attention startled Colin and Penelope, causing them to nearly lose their grip on the scripts. Shuffling in their chairs, they quickly regained their focus and returned their attention to the pages. Cressida continued to eye them with suspicion before turning her attention to her lines, while Thomas observed them all with amusement.
Anthony then turned to Agatha, his subtle nod indicating for her to begin reading the descriptions before they reached the actual lines. Understanding his intention to ease the tension in the room, she swiftly grabbed her script and raised her reading glasses to her eyes, ready to start reading.
"Leonidas Blackwell's legs come into view, gradually fading as the camera pans upwards. Positioned with his back towards us, our only view is of him taking a sip from a cup made of gold, wearing a crown that is both golden and rusty, askew on his head." She paused.
A brief silence filled the room, and Colin nudged Penelope, who appeared completely lost in her thoughts and oblivious to her cue.
She widened her eyes and shifted in her seat before blurting out, "Right," then proceeding to read the words on the script. "Have you gone mad?" she asked, sounding quite robotic.
"And then Leonidas finally turns to us," Agatha kept reading the description. "Young, roguish, and attractive, he's the type of guy who would have every single heart in the kingdom at his disposal, if he so wished. His attention is drawn to the voice of his best friend, Nora Cloke, who is clad in frayed, male clothing, which looks quite intriguing on her small physique, resembling that of an adolescent boy."
"Whatever do you mean?" Colin swiftly delivered his line, fully engaged and effortlessly adding a touch of sarcasm to it, even though he had never laid eyes on the script before.
"Please." Penelope effortlessly mirrored Colin's tone and replied, "When you said I could seek refuge in your palace, I didn't expect it to result in me being executed alongside you."
As commanded by the script, Colin let out a chuckle. "And I didn't anticipate such a theatrical display from you. Did you happen to spend some time with our steward?"
When it came to rolling her eyes at that particular part, Penelope was supposed to do it, and she nearly found herself doing it instinctively, given how smoothly she could read her lines with the man by her side. "I loathe you. Have I mentioned that today?" she said.
"Removing his slightly tilted crown, Leonidas gingerly placed it on the weathered wooden table next to the throne, alongside his ornate golden cup. With a leisurely pace, he approached Nora, a mischievous grin adorning his face, while the girl maintained her usual air of exasperation," Agatha described.
"No, not today," Colin spoke, his lips curled into a gentle smile. "But there's still plenty of time."
"Well, I'll take that into consideration," Penelope replied, her tone mocking. "Now, can we please leave your brother's throne untouched until he arrives?"
"Nora, Nora," Colin exclaimed, shaking his head with great theatricality, his arm itching to drape over Penelope's shoulder, just as it was described in the pages. "I've mentioned numerous times that I would absolutely detest losing my closest companion to a bout of anxiety. You know what they say about women and their hysteria."
"Disregard my previous statement," Penelope said with a sharp tone. "I believe I shall take it upon myself to carry out your execution."
With a grin playing on her lips as a few in the room chuckled, Agatha carried on, "The two friends keep on arguing as the camera subtly moved to the side. Out of nowhere, a stunningly attractive blonde woman enters the room. Leonidas and Nora look at her, both perplexed by the newcomer. Catherine Urbino is donning a pristine, otherworldly gown, appearing rather out of place in this dimly lit chamber. However, despite the peculiarity of this visitor, Leonidas is undeniably captivated by her upon their initial encounter."
"Forgive me," Cressida said her line, her voice sounding oddly innocent and doe-eyed, completely at odds with her aristocratic facade. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You didn't interrupt in the slightest," Colin said, trying to replicate his familiar, silly, love-struck tone that Penelope recognised instantly.
"Who are you?" Penelope inquired with a sharp tone, possibly even more than what was required.
"Nora feels Leonidas' gaze piercing through her, his sudden head movement indicating a familiar look that she could sense without locking eyes with him. 'Can you stop being so... well, you,' his eyes would say," The producer continued.
"No one of significance," Cressida replied sharply, not even close to what the script required. "I seem to have taken a wrong turn and found myself a bit disoriented."
"Right. So, you happened to stumble upon the throne room, did you?" Penelope inquired, with a perfectly dry and sardonic inflection.
"I am not sure what you are implying," Cressida said, turning a few pages around the room as she ad-libbed.
Agatha looked at her and coughed lightly before saying, "Surprised by the stranger's sudden hostility, Catherine could only blink at her. Just as the woman was about to leave the room, Leonidas burst into a fake laugh and grabbed Nora by the shoulders, as if silently signalling her to stop."
"No need for concern regarding my friend; sh— he is excessively protective of the palace's possessions." Colin said, gracefully pretending to stutter as he traded the 'she' for the 'he' as Nora was in disguise, and her friendship with Leonidas was highly unconventional considering the book's society and supposed time period.
"Oh. I see," Cressida responded, more harshly than her role as a meek, terrified woman required. "He has a really high-pitched voice, doesn't he? For a moment, I assumed it was an ugly girl dressed in servant's clothing."
Their confusion evident, Colin and Penelope exchanged puzzled glances when Cressida unexpectedly inserted a derogatory comment about Nora's looks, a line that was not part of their planned dialogue. Neither was her condescending tone.
With a furrowed brow, the redhead returned her attention to the text, trying to convince herself that it was all in her head. However, Colin knew Cressida so well that he couldn't dismiss it as a mere coincidence.
So, with a deep inhale, he firmly clutched the script, his unwavering concentration locked on the words he was reciting. "No, of course not," he answered with a serious tone, despite the fact that the script said he was meant to be nervously chuckling and dismissing her concerns. "It must be the light; these candles are of poor quality. So are your eyes."
More pages started turning, and the sound of rustling paper filling the room, as they failed to read Colin's final phrase on their own script. Cressida received a satisfied smirk from him, while Penelope looked back and forth between them, her expression filled with confusion. With a fierce gaze, the blonde locked eyes with him, then adjusted her posture and lifted her papers higher.
"Naturally, that must be the explanation," she said with an air of superiority, even when the paper instructed her to pretend not to know. "I must be completely daft to think that thing is a lady; please pardon my mistake."
"What in the world is she reading?" Charlotte murmured to Agatha after re-reading the screenplay she had written and discovering, I must have misinterpreted it for a moment, please pardon my mistake, instead of whatever Cressida had just said.
The room buzzed with hushed conversations, but Colin remained unperturbed, resolute in his determination to press on, even if it meant traversing the ends of the earth.
"It is alright. Intellect is a precious gift that only a select few have. It can be quite distracting," he commented, causing Penelope to give him a surprised look, aware that he should have followed up with It is alright. Seeing me is a precious gift that only a select few have. It can be quite distracting.
"Stop!" Anthony yelled, his face turning red as he buried it in his hands. "Just to clarify, this is a table read and not a session for improvisation, is that clear to everyone?"
He took his fingers away from his eyes and gave Colin a silent, knowing glare, fully aware that Colin had done it deliberately. His younger brother, however, only shrugged at him as if he didn't have a care in the world. And that was an anticipated reaction; the worst part was Cressida Cowper staring back at him as if she were the director and he had wrecked her scene, rather than the other way around.
"Perhaps… we should go back to page one?" Agatha inquired nervously, once again attempting to defuse a metaphorical bomb.
"It's not nearly far enough from page five," he muttered to her, knowing they'd be back to whatever had just transpired in just four pages if they followed her plan. And, while reading the script in order is standard procedure for any table read, they were far from normal at the time.
Then he looked at Kate, her eyes darting away from everyone, her expression filled with anger and hostility. It was clear that page one was definitely not a good idea at the moment.
"Let's just go to page twenty then," he muttered, the most random number his fatigued brain could think of at the time."What is on page twenty again?"
The producer furrowed her brow as she tried to recall, "The street fair?"
"Oh, splendid," Anthony remarked. A scene that had absolutely nothing to do with Kate, or Cressida, or Colin, or Penelope. "Page twenty then," he gestured towards Thomas and Dolores, who glanced at him with a hint of astonishment before swiftly flipping through the pages until they located the correct one.
And just as Agatha opened her lips to read the description again, Dolores lifted her index finger in the air.
The director and producer exchanged a puzzled glance before Anthony returned his focus to the woman.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Will this scene take place in a real street, adorned with an abundance of flowers?" she inquired, expressing her doubts about the description of the forthcoming scene. "Because I have an allergy to pollen."
Agatha opened and closed her lips, wondering how to properly respond with what little patience she had left.
While Anthony Anthony could only keep from hitting his head on the table and wonder: if their first table read was this unbearable, how would the remainder of the production be?
A/N:That is it!
This poor author is honestly exhausted so I don't have much to comment, but if you have questions, my creviews are open! As they are open in general, since every review is deeply appreciated.
I love you guys, God bless you.