The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(9)

It was so simple to make small, fun changes that came with no consequences and affected her happiness only in the short-term. So complicated to make the big, permanent change that would really push her life in a new direction.

“How about developing a hankering for country walks and historic architecture?” Lisa picked up a thick sheaf of paper. “Because that’s another reason I think you should take the role in The Austen Playbook. Which they’re offering upfront. No audition required.”

Apparently everyone saw her as Lydia material. How alarming.

“I think the role will expand your fan base considerably, and it could lead to a major professional opportunity, which we’ll get to in a tick, but it’s also a switch in routine that could do you a lot of good on a personal level. The show will be televised live from Highbrook Wells in Surrey, and—”

“The Henry Theatre?” Freddy looked up sharply. “It’s opening to the public?” The Henry featured in the biography her father had written about her grandmother, and Freddy remembered gazing avidly at a photo of it as a little girl.

“As a one-off, at least. I don’t know what the future plans are. It was built for your grandmother, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Henrietta had an affair with the owner of Highbrook Wells, and he was so smitten he commissioned a boutique theatre on his lawn for her.”

There were countless things that Freddy admired about her grandmother, but the affair with a married man wasn’t one of them. In other circumstances, however, being given a personal theatre would be fucking epic. The most romantic thing a man had ever done for Freddy was to bring her a cheeseburger when she’d had late-night rehearsal. Which, to be fair, had really done it for her.

“The whole cast and crew will move to Highbrook Wells and the nearest village for the weeks preceding the broadcast date. You’ll stay in the main house, with access to guest facilities, and rehearse directly in the theatre.” Lisa tapped her fingers on the script. “You should know that Fiona Gallagher is one of the backers, and she’s also just bought the UK production rights for the adaptation of Allegra Hawthorne’s Anathorn series.”

Freddy caught her breath. Allegra Hawthorne was the current It Girl of the popular fiction world. Her series of fantastical novels had stayed at number one on the Sunday lists for months on end. The books were romantic and fun, rife with intrigue and humour, and Freddy loved them. There had been rumours churning for a while that they were going to be adapted into a musical.

If there was one role in the entire scope of theatre that she’d love to win, that was it.

“When I met with Fiona this week, she expressed interest in you for a role in the show,” Lisa said, and Freddy finally remembered to exhale. “She remembers your performance in Matilda in your teens. But she’s noted that you’ve veered away from musicals the past few years.”

Freddy pulled at a loose seam in her leggings. “Carltons are serious performers,” she quoted, allowing the thick rope of irony to wrap around her words, in the privacy of the office.

“I’m not concerned with Carltons plural. I don’t deny that your surname is a boon when it comes to placing you in work, but you’ve built goodwill with the public and your peers on your own merits. And if the lighter projects are where your heart lies...”

“When is the Anathorn musical likely to go into production?”

“They’re moving it quickly along the pipeline. It’s likely to coincide with the run of The Velvet Room.”

Of course it was.

Everything in her life right now seemed to be arriving at a distinctive, definitive crossroads.

“I see.”

That sick feeling was dragging at Freddy again, comprised largely of frustration—with the situation, and with herself. Rationally, she did realise that she wasn’t obliged to follow in her family’s footsteps simply because they’d eased her path for her. And...and she didn’t have to fulfil the dreams that had been snatched from her father in his own career.

But when it came to actually acting on that realisation—

She visualised the hurt and disappointment she would cause, and she bottled it. Time and again.

“Fiona wants to see how your comedic timing has held up, and The Austen Playbook would be a good chance to dust off your skills. She’ll be in the audience for the live performance, and she’s notorious for making quick, instinctive decisions. If she likes what she sees...” Lisa looked at Freddy meaningfully. “It doesn’t hurt to leave your options open.”

Again, she waved the absolute brick of paper she was holding. “It’s a win all round, as far as I’m concerned. A high-profile production, you’re tailor-made for the role, and you’ll get a break from London for a few weeks. At a country estate. Very lush.” She grinned. “Very Austen.”

Shaking off her troubled preoccupation, Freddy suddenly focused on the papers. “Hold up. What is that?”

“The Austen Playbook script.” Lisa set it down in front of Freddy, who was surprised the desk didn’t immediately collapse in a whump of splinters and dust.

She stared down at it, then incredulously at Lisa. “That’s one copy of the script? It’s massive. For God’s sake. How long is the play? Twelve hours?”

“We arrive at the one snag.” Lisa tapped a manicured finger on the topmost page. “It’s an audience-interactive play.”