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Eden began to pace, her movements honed, more deliberate. Genevieve watched, rapt, noting the tension in her body, the way her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She found herself wondering if her own prowling had inspired the actress’s decisive steps, as if Eden absorbed the world around her in real time and crept through it like a chameleon. A mark of a truly gifted actor.
"Better," Genevieve murmured. "But remember, Beatrice isn't just anger. She's passion, too. Wit. Show me now how she moves when she's trading barbs with Benedick."
Eden's posture shifted instantly, becoming more fluid, almost playful. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she moved, her steps lighter but no less purposeful while she recited more perfectly memorised lines.
Genevieve felt a surge of satisfaction. This was progress. Real, tangible progress. She stepped closer, adjusting Eden's stance slightly. "Like this," she said, her hands on Eden's shoulders. "Feel the strength in your core. Beatrice knows her worth. She stands tall, unapologetic."
As she guided Eden through the movements, Genevieve became acutely aware of their proximity. The warmth of Eden's skin beneath her hands, the subtle scent of her perfume. She pushed the thoughts aside quickly, focusing on the task at hand.
"Now," Genevieve said, stepping back slightly. "Let's hear the 'kill Claudio' scene again. Remember everything we've just worked on. The anger, the vulnerability, the physicality. Show me a Beatrice who's fighting against her own helplessness."
Eden took a deep breath, centring herself. When she spoke, her voice was rich, almost husky. “Ay me, you do shame meandthe name of man if you would not cut down Claudio where he stands. I would that I were such."
Genevieve felt a shiver run down her spine. This was a new woman in front of her. Raw, passionate, complex. She watched as Eden continued, marvelling at the transformation. Gone was the nervous, hesitant actress from the readthrough. In her place stood her Beatrice – proud, fierce, and utterly captivating.
As Eden finished the scene, silence fell over the room again. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with an almost electric intensity.
Finally, Genevieve spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "That," she said, "is Beatrice."
Eden's eyes widened, surprise and delight dancing across her features. "Really?" she breathed, as if she were scared to shatter the illusion.
Genevieve nodded, allowing a small smile to curve her lips. "Yes, really. That's the Beatrice I saw in your audition. The one I knew you could bring to life."
A triumphant grin broke across Eden's face. The joy radiating from her was almost palpable, and Genevieve felt an answering warmth bloom in her chest. A pride she had no right to feel so soon, she’d barely begun moulding the girl. She quickly tamped it down, reminding herself of the work they had ahead of them.
"Don't get too comfortable," she warned, though her tone lacked its usual bite. "This is just the beginning. We have a long way to go before you'll be ready for the stage."
Eden nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm undimmed. "Of course. I'm ready to work, to do whatever it takes to bring your vision to life."
Genevieve felt a traitorous flutter in her stomach at those words. "Good. Let's run through the scene one more time. This time, I want you to focus on those subtleties. Show me the layers beneath Beatrice's anger. You can’t be one-dimensional for even a moment. The whole thing will fall flat if you’re just a woman on a tirade."
As Eden began, Genevieve found herself drawn in once again, fascinated by the young actress's performance. There was a depth to her portrayal now, a nuance that had been missing the entire morning. Beatrice's fury was still there, burning bright, but now Genevieve could see the pain underlying it, and the frustration at a world that constrained her.
"Much better," she said finally. "You're starting to understand her complexity."
Eden beamed at the praise, her cheeks flushed with exertion and pride. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I . . . I couldn't have done it without your guidance."
"Yes, well, that's my job. To bring out the best in my actors." Genevieve knew she couldn’t really take credit for the raw talent Eden seemed to have in buckets, but she’d be damned if she fed the girl’s ego too soon. It was only day one, after all.
Genevieve glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see how much time had passed. "We should wrap up for now. But I expect to see this level of commitment and understanding during all our future rehearsals. Is that clear?"
Eden nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. I won't let you down again; I promise."
As Eden gathered her things, Genevieve found her gaze lingering on the young actress. The way her hair fell in soft waves around her face, the graceful line of her neck as she bent to pick up her script. She shook her head, trying to clear it of those distracting thoughts.
"That will be all for today, Miss Rowley," she said, her voice perhaps a touch too brusque. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Eden paused at the door, turning back with a smile that made Genevieve's heart skip a beat. "Thank you again, Ms. Howard. For everything."
And then she was gone, leaving Genevieve alone in the suddenly too-quiet room.
The unusually flustered director sank into a nearby chair, her mind whirling. What had just happened? She'd come into this readthrough ready to be disappointed, to crush egos and demand excellence. Instead, she found herself . . . what? Impressed? Intrigued?
She recalled the moment when Eden had truly embodied Beatrice, the fire in her eyes, the passion in her voice. It had been . . . incredible. Genevieve had been unable to look away. And when their eyes had met after that breakthrough moment, she'd felt a jolt of . . . something. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
"No," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Absolutely not."
She was Genevieve Howard, for God's sake. Renowned director, uncompromising artist. She didn't get silly crushes onpretty, young actresses. It was unprofessional, not to mention completely out of character.
