Let’s set aside, for a moment, Anthony Bridgerton (Jonathan Bailey) and that lingering declaration of intent. Let’s forget Colin Bridgerton’s (Luke Newton) ardent carriage ride. Let’s even momentarily ignore the silly grin that creeps onto our faces when imagining Benedict Bridgerton (Luke Thompson) planted mid-staircase.
Beginning with seasons five and six, the women of the Regency’s most sought-after family will reclaim narrative control in Bridgerton. The series, adapted from the novels of Julia Quinn, began with Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), and soon it will be Eloise (Claudia Jessie) and Francesca (Hannah Dodd) who captivate us with their love stories.
The order of the novels suggests Eloise will arrive on Netflix first, but both are gaining prominence in recent installments, advancing their respective storylines – particularly in the fourth season – a clear indication they will take the reins from their Bridgerton brothers. While Daphne’s precedent, constrained by the corseted expectations of a perfect, compliant woman of the era, might discourage some fans, Eloise has already demonstrated a willingness to shatter molds and conventions with her sarcasm in Shonda Rhimes’ reimagined Regency.
But what of Francesca? It may be hard to believe, but she was destined to deliver the best season of the series. Or, rather, she was, because while Netflix’s series has substantially improved upon Quinn’s novels and their protagonists (even Hyacinth – Florence Hunt – has hinted at her sharp personality), the sixth daughter of the family isn’t being portrayed as her literary counterpart deserves.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the book of Francesca, The Heart of a Bridgerton, is the most revolutionary and profound, the second favorite of this writer. However, the fourth season of Bridgerton seems determined to ignore the character’s potential and reduce her to a more withdrawn and practical version of Daphne, equally innocent, but without the same circumspection. We’ll examine how Netflix is shortchanging the best female character in Quinn’s saga.
Francesca Bridgerton in Julia Quinn’s Novel
Julia Quinn dedicates the sixth book of her saga, The Heart of a Bridgerton, to Francesca Bridgerton. In the pages, she is the most mysterious member of the family, barely mentioned until her turn arrives. Before reaching her novel, we only know that she lives in Scotland after marrying John Stirling, the Earl of Kilmartin, and that she is widowed two years after the wedding when John suffers an aneurysm.
the relationship between Francesca and John, which begins in the third season of Bridgerton, is doomed, and the great love story she will experience will be with another character already introduced in the series: Michaela, Michael Stirling in the pages. Michael is John’s cousin and has always been secretly in love with Francesca. When John dies, Michael inherits the title and lands of Kilmartin, but, suffocated by guilt over his feelings for Francesca and burdened by the feeling of living his cousin’s life – who was like a brother to him – he flees to India.
The Heart of a Bridgerton begins with the couple’s reunion four years after Michael’s departure. Francesca is considering giving the wedding season another chance because she wants to have a child, and Michael has just returned to England. His love soon intensifies as she begins to see him in a new light, feeling an attraction that goes beyond friendship. Mutual interest is soon confronted by shame and guilt over the ghost of John.
The Heart of a Bridgerton is the most different novel in the saga, a more adult, melancholic, and complex tale, layered with nuance. It confronts grief unfiltered, passion tinged with guilt, and the internal conflict that can arise from allowing oneself to love again after a painful loss. Add to that the most sensual couple of all, and you have Quinn’s most accurate and rounded romance.
Francesca Bridgerton in the Netflix Series
The third season of Bridgerton laid a solid and faithful foundation for the literary saga: Francesca was a shy but practical young woman, much less inclined to socialize than her sister Daphne, but aware of the importance of finding a husband in the wedding season, unlike Eloise. With her and John Stirling (Victor Alli), viewers experienced what seemed like a slow-burn love, without overwhelming passion or grand gestures.
We left them newly married, preparing to leave London to move to Scotland with her husband, Eloise, and Michaela Stirling (Masali Baduza), John’s cousin, with whom she exchanged nervous glances. The third installment painted a vague but recognizably similar portrait to that of the book’s Francesca: a little out of place, more taciturn than her siblings, but tremendously mature, determined, and resolute. It hardly mattered that Michael had changed gender; Francesca still seemed to be the same.
However, in the fourth installment, the Francesca who returns to London deviates from the novel’s Francesca. Her reserved nature translates into an excessive innocence, almost ridiculous, which brings her dangerously close to Daphne and limits her arc to a single conflict that is also developed rather superficially. What conflict? Her entire world revolves around her lack of attraction to John and, her inability to reach climax.
In the third season, Francesca was a young woman with clear ideas, mature, enigmatic, a particularly intriguing Bridgerton sister, glued to a piano. In Part 1 of the fourth, she only accumulates awkward conversations about the meaning of orgasms with Penelope (Nicola Coughlan), Violet (Ruth Gemmell), and John. It’s hard to recognize the Francesca of the novel.
Francesca Deserves More in ‘Bridgerton’
As we explained earlier, the book of Francesca speaks frankly and profoundly about second chances. The protagonist was happily married to John, whom she deeply loved, and although her motivation to remarry is not love, but motherhood, Michael rekindles those feelings in her. It’s a different love than she felt for John, a love that in no way diminishes or forgets the previous one, a love that reflects who Francesca is now, what Michael evokes in her most mature version. That’s why her story is so real, because it dispels absurd fantasies about soulmates and unique loves to validate second sparks and the possibility of starting to see a person with different eyes.
Michael, for his part, is beloved among readers because, in addition to being the most suffering character in Quinn’s universe, he is also the most devoted, the epitome of a tormented historical hero. He has been in love with Francesca since he met her, but he loves John like a brother and suffers in silence.
The Heart of a Bridgerton is an atypical and surprisingly raw tale that addresses guilt, self-doubt, and doubt in a romantic genre more accustomed to sweetening drama, all to reach the conclusion that you can love more than once in a lifetime. The gender swap of Michael didn’t have to alter this powerful message or the lessons learned from Francesca’s life story. Francesca could even have been bisexual, falling in love first with John and then with Michaela.
However, the relationship between Francesca and John is completely apathetic on screen, they profess a fondness that feels somewhat superficial. As for Michaela, there is discomfort when she returns to London in episode 4, but not a hint of Michael’s longing. The series simplifies the triangle: it prefers to emphasize the pianist’s lesbianism, insisting on the physical distance that separates her from John and how she denies herself what Michaela generates.
Bridgerton always manages to steer/improve its romances and lovers, and we trust that it will be able to redirect the relationship with the most potential in the literary saga. At this point, with the Francesca of the series feeling an almost brotherly affection for John, perhaps there is no room to explore the whirlwind of emotions that shakes a person divided between the love that is gone and the love that arrives, to claim that you don’t only love once, to show how feelings for a person can change. However, justice can still be done to the torment of passion and guilt that forms with Michael/Michaela.
