Communion Through Friendship: Lessons from Bridgerton’s Eloise and Penelope

As a Bridgerton fan, I found myself anticipating season three, featuring Penelope and Colin’s love story, not for the two romantic leads’ story as much as for the hopeful righting of another love story that had ruptured in season two—that of best friends Penelope and Eloise. As a fan and scholar of women’s sentimental literature—and of romance novels and stories specifically—what I often find general viewers and critics neglect to notice in them is, quite frankly, everything beyond the main romantic plotline. Importantly, that “everything” includes the social framework that often comprises most of our lives and experiences as humans.

This framework includes but is not limited to (and has included in the Bridgerton series thus far): sibling rivalries, illicit affairs, unsettled grief of parents and spouses long lost, childhood traumas of wrongs once done, childhood joys replayed over and over, antics of beloved animals, aunts’ and uncles’ arched eyebrows at youths’ life choices, dramatic bee stings, family games that turn unexpectedly competitive, miscarriages, births, inside jokes with loved ones that explode into outside laughter, and, of course, fallings out with friends whose ties at one point seemed inseparable.

The romance genre is popular not because it is one-dimensional, but because it is the opposite. It conveys closely the varied dimensions of human lives, especially what matters most to women’s lives. Even with the historical backdrop of the high society of the ton of the British Regency era, Shonda Rimes’s splashy version of the historical romance genre conveys simple, yet still applicable truths. Hot pink ballgowns, lavish church scenes, long, meandering walks amongst flowers in a castle courtyard, and modern classical renditions of Sia’s “Cheap Thrills” and Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” do not detract from the intimate details of contemporary daily life that the romance genre conveys; rather, they remind viewers today—primarily women viewers—that their daily dramas, set to the same music we hear in Bridgerton, are equally important as the well-to-do Bridgerton siblings, even if today’s stories take place one hundred years later in a less glamorous version of Rimes’s lavish historical world.

Bridgerton: A Morality Tale? Really?

With that said, there is a pressure when writing for a journal such as this one about television of any ilk to say that, as a viewer, the show in question ought to endorse a particular belief system. This pressure feels especially acute for women audiences who have long been regarded as susceptible to questionable moral choices in art. Moreover, male media is usually perceived as worthy of attention and critical acclaim, whereas women’s media is usually deemed as frivolous at best, dangerous at worst. One reviewer calls Bridgerton “high-budget, insubstantial fluff,” another “laughably bad,” and yet another “exhausting.” Audiences perceive depth and life truths where many reviewers have not, though. Season three has already boasted the highest-ranking Bridgerton numbers to date, with about 45.05 million views of its premier alone. The show’s moral claims are worth attention because they have attracted such a large swath of viewers. Notably, 80% of those viewers are women responsive to the claims being made in Rimes’s productions.

As a Catholic writer, I have been heartened by the show’s thus far adherence to the romance genre of Julia Quinn’s bestselling series, though certainly the show has taken liberties with the books when transferring them to a different medium and when attempting to reach a broader audience. Indeed, it bears mention first that I enjoyed this season’s main romance plotline because Colin, the show’s male lead, complains about the lack of morality he witnesses around him. He also encourages his sister Eloise to mend fences with her friend, which I focus on next in the main portion of this essay. Like in our world, Colin witnesses sins he disagrees with. Like in our world, he partakes in that sin sometimes, too. Yet, just as he encourages Eloise to mend her friendship with Penelope throughout this season, he arrives at significant revelations about himself through reflecting on his male friendships. During one of the show’s most pivotal moments, Colin takes a stand against his friends’ jesting about women they have used sexually. In a refreshing (from this viewer’s perspective) character turn, he yells at them, remarking that his friends do not take seriously the thing that is the most serious in all human romantic relationships—sex.

Colin’s revelation about the intertwined seriousness and goodness of sex being belittled by those he is close to echoes a sentiment Pope Francis identifies in his encyclical, Laudato Si’. The pope disparages throwaway culture, or the modern tendency to “to treat others as mere objects.” Likewise, Colin believes his friends treat women as objects, and he decides not to do so anymore. As aforementioned, reducing the show to a focus on romance and sex refuses to see the broader, and surprising moral backbone that undergirds it.

Although the show is certainly not without its share of sex scenes, and although Colin visits a brothel and then regrets it, the show affirms over and over through its main characters’ storylines (in seasons one through three at least) that sex is no frivolous matter; rather it is the opposite. Moreover, it depicts sacramental marriage as an ideal worthy of striving toward.[1] All of the Bridgerton seasons thus far have featured a church wedding, along with a realization from its main characters that married life ordered toward procreation specifically is a good.[2] This season ended with a joyful celebration of life, as Penelope and her two recently wed sisters all welcome new babies into the world and wonder at the new babies collectively, dreaming of their children’s futures.

As in life, however, the ideal of reaching toward and achieving the common good is not always where the show, or the characters themselves, start.

Penelope and Eloise: The Heart of Season Three

This brings us back to Eloise and Penelope, who engage in the most important storyline within season three. Penelope, a socially awkward wallflower, has felt abused by the fashionable ton. She is rarely asked for dances at the balls. She spends most of her time reading books and staring out the window of her house, while her mother fawns over her sisters, their marriage prospects, and, in this latest season, their baby prospects. The Featheringtons, the family Penelope is a part of, are on a lower social tier than the rest of her neighbors, especially the Bridgertons. They are always fighting to maintain their social status.

Eloise and Penelope become friends from the moment they meet, realizing that they have more to talk about than potential suitors—a rare quality in young women their age in the Bridgerton universe. In one of my favorite moments from season one, Penelope asks her mother if she can “go play with Eloise.” Her mother responds, quite disdainfully, that “a lady does not play.” Penelope quickly changes her request to see if she can “promenade for suitors with Eloise,” to which her mother then responds yes. Note here that in a show most viewers see as focused on sexual romance, two of its most beloved younger characters choose to spend most of their time together not talking about romance and desiring instead each other’s platonic company. Eloise and Penelope enjoy talking about art, reading, and writing, not to mention their families and friends. When looking at art together, Eloise astutely observes that one of the pieces is incredibly dull. Penelope agrees, saying it is familiar but she cannot place it. Eloise quips that Penelope must have trouble placing it because, “Like all of these paintings it was done by a man who sees a woman as nothing more than a decorative object.” The two saunter away, to better conversations.

Their time together is subversive because the women choose friendship over romance, especially the commodified type represented by Regency London’s high society marriage market. Their friendship matters as much to them as finding potential romantic partners, perhaps more so, and this is what leads to their soulful fulfillment.

Catholic audiences might notice a bit of an irony that in a television show known best for its steamy sex scenes, the virtue of chastity is not only taught but upheld as a moral good. According to The Catechism of the Catholic Church, “The virtue of chastity blossoms in friendship. . . . Chastity is expressed notably in friendship with one’s neighbor. Whether it develops between persons of the same or opposite sex, friendship represents a great good for all. It leads to spiritual communion” (CCC, §2347). For Catholics, communion, or the Eucharist, is a sacrament based in relationship, in sharing, in remembering Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, specifically his time with his friends the night before his death when he shared the gift of the Eucharist for the first time. In Mass each week, Catholics partake in communion together still. There, we spiritually connect with God and other believers, and we are expected to carry this connection outside of Mass and into the world.

Friendship, like the kind Eloise and Penelope share, is one path to celebrate God’s love on earth. While in Bridgerton—and, I dare say, in our world today—much of the focus is on romantic desire and sexual satisfaction, Penelope and Eloise’s relationship intentionally eschews that focus. This purposeful refraction presents viewers with another way to observe and live chaste lives that does not center on denial but on enjoyment. Penelope and Eloise build a friendship that resists the social pressure to restrict them into always sexualizing themselves and the way they perceive and discuss others. In choosing friendship and chastity, they find communion, and they affirm both each other’s human dignity and that of the others within the ton whom they come in contact with. Like Colin, they, too, resist throwaway culture and grow from thoughtful reflection on their friendship and its values.

Whereas Penelope is depicted as awkward and a little shy, Eloise is the opposite. She is straightforward and assertive. She always speaks her mind, as is evident in the art quip mentioned above. Penelope laughs quickly when she is with people she trusts, and Eloise is always there with a wry witticism. This seems normal—boring even, we might say. Although Bridgerton may appear glitzy on the outside, the female friendships it depicts mirror women’s actual lives more so than most screen depictions. In cinema, rarely do we see “boring” relationships between women take center stage. Yvonne Tasker, in a piece titled, “Female Friendship: Melodrama, Romance, and Feminism,” relates that, “Across the majority of its genres, the popular American cinema has marginalized representations of female friendship, more often favoring glamorous stars seen to exist in spectacular isolation, supportive figures who exist almost exclusively in relation to the hero, or women set in competition with each other.”[3] Although this is not always the case, a quiet friendship like that between Eloise and Penelope feels as if it runs counter not only to the pressures of the ton in the show’s historical era but also to the way women are portrayed in the media holistically today. Competition with each other in the style of Mean Girls and Real Housewives feels as if it is often the go-to rhetorical parlance.

Of course, the characters are not without flaws. Shy Penelope, using the persona of Lady Whistledown, an anonymous gossip columnist, takes revenge on the ton and her family, who have shamed her throughout the series. She keeps her identity secret from everyone, including her friend Eloise. Once Eloise discovers the truth, she feels betrayed, realizing that her confidences have been used in ways she did not endorse. Throughout season three, we witness the two young women suffering heartbreak due to Penelope’s betrayal and Eloise’s refusal to forgive her. “You two love each other,” is a refrain heard throughout the series as others try to help them see beyond their differences, not knowing what the problem is. The “breakup” of their friendship, and the heartache they feel from it, is illustrated as no less dramatic (and I believe even more dramatic) for audiences who have been invested in Penelope and Eloise’s friendship from the show’s first sensational season.

Thus, at the same time Colin and Penelope discover romantic love through their friendship, viewers watch and wait, hoping Penelope and Eloise’s friendship will find the footing it once had again. In a scene near the end of the series, Queen Charlotte, the face of the monarchy in the show, has become upset by Lady Whistledown’s column. She sets her sights on ferreting out and quieting the columnist she sees as disrupting her social capital and power. While playing chess with a friend, Lady Danbury, the two talk about the outcome if Queen Charlotte were to win “victory” over Whistledown. During the game, Danbury shows that she could get a checkmate on the queen but decides not to because she would rather continue playing the game and enjoying their time together. Queen Charlotte pauses, looks at her “opponent,” and contemplates this idea of friendship being more important than the accrual of power.

When Queen Charlotte is afforded the chance soon thereafter, she does not destroy Penelope. She does not throw her away but values her humanity. The ideal is not that people should be used as pawns in Bridgerton, for all the allusions to the backbiting of the ton.

In the last episode, Penelope hosts a ball at the Featherington house for her sisters (another example of women supporting one another). She summons the queen to the ball and makes a confession about her double identity as Whistledown to everyone who is present. “I wrote about all of you because I was captivated by you, living your lives so out in the open,” the former wallflower says: “And in writing about all of you, I suddenly felt as if I had a life. I had power. And for anyone in this room who has ever had a taste of that, they should know it can be intoxicating.”

She admits her faults and says that she will wield her pen “more responsibly,” to which the Queen nods approvingly, giving her blessing to the continuance of the column. Penelope, here, affirms that she loves the community she has written about: she considers them all friends. Yet she decides to reform her writing because she realizes, to her chagrin, that she had begun to use her friends for social profit. To continue to write about her community in her column, she needed to be open about her identity, so they could respond to her words personally. In this way, the relationship could be reciprocal. (Consider the anonymity of online relationships and how shaky and uncertain they are because of the anonymity many use in those spaces.) Anonymity omits risk.

Friendship cannot be one-sided but requires sacrificial love: it requires risk. In his encyclical “On Fraternity and Social Friendship,” Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis writes that, “My relationship with those whom I respect has to take account of the fact that they do not live only for me, nor do I live only for them. Our relationships, if healthy and authentic, open us to others who expand and enrich us.” In revealing her identity and attempting reconciliation, Penelope opens herself to a true relationship with her community that can enrich all of them and make their lives better.

The community embraces her. She becomes intertwined in the fabric of their lives because they want her to continue writing. Penelope is no longer a bystander, but someone who, like them, “captivates” of her own accord.

It probably goes without saying that Eloise embraces Penelope’s newfound confidence and honesty, too. She accepts her apology both toward her personally and toward the larger community they share. By the end of the season, the two recognize the goodness in each other again, despite having encountered more closely than ever before each other’s faults. Penelope may have made bad decisions in writing her column, yet Eloise should not have held a grudge for as long as she did. When they reunite, the two sit back together on the Bridgerton family couch, laughing and talking as usual and the show feels as if it is breathing out joy. As a viewer, watching them reconciled and laughing was perhaps the first time I felt as if I breathed fully when watching this season at least.

One of the first questions Eloise asks her friend is not about marriage to her brother or about any of the drama with Queen Charlotte trying to discover Lady Whistledown’s identity. Rather, it is this: “So, what have you been reading?” Together, they continue to enjoy each other’s minds and hearts over what society says they ought to be attentive to.

In honesty from Penelope and forgiveness from Eloise, communion is once again found. Love finally flourishes.

The Communion of Female Friendship

Significantly, even after Penelope marries Eloise’s brother, her friendship with Eloise resists the pull of being defined by this new circumstance. Their communion is a good in and of itself, they both determine, regardless of each other’s marital status. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells the crowd, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matt 6:21). Penelope and Eloise choose to turn their attention on each other, on their friendship, no matter their other relational circumstances. While they experience a rift in their relationship when Eloise feels Penelope chooses the ton and its promised treasures of wealth and status over her, she forgives her once she realizes that a few missteps do not cancel the entirety of a friendship built on communion, built on love. Their hearts find each other again, and this is the love story that I was waiting on, and found hope in in season three of Bridgerton.

Again, by no means do I assert in this essay that Bridgerton is a Catholic show one ought to live by. I do, however, believe that it is rare that a popular show heralds female friendship in a way that shows the communion and gifts it can bring to the world, both for the participants themselves and the world they make better around them.

At the end of season three, Eloise decides to go to Scotland with her sister, missing, we assume, the birth of Penelope’s child, whom viewers discover at the end to be a boy. Their reunion is one whose emotions I imagine similar to the ones we celebrate as Catholics during the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary on May 31 (described in Luke 1:39-56). In that story, when Elizabeth rushes out to greet her friend who is visiting her, she cries out in joy, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” In the example of Mary and Elizabeth, we see women loving and support each other, again demonstrating the virtue of chastity in their focus on the joy of celebrating their love, and the love they can bring to the world because of their familial and social influence. Beyond this, their friendly love we now know helped cultivate and bring us our Savior, Jesus. Their biblical female friendship bespeaks and begets communion.

In Romancing Mister Bridgerton, the book the Netflix series is based on, Penelope reunites with Eloise in an epilogue and says this about her:

Eloise was her dearest friend. Colin was her love, her passion, and her soul, but it was Eloise, more than anyone, who had shaped Penelope’s adult life. Penelope could not imagine what the last decade could have been without Eloise’s smile, her laughter, and her indefatigable good cheer. Even more than her own family, Eloise, had loved her.[4]

Love stories are not all the same, yet each of them has the potential to contribute to a better world. In season three of Bridgerton, we get a taste of how female friendship, with its everyday trials and tribulations, can encourage healing and ignite unexpected and wonder-filled joy, joy akin to the communion of Eloise and Penelope and of Elizabeth and Mary.

In recognizing female friendship as contributing to the common good, we can trace new love stories that not only reveal more to us about ourselves but also more to us about how to love each other better. In so doing, we contribute to the greatest love story of them all, the one God laid out for us and invites us, every day, to take part in together.

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