#Beckett>gunningworth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tilly-tilly-2827 · 25 days

Text

Midnight Sanctuaries (Side A)

Reimaging An Offer from a Gentleman#3

Synopsis: Maria Beckett should know better. But there was nothing she could do. She craved love, she craved for warmth. And Richard Gunningworth didn’t know better.

But how Benedict Bridgerton knew better.

But how he was, a bit of a fool.

⚠️Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault/ rape/ suicide.

AO3 post from here

Maria Beckett had forgotten what love was.

Her mother had left her in a nunnery years ago, with a letter promising that she would return with a house and a family to stay. Must have fallen to prostitution, she heard nuns whisper discreetly between prayers and hymns. There was always the uneasiness that the nuns held as they opened packages from her mother, containing two letters; one for Maria and another for the bishop, and also an ample amount of money. The Lord would not accept such inexpiable gold; a nun would shriek once in every while, but Maria knew that that was the money that kept the roof above her head, and for a couple of others as well.

I promise that I will come back, Maria could vaguely remember her mother’s voice inside her head, tightly hugging her as she stroked her brown curls. But after years and years of scrubbing stone-cold floors and sheets with freezing water and rough scourers, she was beginning to forget the warmth of her mother’s arms, her mother’s love. I love you to the depth of my heart, her mother would always conclude her letters that way, but Maria was slowly beginning to lose faith in her words, her letters, the hasted scribbles on a crumpled paper never gave her comfort or warmth.

So she did not know if this was true love, as Richard Gunningworth pounded inside her, and she gripped desperately on his shoulders, trying to hold onto her consciousness, trying to hold onto his heat.

“When will you be back again, my lord ?”

Maria timidly asked, still covered in sheets as Richard quickly pulled back his breeches and buttoned up his shirt.

“July, I suppose.”

“Another tour to the continent?”

“Aren’t you going to miss me?” He gave a little smirk as he lit up a cigarette, taking a seat beside the bed.

“Well….yes.”

Maria could feel herself blushing furiously, and his sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, his fingertips touching the outline of her cheeks.

“It is only you and Sarah who would even think of missing me,”

“But Lady Penwood,”

“Mother’s lifeblood relies on finding a suitable match for me, siring an heir, and protecting the family name.” He puffed smoke out of his breath as he winced at the sound of his voice. He sounded exactly like his grandfather, who was always wheezing about responsibility and duties. Your time will come soon my boy, between coughs and wheezes he would say, before you take over my title, you must become a man…

“…Won’t you stay, my lord?”

His chilling gaze drilled her to the bone, and she felt herself shrinking and shivering. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Both your grandfather and your mother are unwell, my lord. And your sister as well, she cries every night…”

“I’m aware of that,” Richard replied cooly, “It’s grandfather who wants me out of the house, to be cultured and broaden one’s experience, not me.”

Maria said nothing and Richard noticed that his voice had been cold and harsh, just like his mother’s. He should just leave, he thought, regretting that he had even replied to her inquiry. But he found himself unable to move, gazing at the petite little maid who looked back at him with her almond-brown eyes. There was a small bruise on her neckline, the one he buried his teeth in a few days earlier.

He dropped the cigarette on the floor, pressing his leather boots over them.

He should leave, and close the door and leave.

His hands again slipped under the covers, and the corner of his mouth curled as she squirmed under his touch, softly moaning at the touch of his fingers.

He had lain with women, in brothels and clubs, having his fair share with them. But he couldn’t unsee the sense of reluctance, a sense of duty, obligation, a certain kind of coldness that he saw in their eyes.

But with her, it was so different, so miraculously different. He could see in her eyes and her touch that she craved him; she was almost hungry for every attention he gave her. It was neither duty nor obligation she reacted to their intercourses, it was a need, a desperate craving. Richard never felt so fulfilled as she reacted to every flick of his hand, every gaze, every touch. It was almost addictive, the amount of power he had over the young girl.

Ever since his father passed on, he could feel the clutches of his mother and grandfather become tighter and tighter. Not having a spare, they were almost paranoid. Everything was laid before him by the two. Nothing was by his will, every word, every action was an obligation, a duty.

But not her. He wanted her. He carved her.

“On your hands and knees, my love,”

-----------------------------------------------------

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, Annabel.”

“For gods SAKE!” Annabel, her fellow ladies’ maid and roommate burst out from the tiny closet. “This the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK BECKETT! DO YOU THINK I CAN SLEEP EVERY NIGHT IN THIS RACKET GOING ON CRAMMED IN A BLOODY CLOSET?!?”

“Please Annabel, keep your voice down!”

“I’LL BLOODY WELL BE HEARD IF I COULD AT LEAST GET SOME SLEEP…”

“Please, Annabel, it’s four in the morning…”

“GODDAMN THE TIME BECKETT. WHY DO YOU KEEP LETTING HIM TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU?!?! JUST KNOCK ON THE DOOR AND HE THINKS HE CAN FUC”

Maria tried to cover Annabel’s mouth in a desperate attempt, but Annabel brushed away her hands. She had been crammed in a damm box for 4 hours, she deserved to rant just a little more.

“JUST BECAUSE THE DAMM BRAT IS AN ARISTOCRAT HE THINKS HE CAN DO ANYTHING….”

“Annabel, please, we are both going to lose our jobs.”

Annabel stopped abruptly, feeling even more frustrated that her anger was just ever so meaningless. She knew Maria’s statement was true. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of her frail father and her bedridden brother out in the country. She also couldn’t dare to leave her job. As much as she wanted to scream and punch the young master in his head, there was nothing they could do.

As sleep-deprived as she was, she knew that her fellow roommate had it harder, looking at the swelling marks around her neck. Annabel silently handed over an ointment from her shelf, which Maria accepted with a weak smile.

“Are you all right, Beckett?”

“……I’m all right.”

“Did he pull out this time?”

“I think so,”

Annabel had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around her roommate’s delicate shoulders, to hold her tight in her arms, to comfort her, to ease her out of the pain. But it was almost daybreak. Both would have to start preparing for the day or both would receive a beating. Annabel and Maria both silently began their morning rituals.

“Why does he have to do it here? Can’t he do it in the grand bedroom of his?” Annabel asked wearily, as she scraped the sheets off her bed, tugging her friend off as well, her face wincing at the smell.

“I suppose he doesn’t want to change his sheets.” Maria sighed, knowing that it was a terrible answer, and surely, Annabel’s frown only became deeper.

“…And you still say that he loves you?”

“…why would he even come here if he didn’t love me?”

Almost as if she were convincing herself, Annabel quietly thought as she heard Maria’s voice quiver ever so slightly. Annabel threw the burned-out cigarette in the bin.

“At least he’s leaving for his tour soon,” Annabel sighed, arranging her hair into a bun. “When did he say he was leaving?”

“Next Monday.” She quietly replied.

Annabel groaned, thinking about the sleepless nights she would have to endure. She’ll ask someone to share their room for a few nights.

“Can’t you just reject him once?”

“I can’t lose this job, Annabel,” Maria answered weakly, barely above a whisper. “……..And he loves me.”

Lord help this poor child, Annabel softy thought.

---------------------------------------------

The relationship between her and Richard Gunningworth started quite abruptly.

It was only a year ago when Maria was employed by Penwood Park. You should thank your lucky stars, the nuns in the nunnery had repeatedly told her, but Maria could tell from their tone that they were just grateful that they could reduce the number of mouths they had to feed. She was already seventeen, and the nuns had decided that she was old enough to take care of herself. The Penwood house was no better than the Asylum; the intimidating building loomed over her, Lady Penwood watching her in disdain as she hurried along the corridors.

But she was grateful, as she braided the young girl’s hair and ironed her silk ribbons, to have landed a job as a ladies’ maid by chance. The young Sarah Gunningworth was a breath of spring air, a beauty, a radiant sun and she did not know that up until that moment, a girl could bring so much happiness to her life.

“I like your hair!” The little girl had chirped at her when Sarah was running out about, cleaning up chamber pots.

“Thank you, Miss. Sarah. I cannot be more pleased, ”

“Can you do the same to mine?”

And just like that she was assigned as Miss Sarah’s ladies’ maid, despite the envious looks from her colleagues.

Maria was arranging Miss Sarah’s braids when she first met Richard Gunningworth.

It was his piercing green eyes that first caught her eye. When his sharp gaze captivated hers in the mirror, Maria almost jerked; her wooden hairbrush dropping to the velvet carpet.

“Brother!”

Miss Sarah jumped up from her chair and ran up to his arms, and Maria softly smiled as the refined young gentleman went down on his knees, taking his petite sister dearly in his arms.

If Maria had seen him on the street, she would have thought of Richard Gunningworth as a cold, distant man. With his icy green eyes, sharp chin, and slicked-back blond hair, he already had an authoritative atmosphere around him, looming and towering over everyone. He was tall, broad, and lean, with a sharp gaze like a hawk.

But now, with his arms wrapped around his sister, she could see his expression soften, breaking into a teasing grin.

He looks handsome when he smiles, Maria secretly thought to herself.

“Oh, I missed you so much!”

“Me too, dear sister,”

He easily picked her up and threw her in circles, and Sarah giggled away happily.

“Do you like my new hair, brother?”

“Huh…I knew there was something refreshing about you.” He grinned, putting one finger on his chin. “It must be your beautiful hair style.”

“Maria did it for me, brother! Don’t I look like a princess? See? See? See?”

Sarah stood on her tiptoes, as her brother softly touched her hair, admiring the intricate ribbons and beads Maria had braided into. As the brother gave her a warm smile, mouthing thank you, Maria could feel herself blushing furiously.

“Is she your new lady’s maid?”

“Yes!” Sarah jumped excitedly, “She is Maria and she is going to be with me until the day I die.”

Richard and Maria both broke out in a chuckle at her firm declaration.

“I’m surprised that you haven’t scared her away.”

“Why would I ever do that dear brother?”

“Because you are terrorizing!!!” Richard reached out to tickle her, and Sarah quickly escaped from his embrace but looked absolutely delighted with his teasing. Maria smiled happily as she watched Sarah sprint away to open the chest her brother had given her, filled with dresses and ribbons, all the gifts from his travels.

“Is this all for me?” She squealed in joy.

“All for you, Princess.”

They were such a cute couple. It was heartwarming to see siblings so close to one another, and she now could see why Miss Sarah had been looking forward to her brother’s visit so passionately. Maria knew how much Sarah craved attention, and her mother and grandfather hardly took notice of her mere presence…

“I hope my dear sister is not causing you any trouble.” He whispered in her ear in a low voice. He sounded deep and seductive, and Maria could feel a shiver run down her spine, she’d never been spoken to in an amorous tone. She timidly fidgeted with her hands, trying to calm herself.

“My, you’re blushing Maria!” Sarah giggled innocently, “I’ve never seen your cheeks so red!”

“What did I tell you about terrorizing ladies’ maids, Sarah?”

“It seems you are the one terrorizing her,” Sarah giggled teasingly, “She already loooooooooooooooves you!”

Maria ran down the servant corridors, and at the same time, she tried to revive her breath. It was such a meaningless endeavor; her heart was beating rapidly from the first moment she first met his eye, and the blush on her cheeks was visible to anyone one mile around her.

I need a glass of water, she vaguely thought.

The next moment, Maria was pinned up to the wall of a broom cupboard, his cold emerald lacing with fire. His nails were biting into her wrist, and she winced as her head hit the tip of the broom. His body loomed over her, as he pressed his hips hotly against hers.

His other hand grabbed the back of her head, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“You like my eyes, don’t you? I like yours too.”

As he pressed his lips against hers, she was surprised at the warmth of his lips, and the warmth of his hands in contrast to the coldness of his eyes. His hands wandered inside her skirt and Maria gasped, the sensation overpowering her. She clung to his arms desperately as he nuzzled her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Drawn to the immense heat she felt against his body, she foolishly melted into him.

---------------------------------------

Annabel had been incredibly supportive from the day that she found out, sneaking peppermint tea under the table, and giving her extra petticoats to hide her baby bump that had started to appear.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” Annabel had firmly said as she stained her sheets with crushed berries*. “If they find out, you’ll be on the streets in a second.”*

Maria had been writing to Richard, sneaking notes with Sarah’s letters, telling him of the pregnancy. I’m not asking for any money or compensation, she has scribbled in tiny letters. I just need you by my side. I can’t do this alone.

“He’ll take you away if he knows that you have his baby,” Annabel had told her soothingly as Maria grew more desperate day by day.

“Noblemen have by-blows all the time. He’ll have an apartment in London for you to stay in, furnished in the latest style like the magazines you read. And you can raise the baby there with him. No, No, No. He won’t leave you. He’s a terrible, awful man, but he is still a gentleman. He wouldn’t abandon you or the baby. She’ll be brought up just like Miss Sarah. You’ve seen how he adores her. Isn’t it right, Beckett? You’ll be all right. I promise. So please, please, stop crying and give me the knife.”

Maria continued to write to him, waiting for days, for weeks, but there was still no reply. Maria could hear the hope crumbling day by day. Is he truly getting my letters? Is he happy that I’m carrying his child? Will he love her like Miss Sarah? The questions haunted her mind every moment of the day, and not letting her eat or drink.

In the morning of a beautiful spring day, Maria threw up on the breakfast tray, right in front of her ladyship’s eyes. It was the smell of bacon that irked her stomach, and she found herself collapsed on the floor; plates, cups, and eggs scattered around the floor along with the sharp smell of her vomit.

“Good heavens! What’s the matter with you?”

At first, Lady Penwood was surprisingly concerned but she took one hard look at the petite maid whom she employed a year ago, noticing the familiar roundness around her hips.

“You are pregnant,” she simply stated.

Maria could not confirm or deny it, overcome with the dizziness and nausea that flowed through her body.

“YOU ARE PREGNANT.” The second statement was more of a shriek. Maria felt a sharp pain against his cheeks, and the taste of blood made her realize that Lady Penwood had slapped her.

“I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT I LET A WRENCH LIKE YOURSELF TAKE CARE OF MY DAUGHTER.”

Maria could hear that she was screaming at her, but the sound around her felt all fuzzy and muted.

“DO YOU KNOW WHY I TOOK YOU FROM THE ASYLUM? BECAUSE I WANTED GIRLS WITH INNOCENCE BY MY DAUGHTER’S SIDE, NOT A SELF-SERVING HARLOT LIKE YOURSELF.”

Maria staggered forward on her hands and knees, desperately clinging to the hems of her ladyship nightgown.

“Please, your ladyship…”

“DON’T YOU TOUCH ME, YOU WHORE!”

Screaming frantically, Lady Penwood kicked her in the stomach, looking down at her as if she were a litter on the street. Just as she hitched up her skirts for another blow, Maria instinctively curled herself on the floor, protecting the small bump on her stomach.

“…….I’m carrying your son’s child.”

Maria bearly managed to utter, and just seconds later, she somehow was able to continue.“I am so sorry, My Lady. I’ve never meant to deceive you or Miss Sarah. I am truly grateful for the kindness and charity you have bestowed upon me, my Lady, but Mr. Penwood had granted me his kindness and his love, and this child is…”

“Silence.”

Lady Penwood’s voice did not hold the utter anger and revulsion that dripped in her screams. It was oddly calm, oddly silent. There was shock in her eyes and she saw the color of her face had drained completely.

“She carries the blood of your family…”

“I said silence!”

Her high-pitched cry echoed through the dim hallway. Lady Penwood’s hands were slightly shaking, unable to articulate the next words. Her son and the maid? She could only stare at the girl who looked at her desperately with pleading eyes. Covered in her mess and blood; the girl looked filthy and revolting, her brown curls messy and rumpled with egg yolks and tea.

Lady Penwood averted her gaze. She covered her nose with her pink silk handkerchief beside her table, finally noticing the sharp smell that oozed out of her vomit.

“….Not only did I hire a whore, but a liar as well.”

“Lady Penwood, please, ”

“Not another word.”

Lady Penwood rang the bell by her side, and quickly, the valet came to the room.

“Anything you need, your ladyship…”

His position in the house was all forgotten, Ramsey’s eyes widened in shock as he took a look at the horrific scene. Almost out of reflex, he reached out his hand, passing his handkerchief to wipe off the blood and vomit smeared on the girl’s cheeks, but he was forcefully caught by the collar by Lady Penwood.

“Don’t you even dare, Rumsey,”

Her voice was awfully cold and dark.

“I want this wrench out of the house immediately. If I see anyone, anyone who helped her or even looked at her, tell them that the one is going out on the streets with her as well.”

Lady Penwood saw panic and pain in his eyes that made her shudder. Perhaps the staff knew everything about the affair. Perhaps she had been ignorant about everything, and perhaps it is…

The poor girl was sobbing on the floor, frantically cradling the small curves on her stomach. Lady Penwood could finally see the amount of petticoats she had been wearing under her skirts, the disparity between the thinness of her ankle and the volume of her petticoats was sickening.

“Madam, please, I’m begging you to have mercy on his baby…”

Her small shoulders shaking in sobs, it finally came to Lady Penwood that the young girl was just eight and ten; a petite delicate girl, all alone in the world.

“……Even if it were the child of my son,” Lady Penwoods voice was quiet. “A child with such filthy blood is a disgrace to the family. I must protect the family name, Maria.”

As Maria was half dragged, half carried away from her bedroom by the valet, she stared up at the portrait of her husband, who looked just like her son; piercing green eyes and tall broad shoulders.

This is all for the better, isn’t it?

--------------------------------------

Perhaps I should take a swim in the lake,

Maria mulled over her thoughts as she walked in heavy rain, raindrops drenching her to the bone. The weather suddenly turned south the moment she was kicked out in the streets, leaving her in the rain without an umbrella or a coat. She walked aimlessly on the crooked country road, barely holding to the she had packed in an hour earlier.

“Take this money”, Annabel had squeezed the bundle of money in her hands, “you need it more than I do. Just don’t do anything foolish, all right? You still have your mother’s letters, right? A living kin won’t betray you, I promise. Just don’t do anything foolish, Beckett. Be strong, all right?”

Ramsey had offered to take the carriage to the nearest village, “I can find another job elsewhere Beckett,” Ramsey had told her reassuringly*, “Besides it looks like rain. It can’t be good to walk about in the weather in your condition.”*

“Thank you, Mr. Ramsey, but you have already done so much for me,”

“NO, HE HASN’T”

“OH SHUT UP GIBBONS!”

“NO. YOU SHUT YOUR GODDAM MOUTH RAMSEY, YOU HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING USEFUL EVEN WHEN YOU BLOODY WELL KNEW WHAT THE MASTER WAS DOING IN EVERY CORNER..”

Maria had softly put her arms around Annabel’s neck, even though she knew that her fellow roommate hated hugs, she had to show something, give something.

“Thank you for everything, Annabel.”

“You should bloody well be thankful,” Annabel cursed but Maria heard her nose sniffling. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t do anything stupid.

Annabel’s voice echoed through her head, but Maria could only think of doing something stupid. She was just so cold, her dress drenched to the bone, she couldn’t stop shivering, and her satchel felt too heavy for her fingers.

Nobody would know if she was gone, she thought. Her mother had stopped replying to her letters years ago, and Richard had slipped off from her world, no words, no letters. Everything she clung on to, the warmth, the love, everything was gone, and she was all alone again.

She laid herself down on the side of the road, not minding the mud and the dirt drenching on her dress. She was surprised at how warm the ground was despite the muddiness and the pouring rain.

She softly closed her eyes, still feeling the rain dropping against her face, imagining her dead body. Perhaps a local farmer would find her there, annoyed to discover some waste he’ll have to handle. Perhaps Richard would find her, on his way home to Penwood Park. Would he cry for her, she wondered, would he cry for the girl he once loved…

Perhaps his love was just a fantasy, an illusion she had made in her mind.

Perhaps he never loved me at all.

Maria was slowly slipping into the abyss.

Suddenly, she felt a small flutter in her stomach.

Maria gave a hollow laugh, even at this moment, her body was trying to survive. She closed her eyes again, trying to lose herself in a slumber, but her stomach fluttered again, like the spring butterflies she chased in the gardens when she was a child. It felt like small bubbles, a nervous twitch, a tumbling motion that she had never experienced.

The baby, it suddenly dawned on her. It’s the baby.

Ever since she found out about her pregnancy, her mind was too wrapped up around how to conceal it, how to reach Richard. She hadn’t had the room or the time to think about the little bundle of life that had been nurturing inside her, and she suddenly realized how selfish she had been, only thinking about the relationship between her and Richard.

There was a baby inside her! A cute small baby who was trying to grow, who was trying to come out to the world, ready to be held in her mother’s arms. Maria smiled as she imagined cradling the baby in her arms, she noticed that she wasn’t all alone in the world. There was a little girl inside her, relying on her to live, to love her.

She slowly stood up from the ground, picking up the satchel she had left on the corner of the street. Fumbling about in the bag, she picked up the letter Annabel had crammed in. London, Mayfair, Soho Square. Reading the address out loud, she firmly grabbed the handle of her bag, repeating the words Annabel had told her. Be strong.

Baby, baby, baby. My sweet sweet baby,

Maria sang to herself as she continued her path. The village was at least two hours away on foot; but neither did she feel fatigue nor despair. She was happy, happier than ever as the rain started to become a downpour, raining buckets, mud dripping from the hems of her dress.

The road getting sloppier and sloppier, making her shoes heavier and heavier, but somehow, her steps felt light and pleasant, knowing that she wasn’t alone. She saw a flash of lightning across the sky, thunder roaring in the distance, but she couldn’t stop grinning, knowing her baby would never be alone, she would never be scared of thunderstorms like she was; Maria was going to hold on to her tight, protect her, love her. And her baby was going to love her back. Maria gently caressed her small bump, her rain-soaked dress perfectly revealing the outline of her roundness.

“Baby, baby, baby. My sweet, sweet, baby….”

-------------------------------------------

Richard Gunningworth languorously blew smoke from his cigarette as he stared at the window. Outside was pouring rain, and raindrops were tapping relentlessly at the window. The evenings at Penwood Park had been so lonesome; he was grateful that there was something to distract the melancholic stillness. The sound of thunder in the distance soothed him, as he took a sip of his drink, sinking into his leather armchair by the fireplace.

It was quite ironic, he thought to himself, that he would be all alone in Penwood Park at this time of the season. Normally his mother would expect him to be in London, perhaps making a match with a young debutant, and his grandfather would expect him to be somewhere nothing but here; in the sleepy countryside in Norfolk.

During his youth, he had wished desperately to stay at Penwood Park, wanting to spend time with his dear sister, giving her gifts and spoiling her with everything he could. Just like his father had done with him when he was just a tiny boy. But now he just wanted to leave, the place haunted by the longing memories of his sister.

With his grandfather passing away in old age two years ago, and his mother following him subsequently, Sarah had entered the monastery, only to fall ill a year later.

Her death had been slow and painful. It was devastating seeing his bundle of joy decaying into skins and bones as months passed by. I love you from the depth of my heart, she whispered to him on her deathbed months ago. But even before she gasped for her last breath, he could only feel emptiness in his heart.

How could she say she loved him when she only gave him misery? How could love be beautiful when it left the one remained in despair and sorrow? He contemplated his thoughts as took another smoke.

He finally noticed that he was alone, all alone in the world when he came back to the Penwood Park to bury his dear sister. Only the servants and the butler came to his arrival, and he did not hear the bubbling laughter from his sister. Not even the snitching remarks from his mother. Only the sound of his footsteps echoed through the halls.

With the title and wealth at hand, with nobody to feel a responsibility towards, perhaps he could pursue what he truly desired.

Isn’t it what he truly wanted?

But after 29 years of strict surveillance, he couldn’t figure out what he truly desired, what he truly craved.

Find a suitable match for me, sire an heir, and protect the family name. Make your father proud.

He chuckled darkly; the voice of his mother still engraved in his mind like a curse. It had been his mother’s last words, those exact words, as she clutched his waist on her last breath, scarring his skin with her nails. There was an uncanniness in the strength of her hand that made him shudder.

Perhaps he should get married. Perhaps he should bear an heir. He noticed it was far easier, to not think, to not feel, and simply follow what he had been destined for.

As he lighted a new cigarette, he contemplated which debutant he would court; one with a good family name, one with good hips to bear a child. Perhaps one with brown curls and almond eyes, one that blushed with a flick of his hand…

“My lord,”

Richard hated his butler’s tone. It was quiet but hesitant, the tone that repressed every emotion, hiding the judgment behind his back.

“What is the matter, Ramsey.”

“There is a visitor at the door, my lord.”

“…Send them away. I’m not in the mood for visitors.”

“I believe she is not a visitor, my lord.”

“Whatever do you mean by her?”

Ramsey could sense the irritation in his master’s tone as he gritted his teeth.

“It’s a little girl, sir. She carried a letter in her coat addressed to your lordship…”

Part two from here

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #benophie fics #benedict x sophie #bridgerton fanfiction #an offer from a gentleman #sophie beckett #Richard Gunningworth #original character

4 notes · View notes

bridgertonbabe · 2 years

Text

Bridgerton Drabble - Harry Potter AU Edition

Sophie had thought the bars wholly unnecessary as the workmen had fixed them to the outside of her bedroom window. It was bad enough that the cat flap had been installed in the door to her bedroom as a means for her stepmother to shove a plate of dinner through (and the occasional bar of chocolate from Posy whenever she got the opportunity), and it made Sophie wonder if any of the workmen who had been called to install these fixtures had even stopped to question the reason for them or at least show concern for what Araminta was doing.

It wasn’t as if Sophie had meant to do what she did to Rosamund. In fact she didn’t understand how she had managed it herself.

Rosamund had been her unnecessarily mean and spiteful self as per usual, mocking her own sister when Posy had treated herself to a second biscuit from the plate by calling her a pig and oinking at her. Sophie’s heart immediately felt for Posy as the ten year old burnt pink with embarrassment and Sophie only grew angrier as Rosamund cackled heartlessly. She hated the way Posy was treated by her own flesh and blood and couldn’t understand why Rosamund could be so cruel to her little sister. Sophie had felt herself shaking with fury, savagely thinking to herself how Rosamund was the one who resembled a pig in that moment as her stepsister snorted - and then it had happened.

Without warning Rosamund had let out a sudden shriek and sprung to her feet. Sophie and Posy were mightily confused as they watched her clutching her bottom and it was only when she brought her hands away that they realised the source of Rosamund’s distress - protruding from a newly-made hole in her trousers was a small and curly pink tail, resembling that of a pig’s.

Both Sophie and Posy had gawped at the sight in shock, neither knowing how to react until Rosamund screamed for her mother. Araminta entered the room with a precursory peeved scowl on her face for being disturbed but all it took was one look at her daughter for the woman to begin squawking incredulously. Sophie wasn’t sure what her stepmother was even reacting to, considering Rosamund’s newly sprouted tail was not within her train of sight, but then Rosamund turned back round to Sophie and Posy and the two younger girls gasped - Rosamund’s snub nose had transformed into a pig’s snout.

Rosamund had continued to squeal, sounding more and more like a pig as she did, and her typically icy white complexion had turned pink. Sophie had been too stunned by her stepsister’s steady transformation to escape the slap she received from the back of her stepmother’s hand before she was hauled upstairs and flung into her room with the door locked after her.

That had all happened ten days ago and still Sophie remained a prisoner in her own room. Posy had managed to speak through the door to her a few days after the incident to tell her that whatever magic Sophie had inadvertently used on Rosamund had now worn off, much to Sophie’s relief. She had never intended to partially turn Rosamund into a farm animal and she had been guilt-ridden to think that it might be permanent or irreversible. She didn’t even understand how she had done it - after all, she hadn’t even had her wand on her when it happened and it wasn’t as though she had cast a spell on Rosamund. It’s as if the unbridled grievance with her stepsister had manifested into magic within Sophie and had reverberated from her without her even realising.

She wondered if Araminta would ever let her out, let alone return to Hogwarts in a fortnight’s time, and the thought of never being able to return to the one place where Sophie finally felt at home pained her terribly. To think she had ruined it all because she had no control over her emotions and how they ended up charged into magic had left her in a state of despair - and then there was a knock at her window.

Sophie had sat up straight in bed, bewildered by the sound. She thought perhaps a messenger owl was trying to alert her to a letter but when she got out of her bed and looked to the window she nearly stumbled from the shock of seeing her best friend, Colin Bridgerton, peering in.

She ran to the window, pushing it up and gaped at him.

“Colin? What on earth -”

“Why does it look like you’re in jail?” Colin asked from outside the bars.

She opened her mouth to explain but stopped short once she took in the whole sight before her. Colin was talking to her from the backseat of a turquoise car that was parked up in midair directly outside of her bedroom window.

“Why do you have a flying car?” she spluttered.

“Dad enchanted it.” Anthony Bridgerton, Colin’s older brother, answered from the driver’s seat.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Colin noted.

“I... I accidentally used magic.” she admitted.

“Sophie!” Colin gasped. “You know you’re not supposed to -”

“I know, I know! But I didn’t mean to! I didn’t even have my wand on me; it just happened and now Araminta’s locked me away so I don’t do it again.” she explained. “Now she hates me even more than ever and... and I don’t think she’ll ever let me out again.” she confessed tearfully.

“Sophie, it’s okay.”

Her watery eyes darted towards the passenger’s seat and landed on the kind and handsome face of Benedict Bridgerton, and just like every time she had ever encountered Colin’s second oldest brother, her heart skipped a beat.

“It’s perfectly natural to perform magic without even meaning to. It happens to all of us.” Benedict said to her and Sophie’s oncoming tears quickly dried up from his soft reassurance as her heart warmed from the way his eyes gazed at her fondly.

“And it doesn’t matter if your stepmother doesn’t let you out because we’re breaking you out of here!” Colin grinned at her cheerfully.

“You’re what?” Sophie’s eyes widened.

“Well we’re not gonna leave you here to be a virtual prisoner now! What sort of best friend would I be if I did that?”

Before Sophie could respond, Anthony had passed his younger brother a rope and Colin began tying it to the bars of her window.

“Stand back, Soph!”

Sophie wordlessly obeyed and stood by the wall opposite her window, watching as the car revved up before Anthony drove it skyward. The bars came flying off and though they had caused some noise it didn’t appear as if Araminta or anyone in the neighbourhood had been awakened by it. The car then pulled back up and Colin hopped in through her window.

“Well, come on then! Grab your stuff and let’s go!”

“But my trunk, my school supplies, my wand; she’s locked them all under the stairs.” Sophie informed him.

“No worries.” Benedict chirped as he and Anthony clambered into her room too.

Sophie tried to ignore the rosiness blushing her cheeks at the fact that Benedict Bridgerton was standing in her bedroom. She had spent the best part of her summer dreaming of him in her room; keeping the loneliness away with his company, flashing his crooked grin at her, amusing her with his wit, holding her hand to comfort her...

She snapped out of her thoughts, paranoid that there could be a slim chance that Benedict - who had only just celebrated his 14th birthday in the last month - had somehow been expertly trained in the power of Legilimency and could read her very thoughts and laugh in her face for having a crush on him.

“We’ll go fetch your stuff from downstairs.” Benedict said as Anthony used a simple hairpin to unlock Sophie’s bedroom door. “Just gather your things in here and pack them in the car and we’ll be right back.”

Anthony and Benedict then ventured out of Sophie’s room (after she quickly warned them that the bottom step of the staircase creaked), leaving her and Colin to hurry around packing her clothes and few belongings up. By the time Sophie had passed Colin a pillowcase filled with the last of her stuff into the car, the elder Bridgerton brothers had reappeared with her trunk. Anthony joined Colin in the floating car before Sophie helped Benedict pass the trunk into the backseat.

Benedict then turned to Sophie, offering his hand to assist her climbing into the car. She tried to settle the butterflies giddily fluttering around in her stomach at the prospect of Benedict holding her hand in his.

“Oh!” she gasped as her hand hovered over his as she suddenly remembered something. “I almost forgot.”

She scrambled towards her bed, dropping to the floor and from underneath her mattress retrieved her already well-worn copy of A History of Magic. It had been the one school book that she managed to keep from Araminta and she had cherished it dearly for the last ten days as she remained under bedroom-arrest. She had turned back to Benedict, elated to finally be escaping this awful house, when suddenly a shriek sounded from behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Araminta trilled and when Sophie looked over her shoulder at her she saw just how red and apoplectic with rage her stepmother was.

She supposed the sight of a teenage boy in Sophie’s now unlocked bedroom, plus the two teenagers peering in through the window from a flying car was a lot for anyone to take in. Sophie would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she wasn’t so scared of her stepmother and what she about to do.

Araminta stormed towards her, her hand already drawn back to strike Sophie with, and just like the many times she had experienced it before, Sophie froze up and mentally braced herself for the smack that she was about to be on the receiving end of.

“No!” Benedict suddenly cried out - and then something rather peculiar happened.

Following his exclamation, Sophie felt a strange shift in the air. She barely had a second to register it before all of a sudden Araminta was lifted off her feet and hurled through the air back out into the hallway with the door slammed firmly shut after her. Sophie stared in astonishment at the now shut door where Araminta’s screams were coming from. It was almost as if a gust of wind had blown her clear out of the room but that was surely impossible. It was a still, warm August night without so much as a summer breeze in the air.

Sophie looked to Benedict for explanation but he seemed just as stunned as she was. His eyes met hers, puzzlement passing between them as they both wondered what on earth had just happened.

“Merlin’s beard; hurry up!” Anthony barked at them.

A second later Sophie found herself in Benedict’s hold and then in the next second she was in the backseat of the Bridgertons’ floating car. Benedict just about climbed in after her when the door to her room burst back open and Araminta came screeching to the window, hurling abuse at Sophie and the brothers as Anthony kicked the car into gear and flew off, leaving Araminta wailing far behind them.

As soon as they had all caught their breath and exhaled a collective sigh of relief, Sophie thanked them all profusely for freeing her before questioning what had happened to cause Araminta to be sent flying through the air.

“That was Ben.” Colin said from the passenger’s seat, twisted firmly around without a seatbelt so he could face Sophie in the back. “We saw the shift in the air coming from him when he saw your stepmum going to hit you.”

Sophie looked to Benedict curiously. When they had looked to each other initially after Araminta had been blown out of the room he had appeared just as flabbergasted as she was by what had occurred. He still seemed perturbed now as he processed what his brother was telling him.

“But how did you do that?” Sophie asked, her eyes filled with wonder as she gazed at him.

Benedict gave a small shrug. “I guess I proved my earlier point that sometimes we perform magic without even meaning to.”

Before Sophie could extend her gratitude for him for saving her from her stepmother’s hand, Colin jumped on the subject of unintentional magic by asking Sophie what she had done to cause Araminta to lock her up in the first place. She explained to them how she had nearly turned Rosamund into a pig and the Bridgerton brothers roared with laughter, championing her for serving her stepsister her just desserts, and for the rest of the journey back to the Bridgerton home they all kept making jokes about it.

Anthony apologised for the slight bumpy landing upon arrival and then Sophie followed the brothers as they snuck back into their humble abode in the middle of the Kent countryside. The sun was only just taking to the sky and they were hopeful that they could get a few hours shut-eye before introducing Sophie to the family and pretending like she had just shown up in the middle of the night of her own accord - but just as they crept into the kitchen, they were met by a very irate woman.

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone! Do you have any idea how out of my mind with worry I’ve been?!” Violet Bridgerton shouted at her sons.

Colin and Anthony had both tried to interject but to no avail. The lambasting continued for several more minutes and Sophie nervously stood by the door, preparing to be told by Colin’s mother that she wasn’t welcome regardless of what her sons may think.

“Oh, Sophie, dear.” Violet then turned to the young girl, her voice and demeanour softening instantly and her eyes shining with compassion. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Colin’s told me so much about you. I’m more than happy to host you here ahead of your return to Hogwarts.”

Sophie was then engulfed in a loving motherly hug, one of which she had never been lucky enough to experience before. As Violet drew back she beckoned her daughter Daphne into the room, who was a couple of years younger than Sophie and Colin, and asked her to show Sophie to Colin’s room so she could get some rest. When Colin went to follow right behind his best friend, his mother hauled him back by the collar, telling him she wasn’t quite done with chastising him and his brothers just yet.

Violet continued to admonish her three eldest children for their secrecy and their stupidity for flying a car all the way to London where any Muggle could spot them, despite Anthony’s protestations that it had been cloudy and in the middle of the night. Just as Sophie was about to follow Daphne up the stairs, she looked back to the kitchen and caught Benedict’s eye. A small grin pricked on his lips and he gave her a wink in spite of the scolding he was enduring for helping rescue her.

As Sophie climbed up the stairs, she felt all warm and fuzzy inside as she looked ahead to the next two weeks residing with the Bridgertons. She would get to hang out with her best friend all day long, she would never feel lonely as she became one of the family, and (most importantly in her affection-filled heart) she would get to see Benedict Bridgerton and (hopefully) spend time with him every single day.

The worst summer of her life had just become the best summer of her life and in that moment Sophie Beckett held absolutely no regrets for nearly turning her stepsister into a pig - the only regret she had was that she hadn’t accidentally done it sooner.

#i don't know what this is or why i felt the need to write it but voila #bridgerton drabble #harry potter au #sophie beckett #bridgerton bros #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton #araminta gunningworth #rosamund reiling #posy reiling

37 notes · View notes

sophiamariabeckett · 2 years

Text

Lady Sophia Maria Gunningworth

Coming Soon:

They had loved her since the morning she was born at Penwood Park. The Earl and Countess had the bells rung from sunrise to set to announce the birth of their beloved daughter. Lady Sophia Maria Gunningworth.

Legitimate Sophie

#not me dropping this when my outlander au is right there #🫣#belle writes stuff #Lady Sophia Maria Gunningworth #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benophie

22 notes · View notes

eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

Text

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 1: The Modiste

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 3.5k

Masterpost Next chapter

Author's Notes: Welcome to my headcanon rewrite of AOFAG. Please refer to the masterpost for notes on story timeline and chapter structures. This first chapter is a fully original work by me, so no book quotes or notes included. Thank you to everyone who expressed interest in this project which motivated me to get the first chapter out! It may be a long wait for the next one as I wrap up other stories before writing the masquerade. 💙

Sophia Beckett had one friend in the entire world and her name was Genevieve Delacroix. She was the only person who spoke to her as if she were a woman deserving of respect. Not an underling, a disappointment, a secret who must be kept hidden. Every time Sophie visited the modiste’s shop, Gen greeted her with the same bright smile as she gave any of her high-born customers but with even more honesty in her eyes. Over the first several weeks of the London season they had caught one another rolling eyes at the frittering of the ton ladies enough times that a friendly trust had formed. Then, the first time Sophie had visited her shop on an errand alone rather than in tow with the Cowpers, Gen had locked up, invited her to the back room and lapsed into an altogether surprising Cockney accent as she revealed her true self and encouraged Sophie to do the same.

They were two of a kind, working women in hiding in their own ways. Gen posing as a French expert of fashion to dupe the empty headed mamas of the ton, when in reality she was an orphaned girl from Cheapside with fearless drive and a serious talent for couture. And Sophie, envious of Gen’s glamorous life, who was the worst of all things, a bastard, and was lucky that her benefactors had agreed to house her as their maid rather than turn her out into the street after her father died. He had been the Earl of Penwood and her mother was his maid. After her mother died in childbirth and she was left on the doorstep of Penwood Park he had kept her as his ward, protected but not worthy enough to bear his name. She was a Beckett, not a Gunningworth, a name that she never learned the origins of, though a servant boy had once told her it was the name of her father’s favorite horse.

She had enjoyed some degree of luxury as a ward in the heath-ringed halls of Penwood Park. Her father ignored her entirely but a governess was procured to educate her as a lady. To teach her to read and write, speak Latin and French, pour tea, play the piano, and even dabble in mathematics. It was a lonely existence, with the only affection she received being an errant pat on the head from the cook or a servant, but it was the only life she had ever known and so she didn’t want for much more.

Everything changed when her father died suddenly, cut down in his prime as he sat reading in the garden one day. Then at the age of sixteen, Sophie’s life took a turn for the worse. The inheritor of the earldom was her father’s distant male relation. So distant Sophie couldn’t make heads or tails of how they were actually related and she suspected Lord Cowper couldn’t either, given how surprised he appeared through the whole turn of events. A sallow, pinch-faced man with a sallow, pinch-faced wife and daughter, Lord Cowper had attended her father’s funeral and stared down his nose at her as she stood for inspection along with all the staff of Penwood Park. No doubt he had learned of her origins through her father’s solicitor and he seemed rather unsure of what to do with her. But his wife was ready to whisper in his ear. Eyes always cold and hair always pulled taut into a hideous basketweave arrangement, Lady Cowper proposed keeping Sophie on as a servant, just one more among many.

After the Cowpers swept back out to London the Penwood steward informed her that the family would provide her with room and board in exchange for her service as a housemaid. It was a step back from the lifestyle she had enjoyed in her childhood, but she knew it was the best she could hope for, given the shame of her birth. And what else was she supposed to do? Leave the only home she had ever known with no name, connections or employable skills and try to sustain herself? Insulting as it may have been, it was the only path that made sense. To follow in her mother’s footsteps and serve as a maid to the new Earl of Penwood.

It wasn’t too awful at first with the new owners staying in residence at Penwood Park so infrequently. Sophie found a degree of pride in learning to clean and mend and cook. Caring for her family home, especially when the Cowpers were away, felt like caring for herself. The aristocratic part of her that was undeniably there, just not allowed to shine to its full potential. She also felt as if she were honoring the memory of her mother. She liked to imagine that she was dusting the same tables and folding the same linens as her mother once had - points of connection with the woman she had never known, but who had moved through the same halls once upon a time. She began to envision an oddly satisfying life spent at Penwood, where perhaps she could marry a man from the nearby village and return to him at night after her chores were completed for the day. She saw him as a farrier, someone with dark hair and crafty hands who was strong and sweet simultaneously. There was some kind of life to be had, the best a bastard could hope for, and it was those dreams that fueled Sophie through each monotonous day.

Things carried on that way for years until Cressida Cowper, Lord Cowper’s daughter and only child, approached her third London season still unmarried and without a lady’s maid to serve her. Somehow Lady Cowper had managed to blame Cressida’s failures in the marriage mart upon the hair techniques and ironing skills of the half dozen lady’s maids Cressida had churned through, and now none would apply for the vacant position. That was the spring the Cowpers seemed to remember Sophie’s existence and plucked her out of Penwood Park to join them in London. It was a marvel how Lady Cowper, or Araminta as Sophie referred to her, always spoke to Sophie with such treacly sweetness in her voice and simultaneous burning contempt in her eyes. Between her training as a lady and her service as a maid, she could cobble together the skills needed to wait upon Cressida for the season, addressing her every passing need and outfitting her in ridiculous gowns and hairdos in the hopes to attract a wealthy suitor.

Sophie had tried to see it as an adventure. She had never been to London before and the whirl of the season was staggering, but with an undeniable beauty. Crowds all dressed in their finest, the drawing room of Cowper House laid out for elegant teas and the dining room set for elaborate dinner parties. Every week brought an assortment of invitations to balls and musicales and garden soirees, each necessitating its own elaborate and themed garment. That was how Sophie began visiting the modiste’s shop with such frequency, and it was where she met the first woman who ever looked at her and saw a whole person.

But the happiness that her modiste visits granted her could not overshadow the bitter realities that awaited her in Cowper House. Lord Cowper was so disinterested and Cressida so self-involved that Sophie was largely left at the mercy of Araminta. What started out as curt orders soon turned into cutting insults and then physical acts of retribution for perceived offenses and failures. She was slapped, pinched and tripped. Her hair was pulled, her meals denied and she was locked into closets whenever Araminta decided some small household mishap was her fault. And it was always her fault. The other staff never intervened, too scared to invite wrath upon themselves. She knew that she was the chosen scapegoat for all of Araminta’s frustrations and insecurities. Being the same age and of distantly shared blood, Sophie wondered if Araminta imagined her to be an alternate version of Cressida herself, one upon whom she could visit all of her seething punishments without guilt or scandal.

As the months wore on, Sophie considered running away several times. But she feared the only life that awaited her was one on the streets. She could only be hired as a maid by another noble house with a letter of reference and that was certainly not something she could obtain from the Cowpers. So she endured, reminding herself that the season would come to an end eventually and she could ask to be returned to her life of quiet servitude at Penwood Park. She took comfort in her visits with Genevieve and developed a new hobby, losing herself in the ton’s most infamous gossip sheet, Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

As she read about scandal after betrothal after scandal among the social tier of her employers, Sophie imagined that she was one of them with nothing better to do than be dressed, feted and courted by an array of handsome, titled men. This world was so close to hers. She moved within it, watched it spin around her, felt the pull of it in her half-noble blood. It was just out of reach on the other side of the windowpane. But Lady Whistledown gave her a clear glance through the glass. Toward the end of the season the repeat headline news was of the impending masquerade ball hosted by the esteemed Bridgerton family. Lady Whistledown dedicated an inordinate amount of column space to the Bridgertons but Sophie could understand why. With such a large brood of beautiful and eligible sons and daughters, incredible wealth and a reputation that never failed to rebound from scandal, they seemed to be a jewel among the families of the ton. She had passed by Bridgerton House on a number of occasions and never failed to marvel at its proud brick facade climbing with fragrant wisteria. She had only ever seen the Dowager Viscountess and her daughter-in-law the new Viscountess when out on errands with the Cowpers, and found them to be kind and beautiful women who seemed wise to Araminta’s true nature but never failed to be genteel.

The thought of a midnight masquerade, an evening of mystery and magic, was an intoxicating escape from her daily reality and Sophie found herself swanning through her chores more often than not, twirling around with linen baskets as she imagined herself in the arms of a masked gentleman. She had been doing just such a thing when Araminta had spotted her, boxed her ears as punishment and ordered her to take Cressida’s costume back to the modiste for more alterations. Cressida would be attending the masquerade as a mermaid and this was the third time she had decided that she wanted to change the length of the fins on her skirt. Keeping her face steely and ignoring the burning pain in her ears Sophie nodded, gathered the costume and made her way through the city, grateful for the temporary break.

Genevieve could see in her eyes how poorly things were going at the house and treated Sophie to a glass of sherry while she slowly picked at Cressida’s costume. No one else was in the shop so they allowed themselves to relax and speak freely. A copy of the latest Whistledown was on a table and Sophie sank into the upholstered chair beside it, idly leafing through as she sipped her drink and watched Gen sewing.

“This masquerade is the talk of all the ton,” she sighed wistfully.

Gen nodded. “It is. You should see some of the mad costumes the ladies are demanding. Lady Eton wants me to dress her as an Eton mess. Can you imagine?”

Sophie snickered. “Are you going to do it?”

“Of course,” Gen shrugged. “If they pay me enough I’ll do whatever they want. It’s an opportunity to showcase my talent.”

“Only you could make someone look beautiful as a ‘mess’.”

Gen smiled. “You’re sweet.”

“Lady Eton will be sweeter.”

The two of them could not contain their laughter. If there was ever a source of endless amusement, it was observing the peculiarities of society women, and both of their professions gave them front row seats. Quieting again, Sophie rubbed her ears and continued to pore over the gossip sheet.

Genevieve broke through her thoughts, asking quietly. “How have you been? How are things…at home?”

Sophie met her concerned gaze and returned a weak smile. “The same. I will try and convince Cressida that the fins are perfect this time. I’m sorry to keep coming back here for this.”

“I enjoy the excuse to see you.” Gen’s tone grew serious. “You know you can come to me any time. For anything.”

Something tugged in Sophie’s chest, so unused to having someone to turn to. She appreciated that her friend recognized her burdens, even if there was nothing she could do to alleviate them. “Thank you, Gen.” She sniffed to keep tears from forming, then reiterated her hopes aloud. “After this ball the season will wind down and then I hope to be free of them. For the cold months at least. If I’m truly lucky, perhaps Cressida will land herself a husband at the masquerade and then I’ll be sent back to Penwood forever. She can poach a new lady’s maid from her husband’s staff. She’d never want me around in her married life.”

Genevieve smiled. “Well for your sake, I hope it does work out that way.”

“Yes, only pity the gentleman.” Sophie smirked. “Maybe even one of these poor Bridgerton brothers.” She gestured to the paper she held. “That’s who she’ll be aiming for. She’s always talking about them.”

Gen’s ears perked but she turned back to her sewing. “The Bridgertons? I think her chances with them are unlikely.”

“Yes, they seem to have taste.”

They both chuckled again.

“They are kind hearted too. They’ll see right through her.” Gen explained, then murmured almost as if to herself. “Especially Benedict.”

“Benedict?” Sophie raised a brow at the familiar name. “He’s the one all eyes are on. Eldest bachelor now that the Viscount is married. The catch of the season according to Whistledown.” She skimmed her eyes over the sheet once again and sure enough, discussions of the upcoming masquerade were peppered with mentions of his name and repetitive reminders that he was the ‘number two in an illustrious family’.

Genevieve kept her head down, focusing intently on her sewing as she spoke softly. “He is a good man. He’ll make some lady very happy one day.”

Sophie knew her well enough to suspect something from her tone. “Do you know him?” When all she did was blush, she pressed her further. “Gen?”

Sophie was inexperienced with men but knew the basics of the marital act through servant gossip and a rather lascivious book she had discovered in the Penwood library. She also knew from her time with Genevieve that her friend was quite the opposite of inexperienced and enjoyed dalliances with men from every walk of life. She was a bohemian, a dabbler in the demimonde and Sophie sat in awe of her courage and freedom. To know that Gen spent her days earning her own money and spent her nights associating with the most eligible men in London was a lifestyle entirely beyond her comprehension.

Gen relented, looking up with a wry smile. “We were…acquainted for a time. He has a very good heart. Sensitive. Talented. He’s a catch indeed but I doubt he cares that he’s been named top prize by Whistledown. He’s probably miserable at the thought of attending this masquerade.”

Sophie frowned, imagining he must be a dour sort of fellow regardless of how good and sensitive he was. “I don’t know how anyone could be miserable about a masquerade. A beautiful ball but one where you don’t exchange names.” Her eyes grew misty imagining it. “A place where you can hide in plain sight and no one needs to know who you truly are. Just don a costume and you could be anybody.”

She stared at the swirls of the ceiling decorations while her mind wandered off into what she imagined the Bridgerton House ballroom looked like. Grandeur, candlelight, and everyone equalized by anonymity. Masked strangers dancing beautifully arm-in-arm. Whispered flirtation, no inhibitions. She didn’t realize she had slipped into a daydream until Gen suddenly called her name.

“Sophie,” she smiled, setting aside the mermaid costume. “I’m done here but there’s a dress in the back room I’ve been working to finish. Would you model it for me so I can make sure it’s just right?”

It was an odd request. Gen had never asked her to model anything before and she had an army of dress forms, but she wouldn’t refuse her friend. It was undeniably exciting. She followed her into the back where she revealed the most beautiful gown Sophie had ever seen. It was a costume or should have been, because it was in the style of dresses that had been popular two generations prior. With a tight bodice billowing into a hooped skirt, it was made entirely of a shimmering silver fabric that sparkled like the night sky when angled in the light. As Gen carefully fitted it onto her, Sophie’s fingers trailed over the intricate details. The silver gemstone trim along seams of the waist and the sleeves, silver lace overlays and the silver ribbons of the corseted back. Some embellishments were pinned and had yet to be sewn on but it was already stunning. Genevieve guided Sophie back to the main room and helped her up onto the dais before the mirrors. She held her breath, dazzled by what she saw before her. She looked as if she had been draped in stars.

“Gen,” she gasped. “It’s so beautiful. Whose is it?” She imagined that whichever lady wore the dress to the masquerade would be the envy of all the ton.

“Well, that’s the thing.” Genevieve orbited around her, pinning here and tucking there. “It’s one of my own designs and I haven’t shown it to anyone yet. Just you.” She stood behind and rested her hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “It’s yours Sophie. For a night at least.”

She balked, certain she had misheard. “What?”

Gen squeezed her shoulders. “You want to go to this masquerade. I can see it plain as day. And you deserve to go. You’ve earned one night of happiness.”

Sophie’s eyes began to dart, her mind reeling. Her friend was being too indulgent, too fantastical. How on earth would she attend the ball?

“Gen, no. I couldn’t possibly…”

“Just wait until the Cowpers leave, come here and I’ll dress you.” She explained, calm and matter of fact as if this wasn’t a ludicrous undertaking. “Bridgerton House is a short walk away. Guests won’t be showing invitations so that they can hide their identities. All the ladies have been talking about it. You could slip right in.”

As her friend smiled at her in the mirror, a spark flickered within. When she outlined it all, it did seem rather simple. The masquerade was not a place for bastard maids and her attendance would be nothing short of trespassing. But with everyone’s identity kept secret and in an opulent costume, would anyone be the wiser? Was she really daring enough to chase a dream for one night? If she could borrow Gen’s dress and a fraction of her courage, it was beginning to seem plausible. Except…

“But I…the Cowpers will be there.”

“Yes,” Gen nodded. “But Sophie won’t.” She stepped away to pluck a silver demi-mask from the variety she had on display. Jeweled and feathered, it matched the dress perfectly. She stood behind Sophie once again and lowered the mask over her eyes, holding it in place. “Look there.” She nodded at their reflection, whispering insistently in her ear. “Who do you see? Sophie the housemaid? Or a beautiful debutante?”

Sophie stared at the image before her, breathing shakily at the odd sensation of not recognizing herself. She had never been dressed in something so fine nor so flattering. With the mask obscuring half her face she could no longer see the tired, lonely eyes that stared back at her every morning in the mirror. She didn’t look like a maid and she didn’t feel like a maid. Genevieve had woven magic into the dress and it was proving powerful enough to transform her right before their eyes.

Gen grinned, knowing her persuasion had succeeded. “You said it yourself: you could be anybody.”

With a novel feeling of hope swelling in her chest, a slow smile spread across Sophie’s face. She had suffered as Sophie Beckett long enough. She was ready to be anybody.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

115 notes · View notes