Sophie Baek Archive
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“Everyone knew that Sophie was a bastard. But perhaps most importantly, Sophie knew she was a bastard.” | fan account | spoiler free account | #Bridgerton
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Sophie Beckett through the eyes of the other characters: a thread
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“Tonight I am transformed,” she whispered. “Tomorrow I shall disappear.”
Benedict drew her close and dropped the softest, most fleeting of kisses onto her brow.
“Then we must pack a lifetime into this very night.”
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“My Cottage was the rather odd name of Benedict’s home, situated not too far from Romney Hall in Wiltshire. He lived there with his wife Sophie and their three sons.”
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Benedict and Sophie’s love story was legendary in their family.
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“Who are you, Sophie?" he asked. "Who are you, really?”
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“Deep inside," she murmured, "you've the soul of an artist.”
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“So pretty,” he said softly, “like a storybook fairy. Sometimes I think you couldn’t possibly be real.”
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Sophie Bridgerton, Benedict’s petite and almost ethereal-looking wife.
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When tea was informal—upstairs, with only Lady Bridgerton and the girls in attendance—Sophie was always invited to partake. […] And after a few days Sophie even began to feel comfortable enough to occasionally add to the conversation.
It had become Sophie’s favorite time of day.
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"You are the reason I exist, the very reason I was born."
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“You, Miss Sophie Baek, are going to the masquerade!”
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Sophie knew she wasn't one of them, would never be one of them, but they made it so easy to pretend. And in all truth, all that Sophie had ever really wanted out of life was a family.
With the Bridgertons, she could almost pretend that she had one.
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Benedict and Sophie’s love story was legendary in their family. It had been one of the reasons Eloise had refused so many proposals of marriage. She’d wanted that kind of love and passion and drama.
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She knew she could never be a part of the Bridgerton family, but maybe she could be a friend.
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“That you'd be home by nine."
"I think she said seven."
"Did she? Funny, I heard nine."
"Benedict..."
He took her hand and pulled her toward the door. "Seven sounds an awful lot like nine."
"Benedict...”
“Actually, it sounds even more like eleven."
"Benedict!”
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Sophie being observant, empathic and sympathetic with the Bridgerton: a thread
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“Thank you for finding a position for Sophie."
"Miss Beckett, you mean?" Violet asked, her lips curving slyly.
"Sophie, Miss Beckett," Benedict said, feigning indifference. "Whatever you wish to call her."
When he left, he did not see his mother smiling broadly at his back.
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"Everyone knew that Sophie Beckett was a bastard. But perhaps most importantly, Sophie knew she was a bastard."
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“And found himself facing what had to be the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.”
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“Benedict?" she whispered, forgetting that she still called him Mr. Bridgerton.
He smiled. It was a small, knowing sort of smile, one that sent chills right down her spine to another area altogether.
"I like when you say my name" he said.
"I didn't mean to" she admitted.
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“Is that all you have?” she asked.
“Everything in the world.”
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Sophie felt her cheeks grow warm. She'd been avoiding tea because it was just so hard to be in the same room with all those Bridgertons at once and not to think of Benedict.
They all looked so alike, and whenever they were together they were such a family.
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It takes courage to live outside the traditional expectations of society.
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“Who are you, Sophie?" he asked. "Who are you, really?”
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“If I have a child," she said, her voice starting to crack, "do you know how much I would love it? More than life, more than breath, more than anything. How could I hurt my own child the way I've been hurt? How could I subject her to the same kind of pain?”
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Benedict rubbed the bar of soap in his hands and then began to work the lather through her hair. "It was longer before,"
he commented.
"I had to cut it," she said. "I sold it to a wigmaker."
She wasn't sure, but she thought she might have heard him growl.
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“Benedict! Benedict!"
He grunted as he rolled over. "I'm sleeping."
"What time is it?"
He buried his face in the pillow. "Haven't the foggiest."
"I'm supposed to be at your mother's by seven."
"Eleven," he mumbled.
"Seven!”
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Was she so wrong to want this one heady night of magic and love?
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“In my heart," he vowed, settling her against the quilts and pillows, "you are my wife. After our wedding it will be legal, blessed by God and country, but right now… right now it is true”
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“What happens, when one falls in love with someone unsuitable? Someone perhaps who is not of our social class?”
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A glimpse into the world that might have been hers.
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She took a step forward, and he knew his life had been changed forever.
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“You are a quick study, dancing already with your eyes closed.”
“I'm trying to remember this moment exactly, so that if i wish... I can escape here.”
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“I won't be your mistress. I won't be any man's mistress."
Benedict's lips parted with shock as he digested her words. "Sophie," he said incredulously, "you know I cannot marry you."
"Of course I know that," she snapped. "I'm a servant, not an idiot.”
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Benedict kissed her again, trying to show in deeds what he could not say in words. He hadn't thought he could love her any more than he did just five seconds earlier, but when she'd said… when she'd told him...
His heart had grown, and he'd thought it might burst.
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“You, Miss Sophie Baek, are going to the masquerade!”
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“I've seen your sketches. You're brilliant. I don't think I knew how much until I met your family. You captured them all perfectly, from the sly look in Francesca's smile to the mischief in the very way Hyacinth holds her shoulders."
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She laughed again; she couldn't help it. "I'm happy," she said with a helpless shrug. "I'm just so happy to be here.”
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The best part of his recovery, by far, was Sophie. She popped into his room several times a day, sometimes to fluff his pillows, sometimes to bring him food, sometimes just to read to him. […]
He didn't much care why she came to visit; he just liked it that she did.
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“Have mercy, woman. I’m marrying you next week.”
That got her attention. “Next week?” she squeaked.
He tried to assume a serious mien. “It’s best to take care of these things quickly.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he echoed.
“Yes, why?”
“Er, ah, stemming gossip and all that.”
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“Benedict!"
"Sophie! My God, are you well?"
His hands reached through the bars, cupping her cheeks. His lips found hers; the kiss was not one of passion but of terror and relief.
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“Come along, Sophie," Lady Bridgerton said briskly.
Sophie followed her up the stairs, wondering why, if she were merely about to begin a new job, she felt as if she were
entering a new family.
It felt... nice.
And it had been a long, long while since her life had felt nice.
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“But I'm allowed to keep you until twelve"
"Benedict!"
He pulled her close. "You want to stay"
"I never said that"
"You don't have to. If you really disagreed with me, you'd have something more to say than 'Benedict'!"
She had to smile; he did that good an imitation of her voice.
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“Benedict—"
"I want you in my bed," he growled.
"I want you tomorrow. And I want you the next day."
She was wicked, and she was weak, and she gave in to the moment, arching her neck to allow him greater access.
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“I searched for you,” he said, his low, intense voice cutting into her thoughts.
Her eyes widened, grew wet. “You did?” she whispered.
“For six bloody months,” he cursed. “It was as if you fell right off the face of the earth.”
“I had nowhere to go,” she said.
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“Try as she [Lady Whistledown] might, she couldn't deduce your identity. It very well may be the only secret in London she hasn't uncovered.”
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Sophie reached up and touched his face. "I love you," she whispered. "I have always loved you. I think I loved you before I even knew you.”
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She was a maid. And the only thing that separated her from other maids and servants was that she'd had a taste of luxury as a child. She'd been reared gently, if without love, and the experience had shaped her ideals and values. Now she was forever stuck between two worlds.
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"Really? What did you read?"
"A novel."
"Was it good?"
She shrugged. "Silly, but romantic. I enjoyed it."
"And do you long for romance?"
Her blush was instantaneous. "That's a rather personal question, don't you think?”
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“Prismatic! And I’m using that as a metaphor for the character of Sophie for before she meets Benedict and after. It’s like the property itself of the prism: like when the light comes in, and then it goes into a rainbow.”
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As he approached the nursery door, the laughter increased, with a few squeals thrown in for good measure. The sounds brought a smile to Benedict's face, and he turned when he reached the open doorway, and then—
He saw her.
Her.
Not Sophie.
Her.
And yet it was Sophie.
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He loved Sophie. That was all that should have mattered.
He'd thought he'd loved the woman from the masquerade. But he understood now that that had been nothing but a dream […]
But Sophie was...
Sophie was Sophie. And that was everything he needed.
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She [Violet] looked up at Benedict—her second son, the one who looked so breathtakingly like his father—and in the space of a second, she saw his heart break.
“What do mean, she’s gone?” he demanded.
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“Who are you? Where did you grow up?"
"Here. In England."
"The city or the country?"
"Between the two."
"Who were your parents?"
"Mother and father.
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He loved her. Suddenly the world was a very simple place. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.
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“Benedict!" Eloise called out, "We were just talking about you."
He looked at Sophie. "Were you?"
"I wasn't" Sophie muttered.
"Did you say something, Sophie?" Hyacinth asked.
"Ow!"
"I'm going to have to take that mending away from you.” Lady Bridgerton said with an amused smile.
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“You're mine," he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid inside. "You're mine."
And much later, when they were exhausted and spent, lying in each other's arms, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered,
"And I'm yours.”
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“Can you help me with this?" she asked. But her voice was hesitant.
Benedict didn't move.
"Benedict?"
"It's interesting to see you with a scarf tied around your head, Sophie" he said softly.
Her hands dropped slowly to her sides.
"It's almost like a demi-mask, wouldn't you say?”
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“Your book is upside down" he pointed out.
Sophie gasped and looked down. "It is not!"
He smiled slyly. "But you still had to look to be sure, didn't you?"
She stood up and announced, "I'm going inside."
He stood immediately. "And leave the splendid spring air?"
"And leave you."
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One of Sophie’s favorites was of what appeared to be some kind of outdoor game. […]
Something about the picture almost made Sophie laugh out loud. She could feel the merriment of the day, and it made her long desperately for a family of her own.
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"Grant me a favor," she interrupted, turning her face so that she was no longer looking at him. "Find someone to marry. Find someone acceptable, who will make you happy. And then leave me alone."
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“Oh, Sophie," he groaned, her name the only word he could manage to say. "Sophie, Sophie, Sophie."
She smiled up at him, and he was struck by the most remarkable desire to laugh. He was happy, he realized. So damned happy.
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“Come,” he said. “Dance with me.”
She took a step forward, and he knew his life had been changed forever.
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Sophie smiled. It would be glorious to have sisters.
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"You can speak the truth."
"It is a lovely evening, but in truth, I cannot help but feel a little out of place at a society function."
"How can that be?"
"Perhaps I feel more comfortable appreciating the details of an event, than I do participating."
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“I'll leave you to your business. Just ring the bellpull when you need me."
"I'm not going to summon you like a servant." he growled.
"But I am a—"
“Not for me you're not." he said.
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“Your son saved me from a most unpleasant fate," Sophie said quietly. "I owe him a great deal of thanks."
Benedict looked to her in surprise. […] Sophie was highly principled, not the sort to let anger interfere with honesty.
It was one of the things he liked best about her.
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“I won't have an illegitimate child! I won't do it! I love you, but not that much. I don't love anyone that much.”
#sophieweek
🩶
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Benedict didn't often go out of his way to annoy people (with the notable exception of his siblings), but Sophie Beckett clearly brought out the devil in him.
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She'd been quiet and reserved at first, obviously trying to adhere to the standard that servants should be neither seen nor heard. But Benedict had had none of that, and he'd purposefully engaged her in conversation, just so she couldn't leave.
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Besides, she'd be less likely to run into one of the Bridgerton daughters, and much as she was going to miss them, she just didn't want to have to say good-bye.
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