An Offer From An Avid Reader: Jail Scene
Ever since reading An Offer From a Gentleman I have wanted to rewrite a better confrontation scene--so like a good ol' writer these scenes came to my head in the middle of the night lol.
And now that the name and casting of Sophie Baek has been announced I can finally post it!
I hope you enjoy it! Shout out to @orangepeelshortbreadcookies for beta-reading this. Go check out her awesome fics and blog at that name!
I have split the jail scene in two for I agree with @eleanorbradstreet that the rapidity of plot points tied up via exposition could be improved upon. (post here)
So, part 1 will cover the confrontation with Araminta, Bridgertons swooping in, and jail release yet will not include the blackmailing of Araminta. That is for a future post where Kate & Violet BADASS Bridgerton come to the fore.
Multiple ideas/motifs in other posts link to this one. Most importantly are my ideas for how Sophie’s trauma could be shown in the show, (here). So I recommend reading that if you want a bit more context. Yet you can still enjoy the piece.
This scene follows straight on from a scene between Anthony, Benedict and Genevieve here.
Due to the length I have posted an extended version on AO3 that is also uncensored.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
✨The Scene ✨
“Ugh I give up!” Sophie yells as a rat scurries across the floor.
We find Sophie in a musty prison, water dripping down the walls, and a soiled floor. In the distance are muted sounds of wailing and shouts of injustice. She has just risen from a stool—the only furniture present apart from a dirty (but empty) chamberpot. Her dress is rumpled, her typically perfect braids in disarray, as she stares at the bars encaging her.
“Do you hear me! I give up!” She shouts but at what she does not know. Fate? God? Herself?
“It is somehow fitting that after being behind figurative bars my entire life that I should find myself behind real ones.” Sophie puts her head back against the wall, looking up with unfocused eyes. “And there’s no point complaining because you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you Sophie? A fresh start, mind you in Australia rather than the Americas, but one cannot be picky. A position far away from the Bridgertons and everyone else, so far that you will never make anyone you love or like miserable. And you cannot really make people more miserable when they are in chains—although knowing you there would be something. Yes, this is what you wanted wasn’t it? This is what you wanted when you rejected him, to be all alone, no happy ending. As it should be, as I deserve to be.” Sophie looks down at her scarred hands.
“Yet there’s still one final question. Why?” Sophie looks back to the ceiling. “Because that has always been the question. Why? Why did you keep me only to ignore and then discard me? Why did you give me the lessons and ribbons and fairytales but never a smile? I could have lived without all that, it would’ve been hard but I would have never known better. I would have been content as a servant in the kitchen with calluses because I would never know what it was for hands to be smooth . Fairytales would be in books not in half-realities that all too easily get snatched away. Life would be hard but far easier than the half-life you’ve rendered me to.”
“And again why? Why Papa?” She stands her voice growing in volume. “Yes, I will finally call you Papa because that was what you were. My papa. You were my papa even though you never gave me a kind word or an embrace. Why did you not love me papa? Why did you not protect me papa? Why did you let her hurt me, papa? Why did you let her treat me like a dog when I was your daughter?
“I did everything right.”
Sophie starts pacing as for the first time, the anger, the pressure, the pain has space to rise.
“I squashed myself into the boxes that you liked with the pretty ribbons and bows and locked anything that did not fit far, far away. I put on the mask and played the part to perfection. The perfect daughter, shining and sweet. The perfect step-daughter, quiet and subservient. The perfect servant, meek and mild. And yet you still did not love me!”
And it is not impossible! I did none of it—hell, I did the utter opposite and still Benedict bloody Birdgerton chased after me!” She cries, not bothering to stay silent, not now, not when she has nothing to lose. “Still he loved me even when I exposed it all, still he loved me even when I pushed him away.”
Her volume rises and ries.
“So what was your excuse, papa? What is your excuse, when I did everything right? Why? Why could you not love me even though I did nothing wrong!”
The words are wrenched out of her. They hang suspended in the air, her eyes seem to follow them as they dissipate.
“I did nothing wrong,” her voice is softer, and she slides down the wall. “I did nothing wrong…”
Sophie takes a long, deep breath, as if something has flown from her chest enabling her to breathe deeply for the first time. Sophie sits, eyes lost in the wall as the statement settles in her chest.
Then comes the noise of heels on stone.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” The camera pans to Araminta, sneering through the bars. “The little b----d is finally getting her just desserts.”
Benedict, Anthony, and Genevieve Delacroix enter the frame. The latter two talking and the former unnaturally withdrawn. They pass in front of Bridgerton House.
“I insist you come in for refreshments—we have kept you the entire morning,” Antony says. It seems in their little quest he seems more at ease around Genevieve.
“Oh, I do not think it would be proper.”
“Neither would be my brother marrying an illegitimate daughter,” Anthony quips back earning a smile as they ascend the stairs. It seems he is not the only one whose ice has thawed during this encounter.
“We must find her first,” Benedict mumbles. Genevieve’s face falls.
“I cannot think of another place she could have gone…perhaps you should try the docks? She would muse about saving money and boarding a ship to America…a place where class is not so rigid.”
“America?” Anthony cries.
“I have already asked around the docks, but none are sure they have seen her.” Benedict exhales wearily. “But if she is on a boat then she will be safe…safe from all who could hurt her or failed her.”
“Benedict you have never—”
“I have failed her far too many times.” His eyes are distant; the ball, Penwood Place, the lake, the studio.
The trio start climbing the stairs.
“But if she has gone to America, what would you do?” Anthony asks, looking pained at his brother’s drawn face. Benedict rolls his shoulders as if winding himself up then gives a smile—a pale imitation of his usual grin.
“Never fear, brother, I will still be useful. I shall shower your children with presents, be their greatest conspirator for pranks and corrupt them when they turn of age—you better watch out Anthony, your children shall adore me and I will undoubtedly be the best Uncle of them all."
“You could find another—”
“No.” Benedict’s voice is determined but gentle, as they stand in front of the door. “No. There is only Sophie. I knew it two years ago, I know it now and I shall know it on my deathbed.”
“Benedict…” Anthony says, hand reaching for his shoulder. Benedict steps away.
The green door slams open.
“We found Sophie!” Hyacinth cries, barreling into them as they go into the hall. The other ladies are following—Violet at the front. “Penelope found Sophie!”
The crowd parts and Penelope comes forward.
“I received a couple notes from my informants–” she hands Benedict a letter.
Benedict snatches the paper away—his entire frame trembles when he sees the words.
“There was quite the scene along the cobbles of Grosvenor Square two day ago, when a young woman was accosted by the Countess of Penwood on the grounds of the woman stealing from her. Considering the most recent scandal the countess has found herself in, this author cannot guarantee the validity of the countess’ claims. But the constable had no such quibbles when he carted the young woman off to jail…"
“That damn witch!” Genevieve cries then remembers her surroundings and curtsies, “ My apologies lords and ladies.”
“Not at all, I can agree that Lady Penwood is an utter b---,” Kate says without flinching. Meanwhile Anthony is reading the paper. In the background is Benedict pacing, running his hands through his hair, his face in anguish.
"We still do not know which jail she could be in?” Anthony mutters. “It does not say whether they have taken her to Fleet, or Newgate or Westminster.”
“We could send three parties, one to each prison?”
“But would we have time? It has been two days, if they had sentenced her–”
“They would not hang her?”
“I would not put it past her, that woman has despised Sophie for years.”
“Will you all stop and someone tell me what we are going to do!” Benedict cries.
They all stare at Benedict who looks ready to bolt–or hyperventilate. Anthony steps forward.
Anthony grasps Benedict by the shoulder but he tries to shrug Anthony off.
“Benedict, look at me, look at me,” Anthony commands.
Benedict does, his eyes seeking support like a child. And for once he finds support in Anthony’s eyes—not the other way around. Anthony continues, words slow but full of feeling.
“We shall rescue her; we shall free her, Benedict. And you two will be married and you will live the rest of your lives in love. I swear it on my title, and on father’s name. Do you hear me?” Benedict mumbles. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” Benedict’s voice is hoarse. “Yes, I do.” “But how will we find her?”
Everyone turns to find their housemaid Nadia and Rae, Penelope’s ladies maid.
“A tradesman down by Newgate saw a woman being taken into the prison two days ago.”
“How do you know it was Sophie?”
Nadia hands over a messy gukwa knot, the mauve yarn fraying from age but still recognisable as if its meaning of eternity was embedded in the very strings knotted together. The viewer recognises it as the chrysanthemum knot always hung around Sophie’s waist, the one made by her mother. Similar to the one Sophie gave Benedict all those weeks ago.
“We need to go to Fleet.”
“Right,” Anthony straightens, years of responding to crises galvinating his mind. “Let us fetch a carriage and free Sophie. After all, if my title means that I am a hoarder of privilege, power and wealth that was built on the backs of the oppressed—then I might as well use it for some good.” he smirks at Eloise whose mouth is open at the parroting of her words. “Let us go.”
“Wait for me!” Violet Bridgerton calls, grabbing her purse from Mrs Wilson and walking towards the doors.
“Absolutely not,” Anthony states. “I will not have you exposed to—”
“Oh, Anthony, it is not as if I am a wilting flower. And this is not up for discussion.” Violet does not make a habit of using the divine right of mothers, but when she does it is felt with force. “Also, I can vouch for Sophie’s character.”
A staring match between Anthony and Violet…Violet raises her eyebrow. Anthony breaks the stare. Violet smiles and walks out, calling over her shoulder,
“Now, we must make haste!”
Benedict and Anthony share a look, Benedict nods slightly and follows his mother—still visibly distraught.
Anthony reaches back and pulls Kate in for a kiss.
“Bring her home safe, my love.”
“Ofcourse. And make sure Madame Delacroix has something to eat—she has not broken her fast yet.”
“Lord Bridgerton I am quite capable—” but Anthony does not hear the seamstress as he runs out and bundles into the carriage. As soon as the door is shut Anthony, Violet and Benedict cry,
We return to the prison where Araminta is standing tall and proud outside Sophie’s cell. Yet Sophie remains in her prior position, staring at the wall with her eyes unfocused as her most recent revelations continue to unfurl and take root in every cell of her being.
Araminta frowns then strikes the bars.
“Are you listening, wench?”
Sophie slowly turns to Araminta, finally registering her presence.
“No.” Sophie says absentmindedly before turning back to the wall.
“You must know I could not believe it when I heard you had the audacity to return to London. Nor do I know whether to be shocked or impressed that you had somehow wormed your way into the Bridgertons’ affections. Then again you always had a proclivity to squirming your way into places you did not belong--like mother, like daughter.”
Sophie stares resolutely at the wall.
“Unfortunately for you the magistrate does not look kindly on thieves.” Sophie continues to ignore her. “The shoe clips were bad enough but he grew ever so angry when he heard how you stole my engagement ring.”
Sophie whirls around but bites her tongue upon seeing the sly smirk on Araminta’s. Sophie glares mutinously at her, which makes her smile wider.
“As you well know it is your word against mine.”
There is the beautiful saccharine sweet smile that has haunted Sophie’s childhood. But this time Sophie does not shiver, instead she crosses her arms.
“I see you have it all worked out.”
“Lucky for you I have pleaded clemency on your behalf so that you do not lose a head—then again I have heard all sorts of stories about wild animals in Australia.”
“A model of Christian charity,” Sophie bites out. “The justice will be so touched.”
“Indeed.” Araminta preens, revelling in her victory. Sophie stares at Araminta for a moment before finally asking that damnable question.
“Why? Why did you hate me so? I tried so hard to impress you and abide by your rules—why?”
Araminta’s smile drops, she comes close to the bars and hisses through them
“I do not hate you, I despise you. No woman should have to live with another woman’s castoffs, yet he paraded you around in my presence, educating you, clothing you, providing for you until his death. All as a ploy to punish me.”
Sophie’s brow furrows, which spurs Araminta on.
“He kept you to remind me of my failure as a wife for not giving him a son as easily as a serving wench could give him a b----d. You were my punishment, an insult and mockery I had to bear every day. You have no idea the depths of pain and humiliation you forced me into.”
Sophie can only stare, not in horror, not in sadness but…pity. For finally she can see the truth. Araminta is a girl in a cage, yet one who took her fire out on those around her and so became so much worse than a caged phoenix—for she took her fire out on an innocent child.
“You were as trapped in a cage just as I am, yet you wallowed in your pain and took it out on an innocent child.” Sophie stands. “I was a punishment? You speak as if my father cared for anything other than his pride. And you speak of pain and humiliation yet you cannot see what pain you inflicted upon me. Do you know what I have finally realised? You are not a monster, just a very sad, powerless woman who is trapped in her pain and does not know how to let it go.”
Araminta’s perfect face falls into something far uglier. She bangs her fist on the bars and Sophie jumps back, eyes wide.
“I am not trapped. I am not the one in the cage. I have the power. You deserved everything I did to you, because you are nothing. Look at yourself.” Sophie looks down at herself. “You are unloved, alone, encaged just like the filthy b----d child of a whore you have always been and will forever be.” Sophie shivers and does not look up. Araminta continues savagely. “I am the one who is free, I am the one who triumphed, I am the victor! And who are you?”
Sophie breathes heavily, closing her eyes against the words. But then we see flashes of memories.
The image of her laughing with Ginny over wine.
A shot of her chatting with her fellow servants, Nadia and John.
A shot of Sophie comforting Eloise as she weeps on her bed.
“Who are you?” Echoes in her head.
A shot of Sophie grinning while sat at tea ensconced in conversation with the Bridgertons.
A shot of her discussion with Violet about love, wallflowers and Eloise.
And finally of Benedict’s words in his studio.
“You are a woman who is kind and compassionate even after a life of hardship that would bow or break the strongest of men. You are a woman who stands by her convictions no matter how people try and sway you, no matter how many lashes you endure or even if the other road is easier. You, Sophie Beckett, are brilliant, in mind, heart and soul...”
Sophie looks up, her piercing eyes resolute.
Araminta’s eyes widen at the resolve in Sophie’s tone.
“I am a compassionate friend and a trusted confidante. I am a survivor.” Sophie takes a step forward as Araminta steps back.
“I have survived destitution, loneliness and disrepute.”
Another step forward. Araminta takes another step back.
“I have survived the fiery venom that you spat at me every day of my life and the lashes you afflicted me with your actions. Yet I have emerged with a richer soul and a far stronger spirit that you will never break. For I am loved.”
An image of her being embraced by Ginny, another of her being kissed by Benedict.
The shot of Benedict on one knee in front of her.
Sophie stands tall, her head held high, backlit by the sunlight through the jail cell window.
“I am Baek Soo-Hye, the daughter of Si-Woo Gun, Lord of Gun, and I shall never bow nor break.”
Araminta is a couple steps away from the bars in the gloom. The shot is positioned so that the shadows of the cell’s bar are cast over Araminta. She sneers like a caged animal and goes to spring forward,
“What?” Araminta turns towards the sound.
“Sophie!” The voice rips through the air.
Sophie turns to the sound, hope in her eyes.
Hopefully this ‘rewrite’ achieves a couple things:
A satisfying confrontation that reflects the character journey and healing Sophie undergoes in S4.
Does not justify Araminta’s backstory but shows the mindset of an abuser.
Links in with imagery around ‘cages’ and ‘masks’ that I have planned for in previous and future S4 posts.
Stress that Sophie’s identity comes from herself and the relationships she has formed–not just the one with Benedict.
Retain the chaotic comedy
Have Benedict Bridgerton getting into figurative, and literal, conflict for the love of his life.
Cute Benophie feels. Supportive Anthony feels. Violet BADASS Bridgerton feels. ALL the feels.
As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests!
So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.
Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4.
