Chapter Text
1817
Everyone knew that Sophie Beckett was a bastard.
The servants all knew it, but they loved her and so they never mentioned it to anyone. They didn’t want to hurt Sophie’s feelings or risk getting fired. Her father, the Earl did not talk about it either, more for shame and lack of interest than love on his part. Yet it was obvious that he knew, she looked too much like him to ignore it.
Most importantly, Sophie knew she was a bastard. And even worse, Araminta Reiling knew she was a bastard. She knew it from the moment she saw 10-year-old Sophie at the entrance of Penwood House thirteen years ago. But unlike everyone else, Araminta was not discreet. The night of her arrival, the entire household heard the fight between her and the Earl, including a tiny Sophie listening to every insult Araminta threw about her and her mother. She wanted Sophie out and the Earl resisted. His guilt would not let him throw her out, she was still his responsibility and he had already invested in her. Besides, her governess reported on her progress regularly and Sophie was doing exceptionally.
And so, whether Araminta liked it or not, Sophie stayed. She took classes with Rosamund and Posy and kept excelling in them. With her progress and dowry, Richard was sure he could get her an adequate match in the future.
Unfortunately, it turned out that the gentlemen of the ton were more judgmental than he anticipated and a dowry was not enough to change their minds. Araminta would say he wasn’t looking well enough, and she was partly right. Even if he planned to marry Sophie as quickly as possible, he wanted a decent man for her. But it just so happened that decent men demanded decent wives, and Sophie for all of her accomplishments was not enough. Others would have gladly taken her, but the Earl did not trust them. Most of them were indebted and saw Sophie as the answer to their problems. And so, at the age of three and twenty, Sophie remained unmarried.
At least she was not the only one. Posy, who debuted five years prior also remained unmarried. Between the lack of guidance from her mother and the meanness of the ton, she stayed in the sidelines of the ballroom every night. They were the same age, so they would have debuted together, but alas Araminta wouldn’t even entertain the idea. In fact, that was one of the few things on which she and the earl agreed. Sophie was not to take any role in society, not at least until she was married, and then her participation would depend on her husband’s position. It was enough for Araminta that Richard allowed Sophie to take dance lessons with them, even when she wouldn’t be attending any ball. At the very least, with age, the sisters have grown closer despite Araminta and Rosamund’s opinions.
But even worse, Rosamund was still on the bench! Araminta’s only hope could not get a decent proposal and she was already hearing whispers of spinsterhood from other mammas. No matter how beautiful she was, no man would take that personality. Also, everyone knew how vicious Araminta was and how she went from nothing to a Countess almost overnight. No woman of the ton wanted to be related to her and they advised their sons against her. They all saw her as a social climber, and her prepotent attitude only made matters worse. Plus Rosamund wasn’t actually the Earl’s daughter, and the Earl never adopted them.
“We need to visit the modiste as soon as we arrive. Rosamund needs to impress the Marquess of Bristol. Lady Whistledown says he’s looking for a wife. And Lord Bridgerton’s brothers are still on the market! Lady Bridgerton’s masquerade is the perfect opportunity to catch their attention.” Araminta informed her husband who let Posy and Sophie travel in the other carriage, and now he regretted it deeply. Awkward silences with his illegitimate daughter were by far preferable to hearing his wife going on and on about Rosamund’s unattainable expectations.
Gentle readers, it has now been three years since any of the Bridgerton siblings have wed, and Lady Bridgerton has been heard to declare on several occasions that she is nearing her wit’s end. Benedict has not taken a bride (and it is the opinion of This Author that as he has attained the age of thirty, he is far past due), and neither has Colin, although he may be forgiven his tardiness, since he is, after all, merely six-and-twenty.
After years in society, one wonders if there is a lady who would captivate his attention. This season is yet to start and one can only pray for some interesting entertaining. This author would be very much thankful for the material.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 30 APRIL 1817
“What is it?” Sophie asked smiling at Posy who just signed.
“Seems like Lady Whistledown put the whole list of bachelors this season. My mother will try to push us to snatch one of them.”
“Mhm.” Sophie could not say much. She knew the earl was planning an arranged marriage for her. To her, Lady Whistledown was merely entertainment. Her father would never get one of those men for her nor allow her a normal courtship.
“She really likes the Bridgertons. And after Lord Bridgerton married Miss Sharma, she thinks we have a chance.”
At last, the carriage stopped in front of Penwood House in London. Richard did his duty as a gentleman and helped them get out, but after that, he went straight to his room. As annoying as it was to hear Araminta ramble about marriage prospects, the truth was he was also concerned. He was an Earl! And there he was with three young ladies with fair dowries and past their prime years. Rosamund and Posy were Araminta’s responsibility, but Sophie… he needed to do it all by himself. He would go to White’s, to see if he can meet with some acquaintances with suitable sons. He had his eye on Lord Fletcher, a baron whose family had gotten the title barely a generation ago. Of course, he wanted to marry his first son to a lady of higher or equal status, but his third son Harry could be available. Having a good relationship with an earl was always welcomed to cement one’s position in the aristocracy.
They arrived late in the evening, therefore the servants only put the bags in their respective rooms. The cook had dinner prepared and everyone went to sleep after hours of carriage ride.
The next day, the women went to settle everything in the house.
Sophie went to see her things taken to her room. She knew Araminta preferred her in the attic, but a ward deserved a comfortable room. Had she been a legitimate daughter, she would have the biggest one. Lots of things would be different if her father had acknowledged her, she would be Lady Sophie Gunningworth. But she couldn’t complain, at least not about the room arrangement.
She put her current books in her nightstand and went to the garden with Posy to let the maids do their job. Their maid Hannah was already there and she knew how the girls liked their things ordered. Later in the evening, they would start to get ready for Lady Danbury’s ball. Well, everyone except Sophie.
“Penwood!”
“Gentlemen,” he greeted the group of men who called him. They were other lords and a couple of misters whom he tend to frequent during the season. He couldn’t call them friends exactly, though. Yet, he hoped one of them had a third or fourth son who may marry Sophie.
The gentlemen retook their conversation about reforms at the House of the Lords, investments, and Lady Whistledown’s latest gossip. The group began to disperse as the talk progressed and many of them had to return home to get ready for the ball. Richard was able to keep the attention on Lord Fletcher.
“What was her name again?” Lord Fletcher asked as he smoke.
“Beckett. She was an old friend’s daughter. She was left orphaned when she was three years old and I took her in.”
“Right. And this friend was?” Everyone knew the story already, he was just poking at him to see if he stuck to the same version.
“Charles Beckett, he was the owner of a mill in the north.”
“Mhm.”
“I’ll tell you what, Penwood. Bring the girl to tonight’s ball. Let’s see what she is capable of and then we talk.” Lord Fletcher proposed. Richard had always been a stoic man, but his panic was slightly evident this time.
“You can’t expect anyone to accept her without even testing her.” Richard was fuming inside. How did he come to this position where a low baron could make demands on him whose family had retained the title for 200 years?! If Sophie were his legitimate daughter, lords would come crawling to ask for her hand.
“She has received the same education as my stepdaughters.”
“Then she’ll have no problem being present this season.”