Chapter Text
What makes a person who they are?
What makes them good or evil? A hero or a villain? Well-meaning or ill-intended?
It is all rather subjective in the end, is it not?
Surely, it cannot just stem from how they behave, for many people let fear take hold of them until they are barely recognisable anymore.
Besides, even a saint could be a monster in one person’s eyes and a saviour in another’s.
Perhaps the true cause for a person’s being is their surroundings, then. Whether it be people or life circumstances, it surely has a drastic effect on someone.
For, can one truly be blamed when they finally raise a hand at their abuser to defend themselves? In the end it is violence nonetheless, but surely one kind of violence must be more justified than the other?
Yet, despite all of this, Sophie had always believed that one has a choice. No matter how horrible one’s life is, one can make a conscious decision to be helpful instead of hurtful.
It had been the thought that carried her through her life. It gave her a purpose after the loss of her father- a father who had promised her kindness, but abandoned her with more than just his death in the end.
The conscious decision had been the one that gave her strength as her stepmother had turned her from the ward of an Earl to a maid that slaved away at the work that would normally require at least 5 different people.
The transition from a privileged life to the reality of what the vast majority of people have to go through, had been staggering, especially amidst seemingly drowning in both grief and a keen sense of betrayal.
For a time she had hated her father. He had been the one to raise and accept her during his life- had promised her to always be there for her. But in the end? He hadn’t even included her in his will. No, he had rather put the step-mother that actively antagonised her as well as the daughters that weren’t even his by blood into the will.
It had hurt in a way she had never believed possible. Her father had been the only person that showed her unconditional love- he had been the person she had trusted most. But was that all just playing pretend on his part? Did he feel guilty for fathering a bastard that he secretly despised for merely existing in truth? Did he ever care for her to begin with?
Her father had given her the title of a ward, yet despite this, most people had been able to tell the truth immediately when looking at the both of them. When she was still too young and naïve to know better, she had been proud of how much she resembled him. But she quickly learnt the truth behind that.
That Sophie was the family’s shame- a bastard. The illegitimate daughter of the Earl of Penwood.
Even before her stepmother purposefully started to exclude her for that, people had treated her as less than because of that fact. Most of her father’s staff had adored her, even as a small child, yet guests or strangers in general were rarely that graceful.
It didn’t signify how well-behaved or kind she was, the moment people laid eyes on her, they judged. They acted as if her existence was an insult to their propriety.
In a way this had prepared her for her life as a maid, yet being a bastard had left scars that, in many ways, being a working woman didn’t.
Being a bastard has been all that she had ever known. It was as much her title as the name ‘Sophie’ was.
The feeling of being a constant disappointment and actively harming one’s own family had been unbearable, but a natural consequence of being illegitimate.
And that was exactly the reason why she would not wish such a life on her worst enemy. Why she had promised herself to stay untouched by men, lest she’d risk conceiving a poor child, that’d also carry the title ‘bastard’.
…Did it make her a bad person, she wondered, that she had tried her damndest to avoid bestowing such a fate on a child, and failing?
Did her rather noble intentions somehow make the actions better, or did they damn her even more?
After all, she had known the possible consequences of not keeping her legs closed. And yet? She had discarded all of her beliefs- all of her dignity- when it came to Benedict Bridgerton.
Do intentions even matter in the end? When the end-result cannot be changed anyhow?
Despite how much she can ponder or cry about it, Sophie was with child. A fact that cannot be changed. At least not in a way that wouldn’t endanger her life quite drastically.
Sophie had spent half of her life as a maid- not only experiencing horrid life circumstances, but also witnessing them.
To Sophie’s shame she cannot quite remember the woman’s name nor much of her appearance, really. But said woman used to be part of Araminta’s staff, yet that woman, who barely left her girlhood, had fallen pregnant after being assaulted by a so-called ’gentleman’.
Sophie, at the ripe age of four and ten- she had barely been a maid for longer than a fortnight- could still vividly remember the way Araminta had screamed at that poor girl about dignity and proper behaviour.
Back then, Sophie had still held onto the hope that Araminta would release her from her maid duties and finally accept her as part of the family if Sophie behaved well enough- if she just became better, more acceptable.
So, much to her guilt and regret, Sophie had not interacted with the pregnant girl as a result of that. After all, if her stepmother deemed her unworthy, who was she to disagree?
Not that it mattered much, as the girl didn’t stay long after that. Araminta had her working still, for a short time- to find a replacement and have that replacement be trained by that girl.
If only young Sophie had truly been able to grasp the situation back then… If only she hadn’t still looked up to her stepmother in a hopeful way…
Sophie wouldn’t have been able to do much, but surely shunning that girl must have made her feel more isolated- even if Sophie had only been able to lend an ear, it would have been better than what she ended up doing.
Sophie’s eyes began to water, without much thought, a hand captured her mouth- lest she start sobbing at the spot.
She felt as if her past actions came to haunt her at this very moment.
His voice still echoed in her ears- even as she sprinted towards her chamber, as far away as possible from him. His beautiful charming bloody voice that has ruined her in more ways than one.
”Sophie… be my mistress.”
He hadn’t even had the decency to properly ask her, no, instead he said that sentence that all but destroyed her matter of factly. As if it was as obvious and natural as the sky being blue.
And worst of all? She ought to have expected it. She had been the one who had kissed him at that damned lake. She had lost herself in the pleasure and had let things get further than she should have ever allowed any man.
After having spread her legs for him, what else was he to expect than to have her be his mistress?
She truly had no one to blame but herself, yet… she couldn’t help but resent him.
How dare he make her feel a kind of euphoria no one had ever made her feel before?
How dare he be so perfect and caring to save her from possibly being assaulted by the son of her ex-employer?
How dare he make her care so much about his well being?
How dare he make her feel a desire unprecedented for her? ..And act on such a desire..
How dare he bring her to completion with his fingers in a damned staircase?
And most of all, how could he ask her to be his mistress after all of it?
In a way, Sophie would have preferred to be seen merely as a toy to be used and discarded afterwards. If she were being treated as such, she needn’t have to muster the strength to part from him.
Benedict wanting her to be his mistress was both because he cared enough to keep her and because of his inability to let her go- resulting in him trying to metaphorically capture her to keep her all for himself.
Because, eventually, he would marry and have a true family and Sophie would still be caught in his net like a fly waiting to be eaten alive by a spider. He would rather risk her damnation than to accept that they could never be more.
Perhaps in another life, they could have been. Where she had been the true daughter of her father. Where she would have debuted into society and shared her first dance with Benedict. Where they would have fallen in love and they could have truly courted and eventually married. They would have married and had a few children of their own…
It could have been a fairy tale that poets would have been envious of.
Yet it couldn’t be. Sophie was nothing but a bastard child of an Earl that didn’t even care enough to grant her the title of being his ward after his death.
And Benedict…? Benedict was everything. Smart, charming, witty, passionate… and above all else, a nobleman. A nobleman with responsibilities such as marrying a proper lady and having children with her.
He wasn’t even aware of the consequences of their shared passion- not that he would need to care for it, even if he did know. All it would take for Benedict to fire her and cast her to the streets. Even if publicised, a man- a Bridgerton at that- would be believed instead of whatever ‘whore’ claimed to be with his child.
Even in the rare cases where a woman is believed, having a bastard would leave nothing but a scratch on the man’s reputation whilst completely ruining the woman and the child.
For what is the worth of an unmarried woman and her bastard child?
Sophie’s body shook with a sob at the reality of her situation.
She was nothing and so was her child.
She’d never hold a candle to the light that Benedict Bridgerton is.
Another sob wrecked her body as she finally arrived at her chambers. Her body almost acted on its own volition, starting to gather her belongings without much of a conscious thought.
When she finally packed everything, she took a deep breath and sat down on her bed for a moment.
Where she had been almost hysterically crying before, her breathing had calmed drastically- although small hiccups still made it painfully obvious how much she had been crying before. Even the tears still flowed actively down her cheeks.
How pathetic must she look right now?
Perhaps her appearance in this moment would be enough to scare Benedict off permanently…
As Sophie’s body finally relaxed more and more, a sense of guilt hit her.
She had promised Violet Bridgerton that she’d consider staying in her current position. At the time Sophie had even meant it- getting excited about the prospect even.
But soon after she had realised her predicament and the shattering truth that staying would be an impossible notion.
It was a painful realisation.
Violet Bridgerton was the embodiment of what Sophie had hoped Araminta to be.
Violet adored her children- there was not a single doubt of that with anyone with eyes.
And by the way Sophie had seen her treat the spouses of her children, it was clear that they were as much her children as her children by blood.
It made Sophie’s chest ache with an overwhelming hollowness. She was sure to have never felt such envy before.
…Would Mrs Bridgerton hate her for staining her family’s name with a bastard child?
Sophie shook her head- in a vain attempt to perish the painful thought.
“No matter, they shan’t ever know about it.” Sophie whispered as she put a gentle hand on her still flat belly.
Sophie had already told Mrs Wilson earlier this evening that she wouldn’t be staying, much to the surprise of the older woman.
Sophie doubted that Violet Bridgerton would care much about whether Sophie stays or leaves anyhow. In the end of the day Sophie was merely an easy to replace maid. No one ought to miss her.
Sophie allowed herself mourn the impossible dream of being a part of the Bridgerton family for a few moments more, before she finally stood up from her bed, wiped all the stray tears off her face and made her way out of the Bridgerton residence.
Without so much as a goodbye to the friends she had promised to spend the evening with, Sophie took a hidden way out of the house, completely avoiding her now former friends.
Sophie Baek had not much in terms of possessions, but one thing she had always prided herself with, was her resilience- despite everything the world had thrown at her.
She would survive this- with her head held high.