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hopepaigeturner · 2 months ago

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An Offer From an Avid Reader: The Tea Scene. (Jail Scene Pt.2)

As part of Benophie week Pt.2 Day 1: Sophie.

So as I have said before that I have split the jail scene in two after pondering @eleanorbradstreet's post (read here) concerning how a lot of the OG jail scene is a bit of a exposition dump.

You can read part 1 here, that also reimagines the confrontation between Sophie and Araminta while also keeping the swooniness and hilarity of the OG jail scene.

Essentially at the end of my jail scene, everything that happened in the book has happened. (Posy swooping in like supergirl, Violet serving the quips, Benedict punching the jailer).

HOWEVER: Araminta has not been blackmailed. Araminta has not been silenced by the Bridgertons and could still loosen her lips and wreck ruin on Benophie. And this Tea Scene resolves this, while aligning with my ideas for how S4 could showcase Sophie and the power of female friendship (posted here).

Context:

Since my jail scene the following events have occurred:

Sophie and Benedict return to Bridgerton house (posted here).

2. THAT Bath scene. (posted here)

3. Dinner with the Birdgerton full family where everyone basically ‘catches up’ and truly witness Benophie perfection/adorableness (my angst strung out heart will NEED that fluff)

a) The dinner also addresses the situation around Benophie, how Araminta is still at large. And even though Benophie express their contentment to slip away into the depths of the countryside, Kate and Violet stop them.

"Just give us a day, we have a plan," Kate's eyes glimmer with glee and she shares a conspirators look with Violet. "Oh gosh whatever scheme the two of you have concocted I'm sure Lady Araminta will run screaming for her life," Anthony teases. "Oh nonsense, Anthony," his mother chides, "we are merely inviting her to tea." All present look at each other in confusion. Kate and Violet sip their wine with perfect synchronicity.

Right, onto the scene. Shoutout to @orangepeelshortbreadcookies for beta reading this.

✨The Scene ✨

The scene starts with a shot of Benedict pacing in the corridor outside of the parlour at Bridgerton House. Anthony and Colin are with him.

“Benedict, you are going to make a hole in the carpet.” Colin says. Benedict runs his hands through his hair.

“She should not have to face that woman, not after…I should be in there.”

Anthony huffs and stops him in his tracks.

“It is different this time, Benedict. This time she is not alone. You need to trust them and you need to trust her. Do you trust her?”

“Ofcourse.”

“Then you need to be patient.”

Benedict bows his head and tries to pull his strength together. Suddenly there is a clatter.

All three turn to find Hyacinth and Gregory in the process of smuggling themselves and some water glasses past them.

“What on earth?” Anthony asks.

“They help you hear through doors,” Hyacinth explains.

“And how do you know such a trick?” Anthony asks as his eyes narrow.

Hyacinth rolls her eyes,

“Do you want to listen or not?”

She offers Benedict a glass. Benedict looks between the others. Benedict takes the glass.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scene shifts to the inside of the recognisable Bridgerton parlour where Araminta sits on a couch.

“Well, isn’t this very civil of us,” Araminta says her dark dress contrasting with the lightness of the Bridgerton’s parlour. She looks the perfect poised porcelain picture of a lady. “Especially after all that unpleasantness yesterday.”

“Indeed,” Violet says, after a pause. Her tea sits in front of her. She is flanked by Kate, Francesca and Penelope on her left; Sophie, Posy and Eloise on her right.

“I fear such squalid surroundings brought out the worst of us—or maybe it reflected one's true nature, hmm?” Araminta comments, the smallest hint of a smirk directed at Sophie who rolls her shoulders back.

“Perhaps.”

Another pause.

“Well,” Araminta starts again with a wide smile, “thank goodness that is all over now.”

“Indeed, it is wonderful to have my future daughter-in-law back with us safe and sound,” Violet clasps Sophie’s hand and gives her a maternal smile.

“I beg your pardon?” Araminta replies, tea halfway to her lips.

“Sophie is engaged to my son.” Violet replies, “Now that she is home, we can finally plan the nuptials,” she gives Sophie another smile.

Araminta laughs, the noise sharp.

“No, she is not.” Araminta’s grin falters when she sees Violet’s smile does not falter. “Sophie cannot be engaged to your son.”

“You were in that jail with us, Lady Penwood, I think you heard my son’s intentions loud and clear.”

“You cannot be earnest?” Araminta looks at the other faces, but all the ladies merely sip their tea. “That was an outrageous proposition used to wrangle that thief out of jail—a jail she deserved to be in.”

“Again, I am unsure where such recollection is coming from Lady Penwood,” Violet replies, her brows pinched with concern, “perhaps the fumes of the jail have overcome your senses. Your daughter confessed in front of the magistrate.”

“We all know such things were lies.”

“I am not so sure, Lady Penwood. All I can consider were the events I witnessed.”

“How could you—” Araminta cries then pauses, and settles back on the lounge, her body reassembling like a settling hawk. Back comes the saccharine smile and the perfect poise.

“Well, what I consider, is that within the ton, one is nothing without position and prospects—no matter how pretty the face. And well…I am sure Sophie knows what happens when one merely has a pretty face.”

Sophie bristles, but her gaze does not waver.

“Ah well, that is not entirely true is it, Lady Penwood?” Kate says putting down her teacup. “For Sophie is the daughter of Charles Beckett, a landed gentleman and dearest cousin of the late earl. Such a dear friend that when he and his wife tragically died of tuberculosis, the earl took it upon himself to care for their daughter. I suppose there are brighter prospects but then again…” She gives Araminta a small smirk “there is the connection to the Guns.”

Araminta’s perfect face does not falter—but her eyes narrow.

“If you think that I will perpetuate such a farcical story for a commoner's welp then you are mistaken.” Araminta leans forward, her smile turning into a snarl, “I shall tell them all the truth, that your son is marrying the bastard daughter of a whore—”

The doors slams open, and Benedict enters, his usual charming features twisted by his fury.

Behind him Anthony, Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory pick themselves up from the floor, stumbling over water glasses.

“How dare you!”

“Benedict!” his mother cries, but Benedict ignores her.

“You will not insult Sophie—"

“Ben!” Sophie cries, coming in front and as soon as her hands rests over his heart he pauses. Although, his voice still shakes,

“She cannot, she should not—”

“I know my love,” Sophie cradles his head in her hands, “I know.” But her smile is brilliant. “Her words cannot hurt me anymore. I know who I am.”

Benedict looks at Sophie, his face a mixture of anguish and care,

“You do not need to do this. Not after all she has done—”

“I choose to do this. I want to do this. For us, but also for myself.”

After a moment Benedict nods.

“Then I am staying. I need to—”

“No.” Sophie replies softly. “Trust me, my love. Trust that I have the strength to do this.”

“I know you have the strength—you are the strongest woman I know,” he whispers back. He then looks back at her, “If at any moment you wish—”

“I know,” Sophie says with a beautiful smile, tracing his cheek. Benedict rests his forehead on hers.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies and he plants the softest of kisses on her forehead. Sophie kisses his cheek and they share a look that only two people with matched souls can share. Benedict walks away, eyes flickering over in the direction of Araminta.

He pauses, and in the next moment pivots and sweeps Sophie into the most romantic of kisses, so overwhelming that all Sophie can do is respond in kind.

“A kiss for luck,” he whispers when they part.

Upon leaving her breathless, he gives her his signature grin and goes to the door—throwing one last grin over his shoulder to Araminta. Sophie stands for a moment, breathing heavily, staring in stunned silence.

“My, my, it seems scrubbing floors is not the only thing one can do on their knees to get ahead in this family.” Araminta sneers just as Benedict goes to shut the door.

Outcries abound. Teacups clatter. Benedict growls.

“There is no indignity in scrubbing floors. After all you never touched a rag, so it must be your character that has caused no other child to dare reside in your womb."

Silence.

A silence long enough for Sophie to take her place back with Violet after her retort. A silence long enough for Benedict to close the door with the proudest of grins for his fiancée.

Clink. Clink. Violet Bridgerton taps her teacup with the spoon.

“Now, down to business.”

“Business? I shall do no business with the likes of you. I am a Countess, she is a commoner with no prospects.”

“Again, that is not entirely true is it, Lady Penwood?”

“And how is that so?”

“I think if you look at the paperwork,” from the table Violet picks up a piece of paper still with remnants of dust over the surface, “say this very legitimate Will that your daughter found last year. It seems that Sophie has quite a lovely dowry—a little larger than your daughters.”

“What?” Sophie turns between Violet and Posy, face bewildered. “I thought…I thought…”

“Your father gave you a dowry Sophie,” Posy explains gently, “and enough money for my mother to care for you and to have you presented.”

“You snivelling snitch,” Araminta spits at Posy who flinches back.

“You shall find that Posy has more spine in one finger than you do in your entire body,” Eloise fights back, holding her friend’s hand. Posy smiles at her.

“Indeed, your Posy is a remarkable and courageous young woman,” Violet says and Posy blushes red. “And I think what is of most importance is this. Where is Sophie’s dowry Lady Penwood?”

Araminta’s face cracks.

“You see, as my daughter-in-law, Sophie shall join the Bridgerton family. Her dowry is now Bridgerton property and well…my family does not take kindly to thieves.”

“I am not a thief.”

“Then where is Sophie’s dowry?”

“She had no use of it, she did not deserve it—”

“You stole my dowry!” Sophie cries.

“Sophie, we have no need for a dowry,” Kate quickly says.

“That is not the point.” Sophie whirls on Araminta. “Your heart is so twisted and spiteful that you stole the final gift my father gave to me for your fancy dresses!”

“I do not need to explain my actions to you.”

“No you do not. But you do to our solicitors.” Violet intervenes, her tone becoming curious as if asking for the time. “Kate, what is the punishment for embezzlement?”

“Well, a hefty fine—maybe the size of a hefty dowry,” Kate says nonchalantly.

“You cannot—”

“Kate, how long will it take to fetch our solicitors?”

“Why, they live a few streets away—twenty minutes,”

“This is preposterous—”

“Or perhaps ten if the roads are clear,” Kate smirks over the rim of her teacup.

“You will not be able to prove anything!”

“That may be so. It is a shame that our justice system can be so easily swayed by fine jewels—but the scandal that would occur…”

“How would you?”

“You might recall, Lady Penwood,” Penelope starts with a smile that makes Araminta shiver, “that I have had many titles before I became Penelope Bridgerton, such as Penelope Featherington. Or perhaps you remember my other title—Lady Whistledown.”

Penelope pulls out a piece of paper with a very familiar insignia on the top.

“Now, while my pen has tamed a little in the past few years, how can I ignore a scandal like this? A snatcher of servants revealed as a snatcher of dowries? My, my…it would make for the most salacious of returns.”

“You might find your power has waned in your prolonged absence.”

“But not the appetite of the ton.” Eloise says bringing out another Whistledown, this one being the first mention of the servant scandal Araminta has been caught up within. The one Eloise wrote. “And you must know, we would hate to see your name brought into further disrepute.”

Araminta’s cup quivers in her grip.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, you are very fortunate, Lady Penwood, for while our solicitors might take note of mislaid dowries, we believe that Sophie’s character is far more priceless than any dowry.”

“See, we are willing to let your nefarious actions slide, if you would just remember how kind your late husband was to Charles Beckett’s daughter.” Kate explains tilting her head as she holds her teacup up.

Araminta’s lip curls.

“You will not get away with this.”

“Penelope, how soon can those pamphlets be published?” Kate asks absentmindedly.

“On my word.”

Araminta and the audience feel the power of such a statement.

“You have no sway—I rank higher than you,” Araminta snarls at Kate.

Kate does not falter for one moment.

“You see, I might only be a beloved Viscountess, but my sister-in-law is a Countess.” She nods to Francesca. “My other sister-in-law is a woman whose pen makes the Queen shiver. And my own sister is favoured most highly by her Majesty. And that does not consider my other sister-in-law who sadly could not attend this tea for she is currently in Prussia—the duties of a Duchess and all.” Kate tilts her head to the side and gives a tight-lipped smile. “Now, Lady Penwood, you are indeed a Countess, but do you truly wish to challenge the Bridgerton family?”

The camera zooms out to encompass all the Bridgerton ladies in the shot. United as one.

Araminta’s smile finally falls.

“Fine. I shall endorse your ridiculous lies.”

“I am so glad we could come to an agreement.”

“Is that what we are calling blackmail these days?”

“Lady Penwood, how absurd. We are merely ladies having tea.” Violet smiles a saccharine smile and sips her teacup. “An afternoon of lovely tea where we have established that Sophie has both the position and the prospects to marry my son. Although she needed neither, for she has won my son’s heart.”

“You think all this will stop the whispers about their…liaisons? Especially with such a hasty courtship.”

“But do you not know? My son has been courting Miss Beckett all season—did you not notice his prolonged absence to the country?” Violet says in the most innocent of tones. “And ofcourse the Guns provided a chaperone at all times, for they are one of the most upstanding families within the ton.”

“Of course we did,” the words bitter in Araminta’s mouth. “The tea is cold—I shall take my leave.” She stands. None of the other ladies stand regardless of the demands of etiquette.

The doors open and the Bridgerton men enter. They stand behind their respective women, while Hyacinth and Gregory stand behind Posy and Eloise.

Araminta surveys them all. Upon seeing Benedict’s hands resting on Sophie’s shoulders, her perfect features falter into something far uglier. Then she reconstructs herself—but not as swiftly nor perfectly as before. Her nose seems a bit upturned, her cheeks pinched, her expression sour.

“Come along Posy!” she barks and strides towards the door. She pauses and turns.

Posy continues to sit between Eloise and Sophie, clutching the girls’ hands in a vice-like grip—but not moving. “Posy, I said come,” Araminta demands. Posy swallows thickly.

“No.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I said no.” Posy repeats, her voice gaining strength. “I have decided to live with the Bridgertons as their ward.”

“How dare you!” Araminta steps forward—as does Anthony Bridgerton with his trademark glower. Araminta steps back, face haughty.

“I think Lady Penwood that you are right. It is time you leave.” Araminta might be formidable in front of defenceless children— but she is no match for Viscount Bridgerton.

“Well, it is a pity that such an illustrious family is happy with my cast-offs. Good riddance, I would have been laden from you until my grave—no one would have ever married you.”

Posy visibly flinches as if struck. Araminta smirks and goes to turn away—

THWACK!

Araminta staggers and turns back, clutching her cheek.

Sophie stands above her, glowering.

“That was not for stealing my childhood, nor my dowry, nor for putting me in prison. That was for not loving your daughters equally. From this moment, Posy and I cast you off. Go back to your pathetic garden full of weeds, for I only have pity for a woman whose heart is so paltry.”

Araminta staggers to the door, eyes wide. At the door she meets Benedict who gives his trademark smirk.

“And I think you’ll find,” he says, almost in her ear, “that I was the one who got on my knees.”

With one final affronted look she walks out, shaking with fury or distress—we’ll never know.

The room seems to sigh, everyone relaxing slightly. Benedict turns to smile at Sophie, she musters up a smile, although her body shakes. Immediately Benedict takes her in his arms and she sags into him, clutching tightly to his jacket.

“I need a moment,” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his waistcoat..

“Take all the time you need.” He kisses her brow. “You do not need to stay silent. Not on my account, never with me.”

Sophie nods and she finally lets all the swirling emotions, and reactions she had tied down during the confrontation bubble over—after all, they may be manageable now, but they are still present. She lets it all fizzle out in shaky limbs, shakier breaths, and little sniffles.

Meanwhile, Posy is still sat on the sofa, eyes distant as if stunned.

“Posy?” Eloise asks, “Posy, what is wrong?”

“I cannot believe it,” Posy says, her words seeming separate from her body.

“Believe what?”

Posy turns her head towards Sophie who looks over from Benedict’s arms.

“We are free,” she says, her voice as soft as the first wind caused by the flap of a bird released from the cage. “We are free,” Posy repeats, eyes watering, smile growing—a mirror of Sophie’s. “We are finally free!” Posy cries and the girls rush together in a joyous embrace, laughing and crying and spinning in unbridled joy.

Just like the princess and the knight all those years ago.

“Thank you, thank you all of you,” Posy addresses the Bridgertons, still in a tight embrace with Sophie even though they have stopped spinning.

“We cannot take the credit. Your characters, resilience, and courage led to your freedom—we merely gave a little help here and there.”

“Still, we owe you our gratitude.”

“As we said,” Kate comes over with all the Bridgerton women, “anything for family.”

All the women embrace in one big huddle, the bond of womanhood as vibrant as the different colours of their dresses.

They finally separate. Then Violet’s face lights up.

“Oh, you know what this means.” Sophie falters in confusion. “Now we can plan your wedding!” The group bursts into chatter of opinions and disagreements. In the middle of the storm Sophie looks over to Benedict, face bemused. Benedict merely smiles and shrugs—Sophie can only accept her new fate. Even though she fell in love with Benedict—she is still marrying a Bridgerton.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I am so happy to finally post this! It has been sitting in my draft for the last six months!

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 under #offer from an avid reader

#benophie week 2024 #an offer from an avid reader #the jail scene #becomes the tea scene #where tea is not only drunk but spilt #female relationships #sisterhood of Bridgertons #sophie baek #kate sharma #violet bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #penelope featherington #posy li #Benedict is there #but tbh #this scene is for the Queens

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