The Stepmother
The imagery throughout this entry in the Bridgerton series is inextricably connected to the fairy tale of Cinderella. Sophie, the Ella of cinders in this version, has a stepmother from the dark side. Her name is Araminta and it does not take long for the reader to begin seeing the image of an evil stepmother in her treatment:
"I was saying," Araminta said in a nasty voice, "that you had better get to work on my gown this instant. If we are late for the ball, you will answer for it tomorrow."
The Prince at Eleven-Thirty
Benedict Bridgerton is the prince in this retelling of the fairy tale. It is a version that fills in some of the gaps missing from the familiar versions. Like, for instance, how exactly was the prince spending his time at the dance before locking eyes with the mysterious beauty who would break his heart at the stroke of midnight?
“His arms crossed in a somewhat forbidding stance, he watched his mother depart before drawing a long breath and turning to make his way to the lemonade table. He adored his mother to distraction, but she did tend to err on the side of meddlesome when it came to the social lives of her children. And if there was one thing that bothered her even more than Benedict's unmarried state, it was the sight of a young girl's glum face when no one asked her to dance. As a result, Benedict spent a lot of time on the ballroom floor, sometimes with girls she wanted him to marry, but more often with the overlooked wallflowers.”
The Fairy Godmother
Mrs. Gibbsons is the housekeeper who always treated Sophie nicely even at the risk of earning continued disapproval on the part of Araminta. In this interpretation of events, the world may not be utterly realistic, but it is certainly too realistic for magic and singing animals. Thus, Mrs. Gibbons will have to do for a Fairy Godmother. She does call upon a trio of sympathetic housemaids, however, to do some of the grunt work:
“At the very bottom of the trunk they'd found an exquisite creation of shimmering silver, with a tight, pearl-encrusted bodice and the flared skirts that had been so popular during the previous century. Sophie felt like a princess just touching it. It was a bit musty from its years in the trunk, and one of the maids quickly took it outside to dab a bit of rosewater on the fabric and air it out. She’d been bathed and perfumed, her hair had been dressed, and one of the housemaids had even applied a touch of rouge to her lips.”
The Midnight Dash
Another gap that often gets a low-rent description in the story is how Cinderella manages to make it out of a ballroom filled with dancers—while wearing problematic footwear and a gown—ahead of the prince’s ability to catch up. When you start thinking about it seriously, it becomes the most fairy tale-esque part of the whole thing. The author must have thought so, too, because she gives her Cinderella’s mad dash a dose of realism in the imagery which follows her:
“Benedict had entered the ballroom, his face intense as he scanned the crowd. He didn't seem to have seen her yet, but she knew that he would; her silver gown would make her an easy target. Sophie kept shoving people out of her way. At least half of them didn't seem to notice; probably too drunk...`Beg pardon,’ came out more like a grunt; that was when Cleopatra stepped on her toe.
`Excuse me, I—' And then the breath was quite literally sucked out of her, because she found herself face-to-face with Araminta.”
