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bippityboppitybabe · 5 years

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Good Fortune (Part II)

Summary: A regency-era romance, loosely inspired by Pride and Prejudice. Peter Parker, the prodigy of Lord Stark, meets the reader at a country ball.

Pairing: Human!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2092

Author’s Note: Part Two! I hope you guys are enjoying this series, like I mentioned, this has actually been really difficult for me to write. It like trying to ride a rusted bike through a field of glass while people are trying to knock you off.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own Pride and Prejudice, nor the photos that I used to make the aesthetic. Credit belongs to Jane Austen and the photographers.

Part One ● Part Two ● Part Three

Dear Y/N,

I am calling upon your long-standing offer and will be visiting you for tea tomorrow afternoon. Please have your maple oat scones.

Greatest Regards,

Mary Jane

The grandfather clock struck midnight, the chimes echoing through the sleeping house. You pulled your robe tighter, glancing out the window and down the road. The candles lighting the room flickered, and you turned your attention back to your book-- pulling out the note tucked in your apron again.

Tomorrow afternoon, she had written. When you received the note this morning, you’d immediately set to work on the scones-- cursing Mary and her lack of patience. The cook had rolled her eyes as you put on an apron and informed her of Mary’s visit that afternoon, claiming she’d already started a fresh batch of jam in anticipation of Miss. Mary’s arrival.

However, tea-time came and went. Followed by supper, followed by bedtime. Mary’s family lived just a short horse ride away, and you had never known her to be late or absent. Your anxiety continued to grow, as did the feeling that something horrible had happened to your best friend. You were barred from going out and searching yourself, your father and brother had taken the horses hunting until late into the night, so you waited.

The sound of pounding hooves broke your thoughts, and glancing out the window you recognized the familiar grey horse Mary favored. Snatching up the closest candle you could find, you bolted to the front door-- opening it before Mary even got the chance to knock.

“Mary! I’ve been so worried about you!” You cried, throwing your free arm around her slim figure. “My God, you’re freezing-- here. I’ll get some tea and you can tell me what on earth happened to you.” Shrugging out of your robe you placed it on Mary’s shoulders, cupping her frigid cheek with your warm hand.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the night. “I’ve secured the horses, Miss. Watson. Oh! Miss. Y/L/N.” You held your candle up, freezing then blushing when the light revealed Mr. Parker. “I’m terribly sorry to surprise you-- but I was heading home when I discovered Miss. Watson’s horse walking without a rider.”

You turned towards Mary, “Walking? What happened?”

Mary laughed, “She got spooked by a snake and threw me. I’m afraid I broke my wrist and couldn’t subdue her before she ran off.” Your eyes flickered towards Mary’s hands, her right one cradling her left arm gingerly.

“Oh Mary,” You sighed, your heart and mind racing a million miles a minute. “Please, both of you come in.” You turned into the house, not waiting for your guests before you bolted to the edge of the stairs. “Father! Father! You need to fetch the doctor, Mary’s broken her wrist!”

You heard Mary welcoming Mr. Parker into the drawing room as you began gathering supplies in the kitchen-- throwing clean rags and a wooden spoon into a spare woven basket. You quickly poured a large cup of hot water, grabbing the tin of loose chamomile leaves and tossing it into the basket. Your parents clambered down the stairs, your mother’s shrill voice greeting Mr. Parker with surprised delight. Picking up your candle, you made your way into the drawing room and brushed past your parents to where Mary was sitting.

Wordlessly, setting down your basket, you gently pulled Mary’s wrist into your hands-- pressing lightly on the bruising skin. She sucked a breath, and you gave her an apologetic look. Pulling out the wooden spoon you set it straight against her wrist, wrapping the clean cloth around her arm and pining it. “I’m just splinting your wrist until the doctor gets here,” Picking up the tin, you shook a good amount of leaves into the hot water. “And drink this tea once it’s seeped, it will help with the inflammation.”

“I’m impressed, Miss. Y/L/N.” Startled, you looked up. Mr. Parker smiled, “I must admit when I saw Miss. Watson I did not expect to end the night here. I believe it’s an improvement upon my previous plans.”

You felt yourself blushing, “I must admit I’m happy to see you again so soon, Mr. Parker.” Your heart began to beat faster, and, somehow, his smile became brighter than all the candles in the room.

“Mr. Parker!”

The two of you turned towards the voice, and you groaned inwardly at the sight of your older sister standing in the doorway. She was, of course, an absolute vision; her white robe making her look almost ethereal in the candlelight.

“What an absolute surprise!” She floated towards the three of you as your mother appeared in the doorway with a sly grin on her face. Mr. Parker stood to greet you sister, and you glanced up at Mary-- who rolled her eyes.

Unable to watch Mr. Parker converse with your sister, you began gathering your supplies and checked the steeping tea. You stood, brushing off your clothes before realizing, to your horror, you were dressed only in your thin summer nightgown. You bit your lip, and concluded there was nothing that could be done about the indecency now-- not only had Mr. Parker already seen you, it would only draw more attention if you were to claim your robe back.

There was a slamming door at the back of your house, and your father made his way to the drawing room. “Well, I’ve sent your brother to fetch Doctor Stephen-- but I don’t expect him to arrive until tomorrow morning. I believe the best thing is for all of us to get some sleep. Mr. Parker, I insist you take my bedroom for the remainder of the night. Miss. Watson, I believe you are well acquainted with the inner-workings of the this household.

“Rose, dear, please escort Miss. Watson to the bedroom. Y/N, go get something for Mr. Parker from the kitchen and then escort him to his room.” Your father instructed, ignoring Rose’s thinly-veiled protests.

“Oh, but father, I’m sure Mr. Parker would prefer--”

Mr. Parker interrupted your sister, glancing your way as he spoke. “I think that sounds most agreeable, Mr. Y/L/N. Thank you, once again, for your hospitality.”

He rejected Rose.

No one rejects Rose… especially for you.

You watched as your sister turned red, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at you. “Of course, father. Please, Mary, follow me.” Rose said, her voice sweet despite the soured look on her face. You helped Mary stand, watching as Rose turned on her heel and practically stomped out of the room-- Mary following after sharing another eye roll.

Turning towards Mr. Parker, you offered a small smile. “If you like, I can offer you some cold cuts from dinner and maple oat scones I made earlier today.”

“That sound perfect, your family is much too generous.”

You nodded, picking up your candle and nodding towards you father. “Will you be joining us, father?”

The man shook his head, “I don’t believe so. Have a good night, Mr. Parker.” Your eyes widened slightly at your father’s words, surprised he’d allow you to be alone with Mr. Parker-- granted, this was your home, and the kitchen was next to the room you knew your father would be staying in, but it was shocking nonetheless.

However, as you gathered up your supplies and made your way across the room, you saw your father wink at you as he disappeared down the hall. Heat swelled in your chest, and you were glad the darkness hid most of your blush. It was getting ridiculous what Mr. Parker’s presence reduced you to-- nothing better than a stuttering schoolgirl.

You turned, facing Mr. Parker. “Follow me.” The two of you walked to the kitchen together in silence, each step magnified in the silence. You rounded the corner, taking a moment to light the candles in the middle of the table. “Please, take a seat anywhere.”

As you bustled around the kitchen, you could feel his eyes on you. You pulled down the family’s silver platter, setting a plate of your scones on it-- as well as some clotted cream, cheese, cold cuts, and some bread. “I hope this is adequate, I’ve also put on a fresh pot of tea.”

“This looks perfect, thank you so much.” Mr. Parker grinned, picking up and holding out one of the scones. “But I insist you join me.”

You smiled, taking the scone and slathering it in clotted cream. “If you insist.” There was a moment of silence as you both ate, when you finished the scone you got up and poured a cup of the freshly brewed tea. “I just wanted to thank you for helping Miss. Watson. She’s my best friend, and I was incredibly worried about her. I’m afraid I find myself deeply in your debt.”

Mr. Parker took your proffered cup, your fingers brushing for just a moment longer than necessary. “It was my pleasure. Thank you for your hospitality, and these delicious scones-- you said you made them yourself?”

“Well, when I was younger my mother would attempt to keep me out from underfoot by sending me to the kitchen to help our cook; and when Miss. Watson began visiting more frequently, the cook had me help with our tea time snacks. And… I found I quite liked baking.” You explained, pouring yourself a cup a tea and rejoining him at the long table.

He nodded, helping himself to another scone. “My Aunt May also loves baking-- some of my favorite childhood memories are of helping her in the kitchen. And these,” he said, nodding towards the scone in his hand, “Are absolutely delicious. My compliments to the cook.”

You laughed, tucking a piece of your loose hair behind your ear. “Thank you, I’d be happy to make you more at any time.”

“Be careful, I may take you up on that offer someday.” There was a moment of silence, before he spoke again. “What other hobbies to you have?”

“Oh,” You paused. “I suppose I’m decent at needlepoint and I like to read. Although I truly enjoy walking and gardening during the warmer seasons. What about yourself?”

Mr. Parker constructed a sandwich as you spoke, taking a bite as he thought. “I’d have to say I really enjoy working with Lord Stark on his scientific projects… but if I had to choose, reading is always a favorite past time.”

You hummed in response, and soon the two of you were laughing and teasing each other as your tea grew cold. You found yourself relaxing as time went on, the omnipresent butterflies slowing down as you learned more about the mysterious Mr. Parker.

“Well, after my parents passed, by Aunt and Uncle took me in-- they don’t have any children of their own, and I was fortunate enough they treated me as if I were. Unfortunately, when my Uncle Benjamin passed, his business partners abandoned my Aunt May and myself leaving us with a severely depleted income. So, I joined the military as a means to support my Aunt. That’s when Lord Stark took a liking to me, and… well… here I am. It feels like a dream most days.”

You reached across the table and took his hand, “It seems to me that you have worked hard to be in your position. God has blessed you with great fortune and plenty of people who care for you.”

He shrugged, “I just hope that I’m in a position one day to help people as I have been helped.”

Squeezing his hand, you smiled at him. “I think that you already are, Mr. Parker.”

“Miss. Y/L/N?” Mr. Parker’s voice was quiet, almost timid. “If it’s not too forward, I would like to call upon your debt.”

Your heart felt like it skipped a beat, suddenly frozen as you pulled your hand away from his. “Of course.”

Mr. Parker sighed, “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving with my companions sooner than planned. Lord Stark requires our assistance back in London-- and I’m afraid my attempts to delay the move have failed. However, I’m hoping.. Would it be alright if I wrote to you occasionally?”

The smile that broke across your face was almost painful, and you could hardly keep yourself from giggling. “Of-of course, Mr. Parker. I would be honored.”

He stood, bringing the used teapot and cups with him to the sink. Reaching out, his gently took your hand in his. “Please, call me Peter.”

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