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Chapter 2.11 - In which Percy's family is poor
🕑 Added 2025-11-21 01:49:18 +0000 UTCPercy
Month 1, Day 1, Friday 8:30 a.m.
A few days later, shortly after Dad had left for an early start at the shop, Tennyson Bourgeron appeared at the Irving’s doorstep. His expensive coat was a stark, brightly-colored contrast to the grey, overcast sky and dingy streets. He made an elaborate bow to Percy’s mom and handed her a bottle of wine and some flowers.
She seemed stunned, her mouth opening silently as she took the gifts.
“Good morning, Madam. And might I say you look lovely?” Tennyson said. Before she could respond, he added, “May I come in? I’m here to check on Percy.”
While Percy and his siblings stared from the small kitchen, Mom seemed to snap back to herself. “Oh, certainly. Welcome,” she said, stepping back from the doorway.
Tennysons’s eyes darted around curiously as he entered the house, and kept returning to Percy’s mom.
After an awkward silence, she asked, “Will you be staying for breakfast?”
Tennyson hesitated, but seemed to steel himself. “It would be my pleasure! You’re so kind to invite me. I don’t suppose you have a chef? No matter, I look forward to tasting your cooking!”
She ushered Tennyson to Dad’s normal space at the table.
“I will take it as a gift of friendship,” Tennyson announced. “Let us break bread together.”
“No, it’s just that you look like you could use a meal,” Mom muttered as she shuffled past the table toward the stove. “Even skinnier than Percy,” she added, but Tennyson didn’t seem to hear her, still smiling amiably.
When she placed a plate of vegetables, beans, and an omelette in front of him, his eyes widened. “It’s not gruel! The stories have led me astray.”
Percy kicked him under the table.
Tennyson winced and then smiled at him awkwardly. “Quite a cramped space, isn’t it? But I can endure hardship with the best of them, I assure you. I’m no pampered noble.”
Even Aethelwulf stared at him incredulously.
Tennyson seemed to be waiting, and his eyes widened as he watched the family begin to eat, his eyes bounding between the spoon and fork in front of him. “Do you have a knife?” he asked.
Lysander gave him her signature unimpressed, deadpan expression. “It’s an omelette,” she said, shoving a large bite into her mouth. “Are you too weak to eat eggs with a fork?”
Tennyson shuddered as some of the masticated egg peeked out while she talked. “Well, technically, it’s possible to eat without a knife, but…”
Percy kicked him again. “Shut up and eat, Tennyson.”
Tennyson winced, reaching down to rub his shin. “It’s Tenny,” he muttered grudgingly, but reluctantly complied.
Gideon watched with fascination, as if watching a strange animal, as Tennyson sat straight-backed, holding his spoon in one hand and his fork in the other. He ate so precisely that his utensils never made a sound against the plate, and each bite was tiny and delicate, like some kind of princess. He chewed slowly and never talked with food in his mouth. He had obviously never had to fight over food with any siblings who would wolf down their food and steal anything left over that they could shove down their gullets. “My compliments, Mrs. Irving. Your chef has—” He paused, then corrected, “You have outdone yourself!”
Mom, the only one of them whose manners came close to matching Tennyson’s, leaned back and laughed delicately, the back of her fingers covering her mouth. “Why thank you, young man!”
Tennyson flushed. “Your cooking skills completely match your character! Dashing, straightforwardly simple, and unafraid of judgement.”
“…Thank you,” Mom repeated, somewhat less graciously.
Lysander rolled her eyes so hard Percy worried they might actually get stuck pointing backward.
Percy kicked Tennyson for a third time, and perhaps the young man finally got the hint, because he finished eating in silence.
After the meal, Tennyson pulled Percy aside, though the corner of the living room didn’t actually provide much privacy from the rest of the family. Their house wasn’t very big. “I say, Percy,” Tennyson muttered. “I’m sure your family and absolutely lovely mother have put on their best behavior, most impressive accoutrements, and best food for me. I know they want to impress me, and I don’t wish to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I cannot stay silent!”
Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Wanted to impress you? You turned up uninvited for breakfast. Some of us are still in our pajamas.”
Tennyson seemed not to hear him. “If this is the state of your family, no wonder Captain Hay felt he could throw his weight around! Is this how your father provides for your mother? It’s a wonder such an obviously formidable woman agreed to subject herself to a life of scraping to get by.”
Percy’s mouth fell open, and he was trying to gather the words to tell Tennyson how rude he was being, but Tennyson just kept talking.
“You’re very poor, Percy.” He placed a commiserating hand on Percy’s shoulder. “And there’s not much to be done about that, as I’m sure you’re too prideful to accept charity. But poverty is no excuse for a lack of refinement! You can use culture and the illusion of good breeding to make a man like Captain Hay think twice.” He clamped his long, slender fingers on Percy’s shoulder. “Stop slouching.”
Percy had not been slouching. In fact, he had been bristling with umbrage, his shoulders drawing back and his chest puffing out.
“You said you want to be normal, Percy? Well, true normalcy comes from proper etiquette. Following the unspoken rules can act like a social shield and weapon, both of which can be wielded to great effect. And I can help with that. Didn’t you notice how I’m not under suspicion by the coppers?
“I insist you come to my house for proper lessons,” Tennyson declared, adjusting his sleeve cuffs. “We’ll have you acting like a gentleman in no time! And then I will introduce you to the right sort of people. Connections.” Tennyson rubbed his empty fingers together like he was displaying a bright, shiny coin.
Percy could think of few things that sounded less enjoyable. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time with someone who had just insulted his family—repeatedly. But as he looked away, trying to calm himself so that he could respond without being rude, he caught sight of his mother’s pinched expression and Lysander’s scowl. Obviously, they had heard everything. He wondered why he was even trying to be pleasant to Tennyson.
And that thought made Percy hesitate. As much as Tennyson’s words stung, there was a kernel of truth in them. The world often judged based on appearances and manners, and Percy had seen firsthand how quickly people like Captain Hay could dismiss those they deemed beneath them. How much of his instinctive reluctance to anger Tennyson was from courtesy, and how much of it was due to Tennyson’s status?
Though it felt somewhat mercenary, also Percy recognized that having a wealthy friend like Tennyson could be beneficial in the long run, even if he found him irritating—or even infuriating—at times. After all, it was true that Tennyson wasn’t under suspicion, though that likely had more to do with his name and his gold than anything else. And no matter how rude Tennyson was, nothing he had done was malicious.
Tennyson seemed like the kind of person that never had any bad luck. Or, when he did, it came with a silver lining that he could call an “adventure” afterward. He was never truly inconvenienced or damaged. Percy wanted that for himself—not just the absence of misfortune, but the ability to turn even setbacks into opportunities.
Maybe this was another way to protect his family. It could be a shield against future misunderstandings and a tool to open doors that had previously been closed to them. “Alright,” he said.
“Excellent! Now, we have only a week to get you prepared for your debut at my family’s party, so we’ll have to work quickly.”
“What?”
Author Note: Due to a shortage of doctors in my state, I'm forced to wait until December for my appointment with a specialist. It's pretty frustrating, but in the meantime, I'm managing alright, trying to be careful and not make things worse. I've been having a few good days where I can manage to get work done, so I'm making steady progress preparing PGTS book 7. I don't want to jinx anything, but I'm moderately optimistic that I'll be able to start posting chapters soon.
Weekly discussion thread on the Alcove: https://alcove.azaleaellis.com/t/chapter-2-11-weekly-discussion-in-which-percys-family-is-poor/878
Comments
Stefanie
"Tennyson seemed like the kind of person that never had any bad luck. Or, when he did, it came with a silver lining that he could call an “adventure” afterward. He was never truly inconvenienced or damaged. Percy wanted that for himself—not just the absence of misfortune, but the ability to turn even setbacks into opportunities." SOB. Oh Percy, you are my favorite PGTS character. Except for Oliver, but he doesn't have to know.
BlastYoBoots
Ah, Percy, that's what you get for not checking with your mother's opinion before agreeing. The rollercoaster begins again!!!
