Page 73

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is perhaps ill-done of me to compare our positions, but if it weren’t for Archie and Effie, no one would ever call me by my Christian name, either.”

“It is not the same.”

“I know, but I would like to hear you elucidate how it is not the same.”

“Your Christian name has given way to your title. You have become so important that you are synonymous with the estate you own, with the land itself. It’s a glorious thing.”

“Is it?”

“Most people would think so.”

“But you are not most people.”

What a curious thing to say.

“Never mind,” he said. “Do go on.”

“I, by contrast, have not had my name replaced by something grander; I have merely had it taken away. As my fortunes have fallen, so has my name. And now it is gone entirely.”

“There are different ways to measure fortunes.”

“Are you going to suggest you’d rather be penniless and alone than wealthy and respected?”

“Not precisely, but I would like to be respected for something other than my wealth.”

“And you are.”

“Am I?”

She decided to tell him more truth. “You are respected by me. Not that that amounts to much.”

“It amounts to a great deal. And if I may alter the terms of your question: Respect aside, I think I would rather be penniless but flush with friends than wealthy and alone.”

“How fortunate for you that you are neither. You have wealth and good friends you have said you consider family.”

“Are you not part of Harcourt’s family? Does the dowager not consider you family?”

“She sometimes thinks I am her mother. You have seen her refer to me as such. It doesn’t happen much anymore, but there were times we would carry on entire conversations with me in the role, relitigating the past in such a way that she found the outcome more favorable.”

“That was a service rendered.”

“Yes, a service.” She emphasized the word, not because she regarded herself as a servant, not exactly, but … “I would go so far as to say that playing at being in a family when one hasn’t one only serves to throw into sharper relief how alone one is, elementally.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I see the sense in that stance.”

“For what it’s worth, I do not believe that Lady Harcourt, when she was of sounder mind, ever considered me family. I was the daughter of a friend, someone she pitied, and that pity lined up with her need for help. Mind you, I think she found me acceptable. Perhaps she even grew to like me. But at the beginning, our coming together was transactional.”

“Be that as it may, has the nature of your relationship not evolved? And what about Archie and Clementine? And Olive. Do you not consider them friends?”

“I suppose so, but we don’t speak like …”

“Like what?”

“We don’t speak like this.” It was out before she could think better of it: more dribbles of truth.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Which brings me round to my original question: Will you tell me your Christian name? Mine is Simon, by the way, but you’ve probably heard Archie and Effie call me that.”