Ridiculous that Alder Court was grand enough to have rooms dedicated exclusively to recognizing the gap between master and servant. As if anyone who occupied that void could ever forget it. Jack didn’t need second-rate bed hangings to know that he didn’t belong at Alder Court. It was, he understood, the people at Alder Court who needed that reassurance. The aristocracy and gentry did whatever they could to keep power and money to themselves. You were either Quality or you were not, and if you weren’t, it hardly mattered whether you were a surgeon or a street sweeper.
