The mention of servants reminded Combeferre of the gulf that stood between them, or would have back in their own worlds. As a child, his family had been decidedly comfortable, and there had been boys who helped his father with the shop, and girls who lent his mother a hand around the house, but none of them would have been called servants, exactly. And once Combeferre had gotten to Paris, he had spent a significant portion of his time fighting those with enough wealth to hire people who lit lamps, and cooked food, and swept floors, and bowed and scraped. He did not hold Sybil’s title against her in the least, which actually surprised him a little, but the reminder unsettled him.
He was too polite - and enjoying Sybil’s company too much - to remark upon the matter. “It must have been strange to turn on the lights for the first time,” he said with a grin instead. “What was your home like, growing up?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-11-17 04:23 am (UTC)He was too polite - and enjoying Sybil’s company too much - to remark upon the matter. “It must have been strange to turn on the lights for the first time,” he said with a grin instead. “What was your home like, growing up?"