The days following my last encounter with Jessica were marked by a sort of mechanical rigor. I resumed my usual routines, each step performed with the care of a well-rehearsed actor. My attire was flawless, my tie tied to perfection, my shoes gleaming, and my hat perched precisely. Yet, for all the care I took, each movement felt empty, hollow—a pantomime of the man I once was.
Determined to reestablish my place within familiar surroundings, I made my way to the club. Alistair, Cecil, and Reginald were bound to be there, and I told myself that their company would restore my sense of equilibrium. They were, after all, the same companions who had taught me how a gentleman navigates the world—surely, they would remind me of what I had momentarily let slip.
When I entered, the atmosphere seemed unchanged, as though my absence had scarcely been noticed. The polished brass doorway opened onto the usual trio, seated in their leather-bound chairs with glasses of whiskey in hand, exchanging wry observations as they had for years.
“Percival! You’ve returned from your bohemian dalliance!” Alistair’s voice rang out with its usual pomp, as though he were hosting rather than merely present. “Do join us.”
I approached, taking my familiar seat and allowing the ritual to settle over me, ready to take whatever hazing they had in store for me; I ushered them from my home after all. The waiter, attuned to my preferences, placed a glass of vintage port at my elbow. I took a measured sip, hoping the taste might ground me in some forgotten comfort.
“Well, Percy,” Cecil said, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk, “I trust your…adventure has concluded?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Adventure?”
“Oh, don’t play coy with us,” Reginald chimed in. “You know perfectly well we’re talking about Jessica, the young lady that ran out on you from your apartment.”
I gripped my glass, feeling an uncharacteristic irritation rising. “Jessica was hardly a mere adventure.”
Alistair chuckled, leaning forward with that insufferable monocle fixed on me as though I were a specimen under observation. “I should say not! From the ruckus you made at that gathering, one might have thought you were preparing to duel over her honor.”
Cecil laughed, his voice carrying a note of genuine amusement. “Indeed, I must say that was a spectacle! Chasing us out like we were common riff-raff—all for what? A passing fancy?”
Alistair tilted his head, his smile cool and cutting. “Though, one must admit, she does have a certain… charm. Of course, charm alone does not make one Humphreys material. A legacy such as ours, after all, requires more than mere novelty.”
There it was—casual, but unmistakably barbed. I saw the faintest glint in his eye, a spark of satisfaction at his wordplay. I stiffened slightly but refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
Reginald nodded thoughtfully, as if Alistair had just imparted profound wisdom. “It’s true, Percy. There’s a standard to maintain. One has to think of the family—its legacy, its reputation.”
Cecil added with a sage nod, “You’re the Humphreys scion, Percy. That’s no small thing to take lightly.”
Alistair swirled his glass, his tone turning almost conversational. “She’s… lovely, I’m sure. But she doesn’t quite have the polish one expects, wouldn’t you agree? Not exactly the sort who could sit at the head of the Humphreys table and command respect.”
A murmur of assent rippled through the group. The words weren’t loud, but their meaning was deafening. It was an echo chamber of judgment, a reaffirmation of everything Jessica had warned me about.
I felt my jaw tighten, my grip on the glass firming. “Polish,” I said, my voice steady but sharp, “is a term often used to disguise a lack of substance.”
Alistair’s smirk didn’t waver. “Perhaps. But polish is what the world sees, dear cousin. And appearances, as you well know, are everything.”
Alistair lifted his glass, smirking over the rim. “But you’re not fool enough to still be taken in by her, are you, Percy? One doesn’t—well, one doesn’t consider the likes of her a serious…prospect.”
The faintest flicker of something danced behind his eyes—a glint that struck me as more deliberate than I had expected. Was this merely Alistair’s usual penchant for condescension, or was there something deeper, more calculated, in his remarks? I wondered, fleetingly, if he had carried a quiet grudge since my comment about his place in the family—his lack of Humphreys blood. It would be so like him to couch his bitterness in veiled jabs, savoring the sting they might leave behind.
The thought unsettled me, and for a moment, I could only swirl my port, watching the liquid catch the light.
“Yes, I was quite in the wrong,” I said, though the words came stiffly, as though dragged unwillingly from my throat. “That night, I may have…overstepped.”
“Oh, think nothing of it,” Alistair replied, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve all suffered such lapses. But it’s good you’ve come back to your senses. After all, one can’t be entertaining such notions about a girl like her.”
I tightened my jaw. “A girl like her?”
Alistair rolled his eyes, a gesture he rarely performed without carefully rehearsing the effect. “Come now, Percy. Surely you aren’t still smitten. It’s just as well you’ve ended things—one of our kind doesn’t settle down with an American, much less an American aspiring actress.”
The faint, self-assured smirk on his face made me want to upend the table between us. But instead, I glanced down, swirling my port and focusing on the way the dark liquid moved in the glass. I could still picture Jessica’s face that night, how hurt she had looked when Alistair had spoken to her with such condescension. I remembered how she’d called me out, how her words had pierced through my defenses, and I could feel the weight of her absence pressing down on me, like a stone I carried alone.
“A girl like her,” I repeated, my voice low and tight. “It is strange, Alistair, but for all our talk of standards and respectability, I find she possesses more character than any of us here.”
Alistair paused, his smirk fading ever so slightly. “Percival, don’t let sentiment cloud your judgment. It’s a trap of youth to confuse novelty for value,” he said, echoing the exact statement that had given me pause not months ago.
“No, Alistair,” I said, setting my glass down with a finality that surprised even me. “It’s a trap of youth to think one’s social standing defines one’s worth. Jessica, at the very least, has shown me more honesty and passion than I’ve witnessed from any of you.”
The trio fell silent, each looking at me with expressions that ranged from bemusement to mild indignation. I had crossed some invisible line, I knew, but I found myself uncaring. I rose, adjusting my coat, and gave a curt nod.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, “I believe I’ve had enough…diversions for one evening.”
Their silence followed me as I walked toward the exit, each step feeling as though it carried me further from something I had once valued. Outside, the cool evening air felt bracing, invigorating even. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my membership card, and without a second thought, let it fall into the nearest bin. I no longer needed it.