A woman with stern eyebrows speaking to him in Latin popped into his mind. "Yes, I had a governess, until I was old enough to go away to school. The school I went to did not require a uniform, but the headmaster did not allow anything eccentric, and we were required to wear a neckcloth." He touched his neck. "Which I do not appear to be wearing now."
"That sounds like Eton," Adele said. "Which, incidentally, supports my hypothesis that you are a lord of some sort. Many of the best families in England send their boys to Eton."
"I had friends there. I can picture their faces but not recall their names."
Adele walked over to one side of the room and gestured toward a painting. "I do not know if you would have crossed paths with the Sweeneys, but this is a portrait of the countess with her late husband and her two sons. I believe the present earl is around your age, or maybe a little older, so perhaps you would not have crossed paths with him when you were children."
Smith looked at the painting. No one in it was familiar to him. "Is it a good likeness?"
"I believe so. That is, I did not know the Sweeneys well until I came to work for the countess a year ago, but I imagine that's what they all would have looked like twenty years ago."
"I do not think I knew them."
"Worth a try."
Smith nodded. He looked back at his reflection and studied it for a long moment. Those little flashes from his childhood had felt like the beginning of something, but now the gray curtain was back.
"I'm feeling quite tired," he said, rubbing his chin. He wished these whiskers were not there. He found the shadow on his face disagreeable.
Adele appeared at his side. "You should get some rest. Do you know the way back to your room?"
"If you could get me as far as the stairs, I know the rest of the way."
"Of course. Follow me."