Alas, despite Grey’s appreciation of the rat-maze metaphor, it is a good deal ahead of its time (but then, so is Grey). Rats in mazes did not make their way into scientific research until 1901, when Willard Small, a student at Clark University in Massachusetts, first used them to study learning.
You will probably recognize Serena’s father as suffering from antisocial personality disorder (the DSM-5 term under which psychopathy and sociopathy are housed) and narcissistic personality disorder. These disorders can be comorbid with one another, leading to an individual who, in addition to entertaining delusions of grandeur and extreme arrogance, is not bound by societal conventions or laws, does not experience guilt for their actions, and is generally incapable of empathy. Though psychopaths are more likely than the general population to commit crimes, only a minority of diagnosed psychopaths are ever violent. Superficial charm is a trait of many psychopaths, which can make it difficult to identify them.
Especially when comorbid with psychopathy, narcissists can experience a “narcissistic injury” if they are subjected to real or imagined slights, judgments, or attempts to limit their negative behavior. Though only a minority of narcissists are what would be termed “malignant,” it is important not to underestimate the damage that a diagnosed narcissist can do to people in their sphere. Narcissists as parents tend to be overly critical, controlling, and especially damaging to developing psyches, eroding their children’s sense of self worth.
Of course, in 1828 psychiatry was still an emerging science. It wouldn’t be until 1888 that a German psychiatrist, J.L.A. Koch, first coined the term psychopath, but it was still a very broad term that lacked the more clinical definition we know today. Likewise, narcissism as a mental disorder would not be suggested until the early 1900s, and in fact it was not recognized in the DSM as a disorder until 1980—so there would have been no particular term in 1828 that Grey would have used to identify the Earl of Andover as anything other than a man without morals.
Every time I write a book, I learn many new things. I’m certain there are plenty of details I’ve gotten wrong, but I do put time and energy into research in an effort to at least approach accuracy. That said, I do occasionally find myself annoyed at the inaccurate representation of noble titles, specifically in movies. Several of my online writing groups have endured many lectures on this topic from me (although mostly they have been amused by them).
The most recent offender was Enola Holmes—but don’t let that sour you on it, because despite the egregiously misused titles, it was a fun movie that I very much enjoyed. If you have seen the movie and have a good understanding of noble titles, you probably have immediately understood that the primary offense was the nonsense title of Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether.
It’s so glaringly wrong that when the character introduced himself as such, I immediately assumed that he was simply pretending to be a member of the nobility, because the only way such an introduction makes sense is if Viscount Tewkesbury is his name.
Though it is common for peers, especially higher ranking ones, to hold more than one title, as Marquess of Basilwether is a more prestigious title than Viscount Tewkesbury, that would be the title he would use—and the one which everyone else would call him. Similarly, his mother would be simply the Marchioness of Basilwether (and not Lady Tewkesbury, Marchioness of Basilwether), nor would his paternal uncle be likely to be called Sir Whimbrel Tewkesbury, given that Tewkesbury is most likely a place and not the surname of the family. And given that he was the son of the prior marquess, he would have been entitled to the use of Lord Whimbrel (unspecified surname) as a courtesy title.
Simply put, every single title used by these three characters is complete nonsense. So in case you’ve ever wondered, here’s a brief primer on noble titles and their function.
You are likely already familiar with the general precedence of peers, but here’s a rundown of royalty through the aristocracy for you, in descending order, with both masculine and feminine variations:
King/Queen
Prince/Princess
Royal Duke (for example Prince William, Duke of Cambridge)
Duke/Duchess
Marquess/Marchioness (though some prefer the French spelling of Marquis/Marquise)
Earl
Viscount
Baron
Baronet/Baronetess and Knight/Dame are also titles, but they are not truly members of the aristocracy and they are not considered peerages.
You will likely also know that it was rare, at the time, for a woman to hold a title in her own right. Usually she either married into a title or is entitled to the courtesy title of Lady through her father. There are some exceptions—most famously Anne Boleyn, who was created Marquess of Pembroke by Henry VIII—but largely women did not hold titles in their own right. It’s also important to note that neither Lady nor Lord constitutes an actual title in England; it’s simply a form of address for those of rank below duke.
Dukes and duchesses are never addressed as “Lord/Lady,” but as “Your/His/Her Grace.” If a duke has a subsidiary title of lesser rank, he may confer the use of it to his eldest son as a courtesy title—that is, a title that the eldest son may use, but he does not hold in his own right. While a duke may possess a number of lesser titles, it is generally a matter of family tradition which lesser title is given to the eldest son to use. So a duke might also be a marquess and an earl and a viscount and a baron, but any of them might be conferred upon the eldest son to use as a courtesy title. A duke’s younger sons are entitled to the use of “Lord Firstname Surname,” and all of his daughters are entitled to the use of “Lady Firstname Surname.”
Marquesses and marchionesses are addressed as “Lord/Lady (territorial designation).” Similar to dukes, if a marquess has a subsidiary title of lesser rank, he may confer the use of it to his eldest son as a courtesy title, while his younger sons are entitled to the use of “Lord Firstname Surname,” and all of his daughters are entitled to the use of “Lady Firstname Surname.”
Earls and countesses are addressed as “Lord/Lady (territorial designation).” An earl may also pass down a subsidiary title to his eldest son as a courtesy title, if he possesses one, but other sons are out of luck—they are only entitled to use “The Honorable Firstname Surname.” Daughters, however, are all “Lady Firstname Surname.”
Viscounts, viscountesses, barons, and baronesses are addressed as “Lord/Lady (territorial designation).” All children of viscounts and barons are entitled only to “The Honorable Firstname Surname.”
This concludes my fussing about titles—at least until the next time I’m moved to ranting about it. If you have made it this far, God bless you. I’ll try to be less verbose with my author’s notes next time, and I hope you will return for John and Violet’s story!
Love,
Aydra
The Scandal of the Season Page 35
