François

François serves as Philip's valet in Paris and follows him back to London, where his anxious scuttle and fractured English ('Eef m'sieu' would come up to ze chamber of my mastaire?') mark him as foreign, faithful, and faintly absurd. His pride in Philip's wardrobe and his alarm at the sheer volume of baggage register the transformation Philip has undergone — and the cost of maintaining it. He matters because his fussing presence keeps Philip's new identity visible and slightly ridiculous, a running reminder that the elegant gentleman is a construction, not a birthright.