I was going to mention that if someone's a servant in a house, a lot of times they would give them a generic name to address them by, so that no one had to bother remembering "real" names when the staff changed. I can't find the source at the moment, but it would be something along the lines of, "The first housemaid always answers to the name of Mary, whether her real name is Annie, or Jane, or Susan" sort of thing. I want to say a First Footman was frequently called James, and the housekeeper was normally called Mrs. Surname, even if she was unmarried. Likewise, work was divided very strictly-- you won't find an upper housemaid doing the under housemaid's work of cleaning a grate or sweeping; and you won't find the butler performing a footman's duties. Housemaids can't wear a veil or a parasol, but lady's maids can. So there is a definite rank/precedence/status that hinges on your position, and the position of the person you're serving, that can get very complicated.
If you're getting away from the servant class and descending to more of the criminal class, another good resource is "Palace and Hovel", which is a series of vignettes written by an American visiting London in the 1860's, and observing all the strata of society, from bribing his way into Queen Victoria's patchouli-scented bedroom, to hobnobbing amongst the poorest and most destitute.
For example, one night, he and a policeman went under London Bridge to talk to a group of about a dozen people living amongst all the trash and mud--
You have a policeman talking to a vagrant (cadger)--
"What are you herding here for, Prindle," said the detective to the old fellow, who looked up in a morose way and muttered something under his teeth which sounded like "D--n the bobbies."
And you have the vagrant referring to his daughter--
"W'ats the use of throwin' sich things in the gal's face. Molly's a gal jest like any one else's gal when she can't get anything to eat. I don't blame her a bit."
And you have the daughter talking to her father--
"If I am bad, Jem," burst out the girl, raging with passion, and her eyes filled with tears, "who made me so? Who kept chiming into my ears that I had a pretty face and that I ought to sell it?"
And then you have an elderly vagrant woman talking to the first vagrant--
"Wuss luck, Jem; wuss luck, Jem; I halways knew as how it would come to this, a-sooner or a-later," said an old crone in the corner of the archway.
And you have the vagrant referring to his father as "The old man" but the girl refers to her father's father as "your poor old fayther."
The book further goes on to explain, "'Cadger' is a Cockney term for people who will not work and have no habitation, but go from one place to another, roaming loosely, picking up anything they can get, honestly if they can get it that way, and if not they will not hesitate to steal for a living, or beg when they find people charitable enough and willing to commiserate their supposed sufferings. There are about 2,500 of this class in and around London, continually changing their place of residence, and to this class the hopeful family under London Bridge belonged."