Pukkah Khyber was not something she really wished to face first thing in the morning, although it certainly would wake her up! "Coffee, please," she said with an apologetic smile. "I'm American enough to require my daily dose."
"Well, and so am I, though Charlie can't see how we abide it." She smiled as if the two of them were in a conspiracy together. "And if you want coffee, that means I can get my cup, for he'll have to make a pot. I'll be up around seven with your breakfast, miss. Would you like a bath tonight or in the morning?"
"Tonight, but I'm fully capable of drawing a bath, honestly!" she laughed. "Don't go to such trouble over me!"
"If you're sure—then I'll leave you alone, unless you need something." She nodded at the expected satin cord ending in a tassel that hung down beside the bed. "If you need something, just ring."
With that, she left with the tray, leaving Rose to enjoy an excellent—and very, very British—meal. It even ended with a bowl of trifle smothered in whipped cream!
With meals like these, it's a wonder the English can govern their Empire; I should think they wouldn't have the energy to do anything but digest!
She put the tray outside the door when she was done with a sigh of satiation. It's a good thing I'm not staying here long. I would be willing to bet that Charlie puts on a full High Tea, complete with cream-cakes and Bath buns. I would need my corset pulled tight just to get into my dresses after a few of those!
There was more than enough time for a bath and some reading before she slept, although after the "early" start she'd had, she expected that she would sleep like the dead. She was torn between her Dunsany novel and the book on Magick that she had brought with her. Pleasure or duty? Botheration! This is supposed to be a holiday for me!
But her sense of duty was too strong to abandon altogether; she compromised, reading the book on Magick while the bath filled, then taking The King of Elfland's Daughter with her into the bathroom to read.
But her immersion in the Story was not as complete as she would have liked, for her new knowledge that Magick was a real and living force in the world kept intruding on what should have been a tale to escape into. If Magick was real, could elves be pure fantasy? Did Dunsany know that Magick was real?
What he had written certainly sounded as if he did.
So, with regret, she put aside the novel for her Magickal tome to read herself to sleep with. As an aid to slumber, it wasn't too far off from old Wallis Budge; she soon found herself nodding, and put the book on the bedside table, then turned off the unfamiliar electrical light.
If she dreamed, she didn't remember the dreams. Surrounded by the city, with all the night-time sounds she was used to back in Chicago, she slept more deeply than she had in Cameron's mansion. The next thing she knew, the maid was drawing the curtains and it was morning.
After a hearty breakfast—again, typically British, complete with thick oatmeal and cold toast, and she thanked Providence quietly that there were no kippers—she dressed and sat down to make out a list for Snyder of the places she needed to go. They included one that she thought might raise an eyebrow—a Chinese herbalist. That was the main reason why she wanted to go to China-town.
Among her father's many-visitors had been a gentleman who was both an Oxford graduate and a traditional herbalist, and she had the feeling that if her father had actually followed his friend's advice and taken the medicines he had left, Professor Hawkins might still be alive. If I am going to do as much for Jason as I need to, I am going to have to have more stamina, and it isn't going to come from pukkah Khyber tea and coffee. And there was another problem; she simply could not afford to be incapacitated two or three days out of the month with pain, yet she also could not afford to be giddy with doses of laudanum. That same gentleman had left remedies for her that she had faithfully used, but they were almost gone. A "real" doctor would ascribe her problem to "typical female hysteria" and dose her with opiates; she preferred to see if one Chinese could duplicate the recipe concocted by another.
As for the rest—I've had my bookshop. I still need a regular pharmacy. And a general dry-goods store, and a department store. Perhaps I should ask Snyder to suggest some sights, if there's time. What else did she need? I wonder if I ought to get Jason a Christmas present? But what could she get him? What could she possibly afford that he did not already have twelve of?
Perhaps I could find something in China-town.
For the moment, she had enough on her list to occupy the rest of the day. Tonight—ah, tonight there would be opera! She would sit in a private box, a luxury she had never, ever indulged in! It would be glorious, and as she gazed at the dress she had laid out, she had to laugh as she recalled the last time she had imagined herself attending the opera in San Francisco.
One could have made that the culminating scene of an opera itself—the poor, embittered, lonely heroine, expiring to the glorious melodies of Puccini! The girl that had made those plans of despair was so far removed from Rose as she was now that Rose didn't even recognize her.
Strange, how much difference a little hope makes.
She gazed on the dress with unabashed pleasure and a little greed. What woman wouldn't revel in the prospect of wearing a silk-velvet gown of deep red, trimmed in sparkling jet beadwork three inches deep, with silk elbow-length opera-gloves and satin shoes dyed to match? Her gown for tomorrow night was simpler, suiting the venue: sky-blue silk with handmade lace.
With her list in hand, she ventured down the stairs to find Snyder waiting for her patiently in the front entry-way. "With your permission, Miss Hawkins, I have arranged for the driver to deliver you to the occulist and return here with you. On your return, we can have luncheon awaiting you, and afterwards I shall guide you to your various destinations." He held out his hand for her list, which she gave to him, quite impressed with his efficiency.
"We can accomplish all of these within a few blocks of each other," he told her. "I believe you will wish to spend the entire day in China-town, so we will save that for the morrow. I have arranged for your new spectacles to be delivered here tomorrow, should you require them."
Goodness, he has everything organized! No wonder Jason keeps him here!
She could not possibly be in better hands. With that assurance, she stepped out the front door and into the sun.
She didn't need the maid to wake her the next morning; she bounced out of bed on the strength of her own newly-found energy and enthusiasm. The opera had been glorious, everything she could have hoped for. Tonight would be pure confection. And between then and now, she would be exploring mysterious China-town.
She dressed quickly, and bolted her breakfast and yet, by the time she skipped downstairs, Snyder was already waiting for her.
He licked his lips as if he wanted to say something. She waited, giving him a chance to speak.
"Master Cameron himself patronizes a Chinese apothecary, Miss Hawkins," he said at last. "He is said to be a very good one. Would you have any objection to visiting him, rather than seeking out your own?"
"Not at all," she replied, puzzled by the question.