He closed his eyes for a moment, and made some mental calculations. Useless to send her there before Thanksgiving; no one will be able to fit her in, even with me as her patron. Besides, if she's going into the city, I want her to have some time to enjoy herself a little. If I have her read some of the more important works this week and next, I can send her in for three days in the second week of December-and that will give me three days in which to put some of that to the test. Hmm. Thursday through Sunday, I believe. There should be something playing at the Opera House, and I'll arrange for something on whichever weekend night the Opera isn't. Is she frivolous enough for an operetta at the Columbia Theater? Perhaps a recital, instead...He started to summon his secretary, then realized his agent in the city could take care of everything. Somehow, he did not want du Mond to know precisely what his arrangements were going to be for her... I could use a Salamander to write the letter for me. No, wait, I have a better notion.
So he reached instead for the telegraphy machine, and began tapping out his orders to his agent at the railhead. Have the apartment opened for her ... notify the servants ... appointment with an occulist ... tickets ... She didn't know her way around the city; he added another order. Snyder to have a carriage or cab and experienced driver for her. While she might well enjoy the cable cars, he had better warn her to either take Snyder or the maid with her on any excursions, and confine herself to the paid conveyance after dark.
He felt altogether like an indulgent uncle arranging a holiday treat by the time he was finished. And he couldn't wait to until after dinner to tell her; he had to see her reaction now.
He reached for the speaking-tube, and cleared his throat, remembering to act as if he did not know she was there. 'Ah ... Rose? Do you happen to be there?'
She jerked her head up at the first sound of his voice, and with a look of guilt, swung her feet to the floor, put the book down, and moved to the speaking-tube in her room. 'Jason? Yes, actually, the weather is not as pleasant as I would like, and I stayed here. Can I help you?'
'Actually,' he responded, his jaw dropping open in the lupine equivalent of a grin, although she could not see it, 'I thought I might help you. You're going to be working very hard for the next few days, and I had promised you periodic rewards for hard work. What would you say to an excursion into the city in about a fortnight?'
Her face lit up with pleasure and an emotion he did not recognize. 'Oh, that would be absolutely splendid!' she exclaimed. 'There are some things I did not like to ask anyone else to get-'
She blushes so very prettily.
'It occurred to me that you were working very diligently and deserved one of those treats I mentioned to you.' The telegraph was tapping a reply to his message, and he translated it effortlessly. 'The Opera will have a Friday night performance of La Giaconda, the Columbia Theater is presenting Babes in Toyland, on Saturday, or if you are so inclined, you can go see that ham, young Barrymore, overact his way through Shakespeare. I am aware that you wear eyeglasses-'
She self-consciously pushed her eyeglasses firmly up onto the bridge of her nose.
'-and I thought that with all the reading I am asking you to do, it would be beneficial to both of us if I had you go to my occulist to be certain your lenses are strong enough.'
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then shut it again. Good girl. You know you need them; don't look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.
'No harm done if they are fine, but you have been faltering a bit and I would like to be certain that your eyes are not being strained,' he continued. 'I certainly need them to be in top order. At any rate, you may use my flat in town, I'm arranging for a conveyance, and you can use the rest of your time to shop.'
'Thank you, Jason,' she said warmly. 'That will be considerably more than I expected.' Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and her eyes behind those thick lenses sparkled brightly.
Now he felt even more like an indulgent uncle arranging a holiday treat. 'Would you prefer Barrymore or Babes?' he asked. 'I'll have my agent get tickets.'
Her mischievous smile lit up her face. 'I suppose I should say Barrymore, but I have to confess that I-oh, this is dreadful!-I adore Victor Herbert. His musical plays are like candy: terribly sweet, probably bad for you, but such fun!'
'And what better Christmas treat than Babes in Toyland?' He laughed, and tapped out his last order. 'Sometimes a surfeit of sugar is just what one needs. I must admit that my opinion of John Barrymore is not shared by the general public, but-well, Shakespeare is not his forte. He is far too dissipated for Oberon, too bombastic for Hamlet, too shallow for Macbeth, too callow for Othello, too young for Lear and too old for Romeo.'
'Prince Hal?' she suggested delicately.
He snorted. 'Only the drunken Hal, bosom friend of Falstaff. Wait until he's appearing in something more suited to his style, then I can recommend seeing him.' He shut the box on the telegraphy machine. 'Well, that was all I needed to interrupt you for, if you are ready to resume reading at the usual time. Unless you had something?'
There. If she wishes to 'betray' du Mond to me, there's an opportunity.
