Chicago.
No more than half an hour later, she was seated in an open carriage across from the very proper gentleman who had introduced himself as 'Snyder.' The mysterious Mr. Snyder proved to be the butler and valet at Cameron's townhouse. He had brought with him this small carriage that had been hired for her convenience.
The fresh air managed to wake her up, and the rest in the carriage had certainly helped bring her back to her normal state of alertness. Snyder was no Paul du Mond; he was very proper in his manners, but gave her an impression of intelligence and shrewdness. She noted that he was giving her a very close, if relatively unobtrusive, examination as they rolled along, and she returned the favor.
He was a tall, thin man, balding, with the demeanor she would have associated with a 'superior' servant from the East Coast, although his accent had the faint drawl she knew was characteristic of the Southeast. She wondered where Cameron had found him, for here was certainly a superior servant of the old school. And had he always been in charge of the townhouse, or had Snyder once been the ruler of the Cameron mansion as well?
'Master Cameron normally makes use of cabs when he is in the city, ma'am,' Snyder said, breaking the silence. 'But I thought that would be rather inconvenient for a lady wishing to shop.'
She thought of a number of replies, but settled for the simplest. 'That was extremely thoughtful of you, Mr. Snyder,' she told him, hoping that she sounded appropriately sincere. 'Thank you very much.'
He eyed her a bit longer, then asked, hesitantly, 'Forgive me. This is hardly polite, but-might I ask, Miss Hawkins, just what your position is in Master Cameron's household? It has not been clarified to me.'
It's not polite, and he must be in agony over it! Poor man. I don't quite fit into the hierarchy, the way I would if I were the tutor I was originally told I would be. She raised one eyebrow to show him that she was conversant enough with proper manners to know the question was impertinent, then answered him with the same directness he had used. 'I am Mr. Cameron's research assistant, Mr. Snyder; I have both a Bachelor and Master's degree and I am very close to achieving my Doctorate. I am actually closer to a colleague than a member of the household, although he is technically my employer as well as yours. I came here from Chicago at his request, interrupting my own studies, because he was in need of my specific skills. He has some various papers and books he needs translated, and I am an expert in ancient languages.'
That was close enough to the truth to pass muster without making her feel guilty.
Snyder relaxed; as she had suspected, his unease had been caused by the fact that he did not know where to place her in the household hierarchy. Now he did.
I'm somewhere above a servant, just below a guest, and not a member of the demimonde, which I expect was what he was afraid of. She smiled at him, and was glad she had chosen to wear one of her more severe and business-like walking-suits. She looked like a serious scholar, and she knew it.
'Chicago! That's a cold part of the country, this time of year, ma'am,' Snyder said. 'Gracious, they must be knee-deep in snow by now! I hope you aren't missing the colder weather.'
She shivered, and smiled. 'Not at all, I assure you. If your university here accepts female students, I may well remain here when my work for Mr. Cameron is complete. I had not been aware that this part of the nation was so lovely.'
Snyder beamed, an odd expression on that long, melancholy face. 'It's a great deal like North Carolina, where I come from, ma'am,' he told her, as if imparting a precious secret.
Well, that explains his accent.
He coughed. 'Now, I hope you'll forgive me again. I've been asked to advise you that it wouldn't be wise to go out at night-except straight to the theater and back-without taking me as an escort. Parts of the city are pretty rough after dark, and you don't know where they are.'
So are parts of Chicago-but I didn't go out at night much, and never without Father. She nodded an absent assent; the hills of San Francisco rose all about them now, covered with buildings-for someone used to a flat cityscape, the effect was both strange and delightful. She couldn't get enough of looking. The houses, rising in two, three, or four stories, all seemed to be painted in shades of sand, peach, pink, or pale blue. They were like something out of an illustrated children's book, vaguely hinting at the Arabian Nights.
'Is it safe to visit China-town?' she asked, trying to see everything at once, failing, and not caring.
'Only by broad daylight, and not without an escort,' he warned her. 'I know what parts there are safe, and what are not. Perhaps you could make up a list of what you are interested in, ma'am, and I can arrange excursions for you.'
She sighed with a little regret; she had wanted to go exploring unencumbered, but-
But I also don't want to find myself stowed away in the hold of a ship bound for the Orient, either. Tales of white slavery might be lurid and sensational, but there must be some truth in them or they would not persist.
'That's probably the best,' she admitted, and Snyder relaxed a bit more. Obviously he had been anticipating resistance on her part.
