desk.
I am extremely good, Miss Campbell, with observation. I am dogged and persistent, and Hyde is proving to be a most interesting subject. My first day, working alongside him, I concentrated on staying out of his way. I watched. I listened. I observed. I learned his patterns, his requirements, merely by watching and remaining silent. Which seemed perfectly acceptable to Hyde, who chose to ignore me as if I did not exist at all.
You must believe me mad, but truly, Miss Campbell, this has been one of the more enjoyable postings I have yet had. Save for Inverness, which was, by far, the most delightful placing possible, Edinburgh is quickly proving itself in an entirely different way. You already know that I read too much. I imagine too much. But what I also enjoy is the process of observation and then implementation. I delight in hardship and adversity. Edinburgh has given me that in spades.
I am a very quick learner, and this has always proven to my advantage.
So, for example, I now open all missives from MacDougal on my own. If I decide they are important, I scribble down the barest facts or instructions on Hydeâs calendar. I am careful to omit any mention of MacDougalâs name.
No more furious reaction. No more unopened letters being tossed to the bricked street.
I have also taken the liberty to arrive every morning with a bottle of spirits, which I leave as a peace offering on his worktable.
By the time Hyde arrives in the morning, I am sure to be deeply involved in the projects. No greeting. I do not look up from my books when he strides in. I covertly watch him from my peripheral vision. I can see his displeasure at my continued presence. Hyde is anything but subtle, but his low grumblings remain ignored by me. He then notices that I am busy with my own tasks. He sees the whisky. The coffee. The notes and correspondence.
There is cold air, billowing. I can hear the shouts of carriage drivers and merchants from the street below. But the office itself is quiet, the only sound the turning of pages, or my quill against the page as I write down notes. No conversation, not until he has a few sips of his whisky or coffee, and even then, conversation is sparse, at best.
This seems to work well enough for Hyde. He has not commented on my work, on my daily pattern, but I have decided that is a good thing. I think that if something displeased him, he would not hesitate to say so.
We have begun a rather pleasant routine of quiet, deep research, followed by an equally quiet luncheon, usually at a smallish restaurant adjacent to the Theatre. He is still openly suspicious about me, and my alleged allegiance to whatever factions are within the Doctoral Council, but I think that even Hyde has been unable to ignore the chilly reception I receive from those around me. It is difficult to be a spy when one is openly and truly disliked. And when asked, I am extremely candid about the fact that I am not beloved by anyone, faction or not.
Again, I do not wish to alarm you, Miss Campbell, with any rudeness on behalf of my employer. I am absolutely untroubled by it, and my good humor is in no way affected by the surliness of my fellow man. The work that I am conducting is truly fascinating, and there is so much of it that I care little for the subtle nuances of the social game.
Currently, we are engrossed in searching out a better way to treat consumption, and I have taken it upon myself (since I believe this is what Hyde would wish me to do, should he be a normal employer who verbalized my task list) to outline and document known procedures from various sources. Hyde is of a very firm belief that it is treatable, and that the cure is just beyond our grasp. I am inclined to agree, and have thrown myself wholeheartedly into a deep and seemingly bottomless pit of research.
Time and time again, I return my thoughts to the Steambox, but Hyde is silent on the matter. At night, my thoughts are consumed with thoughts of the soul,
I am extremely good, Miss Campbell, with observation. I am dogged and persistent, and Hyde is proving to be a most interesting subject. My first day, working alongside him, I concentrated on staying out of his way. I watched. I listened. I observed. I learned his patterns, his requirements, merely by watching and remaining silent. Which seemed perfectly acceptable to Hyde, who chose to ignore me as if I did not exist at all.
You must believe me mad, but truly, Miss Campbell, this has been one of the more enjoyable postings I have yet had. Save for Inverness, which was, by far, the most delightful placing possible, Edinburgh is quickly proving itself in an entirely different way. You already know that I read too much. I imagine too much. But what I also enjoy is the process of observation and then implementation. I delight in hardship and adversity. Edinburgh has given me that in spades.
I am a very quick learner, and this has always proven to my advantage.
So, for example, I now open all missives from MacDougal on my own. If I decide they are important, I scribble down the barest facts or instructions on Hydeâs calendar. I am careful to omit any mention of MacDougalâs name.
No more furious reaction. No more unopened letters being tossed to the bricked street.
I have also taken the liberty to arrive every morning with a bottle of spirits, which I leave as a peace offering on his worktable.
By the time Hyde arrives in the morning, I am sure to be deeply involved in the projects. No greeting. I do not look up from my books when he strides in. I covertly watch him from my peripheral vision. I can see his displeasure at my continued presence. Hyde is anything but subtle, but his low grumblings remain ignored by me. He then notices that I am busy with my own tasks. He sees the whisky. The coffee. The notes and correspondence.
There is cold air, billowing. I can hear the shouts of carriage drivers and merchants from the street below. But the office itself is quiet, the only sound the turning of pages, or my quill against the page as I write down notes. No conversation, not until he has a few sips of his whisky or coffee, and even then, conversation is sparse, at best.
This seems to work well enough for Hyde. He has not commented on my work, on my daily pattern, but I have decided that is a good thing. I think that if something displeased him, he would not hesitate to say so.
We have begun a rather pleasant routine of quiet, deep research, followed by an equally quiet luncheon, usually at a smallish restaurant adjacent to the Theatre. He is still openly suspicious about me, and my alleged allegiance to whatever factions are within the Doctoral Council, but I think that even Hyde has been unable to ignore the chilly reception I receive from those around me. It is difficult to be a spy when one is openly and truly disliked. And when asked, I am extremely candid about the fact that I am not beloved by anyone, faction or not.
Again, I do not wish to alarm you, Miss Campbell, with any rudeness on behalf of my employer. I am absolutely untroubled by it, and my good humor is in no way affected by the surliness of my fellow man. The work that I am conducting is truly fascinating, and there is so much of it that I care little for the subtle nuances of the social game.
Currently, we are engrossed in searching out a better way to treat consumption, and I have taken it upon myself (since I believe this is what Hyde would wish me to do, should he be a normal employer who verbalized my task list) to outline and document known procedures from various sources. Hyde is of a very firm belief that it is treatable, and that the cure is just beyond our grasp. I am inclined to agree, and have thrown myself wholeheartedly into a deep and seemingly bottomless pit of research.
Time and time again, I return my thoughts to the Steambox, but Hyde is silent on the matter. At night, my thoughts are consumed with thoughts of the soul,
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