"Jack!" Phryne exclaimed, opening the door.
"Miss Fisher," Jack bowed slightly, smiling, trying to take in all of her at once. A stunning plunge cut backless sapphire blue gown set off her creamy white skin.
"How do I look, Jack?" She asked, turning around. Clusters of hanging diamond beads rippled as she moved, showing off to great advantage a diamond necklace with a single large teardrop sapphire. The diamonds around Phryne's neck dulled in comparison to the twinkle in her eyes, Jack noticed as she smiled. Her black silky bob swayed as she turned towards him.
"Positively resplendent."
"You are looking quite dashing yourself, Inspector," Phryne said playfully smoothing out Jack's tuxedo lapel. "I am glad you called," she said, leaning in very, very, close, "I was afraid you've avoiding me, Jack." Except for some brief moments during their "Christmas in July," since Sidney Fletcher was arrested and George Sanderson was disgraced, Phryne had hardly heard from Jack at all. It bothered her more than she would admit.
Jack coughed slightly and escorted Phryne to the car at a safe distance. The truth is, he had been avoiding Phryne ever since the new Chief Commissioner opened up an investigation into Jack's involvement in the "Sanderson Affair," as it was now called, and the scandal wracking the Victorian Police Force.
"So, I am intrigued," Phryne said after several minutes, dismissing the uneasy silence between them as Jack drove into central Melbourne. "What are we going to see?"
"See?" Jack asked, confused.
"You called at the last minute, asked me to be ready at 7:30, which I was, by the way, and then said that you would be wearing a tuxedo. I deduced that you were taking me to the opera."
Jack pulled up to the curb and gestured out of the window. "As it happens, Miss Fisher, we are not going to the opera. I am escorting you to the Melbourne Public Library Benefit Gala."
"You are taking me to a society ball?" Phryne asked, incredulous as the valet opened her car door. "This is a surprise." And it was; both that Jack had any interest in attending a society function and that he had any interest in escorting her to one.
Phryne hesitated as she got out of the car. Earlier that day she had been planning on attending the gala with Richard Blackington, a dashing, utterly charming old friend visiting from England, and then Jack called with his cryptic invitation, and well . . . she made a last minute excuse to her escort, begging off because of a headache. This could get awkward, she thought, and heads would most certainly turn. Dickie Blackington's would of course, as would Aunt Prudence's. Aunt P had a soft spot for Jack, to be sure, but he was, after all, a police inspector.
"I just assumed you would be going anyway." Jack said, crossing across the car to meet her. Before them stood the magnificent Public Library building, with its Beaux-Arts façade and massive marble stairs leading up to the main entrance. "Hugh said that Dot said that you...and I thought," Jack stammered, "...you would want someone…well, and I understand that you are a great benefactor to the library." He stopped on the stairs up to the main entrance and sighed. "I mean I understand that you are on the board of the public library, and this is the event of the season, so I assumed you would be going."
"That is sound logic, Jack," Phryne replied vaguely as they mounted the stairs, realizing that Jack just assumed that she would be attending alone. This just might turn out to be a very interesting evening after all, Phryne thought.
Jack led her into Queens Hall where the glitterati and literati of Melbourne society swirled about before them. Phryne took two glasses of champagne from a waiter's tray. "So Rosie wasn't available tonight, Jack?" She asked, her tone a bit biting. She offered Jack a glass, testing the whispers and rumors around town in the past few weeks that Sidney Fletcher's ex-fiancée, Rosie Robinson, née Sanderson, and her handsome police inspector former-husband seemed to be quite close these days.
"No, thank you, Miss Fisher." Jack waved off the glass and ignored her question. "I'm am here to make inquiries."
"Oh" Phryne said softly, pursing her lips into a round "O." "So, you asking me to come with you tonight is..." "...is me possibly requiring your assistance on a case," Jack said, suddenly thinking this may have been a mistake.
Normally Phryne would be thrilled to be included in one of the Victorian constabulary's cases. Not just to be included, she realized, but for Jack to be including her – as a partner and maybe something more.
Jack noticed her face darken. "There is a delicate situation," he explained, "and I could use the assistance of someone with familiarity and access to a particular social set, as it were."
"So, this is a police investigation, and you need access to some of Melbourne's upper sets in a, shall we say, unobtrusive way?"
"I wouldn't put it exactly like that-"
"-And in return, for my help, Inspector, you shall...?" Phryne knew she had the upper hand.
". . . assure you of the valuable service you are rendering to the public at large?"
"Come on, Jack, surely you can do better than that." Phryne thrust one hand on her hip in defiance.
Jack lifted an eyebrow. "As you are no doubt aware, Miss Fisher, the police have been licking their wounds lately, with a good third of the force relieved of duty and the rest either embroiled in scandal or embarrassed to be seen in public," not that anyone on the force would have been invited to a socially prestigious event like the Gala. "Most members of the force don't think they should be at a society function."
"Lady Burton certainly would agree," Phryne said, smiling sweetly at the lioness chairwoman of the Library Board of Benefactors, who scowled at them as she walked by. "Very well. If I am to be used for my social connections, then, Jack, you'd better be out with it. What is this all about?"
"The head librarian is being blackmailed."
"Whatever for?" Phryne asked.
"We're not sure, but I have an idea. I think I had best show you." Jack motioned for the grand staircase when, out of the corner of her eye, Phryne spotted Richard Blackington coming towards them.
"Phryne!" He leaned in ignoring Jack, taking both of Phryne's arms and kissing her on both cheeks, lingering a bit longer than necessary in Jack's opinion. "I must say you are looking excessively well. Your Aunt and I were both very concerned about you. I insisted that we check on you on our way here, but your butler said that you were indisposed." Dickie straightened up a bit and held Phryne at arms' length and chided her, "I say, P, I didn't expect you to put me off, only to show up tonight on another man's arm. I should be quite jealous you know."
"I am quite well, Dickie, I..." Phryne was searching for an explanation when Dickie cut her off. "I do hope you remember, old girl, that you promised me a night of dancing tonight to dawn, if you are feeling up to it of course." Jack stared at them for a moment, mouth slightly open, realizing that Phryne had been attending the Gala with this tall, broad shouldered, some might say handsome, obviously public school-educated newcomer who seemed to know Phryne quite well. Too well.
"Dickie," Phryne said, recovering quickly, "let me present you to Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South Police. Jack, this is Richard Blackington." she said formally. Then, leaning in, Phryne said, "Dickie is an old friend newly arrived from England visiting us for a while. His father is the Earl of Artsley," Phryne whispered to Jack.
"So this is the infamous Detective Inspector?" Dickie extended his hand. "Phryne has told me about your work together. It is a pleasure. And, please, call me Dickie," he said giving Jack a warm smile. "Only my father and my captain have ever called me Richard."
By rights, Dickie should have come off snobbish and aloof, but Jack had to admit that he had a frank and confident charm, along with a disturbing overly familiar arm draped about Phryne's waist in a way that only an intimate friend would. "Infamous?" Jack asked, sounding a bit more annoyed than he should.
Phryne leaned in to Dickie and whispered loud enough for Jack to hear, "Dickie, dear, this isn't personal. We're here on a case." Jack stiffened. He did say that this was not a social outing, and he had been purposefully vague with Phryne about tonight. The possibility of them being something more than just working on a case appealed to him way more than it should.
"You sly fox," Dickie winked at Phryne, "and here I was concerned about your health. So, has there been another murder?" he asked conspiratorily.
"It is a bit of a delicate situation, you see." Jack interjected, "Official business. I'm sure you understand."
Dickie looked at Phryne and then at Jack, and back again. "We'll, very good. Enjoy your police business, Inspector. And you, P darling" Dickie said, turning to Phryne, "I don't care if the King of England is my cousin and he's murdered here tonight. You owe me at least one dance, or I will take it out on your whisky."
"Of course, my Lord" Phryne said coquettishly, hold out her hand so Dickie could kiss it. "One dance."
Dickie walked away, and Phryne turned to Jack. Each expected an explanation from the other. "Where do I begin Miss Fisher?" Jack started, exasperated.
"At the beginning of course." Phryne said, dodging his meaning. "Tell me the whole story."
Jack stared at her not flinching, and Phryne gave in first, "Ok, if you must know, Dickie is the eldest son and heir of the Earl of Artsley. He is an old friend, and he has a reputation of being somewhat of a rake, but that isn't true. He is, though, the cousin to the King of England," Phryne said, drinking down the last of her champagne. "That part is true."
"Of course he is."
"Dickie and I have been very close for some years. He is very heroic, and he has rescued me from harrowing situations on more times than I can count. He pops in periodically to check on me."
Jack's dislike for this mysteriously appearing earl grew instantly. He held up his hand. "Please, Miss Fisher, no more. Why don't we focus on the task at hand?" He turned and faced her squarely. "I could use the assistance of a lady detective," he said with a wink.
Phryne's face lit up immediately. "Then, Inspector, assistance you shall have." She swirled her glass of champagne, as Jack gestured up the stairs. "Now, we just need to get upstairs without being seen, Miss Fisher."
"Happy to assist, Jack. This way." Phryne beckoned him to the other direction, and Jack followed her to a side service staircase, where a hidden panel revealed a small service staircase. Phryne shrugged. "They have been give the Board members rather exhaustive tours to gain support for the renovations. Better than watching the entire hall gossiping about us."
Once upstairs, the two walked along the balcony gallery, and at an unlit spot, leaned along the railing, elbow to elbow, in an old familiar way, surveying the great hall as the crème de la crème of Melbourne society flitted about. Jack felt comfortable for the first time in weeks.
"Over here," Jack turned and led Phryne into a dimly lit reading room, filled with boxes. They could barely move among the boxes and moving crates.
"Are you trying to lure me away from the crowd and seduce me, Inspector," Phryne whispered into Jack's ear, pressing closer to him. Music from the gala below drifted softly in from the dimly lit corridor. He could feel her warmth pressing against him and her breath brushing on his ear. "I hope so."
Jack tried to ignore her. This may be more difficult than he anticipated, he thought, fumbling at a wall switch and managed to get the light on. He motioned for Phryne to pick up slim volume on the table in the center of the room.
"Are you joking?" she exclaimed turning the book over in her hand. "A banned book? That is what this is all about? Surely you can't believe that society needs protecting from some racy romans à clef, Jack. They're just words really, I mean look at this." Phryne picked volume after volume and put them down one by one. "Ulysses?" Too difficult to read to be subversive. Germinal? Too much about coal. Lady Chatterly's Lover? Who hasn't read that Jack?" Phryne asked, with an arched eyebrow. "So the librarian has a room full of banned books, and you think someone is blackmailing her over that?"
Jack nodded.
"What have the police done about it?"
"Nothing yet, this is still an unofficial inquiry."
Jack hesitated. "I am looking into this discreetly for my mother. She is a neighbor of the librarian." Phryne pondered that for a moment. Jack had never mentioned his family before; it caught her off guard. "But yes," he continued. "Possibly. The books are not the problem. It is that someone was able to sneak them past customs that is the problem. Other things have recently been smuggled in past customs, including a healthy supply of pure cocaine that has made its way onto Melbourne streets."
Cocaine? That could be worth blackmailing about. Phryne looked at the books, and a number of the volumes seemed familiar to her. Too familiar. Surely these books were not part of the shipment from England that Dickie brought over with him, were they? He did say that he was bringing her books and that he had a surprise for her, and she had not thought through what that surprise might be.
"Ahh, look," Phryne tossed a book at Jack and a card fluttered out. "A personal favorite," she said, "the love poems of Ovid. Now that is a subversive text if ever I saw one."
Jack caught the book midair, quoting: "Let every man who loves a woman that requites his love drink deep of his delight and spread his sails to prospering breezes."
"Very good, Inspector," Phryne praised, bending down to pick up the card, recognizing the Artsley crest on it. "You know your classics."
Jack stooped down as well and turned towards her. "Well, let's have it then. It looks like a calling card."
"No," Phryne said, "it is blank. Just a bookmark." "Give it over, Miss Fisher," Jack pressed. He swore he saw markings on the card. "What on earth would a bookmark be evidence of?" Phryne tried to sound glib, but came off as slightly shrill as she whisked the card off the floor and folded it into the palm of her hand.
Before Phryne could stand up, Jack grabbed for Phryne's hand and landed on her arm, knocking her slightly. His hands encircled her bare flesh just above her gloves and he pulled her into him as he tried to keep her from falling backwards. As Phryne put her hand on his jacket as if to balance herself, Jack froze, their faces just inches apart. Jack looked into Phryne's eyes and he could see her pupils dilate, and she tilted her head slightly. They were closer than they had ever been. He could feel he pulse quicken as he instinctively brushed his thumb across her inner arm. Phryne's skin was as soft as he imagined, and for a split second, Jack could no longer hear the music in the hall below. Here and now it was just the two of them, completely alone, inappropriately close. Jack could feel the electricity between them arc. He did not realize how much he had missed her until this very moment, when he loosened his grip on Phryne, letting her arm slide out of his hand, and looked at her face again. Phryne's lips part ever so slightly, and her eyes locked onto Jack's.
"Phryne, I-" Jack said through the thick tension between them, "It's time-" He wanted to explain why he had stayed away all these weeks.
"To get back to the party, I think, n'est pas?" Phryne broke in, cutting the connection between them. She stood suddenly, throwing Jack back on his heels. She didn't want to know. She had heard the rumors about Jack and Rosie. She came tonight because she was intrigued, but to Jack this is just business, even if there is an undeniable connection between them.
In one motion, Phryne smoothed out her dress, flipped her hair into place, secreted the card into her purse. "Why don't you tell me what this is all about over another glass of champagne?" Phryne asked, darting out of the room. It would have been perfect to have Jack all alone in one of these rooms, she thought, but...
Jack followed and almost smashed right into Phryne as she stopped short right outside of the doorway. Jack's face was inches from Phryne's head and the smell of her perfume paralyzed him slightly. Phryne put her hand up across Jack's chest, pushing him back against the wall, and spoke to him quietly without turning her head. "Someone else is sneaking around the gallery, Jack."
"We're not sneaking, Miss Fisher."
"Oh, that's not what you call it when you don't want to be seen going upstairs with a woman?"
Jack thought for a minute. They were just standing too close for him to be able to think straight. He tried to come up with a witty retort when then heard a blood-curdling scream from the great hall downstairs.