Author's notes: This is a direct follow-up to Perchance to Dream. You can enjoy this fic without reading the other, but you're likely to wonder what you've missed. I keep updates on my progress and longer author's notes over on my profile.
As always, reviews are appreciated. Never underestimate the power of a connection to another human being to inspire a writer, or a person, to keep trying. Thanks to FiBeeN and Ethelfreda, for being the human connections that got this posted. Enjoy!
Recap of Perchance to Dream: A smuggler turned murderer abducted Jack and thoroughly roughed him up. Phryne, using Jack's trail of breadcrumbs and her own considerable intellect, rescued him. She very nearly killed the man who took him, but Jack convinced her to stay her hand. The ordeal forced the two to admit the depths of their affection for each other, though neither really knows what to do about it...
Chapter 1
"He's missing again!"
Phryne groaned as a panicked exclamation from the hallway woke her. Her eyelids felt heavy as brocade, but she pried them open to check the time. The wristwatch on the arm draped casually over her stomach read 10:45. Not even 11 o'clock in the morning! Phryne scowled and burrowed deeper into the nest of pillows and blankets that made an impromptu bed in front of the parlor fireplace. The thick pile of the rug was deliciously comfortable, but Phryne decided it didn't compensate for the room's proximity to the front door.
"Is Miss Fisher in there? It's urgent, Dottie," the young man went on in a familiar voice.
"Miss Fisher got home late after an evening out, and the door is closed Hugh," Dottie said, defending her mistress' privacy in a fierce whisper, even against her beau.
"But we can't find the inspector!" Hugh said, his volume increasing.
Oh dear, Phryne thought as she pushed herself into a seated position, shedding pillows, blankets, and clinging arms. Feeling around in the semi-dark room, she located a shirt and pulled it on. It wasn't hers, but as it covered far more than the evening dress now lying in a puddle under the piano bench, she decided it would do and then some.
"We went by his house and he wasn't there. What if he's been abducted, or…" Hugh choked on the rest of his argument.
"It's alright, Dot," Phryne called, before the constable could work himself further into a dither. She glanced around the parlor and at the pile of blankets and pillows beside her. There was nothing that would overly challenge the young constable's sensibilities, as long as he didn't look too closely.
Her companion cracked the door and stuck her head in, surveying Phryne with wide eyes. Phryne sighed. She was wearing all her underthings, but she wrapped the overlarge shirt around herself more carefully and buttoned a few of the buttons. She raised her eyebrows at Dot for approval.
"Please, Dottie," Hugh said from the other side of the door. With a nod for Phryne's attempts at modesty, Dot bustled into the room and went to pull back the curtains. Phryne cringed in the sudden brightness as mid-morning light streamed into the room. Hugh rushed into the parlor, tripped over one of Phryne's shoes and turned a brilliant shade of red that extended from his neck to his hairline.
"I'm sorry Miss, but we can't find the inspector, and we need him at a crime scene." He had begun with his gaze firmly fixed on the floor, but upon discovering that it was littered with discarded clothing, he jerked his eyes up to focus on the mantle. Phryne scrubbed her face with her hands and forced a mind clouded with the after effects of too much champagne to focus on the situation at hand.
"I thought Jack wasn't due back at work until Monday?" Phryne asked. It was still Saturday, wasn't it? Phryne had misplaced the odd day, here and there, but she didn't think she could have lost an entire weekend.
"We have a request I know he'd want to accommodate. If he's missing again…" Hugh trailed off, looking a bit faint.
"I'm sure he's around," Phryne said.
"Then you'll look for him?" Hugh begged, meeting her eyes for the first time. The guilt in his guileless expression penetrated Phryne's fog. He still blamed himself for the waiting so long to look for Jack, when he'd been abducted.
"Of course," Phryne reassured him, even as a smile spread across her face. She began to sort through the pillows around her carefully, lifting the corners of each and peaking underneath. Hugh shot a mystified look at Dot, who was watching her mistress with an increasingly worried expression.
"Ah ha!" Phryne said, tossing aside a turquoise pillow.
"Uhngh," Jack protested incoherently, scrunching up his face against the sudden light. Draping one arm over his eyes, he snaked the other around Phryne's waist. Hugh and Dot's faces were mirror images of shock and mortification.
"Found him," Phryne said to Hugh, eyes innocently wide. She was incalculably amused by the situation, but the young constable's blush had darkened to something closer to burgundy, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he threw a glance over his shoulder. Serves him right, Phryne thought, for this entirely too early visit. And really, how could he be so surprised, so appalled? Jack had spent the vast majority of his convalescence with Phryne, and was even still more or less dressed in his undershirt and trousers.
"Jack?" Phryne squeezed Jack's shoulder and gave it a little shake. He didn't move.
"Detective Inspector Robinson, you are wanted at a crime scene," Phryne told him, with a possessive smile for the man she loved.
"Not until Monday," he said, his voice gritty from lack of sleep.
"Did you remember to inform the crim of your schedule? Because it seems someone's gone and gotten murdered anyway…" Phryne shot a glance at Hugh for confirmation that the crime in question was in fact a murder.
"Indeed," a harsh voice answered from behind Hugh. Phryne's eyes darted to the man she hadn't seen in the shadowed hallway. He marched into the parlor, and her stomach dropped as she recognized his sharp cheekbones, his strong chin.
Agonizingly slowly, Jack dropped his arm away from his face, looking up with barely disguised horror.
"Your presence would be appreciated, as soon as it's convenient. Unless you've better things to do," Henry Robinson said to his son coldly.
"Of course not," Jack managed almost steadily, as if he wasn't staring up at his father from the floor while tangled up with a woman. Phryne's heart pinched her a bit as his arm tightened protectively, the last of her amusement draining away as Mr. Robinson shot her a scalding look.
"I'll be in the car," Jack's father said as he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.
Jack seemed to have turned to stone at her side, not even breathing.
"That went well," Phryne finally said, breaking the silence with false cheer. Jack shot her a wild eyed-look.
"Spectacularly," he replied, voice cracking.
