Before Jack knew it, he had found himself standing on the cold stone floor of Mrs Stanley's 'chosen' Church of England, with Phryne beside him, on a blustery Melbourne morning. The rain had thundered down so hard that the priest's words were drowned, and he had temporarily had to pause; not a promising start.
Aside from the priest, there were just four of them present in the cavernous building – Jack, Phryne, Mrs Stanley, and Mr Butler.
Dot and Jane were already at the Stanley residence, where they would remain until the next evening, just to give Jack a night and day to settle in; after all, it would be a bit of a sudden transition from bachelor, to husband with a daughter and two live-in staff. Hugh and Mac were each at their respective duties. If the others had been attending then he and Phryne might have asked Bert and Cec to come, but as they weren't they didn't; he hadn't been sure which would make them more uncomfortable – actually attending Miss Fisher's nuptials to a policeman, or coming up with an excuse not to attend.
Phryne's remaining family were on the other side of the world, and Jack had not even told his that this was happening. Firstly, because he didn't even know how to begin to explain. Secondly, because he wasn't sure how they would react – and whether they would try to stop him. Lastly, because he somehow felt that he'd rather have the whole event behind him first – just in case it all fell through.
So, he had stood only before the four of them, and for the second time in as many decades he had promised to devote his life to a woman; the difference was that Rosie had meant every word of her vows.
He had no idea what Phryne was thinking; of course she looked beautiful, but perhaps in the way that a cold, marble statue might be beautiful. Her navy suit and matching coat trimmed with white fur was doing nothing for her pale complexion in the grey light. She had uttered as few words as possible, and said her vows in a matter-of-fact manner; but when she had promised to obey him, he had given her fingers a quick squeeze, and had been rewarded with the hint of a smirk.
It had felt almost like some sort of pantomime when he had twisted that shiny band onto her finger, and the priest had pronounced them married.
She was his wife.
No, it definitely didn't seem real.
They had not discussed the ceremony at all, and he had been suddenly unsure of what to do when the kindly old priest had suggested that a kiss might be in order; but Phryne had quickly reached up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, before throwing an arm around his neck and hugging him fiercely. Her smile was one of relief, more than happiness, but that was, after all, why they were here.
Back at the Stanley house they had endured a long lunch, and then he had been left alone in one of the parlours for a short while, at her aunt's insistence that Phryne accompany her into another part of the house. He had smirked to himself and wondered whether Mrs Stanley was attempting to give her niece some 'wedding night' advice. She was a very conservative woman, and it occurred to him that she may well be expecting this arrangement to operate as any normal marriage. After all, women had been marrying for reasons other than love for as long as there was history. He could not be sure, but he imagined that she herself had married to either maintain, or better, her own family's standing.
He had also wondered how much she really knew of her niece's 'interests', and what she actually believed of the allegations made against her. Phryne made no secret of her admiration of the opposite sex, but for most women admiration did not translate to sex outside the bounds of marriage. Mrs Stanley had not seen her niece for many years before she had returned to Melbourne, and, from what he could tell, Phryne was surprisingly discreet about her affairs where her aunt was concerned.
His wife (he wasn't sure how long it would take him to get used to that) had returned looking rather grim. On the car ride 'home' she hadn't ventured anything, so he hadn't asked.
In spite of the fact that she had sought his prior approval over everything that was in there, she had ventured into his bedroom and fussed over the contents, and asked him several times whether he was absolutely sure that there wasn't anything else that he needed… And he would tell her, wouldn't he, if there was anything else?... because he could have whatever he wanted. The furniture could all be replaced if he didn't like it… and the curtains… and if he didn't like the wallpaper she had chosen for him, she could have it changed on Monday…
In the end he had taken her gently by the shoulders, pressed a kiss into the crown of her head, and told her that everything was perfect. She had left, but looking less than convinced.
When he had come back downstairs they had sat in slightly uneasy silence in the parlour for some time, Jack with yesterday's 'Argus', and Phryne flicking through a French fashion magazine. She had looked drawn, and had eventually excused herself to take a bath.
After a fairly long interval, he had come up here, to the upstairs parlour, shedding his jacket and rolling his sleeves, trying to make himself more comfortable. He had given up, and had gone to stand at the window and berate himself for ever thinking that this was a good idea.
tbc