When Jack wakes, it takes him a few moments to recall the reason for his gritty eyes. As to why he is lying mostly dressed on a silk covered bed with Phryne's arms wrapped around his back and his face buried against her neck, he's not sure whether to be mortified or happy about the circumstances that led to this.
But he cannot bring himself to regret the things he revealed to her last night. If Phryne now sees him as weak or pitiful then so be it, because he has not felt such a lightness of spirit for years and he would not give the feeling up for anything.
Jack sighs and relaxes into the pillows. Did Phryne have different plans for last night? When the power went out, had she formed a plan with an intention to seduce him? Or had their heartfelt talk been all she wanted from him?
Regardless of the answer, Jack resolves not to turn away this opportunity or waste it like he has in the past. There is a rumble of retreating thunder outside the window, the wick of the kerosene lantern has burned down to sooty nothing, and Jack drifts back to sleep with his lips pressed against the soft skin of Phryne's neck and her scent surrounding him.
)()(
The next time Jack wakes it is because Phryne's hands are gripping hard against his back as she mutters in her sleep. Her nails are sharp through the cotton of his shirt, but the real worry is the tears he can feel soaking through the fabric where her face is now pressed to his chest.
Phryne Fisher, she of the big heart and the infinite compassion, is having a nightmare.
"Phryne. Phryne, wake up, sweetheart," Jack murmurs. He smooths her hair back from her face and squeezes her arm. "Wake up, sweet."
She chokes on a cry as her eyes open and there is a moment of blank fear in her eyes. But then she comes back to herself, the nightmare fading out, and her body relaxes even as her tears flow more freely.
"Jack," she whispers, as if to say his name too loudly will cause him to disappear like an apparition. Her hands release their grip on his back in order to cup his face. Making sure he is real. Making sure this is not going to end like so many dreams of the Inspector – with an empty bed.
"Do you often have nightmares?" he asks gently. The stubble on his jaw scrapes her fingers as he speaks, adding another proof that he is no ghost or desperate dream.
"I don't like to advertise the fact that I'm not entirely in control of my own thoughts." Phryne closes her eyes as Jack's thumb brushes over the fading tear tracks on her face. What did she ever do to deserve this man? He wraps his arm back over her waist and turns onto his back, his action causing her to slide across the silk sheets to rest at his side with her arm and leg thrown over him and her head on his chest. Phryne's places her hand over his heart and feels its strength through the two layers of cotton separating her from skin.
"You could tell me about it, if you like. A wise lady once showed me how beneficial it can be to share such things with a trusted friend."
She can't help smiling a little, but she tilts her head to look up at him and raises an eyebrow. "Only a friend?"
"Well." Jack wraps both arms around her to keep her pressed close against him and stretches down to lay a kiss on her hair. "Perhaps more than that, if she'll have me."
"She'll consider herself dammed lucky to do so," Phryne admits. With the fizzingly wonderful promise of an imminent change in their relationship, she settles into his warmth and finds the words to describe the dreams of being helpless in the face of dying soldier boys and cruel Frenchmen.
)()()(
As is customary, Dot knocks at the door when ten o'clock in the morning rolls around with no sign of her mistress. But it is the Inspector's voice that calls her into the room.
The sight that greets her is of Phryne fast asleep in the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped around Jack who is sitting up against the headboard with a scrounged copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets held open at page 78 in his free hand. The other hand rests protectively on Phryne's head.
"Good morning, Miss Williams," Jack says, his face open and honest. He is not willing to hide the change in circumstances between himself and Miss Fisher, and here is the first test.
"Good morning, Inspector. Did you sleep well?" Dorothy always expected to one day find the Inspector in Phryne's bed. As far as she's concerned, if Jack and Phryne make each other's hearts as happy and light as Hugh makes her, then there can't be anything too wrong with it. Even if they aren't married in the eyes of the Lord. And she is very glad (and possibly a little disappointed – the Inspector is a handsome man…) to find that Jack is dressed in shirt and trousers. It would be rather difficult to meet his eyes on cases if she'd seen him lounging around naked.
Jack's mouth spreads into a smile that matches Dorothy's own and he answers her question without hesitation: "Better than I have in years."
)()(
The page number is from my (admittedly 1961 copy) of "Shakespeare's Sonnets". The sonnet in question is number LXXII. It's theme is of feeling unworthy of the love of a wonderful woman .
The response was overwhelmingly in favour of continuation. There will be one more chapter after this one.
THANK YOU to everyone who has taken the time to write their thoughts and reactions in a review. Every review helps me feel that my writing *just might* be worthwhile sharing.
