Jack was suddenly pulled from his reverie at the upstairs window by the sight of Mr Butler, lifting his umbrella to unlatch and pass through the gate, and walking off down the street, a valise in his hand… as if he were going somewhere… somewhere where he would be staying the night…
It confused him. Why would Mr Butler be leaving?
He felt her enter the room behind him, the inaudible swish of her robe leaving the slightest hint of perfume in the warmth radiating from the fire, before she came to stand behind him.
Her warm hand met the small of his back, and he tried to tamp down on the terrible feeling that he knew exactly why Mr Butler had departed.
He had left them, no doubt at her instruction, so that they would be utterly alone in the house.
Panic and horror flooded through him, and he squeezed his eyes closed.
She had bathed and perfumed herself, and emptied her house. She was his wife… he was her husband… and there were certain things to which he was now supposedly entitled. Not that he had ever expected that of this marriage of… what? It wasn't convenience… It hadn't been arranged for them… It was more like a business agreement… and it seemed that she was here to fulfil her end of the bargain.
Would she really offer herself to him? To be perfectly truthful with himself, he thought that she just might; she was not entirely without a sense of tradition, and she might feel obligated to proffer what was legally his to take. And, to her, sex was almost some sort of game, a pleasure that she indulged whenever the mood took her, with whomever she could find to be her willing partner.
Jack was not a willing partner.
No matter what his marital rights, he could *not* do that with her.
Not because he didn't want her, and not because he didn't love her.
But because he *did* love her.
"Jack…" her voice was small, unsure, and his certainty of the situation wavered. He swallowed hard, as if that action could draw away his terrible heartsickness.
"Mmm." He turned his head slightly to acknowledge her presence, and she stepped closer behind him, her other hand meeting his upper arm, her fingers searing him through his shirtsleeve. She waited.
This was ridiculous. He had brought this upon himself, and he ought not to be making her feel guilty. He reached his right hand up and put it over her left, where it rested, and felt the metal band, warm beneath his fingers.
He might never *be* with her, but that didn't mean that his life with her wouldn't be a good one.
Regardless of their sleeping arrangements, she was *his* now to protect and care for, whether or not she saw it that way. Undoubtedly, they were friends, and although things might be awkward at first, he was sure that they would each continue to enjoy the other's company.
Provided that all went well with the Welfare Department, he had a daughter now, and he had every intention of being the best father he could be to 'a wayward teenage girl'. That thought made him smile, really smile, for the first time today, and Phryne's fingers relaxed under his.
Phryne had made it very clear that as her husband he would not want for anything. In spite of his own suggestion that his life could remain rather separate to theirs, he had made a huge sacrifice in order to help them, and she was intent that he be afforded every privilege that he might have expected under normal circumstances; income, respect, and public acknowledgment of his place by her side.
It wouldn't matter how many times his suit was torn in a scuffle with a suspect, as there would always be many more to replace it. He could afford to catch a taxi whenever he felt like it, instead of trudging to the tram stop rain, hail, or egg-frying shine. He would come home to cooked dinners, and shined boots, and there would be no more nights sitting at the station, drinking a slow whisky over paperwork he'd already checked over five times, just because he didn't want to go home and be alone.
Sure, he would be obligated to attend parties, and charity functions, and dinners with some of Phryne's more Bohemian friends… and more time spent with Aunt Prudence (shudder); but for once he'd also be able to do things just for himself, or just because he wanted to. Travel. Send his nieces and nephews to university. Hell, he just might buy himself a motorcycle. He grinned, and finally looked down to see her watching him curiously, from beneath fat, black lashes.
His breath caught.
Was it the way she looked, or the way in which she was looking at him?
Aside from the dark lashes, she was free from makeup, and her freckled skin had a peachy glow against the silver of her long, embroidered robe. Of course he had seen her like this before, on late nights when he had come to discuss cases and had caught her already dressed for bed, but never like this. Never so close that he could feel her breath whisper against him.
She seemed soft and small, and although his grin was answered with a quirk to the corner of her mouth, it was accompanied by rapidly forming tears; when he saw them he couldn't help but remove his arm from under her hand, so that he could wrap it firmly around her. He was as sure as he could be that everything would be resolved now, that Jane would be free to stay with her 'guardian angel', and he couldn't bear to see Phryne still unhappy.
As he rubbed affectionately at her shoulder and spoke soothing words into her hair, her shaky fingers rubbed hastily at her eyes, and she composed herself enough to look up at him, her expression serious. She stepped away so that she could stand in front of him, and she took both of his hands in hers.
tbc