You have been so patient that I decided you deserved the next chapter so here it is! I hope you are all enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
As Jack drove through the streets of Melbourne, he couldn't help but notice that Phryne had barely said a word since pulling away from Stanton Manor. He couldn't be sure what was plaguing her, but reckoned it was either her belief that Lord Stanton was hiding something, which was also Jack's belief, or it was her concern for her daughters. Jack glanced over at Phryne and felt like he needed to do something to cheer her up. He wanted to reach across the invisible boundary and take her hand, which he knew wouldn't be much comfort, but sometimes tactile comfort was all that was needed.
Jack couldn't even begin to imagine how Phryne, a mother, felt about the two people she loved most being exposed to the horrors she and Jack dealt with on a daily basis. He couldn't help but feel some kind of loss as to what those feeling were like since he and Rosie had never been blessed. Of course, Jane and Ruth looked up to him, and he treated them as if they were his own nieces, but he knew there was a bond between parent and child he would never understand.
He chuckled quietly to himself as he recalled the times when Phryne had asked him to talk to the girls, or rather reinforce rules, because Phryne didn't feel qualified to take on the task. Some of those talks were extremely embarrassing and usually ended up with the three guffawing in fits of laughter. It never failed to fill him with a sense of pride that Miss Fisher had asked him to talk to the girls versus anyone else.
He had watched over the last couple of years as Jane blossomed into a beautiful young lady with Ruth following quickly behind her sister; and Jack couldn't help but realize that Jane would soon be courted by young men. This thought made him particularly nervous since he wondered how Phryne would address the issue. Will she ask me to play the overly stern father-figure or would she ask Bert to do the deed? Jack wondered. Is this what being a parent is like? Does Phryne consider me a father, in some sense of the word, when it comes to Jane and Ruth? These thoughts and more ran through Jack's mind for the duration of the drive.
When he pulled into the station, he helped Phryne out of the motorcar, since she'd not noticed they had stopped, and, instead of directing her to the Hispano, led her back inside to his office.
"Collins, see if you can't find out what the city council has on Lord Alfred Stanton. I don't want to be disturbed unless the coroner's report comes in," Jack instructed to which Collins nodded.
Shutting the office door, Jack turned to find Phryne sitting quietly in the visitor's chair. He squatted in front of her and noticed the same faraway look on her face as she'd had the day of the murder.
"Phryne? Phryne?" Jack tried to reach her but failed. He went to his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey he kept for those times when he needed a boost and poured some into a tumbler. Jack returned to Phryne and placed the tumbler in her hand and helped her raise it to her lips before watching her down the brown liquid in one swig.
"Phryne, are you alright? You haven't said a word since we left Toorak."
"I'm alright, Jack. Just a little out of sorts today. My apologies," Phryne responded, not realizing just how concerned Jack really was, particularly now. One thing Jack Robinson learned since his acquaintance with Phryne Fisher was that the woman rarely apologized for anything she said or did. And she most certainly didn't apologize with the inflection she'd just used. Usually, her apologies to him were wrought with a carefree nonchalance or bordered on suggestive.
"I don't believe you. There's something on your mind and I need you to tell me what's wrong," implored Jack. He decided to hell with proper etiquette as he relieved Phryne of the tumbler and took her hands gently in his. However, Jack was unable to do anything more as a knock on his door broke the spell of the moment.
"Sorry, Sir. The coroner's report just arrived. You said you wanted it," Constable Collins apologized, cautiously peeking his head through the door. Jack nodded from his prone position in front of Phryne. Without letting go of her hands with one hand, he took the proffered files from Collins with the other. The Constable quickly left, shutting the door behind him.
"Shall we see what the coroner says?" Jack asked the unresponsive woman. He didn't want to take his seat which would cause the desk to act as a chasm between them, so he settled himself on the floor with his back against the desk and was about to open the folder to read the report when Phryne slid out of her chair and sat slumped next to him in the same position. Even as she rested her head on his shoulder and her perfume filled his lungs, Jack realized how much he enjoyed this feeling. She was here and he was here, and that was all that mattered.
He open the file labeled Marcus Brady and started reading aloud as if trying to awaken Phryne from her catatonic state.
"According to the report, the victim was asphyxiated by a horizontal cut to the throat, severing his jugular vein and carotid artery. His tongue had also been cut, although I don't remember seeing that at the scene. Apparently the weapon of choice was a Bowie knife. The coroner made a personal note," said Jack as he read the notation the examiner had made on the side. "he wrote 'After examining the wound and weapon of choice, I recalled the way in which the murderer killed the victim made me think of those units during the Great War, who charged the enemy's trenches and fought hand-to-hand, killing as they went along. Cutting the jugular and carotid in one slice requires a knowledge of basic human anatomy, a knowledge which might have been provided to only select mobile units in order to reduce casualties.'" Jack paused to glance at her for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, he continued.
"According to the decomposition of the body, Mr. Brady had been dead for approximately 12 hours as rigor mortis had completely set in.'"
Jack paused at the sudden flashback to his days in France. He remembered the soldiers that snuck up on enemy trenches, boldly killing everyone in sight. He recalled and shuddered at the memory of how some of the knives those men used had dripped with blood as they fearlessly walked through the camp after the slaughter. He disengaged himself from those lurid thoughts and glanced at his companion just as her eyes were slowly falling shut.
He smiled to himself as he opened the second file. Stephen Callahan.
Perusing the file, he read aloud, "the good doctor also wrote, 'Mr. Callahan suffered a knife wound to the abdomen, specifically the upper left quadrant, which resulted in his exsanguination by bleeding out. It would have been a painful death and he would have bled out within minutes had he not applied pressure. But, even with applied pressure, Mr. Callahan would have died en route to hospital.'" Jack's voice drifted when he realized Phryne's breathing had become steady, and when he looked down, saw that she was sleeping. Although his legs were starting to fall asleep, he didn't dare move for fear of waking her.
Jack watched her shallow breaths as he contemplated moving her to a more comfortable position; however, he lacked the will to disturb her peaceful rest. When she shifted, a few tendrils of hair fell into her face. Jack smiled and thought to himself that the otherwise well-coiffed Miss Fisher would be appalled at her hair being disheveled in public, and, of course, he couldn't have that, so he gently reached over and tucked the hair back under her cloche. Completing this act of kindness, he allowed his hand to gently trace the curve of her chin and when she moved slightly as if to awaken, he quickly pulled away.
His hope of her getting at least a few minutes of quiet before waking her and sending her home was all but dashed when the station doors burst open and the sound of a woman's voice pierced the waiting area.
"Hugh! Where is she?! She needs to come home," Dot's voice echoed. Jack heard the Constable calmly respond but wasn't able to make out what was being said. No matter since Miss Williams was suddenly standing at his office door with a look of sheer terror on her face. Something was obviously wrong.
"Oh, Miss! Miss Fisher!" Dot called out before squatting down and shaking Phryne from her peaceful sleep. She had barely wiped the sleep from her eyes when Phryne realized how terrified Dot sounded.
"What is it, Dot? Has something happened?" Phryne stood with Jack's assistance.
"It's Ruth! She's taken quite a turn. She was resting when I left her about an hour ago. But as Jane and I were taking lunch, we heard a loud thud from Ruth's room. We hurried upstairs to hear what sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor and she was screaming. It's quite upset Jane. Cec and Bert are…," Dot was cut off before she could finish.
"Don't worry, I'm coming," Phryne stated before facing Jack. "I need to take care of this. Will you come by you later?" Jack nodded and the two women left the station in a rush.
"Collins, I think it best we accompany them. Grab the keys," Jack ordered as he snatched his coat and hat.
Phryne felt bad about leaving Jack like that; however, she was more curious as to how she'd ended up on the floor next to him. Instead she pushed the thought from her mind as she focused on what might be going on with her youngest daughter.
As soon as Dot was settled in the Hispano, Phryne peeled away only to see Jack and Hugh climb into a police motorcar in her rearview mirror. Phryne smiled at the thought of Jack coming to her rescue or, at least, to his being some kind of parental support. Phryne drove as if she didn't have a care in the world, thus receiving several honks and curses in her wake. The drive to her home from the station usually took 20 minutes, but, when she drove it took less than 10.
Pulling in front of the house, she quickly parked, killed the engine and sprinted up the front steps to be met by an open door.
"Is she…," Phryne couldn't even form the words to finish her question.
"She's still in her room, Miss," Mr. Butler answered the unasked question. Phryne dropped her clutch and took the steps two at a time. She found Jane outside Ruth's door, trying to reason with her distraught sister.
"Jane… let me try," Phryne intercepted, gently moving the girls aside.
"She won't even let me in. I'm a horrible sister," Jane whimpered before succumbing to tears; however, Phryne wouldn't allow her eldest daughter to hold herself responsible.
Hugging the teary-eyed girl to her, Phryne squeezed tightly as if never wanting to let her go. "Jane, you're the best sister Ruth could ask for. The two of you have a bond I would love to have had with Janey. You've always been there for her and that's all you can do now." Placing a quick kiss on the girl's head, Phryne handed her off to Dot's awaiting arms.
Phryne stepped up to Ruth's door and knocked softly. "Ruth? It's Mum. Won't you let me in so we can talk about what's upset you?" Phryne tried. When she tried the door, it only opened about three inches before it hit something that fell to the floor and shattered. Still, Phryne wasn't about to let her daughter suffer alone and tried to budge the door but found that the miniature settee which usually sat by Ruth's bookshelf was barring the door.
"Talk about what's making me upset? UPSET?! You're making me upset! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had to see that man die! I wouldn't be terrified of shutting my eyes! I hate you!" Ruth screamed from inside the room. Phryne took a step back in astonishment, her expression one of someone having been slapped. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she had lost Janey all over again.
"Phryne," she heard Jack's voice and turned around to find him standing on the landing, staring at her with concern. He must have realized her deep distress at Ruth's words because when her knees began to buckle, he was already by her side to catch her before she hit the floor.
"She hates me, Jack. I'm a horrible mother. I shouldn't have brought them here. I shouldn't be anyone's mother," Phryne said softly through a pained, shuddering voice, only loud enough for Jack to hear. He saw that she was completely shattered at the thought that she had failed her daughters.
"No, Phryne. You're not a horrible mother. They love you. Ruth is just trying to come to terms with a traumatic experience. Just like those soldiers we talked about, remember?" When she gave no response, he sighed. "Would you mind if I tried talking with her?" Jack asked as his hands trailed gently over her hands. Phryne was too distraught to do anything else except nod her consent, albeit unsure as to what she was agreeing to. Leaning her head against the wall, she closed her eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths.
Jack knocked on the door.
"Go away! I don't want to talk to you!" Jane screamed unladylike.
"Ruth, it's Inspec… it's Jack," his voice was smooth as silk and warm as butter. "Your mother's worried about you. May I come in so you and I can talk? It would just be the two of us, alright?" Jack promised. The screaming stopped and Phryne could hear what sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor. She watched as the door opened a smidgen to reveal Ruth's tear-stained face. Ruth looked behind Jack at Phryne and opened the door only wide enough for Jack to slide through.
Phryne wanted to get up, barge in and demand Ruth talk to her, but she realized her relationship with Ruth was already rocky after having exposed the young girl to what she and Jack dealt with just about every day. Phryne turned to Jane and saw that her other daughter was still stifling tears.
"Jane, would you like to go on an impromptu vacation? I don't want you to be alone for the next couple of days and I have a hunch Arthur would enjoy a visit from his younger cousin. Would you like that?" Phryne asked and watched as Jane's face lit up with a huge smile.
"Yes! I've missed Arthur. Will Ruth be going as well?" Jane wondered, suddenly excited.
"When I can ask her," she sighed, then shook off the broody mood. "Why don't you go pack a few things and I'll ring Aunt P later," Phryne promised before fixing her eyes on Ruth's door once again.
All they could do now was wait.