PART TEN - Death By Miss Adventure

Aunt Prudence left Phryne's house after a long and awkward afternoon tea, very full of pie and tea and grudging regret. Phryne saw her out with a relieved wave then turned back to her friend still seated in the parlour.

Elizabeth Macmillan sat with her legs crossed and a handkerchief folded across her lap like a napkin. She was silent as Phryne stepped back into the room and picked up a decanter. She pulled out the top and Mac held out her tea cup. Phryne poured and Mac drank. It had been a very taxing few days.

"Well," Phryne sighed as she sat back down. "That was…"

"Mm." Elizabeth agreed.

"I am glad that it is at least, over." Phryne murmured, pouring a decent amount of the alcohol into her own tea cup. "Though I cannot begin to imagine how you must feel."

Mac let out a breath, "No. I'm not even entirely sure I know how I feel." She looked down into her cup, then raised it to her lips and tipped her head back, downing the last of it in one gulp.

"You do know I am always here for you, at any time, if you need someone to talk to." Phryne told her softly, sitting forward in her chair and watching her dear friend in concern.

The doctor sat forward and replaced her tea cup in its saucer, then screwed up her handkerchief napkin and cast it aside on the table. When she looked up it was to find Phryne watching her carefully.

"I know, Phryne."

They sat in a comfortable silence then, both content in the knowledge that they didn't need words to understand. They could sit and be and be safe in the fact that the other was there, to love and support them through any means. All they had to do was ask.

After some minutes however, Mac caught sight of an old book that had been tucked hastily behind a cushion on the chaise across from them. She frowned curiously, and pleased to be distracted stood to retrieve it.

"Mac?" Phryne asked in confusion, but then the doctor pulled aside the cushion in question and Phryne felt her face flush, "Oh I wouldn't bother yourself with that-"

"What is it?" Mac asked, looking down at the object and taking a seat on the chaise.

She opened it to a random page and Phryne stood, "It's nothing, really Mac, just an old book of mine." She reached for it, hoping to snatch it away and forget it.

"Why have you been reading a book of French poetry?" Mac asked, bemused as she flicked through the pages.

"I haven't," Phryne insisted, "please, could you-" she made to grab the book, but Mac was quicker, holding it out of Phryne's reach and arching an eyebrow.

"What is so special about this book?" She asked plainly.

Phryne faltered. "I- It meant a lot to me, during the war."

"The war?" If possible Mac's eyebrow raised even higher, "This isn't the book you used to keep under your pillow is it? The same one your soldier friend had me give you?"

Phryne didn't respond. But she didn't need to, Mac could see her answer in the younger woman's expression. Without another word she opened the book to its inside cover and looked down. She read the words written there twice through, then looked up at her old friend just in time to see her drop her gaze.

"Why have you been reading this again, Phryne?" she asked softly.

"I haven't-"

"Phryne. I always suspected there was more between you then. I didn't know him, but I knew you. I saw the way you sought refuge with him, so why are you reading it now?"

Phryne sighed. She couldn't lie to Mac. So instead she took a seat on the chaise next to her friend and looked into her hands as she murmured quietly. "Look at the name, Mac."

"'Yours, Jack'? That could be anyone."

"But it's not."

Elizabeth frowned, "Then who do you-" she stopped. "You're not suggesting the Inspector?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Mac. I know. I've known it was him from the moment we met at Lydia Andrews house. And he knows it too."

Mac's eyes widened. She had not been expecting this when she decided to tease her friend.

She looked back down at the book, "I suppose you're in love with him then?"

"That's just the issue, Mac. I'm not sure."

Because how could she know, really, one way or the other?

"I was eighteen years old when I met him. And it was war, things were different. I loved him and he went back to fight and then ten years later here we are. But it's too hard, because after all this time how do I know if what I'm feeling is really love? I've had a decade to wonder how things might have been and perhaps it's not him I really long for but the memories. The concept of him and what we might've had."

Phryne closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, "But then, if I am in love with him, what can I do about it? He's a man of honour, Mac. He has a wife."

Elizabeth let out a breath.

"Love is more trouble than it's worth." she murmured, pulling her cigarette case from her pocket and taking one before offering it to Phryne, who for once accepted. "However much joy it brings, it doubles in pain."