Well, I am relieved by your comments about the prospect of a long fiction - Because this one is going to be of rather epic proportions, I fear. There will even be things happening, I promise. Soon, my pretties.

Chapter 11: Oak

Miss Fisher was worried – even though she would not tell anyone. Not even Dot, who looked at her in a way that guaranteed that she was well aware of her Mistress' troubles. But she didn't feel like talking. Instead she drained another one of about a million drinks she had had since this morning and stared in the direction where Jack had vanished some fifteen minutes ago.

After having thrown the bomb of their marriage at his father, the Inspector had calmly returned to eating his tea, had even participated in the uneasy small talk flying across the table. But Phryne had sat close enough to feel his muscles tremble under the fabric of his suit. He had come here to smooth things over, she knew. And instead he had let himself be provoked into escalating the situation. Phryne knew he had stood up to his father to protect Jane from his judgement, and she loved him all the more for it. But she didn't like the look of her foster daughter either, who still sat at the table, quite alone. People wandered around, seemingly avoiding her, not out of nastiness, but because Jane currently exuded a warning to not approach her. Phryne was familiar with this side of her ward too. But then, she had never been particularly fond of warnings.

"Are you alright, love?" she asked gently, sitting down beside the teenager.

"I didn't mean to cause trouble," the girl said with so much heaviness of her spirit that Miss Fisher couldn't help but smile at her fondly. "He was just being so annoying."

"Those two stiff-necks will use any excuse to be at odds, Jane."

Phryne stroked her daughter's hair, realising, that despite her being almost grown up, and despite all her toughness and cleverness, she was still a little girl in some ways . "Now it's at least out in the open and they can deal with it. That might be a good thing."

A tiny smile was the reward for her bravery in pointing out things, she wasn't convinced of herself. Jack and his father working it out seemed currently quite a stretch. Not sharing those thoughts, she pressed a kiss to the girl's head. Seconds later she was approached by Dot, who tried to get both of them involved in some silly game that the whole family was playing in an attempt to deny the tensions. Of course, Dorothy Collins would be at the first front. Phryne fled the scene to look for Jack. He had excused himself and yes, she wanted to give him some space. She knew him well enough to be aware, that he tended to deal with things by himself, before he shared them. But she was worried and somehow she felt this was both of their cross to bear, not his alone. She found him, sitting in the grass, underneath a hazelnut tree with closed eyes.

Phryne slipped down by his side, leaning against him without saying a word. After a while, his arm came up to wrap around her.

"Is that your tree?" She asked. "The one that was planted for your birth?"

He shook his head before answering.

"It's Hazel's. They thought it was funny."

Phryne grinned to herself.

"Mine is that one over there."

She followed his gesture to a strong oak, reaching out it's branches over most of the other, smaller trees.

"Very fitting," she stated, while her eye's were drawn in by the vine growing up the trunk. While the tree itself was still standing in a saturated green, the wild wine encircling its roots up to the lower branches, was starting to turn into a flaming shade of red.

"It's never been here before, when I visited," Jack stated smiling. "Aunt Esmeralda told me, it started growing about two years ago, and she didn't have to heart to tear it down, because it's so beautiful."

He wrapped his arm tighter around his lover, who was frowning.

"Are you comparing me to a parasitic plant, Inspector?"

"Not parasitic, wild and beautiful and very entangling," he teased. Phryne looked back at the tree, recalling her thoughts of growing together into something new. The picture was so fitting that her heart ached. She wove her fingers through his, holding his hand tightly.

"You need to talk to him."

Jack didn't protest. He just nodded.

"I fear, the old grump is not going to be easy to talk to."

"You weren't exactly gentle either, Jack."

"No, I guess not."

In comfortable silence the couple sat in the grass, while the sun finally decided on sinking back to the horizon. Only when the tree and it's encircling vine had been dipped in a bright shade of orange, did Jack get back to his feet, helping his fiancée up.

"I'm afraid I still have to drive over to Hepburn Springs. It shouldn't wait any longer. Did you want to join me?"

There was no real point in answering this, Phryne found. She didn't let go of his hand as they walked back into the real world.

X

Mr. Butler was actually doing nothing, trying his hardest to enjoy himself. The most astonishing part about that was, that it somehow worked. He was sitting out on the terrace, watching the sunset, listening to the birds singing their goodnight-songs in the trees. Occasionally he picked up his book, but he never read more than two pages at a time. Sometimes, he pondered, the world around one is too beautiful to be ignored. He also knew that he was waiting. He had no idea how long it took to paint an angry picture, but she would be back eventually. And he would be ready.

They had never talked about what their relationship meant to either of them, had just taken it in their stride. The truth was, that Tobias Butler had never thought he would ever fall in love again after the death of his wife and it had come as a quite a surprise when it happened. It was nice, having someone to share his deepest thoughts with again, to hold someone, laugh with someone. And he had with complete delibaration, never stopped to think too hard about it. It couldn't go anywhere, he was well aware of that. But nevertheless, it was nice to have it.

"You know, I never accused you of a dalliance with the Admiral," he said to the twilight. Riya stepped out of the shadows, a canvas in her hand, that she carefully leaned against a chair, before settling beside him. For a while they sat in silence.

"So what prompted that letter?"

"The realisation that he looks a lot better by your side than I ever will," Mr. Butler said, pouring wine into the second glass that had sat on the table for hours.

"He does not," Riya answered, leaning back and taking a sip. "You underestimate yourself, Tobias."

"That might well be," he sighed. There was more silence to be had, even the birds had tired of singing and the lake was holding its breath.

"But the uncomfortable truth is, that I do not belong in your social circuit. I am, by all definition, a butler. A good butler, but nevertheless a servant of Miss Fisher. Who is, to complicate matters, your friend."

Riya looked shocked at his words.

"You do not actually think that I concern myself with those thoughts, Tobias, do you?"

For the first time in their conversation he looked at her.

"You might not, but I do."

Mrs. Santi stayed quiet, playing with her glass. Mr. Butler felt the need to change the subject.

"Was your painting satisfactory?" He asked politely. She reached out to turn the canvas for him to see. Tobias Butler squinted.

"I apologize for my artistic ignorance, but, what is it?"

"It's an angry lavender field," she said after a moment of embarrassed silence.

He couldn't help but laugh. Riya joined in a second later. Really it was only a nervous giggle, but it nevertheless untangled a knot in his stomach, he found. So he missed the beginning of her turning serious.

"Tobias, I have come here for another reason and really, my anger with myself far outshines any annoyance I might feel about your letter."

Suddenly sober, Mr. Butler nodded his head. So there was the lurking truth.

"Well, let's have it," he said stoically. It took Mrs. Santi a long moment to find the words.

"I am to travel to India in April. My late husband's company needs looking after. My stay in Melbourne was always limited and I should have never hidden that from you. But first there seemed to be no need to share it and then I was being a coward."

He didn't say anything and so she felt compelled to explain herself further.

"I didn't want this to end."

"Are you coming back?" Mr. Butler asked.

She only shook her head.

"I will be there for six months, as it is planned, then return to England."

Tobias Butler felt inside, wondering if his heart was breaking. But there was just hollow emptiness. Maybe because somewhere, deep down, he had always known that it couldn't last. He had been right all along. This knowledge held no satisfaction. He was about to utter some polite words and usher out the door as fast as possible, before his fake calmness would show it's first cracks, when he realised that she was still talking.

"Actually I was wondering..." she trailed off, when he looked up at her, then continued, "...if you wanted to come."

It was hard to shock Tobias Butler. In fact, he prided himself on the achievement of being near unshakable. That meant something in a servant of Miss Fisher. And yet, he found himself staring at his lover with his mouth agape and his heart racing. He resolved to shut his lips, before he would start dribbling saliva, searching his suddenly chaotic brain feverishly for an answer, when he heard a key turn in the lock, accompanied by quiet giggling. He rose to his feet, partly glad to escape having to react just now.

"I believe Miss Fisher is back, excuse me for a moment."

He made it almost to the French door, when he heard Riya answer.

"Please think about it."

Mr. B. turned to nod at her, realising her eyes having gone even darker with sadness and stray tears burning in his own.

"Of course."

He shot her a smile, before returning to welcoming his Mistress in her temporary home. When he stepped back out again ten minutes later, there was no sign of his lover. Only the picture of an angry lavender field was leaning against a chair.

X

After a quick change of clothes and the attempt to smooth over the worst of the dishevelment the long day had brought, Jack and Phryne were back on the road in the Cox-Stafford's motor car heading towards Hepburn Springs in their sad mission to inform a Mrs. Abigail Barton of the sudden demise of her sister. The family home of the Barton's turned out to be a rather impressive building, nestled between vineyards at the edge of the small town.

"Strange," Miss Fisher stated, while climbing out of the car.

"That the sister-in-law of the biggest wine-producer in the area would work for my Uncle rather than for the family business?" Jack asked, walking beside her to the entrance.

"That and why she would move out here at all, if she had no intention of joining her family."

Their knock seemed to go unheard for a long moment, then a pair of shuffling feet announced the arrival of someone.

"Good evening. Inspector Robinson."

Jack flashed his batch at the elderly woman standing in the doorframe. Her hair was snow white, standing in sharp contrast to the darkly tanned skin of her face that lay in a complex pattern of wrinkles. Now the wrinkles deepened in recognition.

"Police?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Would it be possible to talk to the lady of the house?"

The woman dared to breath again.

"You gave me a fright, Inspector. I thought for a moment, something happened to them. The Barton's are in Sydney right now on business. We don't expect them back till tomorrow afternoon."

Jack nodded grimly. He hated this sort of mission to start with but this made things just that much more complicated.

"We will be back tomorrow then."

He tipped his hat and was about to turn and wish the housekeeper a good night, when Phryne stepped out from the shadows behind him.

"Tell me, you wouldn't happen to know Madelyn Spencer would you?"

The woman paled.

"Madelyn? Has something happened to her?"

Jack and Phryne shared a look.

"I'm afraid so, Ma'am."

They were shuffled into the house in a hurry and directed towards a big kitchen table that was probably used more by servants than the owner of the house. She took the news calmly but with obvious deep regret.

"I used to be the girl's nurse since they were little," the elderly lady, who had introduced herself as a Miss Rucci explained after a long moment of silence. "When Abigail married Mr. Barton, she asked me to come with her as her housekeeper. It is rather tough to be a nurse without anyone to look after." She smiled. "Though the Spencers were always good to me."

"Did Miss Spencer also follow her sister?" Miss Fisher asked.

"About three months later. The sisters were always close, but it still surprised me. She and Mr. Barton took quite a disliking to each other from the beginning. I think she might have moved out here because she was worried about Abigail."

"She suspected, Mr. Barton would hurt his wife?" Jack Robinson asked.

"I wouldn't go that far, Inspector. But she didn't trust him."

Miss Fisher glanced at Jack. They were both thinking the same thing. That it was rather convenient for Joseph Barton to be up in Sydney right now.

"How long have Mr. and Mrs. Barton been gone?" Phryne finally asked.

The housekeeper thought for a moment.

"It must have been Wednesday afternoon. About four. Yes, it was Wednesday. Abigail, I mean Mrs. Barton called me on Friday to advise me they wouldn't be home till tomorrow. They originally intended to return today, but they must have gotten caught up with some acquaintances."

The detectives' eyes met again. Very convenient!

X

Mac was currently up to her elbows in raw chicken, a situation that brought certain memories of operations to mind. Yet, this was a lot less dangerous and while it was slightly disgusting, it was also fun. Mostly because she was not on her own. Doctor MacMillan actually cooked a lot, a fact that she suspected not even Phryne was aware of. She never had told her, if she recalled correctly and as a woman who wore men's clothes for a reason, she did not particularly share this fact with enthusiasm. But, Elisabeth lived on her own and that meant undeniably to have to cook for herself or resolve to eat jam sandwiches every night. Jam didn't cut it for Mac. So she had happily offered to help when Esmeralda had excused herself to prepare the family dinner – a tradition that she held onto, despite employing a cook and also despite having been told numerous times that she was the worst cook on this side of the equator by the people that loved her enough to be honest to her face. So Mac currently stirred a bowl full of chicken breast with her fingers and tried to ignore the perfume assaulting her nose in the most enchanting fashion possible.

Hazel Morgan was enthusiastically destructing a leek at this stage, obviously with a lot less finesse which suggested she was not in the habit of cooking for herself. The doctor knew by now that Hazel also lived on her own, which probably meant sandwiches. Jam suddenly seemed a whole lot more appealing. Why exactly she had joined them in the kitchen, Mac wasn't sure, but since the woman was currently reminding her aunt of a Christmas celebration some years ago, when they had managed to set the kitchen alight with a burnt duck, she had a niggling suspicion that that was also tradition.

A naked arm brushed over her's when Hazel grabbed for another knife to massacre a pile of carrots and Mac suppressed a curse at the sensation of every hair on her body standing to attention. She couldn't help it. Hazel was nice and funny and very attractive and that was probably the reason why she liked her, laughed at her jokes and was very attracted. It all made sense. Yet it didn't. She was Jack's cousin and Mac was here to have a time-out from her hectic job, get over her desolate love-life and the hollowness she felt regarding her very existence. That and to support Phryne in the face of an overwhelming amount of In-laws-to-be. Drooling over said In-laws was not part of the plan. She returned her attention to the chicken breasts with some difficulty.

"I think you kneaded them enough," a grinning voice said beside her. Mac felt a heat come to her ears that she didn't like the feel of. Blushing was not an option. Luckily Lizzy chose that very moment to drop a bowl of peaches that had been meant for dessert and which now rolled all over the floor. Hazel ducked under the table grabbling for one and Mac used the moment to escape and wash chicken-juice off her hands. When she turned, she almost fell over Esmeralda Cox-Stafford, who was crawling over her kitchen floor in her tailored evening gown. The doctor repressed a smirk and joined in the search for escaped fruit. When she chased a particularly stubborn one under a working area, her head smashed into something hard.

"Ouch," a soft voice gasped. Somewhat confused Mac sat on her heels to rub her throbbing skull.

"You are rather hardheaded," Hazel joked, mirroring her motion. Her eyes were sparkling and Mac gulped, slowly dropping her hand, before clearing her throat.

"So they say," she smiled wryly.

"Are you alright girls?" Esmeralda's somewhat muffled voice called from somewhere under the sink.

"Just fine," Hazel answered, getting to her feet.

"I found one!" Lizzy exclaimed proudly, holding up a ripe peach. Hazel picked up the girl and sat her on the edge of the table, teasing her, while she took the fruit from her hands and added it to the bowl. Mac took the peach that she had been after and scrambled back to her own feet. Watching Hazel and Lizzy joke together made a ache reappear in her heart, that she had almost forgotten about. A family of her own had always been out of the question for Elisabeth. She worked too hard and there was also the slight problem of a man necessary in order to have children. But that didn't mean that she didn't stop sometimes for a moment to think about how nice it must be, to have a face with big eyes look up at you and call you 'Mum'. Hazel turned to her, giving her a slight wink, as Mac dropped the ripe peach with a soft plop on top of the pile. The doctor smiled vaguely and asked her hostess if she had any more to do for her. Burying herself in a pile of potatoes armed with a knife, Elisabeth MacMillan tried to shake off her daydreams and get her head back on track.