Chapter 25: Daisy

The afternoon went by with an excited Dot considering and then dismissing names; anecdotes of small children being shared; and Prudence reminding the mother-to-be of the responsibilities in raising an infant into a proper adult. Phryne watched on in amusement, while her thoughts trailed off. The idea of Dot soon being the mother of a screaming little human was a bit much on her - but that wasn't on the forefront of her mind. She couldn't help but notice that several people in the room had gone quiet over the course of the conversation. There was Mr. Butler, who sat deep in thought, listening attentively to every word that was uttered. Mac, while being rather enthusiastic about the whole thing, had a slightly glazed look in her eyes that made Miss Fisher wonder for the first time, how her friend dealt with being unable to have children of her own. But what unsettled her the most, was that Jack had retreated to the far end of the sofa and threw the occasional smart reply in without any real sincerity, while he was going through some inner dialogue or other. She couldn't help but wonder, if he was currently busy with his father, the murder or something else altogether. The picture of him and Lizzy under the pear trees appeared unasked for, in front of her eyes. If he wished that he could have what Hugh was having? A woman who was excited at the prospect of bearing his child instead of frightened? Her throat closed over at the thought and she excused herself to get changed for dinner in a hurry. Nobody took much notice of her absence but one pair of eyes that followed her up the stairs. Jane shook her head to herself. Adults really were rather daft sometimes.

Miss Fisher might have been surprised by the fact that Jack was currently pondering neither the absence of children in his life nor the presence of his father. Something else had occurred to him, something that he wasn't ready to share just yet. It was a rather blunt idea, but then again, blunt ideas seemed to have done him a world of good in the past year. The idea twisted in his head, shaping itself into a form and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

X

"So, when is the wedding?" Walter asked between chewing on a dry piece of plywood that pretended to be a duck. He hadn't managed to talk his wife out of taking the cooking from Maria's capable hands tonight. Miss Fisher had to pour half a glass of wine down her throat in an effort to clear her mouth, before answering.

"I'm afraid we haven't set a date yet."

"It is not like we are in any hurry," Jack cut in, glancing at his father and waiting for a snide remark. But the older man just ate without participating in the conversation. What the Inspector didn't say was, that he didn't want to put Phryne under any sort of pressure. It had taken some effort to convince her to get married at all and he knew that she didn't like being forced into anything - let alone a lifetime commitment that she wasn't particularly fond of to start with.

"Actually," Phryne added to his surprise, "I must admit, I was waiting on Jane to return from her trip through Europe. Marrying without our daughter did not seem quite right."

She shared a smile with her ward over the table. This had a strange effect on John Robinson. He looked up from his food, measuring his future daughter-in-law with curious eyes.

"Well, please let us know as soon as possible," Esmeralda pushed in smiling. "We will need to make some arrangements. Sadly, spontaneous trips are out of the question."

Jack almost choked on his food. He could not remember Esmeralda and Walter ever having left Wombat Hall in over a decade. They were thoroughly bound to Daylesford, which forced their family to travel up and suffer the beautiful scenery and the Cox-Stafford's hospitality, whenever the chance arose.

"You want to attend our wedding?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. The spouses shared a look.

"Of course!" they said at the same time, which should have sounded harmonious, but was so dissonant that it had a rather humorous effect.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, boy," Walter added with a smile.

"Unless there happens to be a hailstorm," Rupert threw in grinning, remembering that his own wedding with Iris had shown two empty chairs, caused by this particular occurrence. An elbow in his ribs from his beloved wife was the only answer he received.

"Do you have any thoughts on the ceremony yet?" Olivia enquired.

"Should be rather hard to talk a priest into it," Hazel threw in, earning herself a piercing stare from her mother. "They tend to be rather annoying in regards of marrying divorcees."

"There's way's around that," Walter laughed. "Our Father Bailey could probably be convinced with a keg of wine and a nice dinner. Not cooked by you, my dear."

He kissed his wife on the cheek, who didn't have the heart to be annoyed.

"We actually exchanged our vows here in Daylesford," Fred joined in to everybody's surprise. "It has a beautiful little church."

"More than one actually," his wife interrupted him in his enthusiasm.

"There are also beautiful churches in Melbourne though," Dot's voice sounded.

"To be honest, I don't want to get married in a church."

Everybody fell silent, staring at Jack, who blushed and cleared his throat, wondering why he had blurted it out in front of everybody, instead of talking to Phryne quietly as he had intended.

"I have gotten married in a church once," he stated calmly, fixing his eyes on his father intent to defy him if he should so much as open his mouth to pick at the wound his divorce had left. "I do not wish to repeat history in any shape or form."

Phryne felt an apologetic hand wrapping around her fingers under the table. She understood. This was their wedding and neither of them was really at home in a church. And she definitely had no intention of repeating any part of his marriage with Rosie either. Loud chatter mixed around the table, discussing the options of a wedding outside a church. It seemed an outrageous idea. Phryne smiled briefly at Jack and found that John was still looking at her with intense eyes that currently reminded her very much of his sons, instead of the steel that had greeted her the last few days. There had a certain warmth appeared in them, that she had never seen before. She felt confused. Surely discussing the wedding should draw his hatred onto her, considering his reaction to their engagement. Yet, there was something almost akin to happiness in his features, a quiet satisfaction. It suddenly occurred to Phryne that he might have been scared she wouldn't go through with it. This conclusion shed a new light onto their conversations. His questions about what she saw in his son hadn't been about degrading Jack at all, but about trying to figure out how much he truly meant to her. Jack's father might be a grumpy old man with a terribly awkward way of showing his love. But something told Phryne, that Anna Robinson wouldn't have defied her parents to marry someone, who didn't have a heart beating in his chest.

Phryne glanced at Jack. He really had no idea how deeply his father cared, did he? He had been blind sided by his own hurt and guilt and all he could see was John lashing out at him at any given chance. Her fingers found his knee under the tablecloths. Reassuring warmth crept through the fabric of his trousers and for a moment she noted his eyes dart to her in question. He was wondering, why she was touching his leg and while it had been only a gesture of comfort and connection a second ago, Phryne couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering in other directions now.

She resurfaced from her idea to realise, that the conversation had turned towards the murder. Wendy looked slightly uneasy, considering her little daughter was sitting wedged between her grandfather and Jane, eating in unusual silence.

"I believe it wasn't actually your assistant, Walter. Miss Fisher told me it turned out to be the next-of-kin they were trying to inform. Twins apparently, which solves the mystery of how your Miss Spencer could have died twice."

The Master of the house gaped at Phryne for a moment. It was uncertain if he was more confused about the revelation or her sharing such information with John Robinson of all people. Miss Fisher smiled sweetly.

"Your brother-in-law is right. The body in the garden was Miss Spencer's sister, a Mrs. Abigail Barton."

Heads turned to John Robinson, who had just raised a glass of wine to his lips and was now coughing loudly. His face had turned bright red and to everybody's amusement, Lizzy slapped his back with her little hand in an effort to help.

"Are you all right, Gramps?" she asked, when he had regained his breath.

"I am perfectly fine, love," he answered hoarsely. "My drink just went down the wrong way."

Chatter picked up again, while John and his granddaughter whispered about the secrets of swallowing correctly. The former policeman was too enthralled in the conversation and his thoughts to notice that both his sons were watching them with fond eyes.

Jack wasn't sure what to feel. His father was acting strangely, which mostly meant that he was currently not insulting anyone, including himself and Miss Fisher. Was it at all possible that Phryne's charm had cracked his spiky shell? His eyes found Jane, who had joined into the debate between grandfather and cousin about the virtues of chewing with your mouth closed. Or was she the magical key to John Robinson's heart? Phryne had shared her observations on the relationship the girl had struck with the old man earlier and Jack couldn't help but be worried. He knew that Jane was able to take care of herself; she had been through many things in her still young life. But he would not allow his father to add to the pain she had endured. The Inspector knew too well just how deeply John Robinson's words could cut. His father, however, looked at present nothing like the old angry man Jack had encountered frequently over the last years. He was chatting along with both his granddaughters, smiling and joking. Jack's heart ached. He remembered this man from before the war. Truth be told, they had never had a harmonious relationship; they were both too stubborn and maybe too different - or too alike. But he did remember his father sitting at the edge of his bed, telling him stories of how he had chased robbers over the rooftops or how he had saved a mother and her children. He and Will had enjoyed the rare evenings when their father had been home early telling them of his job rather than their mother reading their bedtime story. Jack also remembered why he had at the tender age of 12 decided to become a policeman. Because he had always wanted to be a hero, fighting for justice. Just like his Dad.

Of course, reality was different. The world wasn't black and white; there wasn't just police and gangsters. There were victims who he felt deserved their fate; and killers who he thought, didn't; there were times where he came too late; and moments where all battling couldn't bring the right people to justice. There was simply days where he just wanted to curl up into a ball and forget what he had seen. A bit like the War, which still was mostly a blur of pain and guilt and things he'd rather not remember. And then there was Phryne. Phryne and her colourful house; her good Whiskey; her clever words; her white, warm arms. Her presence was always somewhere between an intoxicating drug and a soothing ointment. It didn't matter if she calmed his heart rate right down or caused it to speed up - like the fingers that were currently trailing up the inside of his thigh in a lazy gesture, sending a wave of heat through his limbs. She had turned into the counterweight to his pain. Which was somewhat ironic, considering that she had been a source of a whole lot of bitter-sweet agony along the way. And she had every intention to cause some right now, he noticed, squirming in his seat as her hand wandered higher, thankfully disguised by the tablecloths. Jack could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He resisted the urge to grasp her fingers and remove them forcefully from his fast reaction body. This was not the time or the place, especially not while there were his collected family sitting around this very table and the dinner was drawing to an end. He barely suppressed a telling moan, when her hand brushed over the fabric between his legs. Dear God!

With nimble fingers he arranged his tie, battling the heat and trying to follow a piece of conversation that was floating between his two aunts. He had no idea what they were talking about but anything was better than concentrating on the touch of Miss Fisher.

"Let me," he heard her say in the sweetest of voices and there her fingers were, resurfaced from their immoral behaviour underneath the table to arrange his tie like a virtuous fiancée. She really was a great liar. Jack Robinson was currently not certain if to jump or strangle her. He battled down both urges and let her fix his clothes, looking at her sternly. Of course she knew what she was doing to him. Even the common knotting of his tie was generally a seductive task in Miss Fisher's world and her finger's slipped easily and sultry over the silk.

"There," she finally said, satisfied with herself.

"Thank you," he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it. What nobody else at the table saw, was the light nip at her finger that caused a sharp intake of breath in Miss Fisher. Jack watched her pupils dilate with some satisfaction. This was a game two people could play after all.

X

Mr. Butler was against his Mistress's wishes tidying the sitting room, when he heard the knock. This day definitely called for some calming habits, like beating sofa cushions into shape. He wasn't surprised at Riya Santi standing in the door, surrounded by a floating piece in the colour of red wine.

"Would you care for a walk?" she asked, instead of a greeting. "There is a beautiful sunset over the lake."

"Of course, I will just be one minute."

Exactly one minute later, they followed the small path rounding the house, Riya hanging on Tobias' arm and his heart ached at the idea that this could be his life. The sunset was indeed breathtaking and they stood still for a moment, taking in the view.

"Don't you have a desire to paint this?" Mr. Butler asked his lover. She smiled.

"That is unnecessary. I promise, I will not forget this moment; it is engraved in my mind. And if I feel like painting it, I will. Maybe tomorrow or in five years time."

Mr. Butler was utterly silent. She glanced at him from the side. The expression on his face worried her.

"Believe it or not, Tobias, but in India I find the sunsets are even more colourful. Or maybe they are just reflected in all the colours of the land. You will love it."

She knew she was babbling. She also knew already what he would say, when he opened his mouth.

"Riya, I am afraid, I cannot join you."

Despite this knowledge, her heart missed a beat.

"You have to stay, don't you?" she asked tonelessly, staring out over the lake.

"Dorothy is expecting a child," he said, as if that was to explain everything.

It did.

His hand grabbed hers, holding on to something he could no keep. Tears glittered in both their eyes, while they watched the sun set in silence. When the sky turned dark, Mrs. Santi untangled her fingers from her lover's.

"Goodbye then," she said quietly.

"Why don't you stay? I find there is no point in wasting perfectly good time."

Mr. Butler tried himself on a smile that didn't work out.

"You aren't due to leave for another two weeks."

He looked at her, but Riya shook her head quietly, running her palm over his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Tobias. I was being a fool."

"So was I," he stated, his voice rough. "And I loved being a fool with you."

A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye, while she smiled at him sadly and brushed a last kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," she whispered, before vanishing into the night.

X

Jane found herself in a confusing situation: a games night with a family. Her family nevertheless. While Miss Fisher's household was filled with more or less regular guests and family members that had made her feel wanted and welcome from the first day - which had been a rather odd occurrence in her life - they were not really bound together in any sort of classic family lifestyle. Which meant, charade and card-games were not really on their daily agenda as much as puzzling together clues and faking identities. Yet, here they were in the middle of a classic family evening.

Mac and Hazel had retreated into a corner to battle their intellects in a game of chess, with the Doctor seemingly having the upper hand at present, if only by one pawn. Aunt Prudence had joined Esmeralda, Olivia and Laura in a card-game of some description and Uncle Walter was currently pretending to be a cow... or possible a deer, it was really hard to say.

Samuel was reading in a corner. Despite still apparently pouting, even he couldn't withdraw completely from this. And John Robinson actually sat between Iris and Fred and yelled out assumptions. It was really awkward what this game did to people, Jane thought, glancing at Jack, who looked relaxed and happier than she had seen him in days.

Lizzy literally fell off the couch laughing, when her Great-Uncle revealed that he had been a dog the whole time.

"I think it is about time for bed," Wendy said with a gentle smile, while she picked her daughter from the floor.

"Nooooo," the girl protested, "I'm not tired yet."

A stifled yawn called her a liar, but nevertheless she struggled free from her mothers gentle grasp and threw herself at her Uncle.

"Uncle Jack, Mummy wants me to go to bed. I don't want to go yet. Pleaaasse."

The Inspector's smiling eyes locked over the girl with Wendy's. Phryne watched the exchange in amusement, trying to ignore the faint tightening of her chest.

"You know what that calls for?" Iris said, getting to her feet. "A goodnight song."

That idea seemed to reconcile the girl with the idea to leave for bed and Lizzy all but skipped to the piano, pulling her Uncle along. Phryne couldn't shake the feeling that she had stumbled into another one of the Cox-Stafford's weird family traditions, when Jack and Iris climbed onto the stool, wedging their niece between them. They locked amused eyes, seemingly silently counting, while the rest of the group paused in their activities to listen.

Miss Fisher recognised the melody instantly. It was Mozart's "Little Night Music" that Jack's dancing fingers drew from the instrument while chasing his cousins. Lizzy hit a few off notes in her attempt to join in with the occasional press of a key, but it didn't spoil the effect in the slightest. It was a picture of such utter harmony and joy, that Phryne found tears in her eyes, she hadn't expected at all.

Something nagged at her, a thought that wouldn't let up. But at the same time there was something so utterly touching to the scene, that she couldn't help but be moved all the same. The sensations mixed into a bitter-sweet taste on her tongue, that rendered her motionless. After the last notes where hit by Lizzy with gusto, the three turned, proud smiles plastered to their faces. Jack's eyes sought out Phryne's and she returned his look with an affectionate smile.

"That was wonderful. We haven't heard Mozart in too long," Esmeralda said to Jack, for the first time pointing out that his absence had been noticed.

"Very true," he smiled. "But I think we will a lot in the future. Our little one here is growing into a pianist."

He ruffled Lizzy's hair, who looked exceedingly proud of herself.

"I wasn't even aware that there was arrangements of this piece for the piano," Prudence Stanley chipped in, obviously rather pleased as well. She had had not idea that the Inspector played an instrument. Phryne could see her tick another box on her mental list and couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Oh we had it done many years ago. I believe it was Anna, who had the idea that the two should try their luck at four handed playing. It was one of her favourite pieces."

A brief glimpse of fond melancholy ghosted over Uncle Walter's usually almost unshakable features as he spoke of his sister.

"And she would have been proud to know that it is still being played," Olivia threw in, dropping her last card and effectively winning the game. "And that the tradition is living on."

Will smiled at his girl, who beamed at the indication that she was making her dead Grandmother proud.

"But now it's bedtime, little Lady," he said, picking the protesting girl up and throwing her over his shoulder. People watched Wendy follow her family into the hall smiling, before they returned to their occupations. When Jack turned to sit with Phryne, she had gone.