Lucien didn't get much sleep that night, between reviewing what he knew of Neville Franklin's death and berating himself over Jack's feelings of abandonment. He had always sworn he'd be a better father to his children than his own father had been to him, but already he was letting down the poor lad.
When the sun began to rise, he immediately arose and got ready for the day, but rather than going downstairs, he sat down and waited until he could hear Jack up and moving about. He heard Christopher remind his brother twice to get moving or they'd be late for school. Finally Christopher seemed satisfied, as Lucien heard him go downstairs, leaving Jack to finish getting dressed.
Li had gone down earlier, as had Jean, so Lucien knew he could speak with the boy in private. He knocked on Jack's door.
"What? I'm almost dressed," was the annoyed response from Jack, thinking it was his brother yet again.
Lucien cracked open the door and stuck his head in. "It's me," he announced, seeing that Jack was just pulling on his shoes. "May I come in?"
Jack stared at him for a moment, apparently trying to see if he was in trouble.
"I promise not to keep you for long. We wouldn't want to upset Christopher."
"All right," Jack said slowly, still watching him a bit warily.
Lucien didn't want to be looming over the boy as they spoke so he motioned toward the bed. "May I?"
Jack nodded, still not taking his eyes off Lucien, who sat and patted the space beside him until Jack sat as well.
"I owe you an apology," Lucien began. "I've been so busy with my new job and with helping Christopher that I haven't had much time for you. I hope you can forgive me."
Jack stared at him wide-eyed. Obviously this was not what he was expecting when Lucien walked in. "Mum said it was just until Chris's recital."
"That may be true, but it's no excuse for neglecting you. I don't intend to let it happen again, but if it should for whatever reason, I promise you it won't be because I don't like you. Jack, you and Christopher are my sons in every sense of the word. I couldn't be more proud of both of you." He leaned forward to look directly into Jack's eyes. "To tell you the truth, you remind me very much of myself at your age."
"I do?"
"Yes. The way that you decide something is wrong and take action against it without regard for what might happen to you. Like when you stood up for Li against that chap. That's very much what I might have done under the circumstances."
"Really?" asked Jack. The comparison obviously pleased him.
"Really. The problem, I've learned though, is that sometimes other people can also suffer the consequences when I don't think before I react. So I hope you won't repeat the same mistakes that I've made all too often."
"I'll try," Jack said after thinking it over.
"Thank you. Now, I was thinking about something special we might do together, just the two of us, to make it up to you. Something that you might enjoy much more than Christopher or Li would."
Jack's eyes lit up that Lucien would take the trouble to put so much thought into this.
"I have an idea, see what you think. How about a football match? Do you know about the Big V?"
Jack nodded eagerly, his mouth dropping open. The Big V was the legendary Victoria state squad, the most formidable team in Australian football.
"Well, it seems they're playing their biggest rivals, South Australia, in a couple of weeks, and I thought you and I could go to Melbourne to watch the match. What do you say?"
"Really, Lucien? We could go see the Big V play?"
"I take it that means you'd like to go?"
Jack nodded so hard Lucien was half-afraid he might hurt himself before throwing his arms around Lucien. "Yes, please. That's the best thing ever," he insisted.
"Then it's settled," said Lucien. "I'll arrange to get two tickets and we'll go down on the train."
"Thank you, Lucien," said Jack, remembering his manners.
"You're entirely welcome. Now you'd better get downstairs before your brother comes up here looking for you," said Lucien with a smile.
Jack gave him another hug before he ran down the stairs, his eyes alight with excitement.
"At least that's went well, anyway," said Lucien. He feared the conversation with his father would be much more difficult.
Jean was setting the toast on the table when Jack practically bounced into the kitchen. He looked like an entirely different child. Lucien must have spoken with him.
"Good morning," she said to him. "You're looking much happier."
"I'm very happy," Jack announced. He walked over to hug her. "Good morning, Mum."
She hugged him back. "I'm glad. Now sit down, please."
A few minutes later Lucien entered, also looking better than the night before. She smiled a greeting at him. When he came over to kiss her cheek she whispered, "Thank you, Lucien" and nodded toward Jack.
"My absolute pleasure," he replied softly. "I'm only sorry I left it for so long."
"Nonsense," she told him firmly. He really did need to stop assuming blame for all the ills of the world. "Now sit down before your breakfast gets cold."
The elder Doctor Blake often did not make it to breakfast with the rest of them, since the children had to eat early before they left for school. Jean could see that Lucien was rather relieved that he didn't have to break the bad news on an empty stomach. He volunteered to take the children to school, so Jean kept a plate warm for the doctor and went about her morning routine.
On a hunch, she took a look at the newspaper to see if Neville Franklin's death was reported, not wanting him to read about it there, but it seemed to have happened too late to make the morning edition.
She was cleaning up the kitchen (and wondering yet again how so much "stuff" always seemed to make its way into that room) when Doctor Blake shuffled in.
"You look like you need a cup of tea," she told him, pouring it out and placing it before him.
"Thank you," he said. "Everyone is gone already?"
"Lucien took the children to school. He'll be back shortly. He wanted to speak with you."
"Oh?" he said, lifting an eyebrow, but Jean didn't offer any additional information and he didn't ask further.
She set out the plate she'd kept warm for him, and he began to eat, glancing over the newspaper as he did.
When Lucien returned, she could hear how heavy his footsteps sounded as he made his way to the kitchen. As he appeared, she excused herself, saying, "I'll be in the sunroom."
"Would you mind staying, Jean?" Lucien asked.
Jean was surprised, but dutifully sat down as he asked.
"What's going on, Lucien?" Thomas asked.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news, Dad. Neville Franklin was killed last night."
Jean could have sworn the doctor looked relieved at first, and then looked more worried than upset. She shared a glance with Lucien, who seemed puzzled as well by the reaction.
"Was he murdered?" Thomas asked.
"It certainly appears that way," said Lucien. "How did you know?"
He responded with another question. "What was it? Poison?"
Jean couldn't help but wonder if someone had already told him, but he'd been home all evening, and the only call had been the one summoning Lucien to the scene.
"Yes, strychnine," said Lucien.
Thomas nodded. "Yes, of course it would be. Do you have any suspects?"
Still he didn't seem overly concerned at the death of his friend. It was more curiosity at how it happened.
Lucien was just as surprised. "Dad?"
"Could Jock Clement have done it?" Thomas persisted.
"He could have," Lucien confirmed. "Doug and I both have him at the top of the list of suspects. Do you know something about it that we should know?"
Thomas pushed his plate forward and sat back in his chair. "I suppose it's time I told you some things, Lucien, especially now that you're the Police Surgeon. Doug Ashby knows some of it and suspects the rest, but he has no way to prove it."
"Should I leave you men to talk?" asked Jean.
"No, no, you should know this as well," said Thomas. "It affects you now, I'm afraid."
That made Lucien's eyes widen, and he reached for Jean's hand. "What's this all about? Does it have something to do with Mother?"
"It has everything to do with your mother, and especially how she died. Or I should say, how she was murdered."
"You've known all this time she was murdered? And you never told me?" said Lucien.
Thomas ran a hand over his face. "I suppose I should have told you sometime after you came home, but what difference would it have made, honestly? With no proof, what could you have done about it? It would only have put you in danger if you tried to investigate, and maybe Jean and the children as well."
"You'd better tell us exactly what you know," said Lucien, and it wasn't a suggestion, it was a demand.
Jean touched his arm, trying to calm him down, but Lucien seemed so focused on his father that it took him a moment to even notice. Then he covered her hand with his own and lost a bit of his intensity. "Dad?" he said in a much more even tone.
Thomas sighed, the pain clear in his eyes. "I never should have left her there, at that party. If I'd just stayed with her. But Clement wasn't supposed to be there..." He trailed off.
At this rate they'd never get the story out of him, Jean feared. She thought it might help if she tried guiding him through it. "The night Geneviève died the two of you went to a party, is that right?"
Thomas nodded. "It was at a place called the Palace, on Sturt Street. It's not there any more, torn down many years ago. But you're not interested in any of that. It was like any other party, and we went to a lot of them back in those days. I knew Geneviève missed Paris, so the least I could do was make certain we had an active social life."
"You mentioned Jock Clement wasn't supposed to be there," Jean prompted once again.
"Jock Clement was enamoured with Geneviève, so much so that his attentions made her uncomfortable. We tried to avoid gatherings if we knew he'd be there."
"But this night he showed up unexpectedly?"
"It was an engagement party for a couple of people neither of you would know. They left Ballarat long ago. Neville Franklin was the host, and he'd assured me Jock was not invited. So we went. Geneviève was having a lovely time, but I had a patient appointment early the next morning, so we agreed that she would stay there, and Doug Ashby would see that she got home safely. It wasn't the first time we'd had such an arrangement."
This was all outside of Jean's own experience. She would not have felt comfortable staying at a party if Christopher had needed to leave, and she suspected she would feel the same with Lucien, but this had been a different time and an entirely different circle of society than she had inhabited. "Do you know what happened after you left?" she asked Thomas.
"Not precisely. I've heard different versions from Doug and from Neville and from a few others who were there, but Doug and several other people have confirmed that Jock Clement was there, despite Neville's assurances. Apparently he showed up late, after I'd left. Doug said he offered to take Geneviève home at that point. She was ready to leave, but Neville asked for her advice on his gift for the engaged couple, so she went with him into his study to look at it."
He had tears in his eyes, but he forced himself to continue. "When she didn't return in half an hour or so, Doug went looking for her. He found her on the floor of the study. She was already gone." The tears were running down his face now.
When Jean glanced at Lucien, he was also in tears. She tightened her hold on his hand, and he nodded his thanks for her support. She let the two men have their moments to grieve for what had been taken from them.
After Thomas seemed to gain control of himself once more, Lucien prodded him to continue the narrative. "If you and Doug both believed Jock Clement may have been responsible, how on earth did he manage to be the one signing off on her death certificate?"
"Political connections," said Thomas, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "That and intimidation." He took out his handkerchief, wiped the tears from his face and blew his nose. "Harry McDonald was the Chief Superintendent back then, and he was a great supporter of Jock's."
"You said intimidation. On the part of Mister McDonald?" Jean asked.
Thomas shook his head. "No, it was all Jock."
"What kind of intimidation?" Lucien wanted to know.
"Threats, mostly. Over the next few days. After Doug and I started to ask questions. When Jock realized we weren't convinced the official narrative was true. I made the mistake of confronting Neville, demanding to know what really happened that night. It was only later, too late, that I realized he had been an accomplice all along."
"Do you know what actually happened?" asked Jean.
"I'm afraid that I don't. Only that she went into the study with Neville, and she never came out alive. The coroner's report said otherwise, of course, but Doug was certain she was poisoned, probably something slipped into her Bordeaux, but Jock Clement must have pulled a lot of strings to cover it up." He sighed heavily and looked down at his hands before looking up at Lucien. "I made a promise to your mother on the day of her funeral that I would find the one responsible and see that justice was done. I wouldn't move on with my life without her. That's why I locked up her studio. I couldn't bear the reminder of how I failed her."
"Is that also why you sent me away? I was a reminder of her?" Lucien asked, but his tone was more sorrowful than bitter.
"No!" Thomas said sharply. "It wasn't that at all! I needed to keep you safe! It was the only thing I could still do for her."
"Safe from what?" Jean asked gently.
"From them. Clement and Franklin," he said, as if it were evident, but then he backed up, as though he realized he'd left something out. "The intimidation I spoke of: I started receiving threats. If I didn't leave it alone, stop asking questions, you'd be next, son. I couldn't let that happen. I thought you'd be safe in Melbourne. They couldn't poison you if you were eating the same meals as a hundred other boys." Again he looked down at his hands. "But I lost you just the same, didn't I?"
"You sent me away to save me from those men?" Lucien was astounded.
Jean squeezed his hand yet again, to offer her support, but she could see just how angry he was, and with good reason. That one decision, made by Thomas under incredible duress, had profoundly changed the course of Lucien's life.
Thomas also saw the anger. "Clement is still dangerous, Lucien. He may not have the Chief Superintendent in his pocket now, but he isn't above killing again. All these years Doug and I have stayed in touch with him, and Franklin, hoping they'd slip up and give us a way to prove the truth, but it never happened. And if he's killed Neville now, he'll be even more of a threat. Don't take him on alone. Work with Doug, if you must go after him."
"The Doctor is right," said Jean, fearful Lucien might do something impulsive and dangerous. "Please, be careful, for the children and for me."
"And for your mother," added Thomas. "The last thing she would want is for something to happen to you because of her."
Lucien's whole body was taut with outrage. He glanced from Jean to Thomas and then back again. Finally his shoulders slumped. "Yes. You're right, of course. I'll work with Doug, but Clement will pay for what he's done to all of us."