"PHRYNE IN HOSPITAL STOP BEATEN UP STOP TOUCH AND GO STOP HENRY"
Jack stood staring at the telegram not believing what he was reading.
"Collins!" he grabbed his hat and coat, "I'll be with Dr Macmillan!" and he was out of the door before Hugh could blink.
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"He sent you this?" Mac re-read the message, "why?"
"I suspect he wants help," Jack paced the floor of the morgue, "Mac, it's Phryne, whoever did this ... I'm going over ... I need to see her."
"I'm coming with you," she shrugged out of her lab coat, "how shall we travel?"
"How well do you know her friends at the airfield?"
"Well enough, fly?"
"Quickest way, it's six weeks by ship, that's if we can get one now."
"Right, I'm going to pack, lightly, you do the same. Meet me back here in an hour."
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In that hour Mac had packed, called the one pilot she knew and arranged a flight that would take just six days, with stops for fuel and sleep. It would be tiring but they were prepared to risk all for Phryne.
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"Well, the police here have been no help, Margaret," Henry huffed when his wife found out he had alerted Jack to Phryne's plight, "and he deserves to know. If that idiot Carlton had seen her to her car this would never have happened. What kind of a gentleman does he think he is?" he strode out of the parlour knowing that Margaret would not have a bad word said against the man she hoped was going to marry Phryne. Henry knew better, Phryne tolerated the man to keep the peace and she kept telling her mother she was not the marrying kind. So he had telegrammed Jack – rightly or wrongly – Jack needed to know.
Margaret spent her days sitting at Phryne's bedside in the hospital. Whoever had attacked her had broken her cheekbone, nose, arm, several ribs, her right leg in two places and fractured her skull. She was bruised and swollen beyond recognition when she was brought in, having been discovered by a young constable on night duty and it was two days before her identity could be ascertained. The bruising and swelling was beginning to go down but she remained unconscious and unresponsive.
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Neither Jack nor Mac enjoyed flying and the worry for their dearest friend made it worse. They didn't sleep above a cat nap, ate what was put in front of them without tasting it and spent the time talking about what they may find when they got to London and he listening to tales of when they were young. That was the lightest part of the trip and in part Mac did it to keep their minds off the image of Phryne in a hospital bed.
"She'll not like it, y'know," Mac huffed, "she hates hospitals and she'll complain about the stiff sheets and the plain gown she'll be wearing."
"Have you heard much from her, since she left?" he asked, thinking of the short letters she wrote to him on a fairly regular basis.
"Yeah," Mac nodded, "apparently her mother is setting her up with eligible men to marry, so she is going to the theatre, concerts and parties ... she says she's not enjoying it."
"She keeps asking if I have any cases, can she help even though she is so far away – I miss that, Mac," he sighed, "I miss the smell of her perfume, her teasing Hugh – I miss her, so much."
Mac patted his arm, "I expect she misses you just as much," she soothed. "She is very fond of you, very fond."
"I know, but I guess we only really found that out as she left. Rotten timing."
"Isn't that how love works?" Mac laughed softly.
"With her, yes."
"You know you can't investigate, don't you?"
"Not as a copper, but as a private citizen, there's nothing to stop me speaking to people, is there."
"Taking a leaf out of her book, Inspector?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Several, if it gets the job done. What are you going to do?"
"I'm her personal physician," she shrugged, "I'm going to give her an earful and then I'm going to do my utmost to get her out of that bed."
"That should work," he smiled for the first time in days, "the earful, that is."
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It was nice, sitting in the meadow beside the stream just listening to Janey tell her all about herself. How she had watched over her for years, how she knew her better than she knew herself, how she wished she could have helped in the dark days of the war, of her treatment at the hands of René and Jack – she knew all about Jack.
"He doesn't expect you to marry him, Phryne," she smiled, placing a daisy chain on her sister's head, "just be with him. You love him, you know you do ..."
"Janey," Phryne grumbled, "I don't know, I mean a monogamous relationship?"
"You're ready now, when was the last time you had an overnight male guest, eh?"
"It's been a while," she admitted.
"See, you're just waiting until you've worn him down, but you did that months ago, give him your heart, Phryne, you've already got his."
"I miss you."
"I'm always there," Janey kissed her cheek.
"Can't I stay, just a little longer?"
"Not too long, just until there's not a lot of pain," Janey flopped back onto the grass, "then you have to go back. I'll be there, every step of the way, my darling sister. You never gave up on me, I shan't give up on you."
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They freshened up in the airport before grabbing a cab and heading straight to the hospital where they were to meet Lord and Lady Fisher. They had kept them informed of their progress and asked them to secure accommodation nearby.
"They can stay with us," Henry informed his wife, "they've come a long way to see her, we can't just put them in a hotel."
Margaret was too tired to argue and for once Henry made sense.
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Jack and Mac pulled up short at the sight of the battered form of Miss Fisher. Though her bruises were now yellowing the swelling was enough to show how badly she had been hurt. The plastered limbs and the bandages seemed completely alien on a body that was usually clothed in the finest silks and satins, velvets and furs.
Jack was the first to regain control of his feet and he was by her side before Mac could make a sound.
"Oh sweetheart," he stroked her face, "what have they done to you?" He kissed her warm soft lips, "I'll find them, love, they won't get away with this."
He stood up and looked at the woman sitting by the bed.
"Lady Fisher," he held out his hand, "I'm sorry we meet under such circumstances – Jack Robinson, City South."
"Inspector," she murmured, "I'm sorry too, Phryne holds you in high regard."
"As I do her," he nodded.
"Hello, Margaret," Mac stepped forward.
"Elizabeth," Margaret stood and wrapped her arms round her, "you as well?"
"I'm her personal physician," Mac tipped her head, "I've come to attend, if you want me, that is."
"Anything you can do will be greatly appreciated, the doctors here say it is only a matter of time."
"Well, is Phryne Fisher going to let a mere man beat her, physically or metaphorically?" Mac huffed and went to examine her patient.
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Jack took Lady Fisher aside and asked her what she knew of the attack.
"I know you've probably gone over this time and time again with the local force, but I'm here as a private citizen and I intend to get to the bottom of this."
Margaret told him how Phryne had gone to the theatre with Lord Carlton. She was attacked on her way to her car that Carlton had not walked her to.
"He didn't walk her to her car?" he scowled, "surely a gentleman would want to ensure his lady friend was safe? "Why, did he say?"
"No he didn't, he says he should have but he didn't. He won't say why."
"Does he seem remorseful about this?"
"I wouldn't say 'remorseful'," she conceded, "he did say he was sorry. I had hopes, you know, maybe I was wrong."
"Look, Lady Fisher, I know how independent Phryne is, but even I know to walk her to her car and she does accept that courtesy. We live dangerous lives, she's not stupid." Jack was cross with Lord Carlton and needed to speak to him. He asked Lady Fisher to set up a meeting with him.
"Hm," she tipped her head and thought, Carlton came round on occasion to see how Phryne was, perhaps she could arrange afternoon tea. "Tomorrow, be in the house tomorrow afternoon. I shall be candid with him about why you are here, if he has nothing to hide then he won't offer any objections."
"What do you tell him when he does come round?"
"That she is holding her own, do you want me to change that?"
"Try telling him that the doctors say it is only a matter of time, he had better prepare himself – can you do that?"
"I can, but do you suspect him? He's a well connected man, Inspector, wealthy, in the house ..."
"Even well connected men can have a dark side. What was their relationship?"
"Er, well, he had asked Henry for her hand, if that's what you mean." She blushed. "Henry said it was up to Phryne, he would only object if the man doing the proposing was a criminal or not good enough for her. I don't think he likes Carlton much."
"Do you?"
"I suppose I do, he would be an acceptable son in law," she agreed, "there are men I would accept as her husband, they just have to be of the right social level, Inspector, and not known to be wife beaters."
He understood that she didn't think him acceptable, on a social level, as a son in law, but as Henry told her, Phryne knew her own mind, it was up to her whether she accepted or not. He felt she would turn him down, gently, kindly but she would not accept marriage. The loss of control, for her, was more than she was willing to bear.
Jack didn't think Lady Fisher was concerned with her daughter's happiness, just her station in life. He didn't think she was being cruel, just that it was who she was, and she wanted better for Phryne than her own husband – someone kind, someone who would not hurt her in any way. Marriage would put her in a cage, a gilded cage, but a cage nevertheless – clip her wings and that wasn't right.
He asked her where the incident had happened and hailed a taxi to take him there. He also asked which police station dealt with it and steeled himself for a difficult conversation with the officer in charge. He wouldn't like it if a Detective Inspector from England decided to investigate one of his cases that he hadn't been able to solve so he would completely understand if he got the brush off.
He didn't.
After going over the scene, albeit nearly three weeks after the event, he got a sense of what had happened. He went to the station and the Inspector there, Cross, told him what had been seen.
Phryne was found in an alley by a homeless drunk who in turn was found trying to relieve her of her jewellery. She was bloodied and broken, her car was nowhere to be seen and still hadn't been found, and it had taken two days to find her parents because the only identification she had on her was her card from Melbourne.
"Didn't you try to contact the house?" he read through the file.
"We didn't think a telegram would be right, if she had family it would frighten them. It was a missing person report that alerted us to her family being here. Lady Fisher told us that her daughter usually resided in Melbourne but was over in London meeting up with friends." Cross sighed, "Apparently she had been at the theatre with Lord Carlton."
"Did you interview him?"
"It's in the file, he didn't walk her to her car, didn't see any potential murderers around, only the odd drunk or, as he put it, scallywag, skulking around corners. Needless to say we haven't found anyone who admits to being there on the night in question."
"And how was Miss Fisher when she left him?"
"He says she was in high spirits, he had just proposed but she was going to think it over before she gave him his answer." Cross looked at him. "How well do you know her? I mean for you to come all the way over here to see her..."
"Miss Fisher is a consultant with the Melbourne force, specifically City South which is my station," Jack had worked out what he would say when asked this particular question, one he would ask himself if the shoe was on the other foot. "We have come to know each other well over time. She is a remarkable detective, Inspector, my clear up rate is excellent due to her knowing people from all walks of life. She is my friend, and I don't like it that someone has managed to leave her in this state. Miss Fisher is more than capable of defending herself, so I am beginning to think it was someone she knew that caught her off guard. Were there any other people with them, at the theatre?"
"It was full, but Carlton had his own box and he doesn't recall talking to anyone else. We asked anyone who was at the performance and did see them to come forward, but we got nothing."
"The ushers?"
"There was one, who served them champagne in the box, he wouldn't say anything, seemed scared."
"Name and address, I should like to talk to him." Jack stood up, he had a feeling, not a good one. If Carlton had proposed she would have let him down gently, he knew that, but how would he have taken it. And this usher, why was he scared, if he did nothing he had nothing to fear.
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Jack looked the young usher up and down and sighed. He was so young, so scared. He stuttered and stammered and insisted he knew nothing.
"Look, lad," Jack said patiently, "my friend is lying in a hospital bed with broken bones, cuts and bruises and is unconscious, has been since that night. If you know anything, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is I need to know."
"I served them champagne," he sniffed, "she was so pretty, so beautiful, a gown of gold and ... and she was unhappy."
"Just unhappy?"
"She kept twistin' her gloves, like my little sister does with her fingers if she's in trouble. She was furthest from the door and I had a funny feeling that if she could she'd make a bolt for it."
"Can you show me the box?"
The boy took him up to the second tier where Carlton had taken Phryne.
"Did you show them the way?"
He shook his head.
"So he knew his way?"
"He comes here a lot, always with a different lady." He pushed the door open and showed the seats, two, and where Phryne was sitting in relation to Carlton.
"Put the chairs exactly how they were," Jack told him and when he had finished he saw that there was no way she could have got out without him grabbing her.
"You say he comes here with different ladies?"
He nodded.
"If I show you pictures, do you think you could point out some?"
He nodded again, "There is a society magazine in the foyer, there's been a ball recently, they'll be in there."
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Back in the box they scoured the pages of the magazine. Phryne was there with a man at a ball, the lad identified him as Lord Carlton; they had caught her unique smile and Jack's heart broke to think that this was the woman lying in the hospital bed. He took out a pen and drew a ring round the ladies the usher pointed out.
"Thanks, lad," he patted his shoulder, "do you know if he's attending tonight's performance?"
"We can check?"
"Why didn't you tell the local coppers this?"
"They scared me, you're kind, you care about her and not the crime."
"I care about both," Jack smiled but he understood what he was saying.
"And he's scary, he doesn't tip, and he ... well he always makes me feel as if I've got it wrong."
"Ah," Jack nodded wisely, making a note to be kind to theatre ushers in the future.
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Jack's next port of call was the magazine publishers to get some names. He wanted to speak to the women that had been to the theatre with Carlton, get some feeling about the man. So far, he wasn't impressed: he scared theatre ushers and had let Phryne walk to her car alone at night.
Armed with these names he headed out to Belgravia, Knightsbridge and Kensington.
At first it was difficult to get much out of these young ladies. Until one suggested she call the others over for tea and they perhaps would feel safety in numbers.
"Not that you frighten me, Inspector," the Honourable Miss Gethridge smiled, "but ..."
"Carlton does." Jack stated with certainty.
"Hmm," she nodded her head and went to make the calls. She was back within half an hour, smiling.
"Right," she sat down opposite him, "can you come round tomorrow - we shall all convene and tell you what we know?"
He agreed and thought at last he was getting somewhere. Today he had to have tea with Lord Carlton, but he would not say he was seeing his previous lady friends on the morrow.
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Lord Carlton was not what Jack expected, and certainly not a man he would expect Phryne to give the time of day. He was dark, tall, not particularly handsome – thought what would Jack know, he was a man – gruff speaking, middle aged and had not looked after himself as a man of his years should have done. What was Margaret thinking?
He told them how sad he was that Phryne hadn't rallied, but Jack couldn't see it in his eyes, he told them of his regrets that he hadn't walked the Honourable young lady to her car but she had insisted. Jack thought she only insisted to get away from him.
"She was found quite a distance from the theatre," Jack referred to his notes, "surely she parked closer?"
"She did, have they recovered the vehicle, yet?"
"No," Lady Fisher frowned, "they thought about dragging the river ..."
"Have they?"
She shook her head, "Phryne is in the hospital, Inspector, if she was still missing they would."
"Quite," he nodded, and really the car had gone missing because it was used to transport her, at least that was what came to mind. Or, it was stolen after they beaten her up and deposited her where they thought no one would look for her. However, there was something in Carlton's manner that unnerved him, he didn't believe he had let Phryne walk to her car alone, it just didn't fit – it was wrong, quite apart from being an un-gentlemanly act.
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"So, Inspector, what are your thoughts?" Lady Fisher waited until she heard the front door close.
"Truthfully?"
"Of course, say what you must." She nodded.
"I don't like him, and that is not because I am jealous," he finished hurriedly.
"No, Inspector. My daughter is above your station."
Jack chose to ignore this slight, she didn't know his background, all she knew was that he was a police officer, a civil servant.
"I have had many other reasons to be jealous, Lady Fisher, this is not one of them. I really don't think Phryne would have accepted his proposal, he is simply not her type."
"An expert are we?" she raised an eyebrow.
"No, far from it, but he is not the kind of man she usually chooses to become attached to. And I am sorry, but to not walk her to her car, the one that has disappeared, sorry, Lady Fisher, that did not happen. I have other avenues to pursue before I come to a conclusion, but I am fairly sure I know what happened." He refused to be drawn on his thoughts and said he was going for a walk to put some sense to what he had heard.
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Lord Carlton's townhouse was in Mayfair, a fact Jack had gleaned from the police file. He took a cab and got out nearby.
"Wait here," he gave the driver a reasonable tip and pulled his fedora over his eyes. Phryne said it made him look rakish, when he did that but he just didn't want to be recognised as he strolled past. He found the house, noted it in his notebook and found the way to the mews behind it. All he had to do was line up the house with the mews and see what he could find. It wasn't difficult – there it was, the rear of the car, a new Rolls Royce Phantom in a deep wine red. He matched the registration plate to the note in his book, snapped it shut and headed out of the mews and back to the taxi post haste. His theory seemed to be correct. All he needed was corroborating stories from his previous lady friends and he would be able to present his case to the world weary Inspector Cross who obviously had no experience dealing with the rich and pretentious.
"Alright, guv," the driver grunted.
"Better, thanks," he gave him instructions to drive him back to the Fisher residence and gave him another tip.
"Any time, guv," the driver tipped his cap and drove off to find his next fare.
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Jack spent the rest of the evening at Phryne's bedside. Mac had checked her over thoroughly, irritated the staff at the hospital no end and Jack thought, circumstances aside, she was enjoying herself.
"Well, the fact that she hasn't come to worries me," she told him, "all her vital signs are good, it's as if she's waiting for something."
"Probably for me to tell her I've got the man that did this to her."
"Have you?"
"Pretty sure I know who it was, and why, I shall talk to the ladies tomorrow and fill in the gaps." He sighed, "you know, Mac, much as I don't wish to lay the blame at her feet, Lady Fisher is partly responsible."
"Really?"
"She engineered this, seeing that Phryne went out with Lord Carlton, made sure that he was at all the balls she attended, allowed him to ask Henry's permission to court her ..."
Mac spluttered her tea over the bed, "What?!" she hissed, "Court Phryne, has she gone stark staring mad?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders, it was no less a reaction than he expected.
"What did Henry say?"
"He said Phryne could make her own mind up," Jack smiled, "no doubt he knew it was no good giving him her hand when she herself would use it to slap him round the jaw."
"Quite right too," she huffed, "this is 1929 not 1829."
As he left he kissed Phryne softly, told her he would be back the next day with news.
"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispered, "I would like to send Dot a telegram saying you are alright." He leaned closer so Mac couldn't hear him. "I love you, Phryne Fisher, come back to me, please."
He considered asking if she could have a police guard in case Carlton came to see her, but he hadn't bothered so far and he and Margaret had told him it was just a matter of time. But ...
"Mac, don't let Carlton in," he turned to the doctor, "I mean if you have to stick a needle in him ..."
"You think it was him, don't you?"
"I am almost sure," he pushed his hands into his pockets. "He doesn't really seem too sorry, he's not come to see her, so far, not sent flowers ..."
"Yeah, not the actions of one who had proposed to her and not received a reply in the affirmative."
"I think she turned him down."
"More than likely," she agreed, "can you give me a couple of minutes?"
He nodded and watched her stride out of the room and down the corridor. It wasn't long before she was back with a hypodermic syringe in a kidney dish.
"A strong sleeping drug," she smirked, "should knock out an ox."
"I know nothing," he grinned.
"Best not to," she laughed, and he determined never to get on the wrong side of Dr Elizabeth Macmillan.
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"He won't change you, Phryne," Janey took her hand, "tomorrow you have to go back to him."
"What about you?"
"I'll be here, I'll stay until you go to him, then I shall always watch over you."
"You better keep your eyes closed."
"Oh, I don't watch then," Janey laughed, "I'm still eight years old, Phryne, there are some things I don't need to see."
Phryne laughed at that and it was true, the Janey she had been with all this time was the little girl who had been so cruelly taken from her; she hadn't grown up, she was still a child, she would always be a child.
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Jack straightened his tie and smoothed down his jacket. He had dressed soberly as befitting a Police Detective and one who was trying to find a man who had attempted to commit murder.
"Inspector," Miss Gethridge stood up to greet him. There were four other young women in the parlour and he hoped they weren't the giggling type, this was no time for giggles.
"Miss Alice Longridge, Miss Elizabeth – Beth to her friends – Perkins, Miss Cynthia Dewars and Miss Alexandra Smethwick," she introduced each one in turn, "we have all been courted by Lord Carlton, and yet, you see us still unattached."
"Ladies," he nodded politely and sat down where Miss Gethridge had set a chair for him. "Thank you all for agreeing to see me; tell me, did you know Phryne Fisher?"
"I knew her," Miss Longridge put her hand up, "we were at school together."
He made a note.
"I met her at a soiree," Miss Dewars spoke up next.
He made another note.
"We," Miss Perkins spoke for herself and Miss Smethwick, "hadn't met her but we knew of her."
"Well, ladies, I am particularly interested in your relationships with Lord Carlton, not in a salacious way you understand, but I need to get the measure of the man."
"In what way do you want to know, Inspector?" Miss Gethridge hummed.
"How did he treat you, was he generous, was he kind, was he gentle? Did he treat you with respect or did he just want ... was he over familiar?"
"He wasn't kind."
"He pinched when he held my elbow, left bruises."
"He was terse, ill mannered."
"He proposed ..." Miss Smethwick grimaced, "when I turned him down he threw me in a cab and sent me home – and I had to pay the fare!"
"He let me walk home, after a ball when I turned him down." Miss Dewars tipped her pretty little nose up.
"He trod on my toes when we danced, and when I complained he threw a glass of champagne in my face then said he had tripped when everyone saw him."
"He was not, Inspector, a nice man." Miss Gethridge summed it up.
"So, he says he didn't walk Miss Fisher to her car because she told him not to."
"He wouldn't walk her to her car if she had turned down his proposal," Alice Longridge folded her hands in her lap.
"I found her car," Jack threw the news in, "in his mews."
"You didn't?"
"Goodness!"
"Oh my!"
"So he did it, did he?" Miss Dewars scowled, "what did he do?"
"I think he beat her up when she turned him down, and I bet she fought back. I think it started when he slapped her face," Jack put forward his not so wild theory, "I think he took her to the spot she was found, and threw her out of the car, then drove home and parked the car in his mews. I think he expected her to die of her injuries before she was found by the homeless drunk – who has likely saved her life."
"Hooray for the homeless drunk!" Miss Smethwick clapped her hands. "But, Inspector, I suppose you need proof."
"I have asked Inspector Cross to go and get the car, and search it for blood and for her little gold pistol."
"Pistol!"
"It has not been mentioned in any report. It would be proof she was in the car, and my hope is that she was just conscious enough to tuck it somewhere before she blacked out completely. Phryne is nothing if not resourceful."
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Lord Carlton was most surprised and not a little put out when Inspector Cross came calling, with a search warrant for the premises – which included the mews behind the house.
The constables he had brought with him did a thorough job of finding Miss Fisher's pistol pushed into the space between the back and the seat in the car. They also found an enamel swallow brooch which he declared he had never seen before. In fact it had been in Phryne's bag and she knew that if it was found her parents would recognise it as the gift Jack had given her. She had told them all about it.
Lord Carlton was taken away, in handcuffs to answer charges of attempted murder.
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Jack took Mac's place beside her bed.
"Go and have a decent dinner," he squeezed her shoulder, "there's a taxi waiting to take you to the Fishers' and food there. I'll call if I need you."
He took Phryne's hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.
"We caught him, Phryne, he's being charged with attempted murder, please let it only be attempted. It's not because I have any sympathy for the man, I don't, I'd happily push him off the Tower Bridge into the Thames, but ... Phryne, please, it's time to come back. If not for me, for Mac, and Jane, and Hugh and Dot, for Mr Butler, for the Red Raggers ..."
She didn't feel Janey's hand leave hers, it was just replaced with Jack's. She gave a small squeeze and opened her eyes just enough to see him crying at her bedside and hated what she had put him through. He lifted his head.
"Phryne? Phryne, oh thank god!" he leant over and kissed her.
"Jack?" she croaked, "what?"
"Your father telegrammed me." He stroked her forehead, "water?"
"Please," she whispered and let him help her take a sip of the water by her bed. She flopped her head back down onto the pillow.
"Better?"
"You came, all this way?"
"And I solved the crime, thanks to you."
"Me? I've been with Janey," she gasped.
"Janey, oh god, Phryne," he moved closer to the bed, if that was at all possible.
"She sent me back," she reached up and stroked his face. "She said things, things that made me think – about me, and you – about us."
"She kept you safe?"
"I suppose so," she sighed, "tell me how you found out it was Carlton."
So he told her what he had found, how Inspector Cross needed to learn how to handle higher society, how he had suspected Carlton all along, simply because he said he didn't walk her to her car and he didn't come to visit.
"Thank you, Jack, for coming all this way."
"Mac's here too," he smiled, "she came as your personal physician. She said she was going to give you an earful."
"Such a wonderful bedside manner," Phryne smiled.
"She doesn't need one in the morgue," he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.
"I must look a sight."
"Beautiful," he kissed her hand, "even now. Your bruises have all but gone, just the breaks to heal."
"What's broken?" She looked down the bed, "ah, leg, arm, ribs?"
"Ahah," he nodded, "cheekbone and a fractured skull – aren't you in pain?"
"A little, Janey said I could stay until the pain was bearable," she sighed. "Do you know when I can go home, or at least to my parents' house."
At this he burst out laughing, so loud he brought nurses running.
"Oh," one gasped, "Miss Fisher, you're awake."
"I am, I think I have amused the Inspector," she smiled, though she had to admit (to herself) that hurt a little.
"It's just that on the way over Mac said you wouldn't like the starched sheets or the plain gown you are wearing." He grinned and winked.
"Where is she, Mac, I mean?"
"I sent her to go and eat, your mother and father have put us up, though I think it was Henry's idea, we've taken turns, with them, to sit with you."
"Why?"
"Because we love you, you idiot," he teased, "me especially," he added in a whisper.
She squeezed his had to assure him her feelings were the same.
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It was another week before she was allowed to leave the hospital; a week in which she grew increasingly frustrated and irritable. Mac threatened to put her back in a coma if she didn't see sense.
When they finally got her into the family car, not the one she had been driving on that fateful night, there was a sense of relief from the hospital staff. She had been given a wheelchair that she said she was never going to use, but as she couldn't use crutches due to the broken arm she eventually had to concede that if she wanted to get around she would have to.
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Before long, and due to her own bloody-mindedness, Phryne was ready to take the journey back to Melbourne and her family there. She missed them so much that there were times she cried herself to sleep in Jack's arms. A six week cruise would help her with her recovery, the fresh air and the sun when they passed through the warmer areas would cheer her and excite her.
Armed with an elegant, but sturdy walking cane she boarded the ship, Jack by her side and Mac with them to ensure her continued good health.
Lord Carlton was jailed for twenty years for attempted murder, assault of the other ladies and theft of a motor car. He was ordered to pay Phryne five thousand pounds and the other ladies one thousand pounds each. Phryne offered a thousand of her money to her parents but they refused it.
"We are settled, now, darling," her mother smiled, "you take the money, do with it what you will, perhaps donate some to one of Prudence's causes. You were the one he battered half to death, sweetheart." So she spent some on a luxurious suite for herself and Jack and a parlour suite for Mac – because that was all she wanted – on the ship home.
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Phryne visibly relaxed once the ship left port, she began to eat better, sleep better and smile a lot more. Up until they left England, although she shared a bed with Jack, first the plaster casts then the fragility of her bones had prevented her making love. Jack had been content to hold her and kiss her, and she would let him touch her but anything else almost scared her. She decided to consult Mac.
Worried about scaring him off?" Mac laughed.
"Mac," she shuffled nervously in the chair, "it's not about him." She spoke as if the walls were listening.
"Phryne ..." Mac looked at her, Phryne was never afraid to have sex, "Phryne," the question had to be asked, "Phryne, love, did Carlton ... did he rape you?"
"No, oh god, no!" Phryne gasped, "is that what you think this is about? No, Mac, it's about ... well since I came out of hospital. Of course at first, with the casts and you telling me to rest, and having to use crutches and a wheelchair and now a stick – am I fit enough? If we do make love will I ... will I break?"
"No love, you won't break, unless you start jumping from the ceiling, leaping off furniture ... just take it easy. Find the most comfortable position and go for it. Jack won't let you hurt yourself, he won't hurt you." She reached over and patted her knee, "Are you saying that even though you have been sleeping together, that's all you have been doing?"
"Well, fingers, tongues ... but that's all," Phryne didn't usually get embarrassed talking about sex with Mac, but this was different, this was almost sacred, making love with Jack.
"You'll be fine."
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The first time she allowed Jack to fully make love to her the nagging ache in her leg was obliterated by the sheer glory of falling over the edge with him. He made sure she was in a position that was comfortable and easy for her to respond, and the marks he left on her were much more acceptable than the ones she had previously sported. She left quite a few on him and when they awoke in the morning she felt whole again.
The rest of the journey passed quietly, with stop-overs where the passenger could disembark and take in the sights, new passengers could join and supplies could be added to the ship's stores.
Phryne used her cane less than she had when she first boarded but still required it for long walks or when she was tired. She didn't always like it but it was useful to attract the attention of a cabbie or to pull Jack to her for a quick kiss wherever they were. If she moaned about it Mac would just remind her that it had its uses and at least it was elegant.
"It will still be some time before you are ready to chase criminals round the docks, love," she soothed, "patience."
"I'm not a very patient woman, Mac," she pouted.
"You have been patient, with Jack, waiting for him to be ready, so you can be patient," the doctor patted her shoulder. "You are alive, Phryne, just be thankful for that."
Phryne supposed she was right, she was alive, she could walk and talk, she could dance and make love ...
"You are luckier than many," Jack pointed out when she rubbed at her leg one evening.
"I know," she smiled and put her head on his shoulder, "I know, and I should be grateful, for all you did for me, for Mac stepping in, I just don't like not being able to be me."
"You," he tapped his finger between her breasts, over her heart, "are here, you are not just your leg or your arm, you are so much more than that. Your heart runs as deep as the Pacific Ocean ..."
"Quoting me back at myself, Jack?" she teased.
He tipped his head in that adorable way he had. "Come on, one last waltz, then bed."
"Now that is a good idea."
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Melbourne was warm. Phryne wore a light lilac coat with matching hat and gloves. She slipped her free hand into the crook or Jack's elbow and made her way slowly down the gangplank to her household waiting to greet her. They had all come along, the Red Raggers to transport the luggage, Mr Butler had driven Dot and Jane over in the Hispano Suiza – Jack had warned her that Dot was likely to be overprotective and she must be sure to accept it.
"All she knows is what I could put in the telegrams, Phryne, and although I have told her you are quite well and not in need of cosseting she is likely to ignore that."
"I'll do my best, but if she tells me I have to go to bed and rest there will either be a riot or I shall test my leg out by climbing out of the window." She smiled and prepared herself to be mothered.
"My bet is on the window," he kissed her cheek, "ready?"
"Ready."
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Jane flung her arms round her foster mother and squealed with delight.
"I am so glad you're back," she hugged her tight.
"I do believe you've grown," Phryne smiled and kissed her cheek before Dot could admonish the young girl and guide Phryne to the car.
"Let's get you home, Miss," she frowned at Jane, "the parlour is ready for you and lunch is waiting."
"Thank you, Dot," Phryne smiled, it was awkward to manoeuvre her stick with her companion so close to her side, "Please," she shrugged her shoulder slightly, "I should hate to trip you up with this."
As Jack was still at her other side Dot had to relinquish her hold, but Jack was sure she glared at him. Mr Butler smiled and bowed his head slightly.
"So good to have you back, Miss," he offered her the keys of the car.
"You drive, Mr B," she sighed, "I haven't tried driving yet," she patted the leg that had been broken.
"Very well, Miss," in truth it had only been a politeness to offer her the keys, he didn't think she would be up to driving yet, but he would never assume.
"Luggage, Miss?" Cec pointed to the trunks and suitcases.
"All to Wardlow, Cec, thank you," she smiled, "how's Alice?"
"She's good, Miss, thank you, says if you don't mind she'd like to pop round when you're feeling up to visitors."
"Any time, Cec," she smiled, "and Bert, you haven't changed."
Bert grinned round his customary cigarette, "good ter see yer, Miss," he nodded.
"It's good to be home."
Dot tucked a blanket round her in the back of the car and she bore it quite well, but frowned when Dot told Mr Butler to drive carefully.
"Just drive, Mr B," she sighed, as Jack got into the front seat, "I won't break, so my personal physician informs me." She waved at Mac as the doctor climbed into the taxi. Mac waved back and the two cars set off in convoy.
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Much as she had told Jack she would try to accept Dot's cosseting he knew she was already bridling at the warm blanket and being sat in the back of her car. He was out of his seat almost before the car stopped outside Wardlow and helping her out with the offer of his hand and nothing other than gentlemanly courtesy. She lifted her stick and linked her arm with his, thus preventing her companion from 'helping' her to walk.
"I'll speak to her," Jack whispered as yet again Dot glared at him.
"Thank you, but why does she keep glaring at you?"
"I think she is worried I am not looking after you properly."
"Poppycock!" she hissed, "you weren't in the country when it happened, and it's not your fault I was in England."
"You know Dot, regular mother hen."
"Where's the baby? You said she had a little boy, now."
"No Hugh, so my guess is she's left little Toby with his father just so she could come and meet you."
"Makes sense," she nodded, then smiled as Mr Butler unlocked the front door, and she was home, really home.
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"It's warm enough in here, Dot," Phryne smiled kindly, "I don't need another blanket." She pushed the blanket that Dot had been tucking round her on the chaise longue, "but thank you." She added, trying to see passed her fussing.
"Now, I shall bring lunch into you on a tray," Dot continued, know her mistress was going to be a difficult patient.
"No, the table will be fine, Dot ..." she tried not to grit her teeth, praying that Mac would arrive soon and tell Dot to leave her be.
"Miss ..."
"Mrs Collins," Jack stood in the doorway to the parlour, "may I speak with you?" He stood aside and let her pass. He led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the small table.
"Mrs Collins, Dot," he heaved a sigh, "Phryne doesn't need cosseting. She is able to walk, eat at a table, even dance ..."
"Inspector," Dot huffed, "she broke her leg in two places ..."
"That was twelve weeks ago, Dot," Mac arrived through the back door, "sorry, traffic ... she's more than capable of moving around the house, and don't chase after her with the stick. She can go for walks, go up and down stairs ... the only thing I have forbidden is climbing walls and running. I think perhaps, Jack, she may like to try driving in the next few days, if you go out with her."
"Sounds reasonable," he smiled. "I wonder if she'll stick to the speed limit."
"Don't bet on it," Mac laughed.
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Phryne flopped backwards onto the bed. It had seemed to be a long day. Dot had fussed over her despite what Mac and Jack had told her, she introduced her to young Tobias John Collins and Phryne had made the appropriate noises but even Dot knew that she still didn't understand babies. Perhaps when he was older she would see the attraction of parenthood, but she wasn't rude or refused to hold him. Dot told her she would keep him out of the way as much as she could. Phryne thanked her for that and said that he could perhaps snooze his days away in the garden.
In the afternoon Dot had laid out a nightdress for her and suggested a nap.
"Thank you, Dot, but I have a fancy to walk along the foreshore," she smiled.
"Do you good, old thing," Mac agreed.
"Best put that coat back on, Phryne, there's a cool breeze." Jack shrugged.
"I've spent winter and spring in London, I think I'm used to it," she laughed, but allowed Jack to help her into the coat and put her hat and gloves on. He pulled his coat on and she dropped his fedora onto his head, "ready, darling."
"Always," he offered her his arm.
Dot scowled as they left the house and tossed her head as she headed out to the kitchen to see to Toby. Mac followed her.
"Dot, what is wrong?" she caught her arm.
"We nearly lost her and he takes her for a walk on the foreshore, with that leg and her needing a stick," she sat down and sniffed.
"It wasn't his fault, Dot," Mac sat opposite her, "yes she was unconscious for a long time, but that was healing time, no sooner was she awake than she was trying to get out of the hospital. Don't treat her like a china doll, she's fine. Walking is good for her, Jack is good for her, she woke up when he told her they had caught the man that did this, the man is in prison for twenty years for what he did to her, and assaulting other young ladies." She stood up, "oh, and Jack will probably be an overnight guest, if not a permanent resident. Phryne Fisher is back and raring to go."
"It sounded so awful," Dot sighed.
"It was, Dot, and yes, there were times we thought we would lose her, but we didn't and we now have to live life to the hilt with her. A mere man is not going to be the downfall of the Honourable Miss Fisher." Mac pulled her hat on and accepted her jacket from Mr Butler, "anyway, I must be off back to work, the Raggers kindly offered their services."
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"Oh it is good to be home," she stretched and ran her toes down his leg, "and it's wonderful to have you here." She ran her tongue across her teeth and smiled seductively at him.
"God woman," he groaned, "you're insatiable."
She giggled and rolled onto her side, facing him. "You wouldn't have it any other way."
He grabbed her and pulled her over him, "Ok?"
"Let's see," shall we?" she leaned down over him, putting most of her weight on the undamaged leg, "very much so," she wriggled against him and they started to make love with kisses and touches, nips and sucks until she settled herself over his tip and he felt her wet folds and hot entrance ready for him.
"Oh god, Jack," she groaned as she slid down his length, "you are quite something."
"You're not too bad yourself," he pushed up into her and they started a rhythm that culminated in her crying out in ecstasy as he tipped her into the abyss.
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Phryne came out of the bathroom and put the little case away. It was early morning, something she had got used to over the few months with Jack, and it usually gave them time to talk, plan the day, or, make sleepy love.
"Ok?" he turned and looked at the length of her back, creamy white skin with pretty freckles on the shoulders.
She turned and snuggled back down next to him in the bed.
"As long as Dot doesn't fuss, I shall be right as rain," she kissed his shoulder.
"She won't. Mac and I have both talked to her. It's probably more to do with her not being at your bedside than anything." He wrapped his arms around her. "Bear with her. Toby will probably take up much of her time, and you can always come and hide out at the station." He sat up against the pillows, "talking of which, Mac suggested you try driving, with me in the car. Maybe we could go to lunch, I have another couple of days before I need to start back."
She was about to remind him that she didn't need driving lessons, but then she remembered she hadn't driven since the attack and it might be wise. Huh, Phryne Fisher being 'wise', now there was a thing.
"Alright, let's," she smiled, "and as you don't have to be anywhere in the next hour or so," she sat up again and took the little case out of her drawer ... as she slipped out of the bed and slapped her backside. Life was going to be different from now on, for both of them, and he was very much looking forward to it.